Page 28 of Mountain Man

But, God, I wanted that. So damn much.

Birdie

I walked into Hank’s house and did a slow turn. It was gorgeous.

A lot of rustic wooden furniture, but all the solid pieces had the smooth edges of time and use. These pieces had been made, used, and loved by the Smith family. More than one generation. The house was two levels. A spacious living area with a huge open fire made of stone was at one end. There were two couches, one worn, sage green velvet and the other, a faded chintz fabric. Both had quilts across the backs that were obviously handmade by someone who had a talent for sewing. The kitchen was off that and it was a decent size. There was also a large family dining table that could seat ten people. The door that was open off the kitchen, from what I could see, led to what looked like a mudroom. I assumed the back door was out there as well and possibly a bathroom.

I’d imagined myself living in places like this when I was a kid. Even without the fire lit, the place exuded warmth.

This was a home.

The kind of place you put down roots and never walked away from.

“You want to see upstairs?” Hank asked.

I spun toward him. I hadn’t even noticed he’d come in from outside, too busy marveling over his beautiful home. I looked beyond him. “Where’s Beau?”

“He carried on to his place. It’s only a couple of miles that way.” He pointed toward one of the living room windows, out to the forest beyond. “Eaglewood’s a two-hour drive on a shitty road. Better if we take you back in the morning.” Hank pushed his hands in his pockets and tilted his head to the stairs. “You want to see the rest?” he asked again.

We were alone. For the whole night. “I’d love to.”

He headed for the stairs. “I’ve got electric here now. Put up a wind turbine last summer. So, got an electric stove, lights, water heater.”

“It’s amazing. Your home…Hank, it’s beautiful.”

“My pops built it for my grandmother after they married.”

I smiled. “He must have loved her very much.”

Hank’s eyes were locked on me. “He worshiped the ground she walked on.”

His words were low and guttural, and I felt them all the way down to my toes. Then he headed up the stairs and I followed. He led me into a bedroom. There were big windows on two sides and a double bed with an amazing bedframe made of logs that still had their natural shape but had been sanded and varnished. I walked to the window and took in the spectacular view. It was late afternoon and the sun was dropping low in the sky. In the distance beyond a group of pines I could see another roof peaking from between them.

“Is that Beau’s house?”

Hank moved up beside me and dipped his chin. “We’ve been building it for the last few years.”

“I bet it’s as lovely as this house,” I said.

His head swiveled to me on his thick neck and his eyes were bright when he said, “It’s pretty close.”

I dragged in a deep breath at the look on his face, the way he was looking at me, the way it affected me, and turned to look back out the window. “The view from here, it’s magical. Is that all your land?”

“Mine and Beau’s.”

God, this place was stunning, quiet, peaceful. “I can see why you love it here so much.”

“Yeah?”

I nodded. “You have a beautiful home, a lifestyle that a lot of people would kill for.” I smiled at him. “You know what you want and where you belong, Hank. Not everyone gets that in their life. I envy you.” I’d never felt that, not once. Even when my mom was alive. With the apartments we lived in, the constant moving, I never once had that sense of home, of security, of belonging.

He stared at me for several long seconds, the air getting thicker the longer we stood there.

“Is this your room?” I said into the tense silence.

He shook his head. “Spare room. Mine’s down at the end of the hall. There’s another one next door and a bathroom beside that. I got a septic tank here, so the shower, bath, and toilet’s inside.”

“A shower?” I’d kill for a hot shower.