First Thrills Read online

“Everything’s fine. Relax. I’m at home.”

  “I thought you left for Kansas City early this morning? Your conference.”

  “My presentation’s not until later this week. Where are you? You’re not at the cabin or you wouldn’t have a cell phone connection.”

  “I stopped at the office.”

  “Jesus, Maty. It’s your first day off. Are you still at the office?”

  She clenched her fist around the steering wheel and tried to ignore the sudden tightness in the back of her neck.

  “I’m almost at the cabin,” she lied. “If fact, I may lose you soon. What is it that you need?”

  “Need?”

  “You called me,” she reminded him. He was already distracted. She could hear something in the background. It sounded like a train whistle. Their home was nowhere close to train tracks. “You were glad you caught me,” she tried again.

  Why did he do this to her? He was checking up on her, again. She had come to resent his constant worry, his psychoanalysis, his treating her like one of his patients. Did he think he could try to talk her out of this one last time with more concerns that it might not be safe for her being out there all alone? No, she wasn’t a camper. This wasn’t about camping. This was about going someplace to be completely away from everything and yes, everyone. Besides, she had listened to him enough to bring along her father’s old Colt revolver. William didn’t even know she had kept it from the estate sale. He hated guns. Hated the very idea of them being in the house.

  “I just wanted to tell you I love you,” he said.

  Maty closed her eyes. Took a deep breath and moved the phone so he couldn’t hear her releasing a long sigh. He did worry about her. He loved her. That was it. That was all. Her nerves were wound so tight she couldn’t even see what she was doing to her marriage.

  “I’m sorry, William. I love you, too.”

  “There might be thunderstorms tonight. I just wanted to tell you that. Oh, and Maty, remember not to mix your meds with too much wine. Okay? I don’t mean to be a nag but I saw that you packed several bottles.”

  Her face flushed. Embarrassment. A bit of anger. Calm. She needed to stay calm. He was concerned about her. That’s all. Don’t shove everyone out of your life, she told herself.

  “Maty?”

  “I’ll remember.”

  “Promise?”

  More and more of their conversations sounded like doctor and patient. No, that wasn’t true. They sounded like parent and child.

  “I promise, William.”

  “Good girl. Now you go out to your cabin retreat and get some rest. Relax, take it easy. I’ll see you in three days.”

  Now if that didn’t sound like a prescription. And patronizing.

  Stop it!

  She needed to stop sabotaging everything with her paranoia and her negative attitude. “You get what you sow.” That’s what her mother always said. “If you think good thoughts good things will come to you.” The power of positive thinking. What a bunch of crap. Maty Kramer knew that everything she had gotten in life was because she had fought for it, not because she focused on positive thinking. Okay, so she hadn’t been much of a fighter lately. Deep down the instinct must still exist, didn’t it?

  She found a hole in the traffic and gunned the engine. Traffic was moving again. She could relax, and yet a familiar throbbing began at the base of her neck and tightened the tension in her shoulders. It would take more than some peace and quiet to get rid of all this.

  She took her exit off the interstate and drove onto the two-lane highway that would take her far away from the city. She needed this vacation. She glanced at the marketing proposal. The shoulder pain eased its way down into her chest, following its regular path.

  “God,” she thought out loud, “I’m only thirty-five. A thirty-five-year-old woman shouldn’t be having chest pains.”

  She pressed the button, rolling the window down and grabbed a handful of pages. She stretched her arm out the window and listened to the pages flapping in the wind, slapping each other and licking her wrist. She held her breath and told herself to let go. Just let go. Suddenly, she jerked her arm back into the car, holding the papers tightly in her lap.

  “Am I going completely mad?”

  She shook her head and placed the pages safely back on the seat, before she had time to reconsider.

  It was after seven when she pulled up to the park office. The sun disappeared behind the massive cottonwoods and river maples. Maty had spoken to a woman in the park’s office earlier in the day. She had assured Maty her late arrival wouldn’t be a problem.

  “I’ll just leave your cabin key in an envelope and tape it to the door. You’re in Owen, number two, dear. Remember that, because the key doesn’t have any markings on it.”

