Lover's Knot (4 page)

Clearly nothing she had said made any sense to him. He was frowning when he spoke.

“Let’s try a different tack. You just got out of the hospital. You still need physical therapy. The doctor has to follow your progress, and you’re not that keen on being alone. So you respond by moving to the middle of nowhere? You’ll be completely alone out there. If you fall, if you run a fever, if you wake up terrified, who will know? Who will take care of you?”

“I could be alone here, too. The chances are good I would be.”

“It’s really about me, isn’t it? It’s about—”

She held up a hand to stave off his words. “No, it’s about me. I don’t want to be here. It’s that simple and that complicated. I can’t breathe right now. I need a place where I can heal. I need a place to get in touch with everything.”

“How long have you been thinking about this?”

“Since I woke up unsure I’d ever walk again. I told myself then that if a miracle occurred, I would leave the city.”

“You would leave
me
.”

She didn’t deny it. “I can’t ask you to give up your job and come with me.”

“Would you want me to if I could?”

She shook her head. “I have to take time to sort out my life and put it all back together. I don’t expect you to understand or help. I don’t understand it myself.”

“The night you were shot, you told me you weren’t sure my best would ever be good enough again. Have you decided it isn’t?”

She was surprised he remembered her words. She hadn’t thought of them. But the sentiment? The sentiment had plagued her continually. Their lives had changed, and there was no going back. She didn’t think Isaac understood that. She wasn’t sure
she
did, but at least she was aware of the change, even if she couldn’t see all its shapes and boundaries.

“I don’t know that we can ever be good for each other again.” Her throat felt swollen, as if she were choking back more than hurtful words. “I’m not the person I was a couple of weeks ago. I’ll never be that person again. It’s going to take a while to find out who this new Kendra Taylor is.”

She saw from his expression that he had delved as far as he could or would. This was not the kind of conversation in which Isaac shone. The pause was significant. She could see him switching gears, putting aside whatever emotion he felt.

“The cabin’s ready to live in? You got that far in the renovations?”

“Anything but fancy, but it’s habitable.” She made herself look at him. “I want the land and the cabin, Isaac. I want it to be mine so I can do whatever needs to be done without always getting your permission. I’ll trade you my share of this condo. They should be roughly equivalent. Or I’ll pay you outright if they’re not. It should be simple enough, changing names on deeds.”

“It’s gone that far? We’re splitting assets?”

“Just this one. But I need to make a home.”

She saw him sorting through responses. She imagined them all, had imagined them for the entire week since her plan had solidified. In the end, though, he gave her the one she’d known he would.

“Do whatever you want. You don’t need my permission. And someday, if need be, I’ll sign it over to you.” He glanced at his watch. “Do you want me to call Sandy?”

“No. I’ll be all right. I’ll probably take a nap.”

“Then I’m heading back to work. Call if you need anything. I’ll be home in time for dinner.”

The balloons danced when he closed the door behind him. Kendra stopped swallowing tears and let them flow.

A
brand-new car was sitting in the clearing in front of the cabin when Isaac and Kendra drove up. Even though Kendra’s sedan had been recovered, she hadn’t wanted it anymore. As soon as she arrived home from the hospital, she had traded it in for a new forest-green Lexus RX with all-wheel drive. She claimed she would need a car that drove efficiently on dirt and gravel roads, but Isaac suspected the real reason was simpler. The sedan had nearly gotten her killed, and she would never forget that.

Sam and Elisa Kinkade, Kendra’s minister and his wife, had picked up the new car on a trip into the city and delivered it here. Isaac had met the Kinkades after a story that Kendra had done about them almost a year ago, and liked them both. Sam was a minister with a healthy social conscience, for which he had twice suffered the rigors of prison. Elisa was a doctor from Guatemala who had suffered her own nightmares. Isaac was not a believer in happy endings, but he thought these two deserved one.

Until now, Kendra hadn’t even seen her new SUV. She hadn’t been willing to make the trip to the showroom, and her salesperson had driven to the condo to collect the sedan as a courtesy.

“You’ll finally get to check out your new car,” Isaac said.

“Looks good, doesn’t it?”

The car said a lot about his wife. Luxury, yes, but not obviously. Kendra hadn’t gone for the top of the line, although she easily could have afforded it. She hadn’t seen the point of more car than she needed, or shown any need to flaunt inherited wealth. She would drive the SUV carefully and for as long as she sensibly could. When he’d met her, she had been driving a twelve-year-old BMW that had traveled from coast to coast half a dozen times.

She sat forward to peer out the front window. “From here you can’t see most of the changes, but you
can
see the logs. Dabney removed the siding that covered them. And he re-roofed the front porch.”

“I don’t really remember what it looked like.”

“It’s been a long time since you were here, hasn’t it?”

“Not long enough.”

“Please come in and look around.”

“What did you think? That I was going to drop you off and speed away?” He was sorry the moment he’d said it, and sorrier for the edge in his voice.

