Page 10 of Claiming My Mountain Man

“Yes. Sit back I’ll get you another one.” After he’s devoured the second piece, he leans back to enjoy his coffee. “Dinner was delicious and those brownies are the best I’ve ever had.”

“I didn’t realize you had such a sweet tooth.”

He mock scowls. “Sugar is energy.”

“What was the best thing your mom made?” I feel his body go stiff. He takes another swallow of coffee and turns to face me.

“My mom didn’t cook. Cereal and lunch meat were mostly what we ate. Dad was a fair cook when he was home, meat and potato kind of stuff. But the kind of work he did was days of nothing then long hours when there was money to be had and no time to stop. We made do with whatever was around the house. A lot of canned soups and chili.

“She went to town, mostly the next town over, drank and hooked up. By six I was helping dad collect and sell firewood. Sometimes local loggers would hire us off the books. Sometimes we’d scavenge wood from places we weren’t supposed to in order to make ends meet.”

He studies his mug for several minutes. “You identified the widow maker. You know how dangerous they are. They’re also easy to miss when you’re focused on what you’re doing.

“Dad insisted I go to school and get an education. He wanted better for me. During the school year, I’d help after school and weekends meeting him as soon as I got out of class. One day I found him crushed under a widow maker.

“The town collected memorial donations and the church donated a plot for his burial. My dad had inherited this land from his family. Mom saw her windfall and planned to sell it until she found out he left it to just me.

“When the funeral was over, she took off with the money from the church donations, and her boyfriend. I didn’t tell anyone she left. I’d spent my whole life running in the mountains, with or without my dad. This was my home. I was afraid if anyone found out she was gone they’d put me in an orphanage or state home. That sounded like jail to me. So, I pretended she was just being her and hanging out with her friends in another town.

“A couple of the small loggers would hire me for cash. Gerdie figured it out but kept my secret and helped me get my diploma. Then she talked to people she knew and helped me get into the military. I met your dad about a year after basic.”

He pauses and looks at me. “I’m still mostly a loner. JB, your mom and... you were the closest I’ve ever come to family.”

“But you’re close to some of your old squad, too.”

He shrugs. “Yeah, but that’s different. That’s well... the team.”

“Did you ever hear from your mom again?”

“No.”

“Do you want⁠—"

“No.” He stands. “It’s getting late. We should probably get some rest. I never know when I might get called out by SAR. People get lost in these conditions all the time.”

He pauses for a long moment. “You want to shower first or should I?”

“Go ahead. There’s a little prep work I want to do for tomorrow’s meals.”

I put together the breakfast casserole with vegan sausage for morning and boil the tri-colored rotini for the pasta veggie dish we’ll have later tomorrow. I’ll have meat on the side for him to add. Smiling as I work, I remember my dad’s reaction was similar to Micha’s when he found out I was vegetarian. But it didn’t take long for him to embrace my meals. He’s cut back by at least half of his meat consumption and his doctor’s thrilled. So is Mom.

I’ve just finished putting everything in the refrigerator when Micha comes out of the bathroom.

“Your turn,” he says.

When I come out, the bed light on his side of the bed is off. Illuminated by the bathroom light, he’s lying on his stomach, pretending to be asleep. I can tell because the muscles in his shoulders and bicep tense as if he’s trying not to look at me.

On the opposite side of the bed, he’s left the wall lamp on to make it easier for me to get to my cot. I glance at the miserable excuse for a bed. I almost think it would be more comfortable to just put the mattress on the floor.

I refuse to complain. I’m here. I’m with Micha. It’s a start.

CHAPTER 8

Micha

Every time she shifts, I hear the creak of the flimsy frame and expect Juni to end up on the floor. On top of that, with the wind howling and blowing, I realize there are a few cracks that still need to be chinked between the exterior logs of my cabin. They’re going to have to wait for spring.

I’m worried she’s gonna fall in her sleep or that she’s cold. She shifts again.