  It sounded odd at the time, to leave something as valuable as a key on an office door for anyone to grab, but now looking at the place Maty understood. The small brick building sat in the middle of the woods, in the middle of nowhere. Shadows had already started to swallow what sunlight was left. One lonely lamppost glowed at the edge of the parking lot. There was a bare lightbulb above the office door. There were no other cars in the lot and no sign of anyone.

  The woman had warned her. “It’s the off-season, dear. You’ll be the only one here. The park superintendent has a conference in the Omaha. And I’m only here Friday through Monday. Are you sure you’ll be okay, dear?”

  “I’ll be fine,” she told the woman. It seemed even strangers didn’t believe she could handle being on her own.

  Now as she got out of the car she realized how good it felt to stretch and breath in the crisp, fresh air. Then she closed the car door and its thud echoed. There was something unsettling about the silence. A knot twisted inside her stomach. Was she prepared for all this quiet?

  Of course she was. It was late. She was hungry. She’d get to her cabin, slice some of the expensive cheeses she had splurged on, pour a glass of wine, and before she knew it she would be relaxed and enjoying the beauty—and the quiet.

  It really was quite lovely here. The trees had just begun to turn yellow and orange with some fiery red bushes in-between. Hidden in the treetops, locusts whined and a whip-poor-will called. A breeze sent fallen leaves skittering across the sidewalk in front of her. As a kid she loved going to her grandfather’s cabin in the woods. She used to go every year before, what her mother called, “grandpa’s madness.” The entire family would make a holiday of it, swimming in the lake, hiking in the woods, and at night gathering around an open fire. Those were some of the best, happiest times of her life. If she could capture just a fraction of those feelings, this vacation would be a success.

  But as she reached the office door Maty knew something wasn’t right. She felt it almost as if someone had sneaked up behind her and tapped her on the shoulder. There was nothing on the door. The envelope with her cabin key was missing.

  The woman simply forgot, Maty convinced herself. No one would take it. There was no reason to take an envelope with an unmarked cabin key. She told herself this as she hurried back to her car.

  She could simply drive back to the city. Go home. But what would she tell William? It was exactly the kind of thing he would expect of her. And that was enough reason to not consider it.

  Up the road and between the trees she noticed a light. What would it hurt to check it out? A sign at the end of a long driveway read Park Superintendent. The front door of the ranch-style house had been left open. Before Maty decided to stay or go a tall lanky man in a brown uniform appeared alongside her car. She jumped and accidentally tapped the car horn.

  “You lost?”

  Maty saw a patch on his sleeve that identified him as the park superintendent. He looked too young to be in charge of anything.

  “No, I’m not lost,” she said, rolling down her window, but only half way. “I’ve rented one of your cabins for the week. I called the office earlier to let them know I’d be late. I’m afraid they forgot to leave m
y key for me.”

  “Helen never forgets. Maybe it just fell off the door.”

  Maty met him back at the office. They searched everywhere—in the bushes, under the bushes, in the grass. Darkness replaced shadows and Maty was getting impatient.

  “Maybe Helen just forgot to put it on the door.” He still wouldn’t relinquish the fact that Helen just plain forgot.

  “Or someone got to it before I did,” Maty joked as she followed his tall shadow into the dark office.

  “No, no that wouldn’t be possible,” he said in his deadpan tone, oblivious to her attempt at humor. “There’s no one else here,” he explained. “I’m getting ready to leave, too. Even the grounds men aren’t due back until next week.”

  He flipped on the light switch in the office and both of them searched the peg board that held two keys for each cabin. Her eyes found Owen number two. Only one key was left.

  Maty watched Ranger Rick, or what ever his name was, reach for the remaining key. “See, I knew Helen must have gotten your key for you. It probably went home with her.” She didn’t care anymore. She simply wanted to get to the cabin and get to bed.

  “Sure, that’s probably what happened.”