She was calmer. “I didn’t think that. I just didn’t know if you’d want to come inside.”

He rarely apologized—he’d spent his childhood being forced to say he was sorry for everything except the air he breathed—but he did soften his tone. “I’m sure I’ll feel better about your move if you can prove there’s a decent bathroom.”

“There was always running water and a toilet. Your grandmother lived the way a lot of people in that generation did.”

He didn’t like to hear anyone call the woman he’d inherited the cabin and land from his “grandmother.” He had never met Leah Spurlock Jackson and felt no connection. His adoptive father had made it clear his pitiful specimen of a son had descended from poor white trash. It was no surprise to Colonel Grant Taylor when Isaac only made Bs in algebra or wasn’t chosen for the best soccer teams at whatever Air Force base on which they were living.

Isaac, who had excelled at almost everything he touched, was well beyond believing anything his father had said about him. But the little he knew about his birth family reinforced this particular rant. His mother had worked in a bar and hadn’t been sure who his father was. And for most of her life, his grandmother had lived in this primitive cabin with no husband in residence.

He unhooked his seat belt and grabbed the keys, although out here there was little chance anyone was going to steal the car. First they would have to navigate the rutted dirt road that led to the clearing.

“I’ll unload. Why don’t you open up?” He turned back to Kendra. “Unless you’ve changed your mind?”

She shook her head. He opened his door, and once he was out, he slammed it harder than he needed to.

When he opened the trunk, Kendra insisted on taking a shopping bag filled with miscellaneous kitchen items she’d collected from the condo. She had left more than half for him, although both of them knew he would probably be eating all his meals out.

“Do you know what they call this architectural style?” she asked as they moved slowly toward the cabin.

“Lean-to?”

“It’s a dogtrot cabin. The early settlers were restricted by the length of the available logs and the weight they could lift. So they built small homes, and when it came time to add on, they just built another house across from the first and connected them with a roof and flooring. A dog could trot right between the houses, and that’s where the dogs stayed on a hot day or at night. The design acts sort of like a tunnel and sucks in any cool breezes. A lot of houses started this way, then they were covered with siding, and the middle porch became a room or a hallway. There are more of them around than you’d guess.”

“Uh-huh.”

His lack of enthusiasm didn’t stop her. “Your interest is noted. At least part of the house was built before your grandmother’s time, and the front porch was added later. I don’t know when.”

“Would you find it so intriguing if this were your family home? Instead of the brownstone in Manhattan? Or the estate in Saratoga Springs?”

“I’d find it more intriguing. I like the history here.”

“To each his own.”

Again she ignored him. “When you look at all the mini-mansions going up in the D.C. suburbs, it’s hard to imagine anyone raising a family in a house as small as this one, isn’t it?”

“I imagine some people just added on.”

“I’d like to do that here, but I don’t want to destroy the integrity of the design.”

“Anyone else would raze this place.”

“That was my first thought. Don’t forget, I wanted to build a new house on the site.”

And
he
hadn’t wanted to. From the day three years ago when he had discovered he’d been left this land and cabin as an inheritance, Isaac had not wanted anything to do with it. Still, he was a practical man, and he had seen the investment potential at a time when the stock market was tanking. So he held on, knowing that by the time he retired, the property would be worth a great deal. He’d only grudgingly agreed to the minor renovations because a structure might make selling the property that much easier when the time came.

“Now I wish I’d gone along with you,” he said. “I’d feel better knowing you were living in a modern house.”

“Don’t worry. Once I found out there were logs under the siding, I never would have taken it down.”

They reached the steps up to the narrow porch that ran along the front of both structures and the bisecting dogtrot. He held out a hand. “Watch your step. Why hasn’t your carpenter built a railing?”

“He moved to Tennessee two weeks ago to live closer to his children.” Kendra took Isaac’s hand. Hers felt as light as air, and her skin was the color of eggshells. She was putting a good face on things, but she looked drained.

“You mean you don’t have anybody to finish putting this place in order?”

“I’ll find somebody now that I’m out here. I have resources.”

He tried and couldn’t imagine Kendra living in this place alone. “The railing’s just for starters. The ground needs to be graded or one day you’re going to take a spill. The boards on the porch look like they need to be replaced. The—”

“Have you noticed the view?”

He heard what she hadn’t said.
Stop complaining and try to see what I do. I want you to understand why I’m here
.

“There’s nothing wrong with the view. Move it closer to D.C. and we’d be millionaires.” Of course, his wife already was, but Isaac didn’t point that out. Kendra’s trust fund had never been one of their problems.

The clearing around the house was flat enough, although the property sloped gently at the back, and eventually, after a drop, ended at the North Fork of the Shenandoah River. There were several newly greening trees—oaks, he guessed—planted for shade, and what he recognized as a stand of sycamores. Woods were threatening to encroach on both sides, although it looked as if the good hardwoods had been taken several decades ago. Through the thick unfettered canopy he saw blooming dogwoods and the vestiges of redbuds.