  By now it was dark despite a sky full of stars and a moon that was almost full. The park’s trees grew thicker as she drove. Her car’s headlights sliced through the darkness. She wondered, again, if this was a bad idea. Perhaps the lost key was a bad omen. She laughed out loud. Not even to her cabin, and already she was sabotaging her vacation.

  The cabins were tucked back in the woods, only patches of rooftop visible from the parking area. Small wooden signs and arrows indicated what path to follow for which cabin. She found the sign for Owen number two, slung her backpack over her shoulder, and with a flashlight in one hand and grocery bag in the other, she followed the narrow trail. As she got closer she discovered the lake.

  Maty stood paralyzed by the beauty of the moonlight on the water. A chill slid down her back. She shook her head and hugged the bag to her chest. It was a lake in the woods in the dark, and it was chilly. Did she really believe she’d be like Thoreau, escaping to the woods and Walden Pond to find some inner peace or a deeper meaning to her life? She did know one thing that guaranteed inner peace and was much quicker. A nice bottle of Bordeaux.

  She started to turn back toward the cabin when she saw something move down by the lake. She strained to see. It looked like a man moving, sneaking between the trees, almost as if hiding.

  Her stomach plunged and her knees went weak. She crouched down so suddenly she crunched leaves and almost lost her flashlight.

  Did he hear that? Could he see her? She held her breath and listened. Behind the shrubs she could barely see. She pushed herself up on wobbly knees, just enough to see down by the lake. He wasn’t there. Was he hiding? She couldn’t see him. Her eyes darted around the shore, up and down the steep edges, between the trees.

  The man was gone. He had disappeared as suddenly as he had appeared. She stayed crouching, waiting as though she expected him to appear again. Then she wondered, Had there been anyone there at all? Or was it simply her stressed and overactive imagination? They said her grandfather had started to hallucinate before the madness.

  She needed to stop this or she would really drive herself mad. He could be a groundskeeper or a hiker or someone simply enjoying an evening stroll around the lake. It was a beautiful evening, after all. Not everyone went mad after dark.

  The cabin was rustic but cozy with a fireplace, kitchenette, one small bedroom and modern bath that included a shower. The back door walked out onto an attached screened-in porch that overlooked the treetops and the lake. The moonlight illuminated the cabin through the windows and skylights. The reflection off the lake lit the entire porch.

  Shadows of branches danced on the walls and suddenly they looked too much like skeleton arms reaching down for her. Maty flipped on every light switch and every lamp. Then she started to unpack her staples. She needed to get something to eat. Or more important, pour something to drink. Settle in. Lock down.

  She didn’t remember falling asleep.

  There was a scream and then a clap of thunder. Maty woke with a jerk, almost knocking herself out of the lounge chair on the porch. At first she didn’t know where she was. Her head felt heavy, her vision blurred from too much wine. It took a flicker of lightning to remind her.

  But why was it dark? She glanced back inside the cabin. She knew she had left every single light on. She reached for the lamp she had dragged out onto the porch and turned the switch. Nothing. She tried again as another flash of lightning forked across the black sky. The thunder that followed rattled the floorboards. William had warned her about thunderstorms. She hated when he was right. Another clap of thunder and the rain started, a torrential downpour, with no signs of letting up. She liked the sound of rain. There was something comforting about its natural rhythms and the fresh scent of scrubbed wood and dirt.

  That’s when she remembered the scream. She was sure it was a scream that had awakened her.

  Maty tried to get out of the chair, but her head begin to twirl. The wine. She must have drunk the whole bottle. She pushed against the arms of the chair. She tried the lamp switch again. Nothing. The electricity was off. In the dark she fumbled around and found her flashlight. What she really wanted to find was the Advil.

  The downpour continued, but now the wind pushed it through the screen of the porch. She grabbed her book and blanket before they got soaked. She started to retreat inside, but as she reached for the wineglass she saw a flash of light down by the lake.

  Not lightning, or was it?

  She gulped what was left in the glass, snapped off her flashlight and sat back down, waiting and staring at the spot where she had seen the flash. There it was again. It looked like a tunnel of light from a flashlight. Then she saw him. A man carrying something flung over his shoulder, something that looked large and heavy. He really was crazy to be out on a night like tonight.