The prevailing feeling here was of civilization being swallowed alive, of vines creeping toward the house to strangle it, of seedlings that would grow overnight into beanstalks crowned with maniacal giants. He glimpsed what looked like a marsh along the edge of the woods on one side. He imagined moccasins and rattlesnakes. The woods were probably full of bears.

He, who was dedicated to saving the world’s wild places.

“Come see it from inside,” Kendra said.

They were in the dogtrot now. At the other end he could see the river in the distance. Despite himself, he wondered if the man who had built this cabin had planned it this way. If he had wanted to look down on the sparkling Shenandoah each morning. Or perhaps his wife had insisted she wanted to see the river as she sat on the porch and snapped beans or did her weekly mending.

“It’ll look better when I’ve had a chance to shop.”

Kendra unlocked the door on her left. At least the lock was new and looked sturdy.

“I’m going to furnish it with antiques. But I’ve bought enough basics to make it livable.”

Isaac followed her inside. He could tell by the way her foot dragged, as well as by her pallor, that this trip had cost her a great deal. He felt a fresh twinge of anger.

“What do you think?” she asked.

The room felt dark and cramped. The ceiling was low, and although he didn’t need to, he felt as if he should crouch. Kendra pulled back cream-colored curtains as she went, and although there weren’t many windows, the light helped.

“I’ll need to wash the windows,” she said. “And apparently it’s not that hard to add them to these cabins, I might just do it when I find a good contractor. I don’t want a museum, I want a home.”

But not with him. Isaac heard that clearly. Kendra knew this would never feel like home to him or fit with plans he had for his life. But that no longer seemed to concern her.

“Come see the kitchen,” she said.

The kitchen was just the other end of the room. Dabney had done a good job of adding cabinets and a pantry. The sink, deep and rectangular, was an antique—he guessed it was one Kendra had found. A small round table sat in the corner for meals.

“Simple but efficient,” she said. “Do you like it?”

“Looks easy to use.”

“We got the cabinets out of an old house that was being torn down. They’re hickory. I love them. And the countertop is slate from an old school building south of here.”

He hadn’t known she was putting so much thought or energy into this project. Apparently there was a lot he hadn’t known.

“I’ll show you the other part.”

He stopped her before she could pass. “Don’t do this.”

She didn’t move, and she didn’t look at him. “I thought we’d worked this out.”

“Look at you. You’re already exhausted.”

“Let me show you your grandmother’s garden. Or what’s left of it. I think she spent a lot of time there.”

He dropped his hands. “Fine. You can show me after I move everything else inside.”

He made four trips to the car. She hadn’t brought much. Casual clothes, her computer, a small television set, more things for the kitchen, her plants, sheets and towels. He guessed she hadn’t wanted to look as if she was moving away for good. As she felt stronger, she would probably return to the condo, perhaps while he was gone, and claim more of her things.

He looked up as he carried the next to the last load and found her standing beside the second wing.

“Elisa and Sam must have come inside. They made the bed and put fresh flowers beside it. I’ve got brand-new towels in the bathroom.”

He was glad the Kinkades would be nearby to watch over his wife.

“Come see, Isaac. Just a glance.”

Reluctantly, he followed her into the bedroom and saw a queen-size bed made up with fresh white sheets, and a sitting area with a comfortable love seat and a low round table.

“And the bathroom.” She moved slowly across the room and flung open the door of what he had guessed was a closet. The bathroom was small but clearly functional. The shower stall was just large enough to turn around in.

“Looks like you’ve got everything you need here.”

“Just about.”

He wondered what she meant by that. Everything except you? Everything except a divorce?

He went back to the car and returned with the final load. This one was filled with old quilts she had collected, including the ragged one his grandmother had left him, along with the land. He set this box just inside the bedroom door and glanced at his watch.

“I’d like to avoid rush hour in the city.”

“You could stay the night.”

He considered this. It would help her ease into life in the cabin. A good husband would stay. He did not feel like a good husband today.

“I have a meeting early in the morning. Do you want to show me the garden now?”

Silently she led him down the steps. He watched her carefully balance, and closed his eyes when she swayed at the bottom. He was an inch from throwing her in the car and heading back to the city.

She picked her way carefully along a path that needed mowing. “It’s over here.”

About thirty yards from the house, he saw an area that looked as if it might once have been neatly laid out in raised beds with paths in between. Of course, now it was so overgrown nothing remained except the barest of garden skeletons.

“There are some timbers along the edges. I’m sure there was a split-rail fence to keep out deer, or at least help. It’s huge, isn’t it? She must have raised all her food for the winter.”

“Maybe.”

She pointed west. “What’s left of an orchard is that way. I’m going to see if I can find an arborist to help me restore what I can.”

He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. “I don’t want to leave you here. If you need to get away, won’t you choose someplace else? Visit friends. Rent a house in a suburb. Spend a year in Europe?”