  Maybe the wine really had made her mellow, because his appearance didn’t frighten her. Quite frankly she didn’t care if someone was stupid enough to be out in a night like tonight.

  She was sober enough to realize she was drunk. She actually didn’t mind the wet wind coming in on her. It felt good, fresh, and erratic. Her head no longer hurt. Her fingers found the wine bottle. She tipped it, pleased to see a bit left. She poured and sipped and continued to watch.

  The man had a long stick and was poking the ground. No, wait, it wasn’t a stick. The lightning flickered off the metallic end of a shovel. Wasn’t he afraid of being struck by lightning? It certainly wasn’t smart digging in the middle of an electrical storm. Maybe it wasn’t a shovel at all. Suddenly tired again, she made her way to the bedroom. On the other side of the lake she thought she saw a light, a lamppost shining bright through the trees. How was that possible? The electricity was out. Her eyelids couldn’t stay open and her head was too heavy to care. She climbed into bed and collapsed into a wonderfully deep, alcohol-induced sleep devoid of thunder and lightning and strangers digging in the rain.

  When Maty woke a second time the digital bedside clock glowed 4:45. The lightning had been reduced to a soft flicker and the thunder, a low rumble in the distance. The full moon broke through the clouds, illuminating the small bedroom. She reached for the bedside lamp and twisted the on switch. It took her a second to remember that the storm had knocked out the electricity. She looked at the clock again and watched it click to 4:46 and realized it must be battery-operated.

  The pain in her head reminded her of the wine. And worse, she had forgotten to take her pills. Out of his sight for less than twenty-four hours and Maty was already breaking her promises to William. But instead of regret or remorse, it felt more like defiance and victory. Silly and childish, but if he insisted on treating her like she was a patient or a child, he couldn’t blame her for acting like one.

  She lay in bed, staring out the window. All she c
ould see from this angle were the shadows of treetops swaying in the breeze. It sounded like the rain had stopped entirely. All was quiet and peaceful, nature’s wrath finished for tonight.

  Then she heard footsteps.

  Maty held her breath and listened. Had she imagined it?

  No, there it was again, slow and hesitant—the soft groan of floorboards. Someone else was in the cabin.

  She didn’t dare sit up. Couldn’t move if she wanted to, paralyzed by fear. Her mind reeled. Had she locked all the doors? Yes, as soon as she’d arrived. But maybe not the porch door when she stumbled to bed.

  Oh God, had she left it unlocked?

  She strained to hear over the thump-thumping of her heart. Her eyes darted around the room. She had left her backpack and everything in it in the other room.

  Minutes felt like hours. She willed herself to stay very still. She kept the sheet pulled up to her chin. Her hands were shaking. She could do this, she told herself, and tried to focus. She could ease off the bed and roll underneath.

  Moonlight filtered in past the tree branches and illuminated the bedroom. Now was not a good time. She wanted to pull the curtains shut. Darkness was the only weapon she had. But she couldn’t risk moving. Couldn’t risk making a sound. So instead, she kept still. She would pretend to be asleep. Could she do that and not scream? Would it matter?

  With the power still out there were no electrical whines of appliance motors turning off and on. She held her breath, straining to listen. She heard a distance train whistle. Leaves rustled in the breeze outside the window. A whip-poor-will called from the other side of the lake. No footsteps. No groaning floorboards. Had she imagined it? Was that possible? Oh God, maybe she was going mad.

  Maty glanced at the clock and continued to lay still. Ten minutes. Fifteen minutes. It felt like a week. Twenty minutes. No footsteps. The thumping of her heart quieted. The banging in her head grew. Too much wine. Too much stress. And she’d forgotten to take her medication last night. Was that all it was?

  She watched the darkness turn to dawn. The night shadows started to fade and disappear from the bedroom walls. When Maty finally convinced herself that her imagination had gotten the best of her, she eased out of bed. Still, she monitored her movement, stopping and waiting, listening. After a few minutes of tiptoeing she felt ridiculous.