Chapter 6

The door to the cabin reluctantly swung open. Dust visibly swirled through the late afternoon sunbeams which now poured through the entryway. Ansel pocketed his keyring and picked up the bags he had been carrying. He strode over the threshold and into the cabin, followed by Pearl and Brittany. As Brittany walked through the door, her face lit up at the charming little cabin. It was tiny, it was rustic, and it was everything they needed.

Ellie was not far behind. As she walked through the door, the amenities were not what she had expected.

Both Ellie and Brittany exchanged a glance as they watched Ansel duck through the small doorway to the bedroom.

Ansel laid the suitcases at the foot of one bed. "This is Cabin Lockheart. It's pretty much my guests' favorite.” His enthusiasm for this building particular building as splayed out in a grin. “It's got a kitchenette,” he gestured to his left where an antique enamel sink was recessed into the countertop, a two burner hotplate keeping it company. He continued, "A bedroom," as he tossed his thumb over his shoulder towards the narrow doorway.

“And there’s even a bathroom,” his tone suggested that having a bathroom was not something to be taken for granted. He reached forward and yanked on the handle of what appeared to be a closet door. It accordioned open revealing a clawfoot bathtub, pedestal sink, and ornate toilet.

“Plus this cozy little living area," he said, gesturing to their left. Ellie looked at the day bed wrapped in an thin quilt made out of a cheap polyester. Her face read like a roadmap to disappointment. The outside of the cabins were rustic and charming. The inside?

The inside.

Every one of Ellie’s professional instincts were screaming; there are elements here that work. Her eyes were drawn to some of the adornments on the wall—a thin layer of dust betraying how long they’d been hanging there. Then, she caught notice of the small, antique, oval, woven area rug that was randomly placed in the middle of the room. It was a woven plaid of amber, mustard, and mocha when the rest of the space was practically begging for a more neutral tone.

The space wasn’t elegant. It wasn’t curated. It didn’t feel homey. And it felt smaller on the inside than it did from the outside.

The ceiling is painted black, for Christ’s sake, she thought.

She looked to Brittany who was gazing around the room, obviously in love with the space. And apparently, she and Ansel were in the middle of a conversation.

“So you didn’t build this cabin?”

“No,” Ansel said sheepishly. “I didn’t build the cabins, but I’ve been their steward for the last… oh… nearly ten years. I did build the forge and some of the other accessory buildings, though…”

Having tuned back in, Ellie asked, “Ten years? How old were you when you bought this property?”

“Goodness,” Ansel paused for a moment. He looked at Pearl who cocked her head, attempting to read his expression. “I think I was... in my late 20’s?”

“So what does that make you?” She asked unconsciously trying to be flirty, but coming off more like an interrogator. An uncomfortable beat passed as Brittany cast a wide-eyed look at her friend. “You can’t be older than 36, right?” Ellie asserted, trying to play off her question with a laugh.

Brittany rolled her eyes as she flipped her hair.

Ansel had been quiet for a unnervingly long moment as Pearl pushed herself between his legs and was now sitting at attention between Ellie and her master. His voice cracked as he started, “I guess I’m 39.” His tone told the whole story: he had been unsure of his age and had to do the mental math.

“Wow,” Ellie exclaimed as she lurched forward and slapped both knees, “you don’t look it!”

And with that, everyone in the room was uncomfortable—Ellie and Pearl included.

Ansel cleared his throat. “Well, anyway. You guys are free to use any of the accessory buildings at any time… except for the forge.” He paused again, considering whether or not to expound on the topic. His tone shifted as he pressed forward, “Also, I cook breakfast in the dining hall every morning. You’re welcome to eat with us,” he said, glancing down at his dog. “I get pretty much all my food from my garden or my neighbors…” With a nervous fiddle of his sleeve, he continued, “If you need anything, just knock on my cabin door. I’ll be there.” He pointed through the window at his home, then sidled his way between the two women and walked out the door.

Pearl was motionless for a moment, studying Ellie. Her head flipping from side to side. Ansel exhaled a brisk, “Pearl! Come!” Which she obeyed.

As Ansel closed the door, Brittany turned to Ellie, her mouth contorted to mask a smirk. “Now I get it,” she whispered, her brow frowning.

“Get what?” Ellie asked.

“Why you have never let Griffin in.”

Ellie loudly blurted, “What the hell does that mean?” Surprised by her own outburst, she clasped both hands over her mouth fearing Ansel might still be in earshot.

“Cause you’re pathetically awkward when you like a guy,” Brittany hissed, accompanied by a chuckle.

Ellie shook her head in disagreement.

“It’s kinda funny, actually,” Brittany’s gaze read Ellie from top to bottom, “I’ve never seen you this...” a moment passed as she was trying to read Ellie’s expression.

Ellie shook her head again, her hands still over her mouth.

“You think Ansel is hot and you can’t control yourself,” she leaned forward with excitement. “It’s cute.”

"I think this cabin is hideous,” Ellie deflected. It was Brittany’s turn to shake her head. “Who paints the ceiling black?”

Later that evening, Ellie was coiled up on the daybed, wrapped in the thin quilt and hugging herself for warmth. “Why is it so fucking cold?” The words escaping through chattering teeth.

Brittany, now wearing joggers and a comfy pullover, was tending a pan full of popcorn on the hot plate. She turned to Ellie, “you didn’t pack a sweatshirt?”

“No! It’s June.”

”That’s no excuse. Maine gets cold at night,” passing off second-hand knowledge from a Google search as if it were first-hand experience.

“Let’s go to LL Bean so I can get a sweater” Ellie said, practically begging.

Brittany asked her phone for directions to LL Bean, it replied “LL Bean is two and a half hours by car with light traffic."

“That’s not going to work. What about like… Target?”

Being a good friend, Brittany again asked her phone for directions. “Target is an hour and a half by car with light traffic.”

Brittany thought for a second, “Why not go ask Ansel how to turn the heat on in here?”

“Well, I guess that couldn’t hurt,” Ellie said. “Would it be weird if I went and just knocked on his door?”

“He literally said we could do that.”

“Yeah, but was he just saying that?” Ellie asked, allowing her own social anxiety to speak for her. Brittany just glared back at her. So Ellie started the long process of psyching herself up to leave her cocoon of warmth.

She grabbed the flashlight that was conveniently left by the door, clicked it on and pointed it out into the darkness. It was even colder outside. Maybe in the high 50’s. She peered around the corner of her building, trying to locate his cabin. After all, it was incredibly dark on this particular night. One of the other structures had a soft orange glow through the window. That must be it, she thought.

As she was closing in on her target she started to feel incredibly nervous. As she consciously acknowledged this anxiety, she clicked the flashlight off and closed her eyes. I hate this feeling and I’m done feeling it. She thought, He’s a cute guy. He’s JUST a cute guy. I’ve dated tons of guys and I’ve never let this stupid anxiousness get in my way.

She opened her eyes and turned the light on once more. It happened to point right into the cabin window and Pearl started to bark. This startled Ellie and she dropped the flashlight.

As she stood up from retrieving it, she could see Ansel’s silhouette stirring behind the windowpane. Ellie climbed the steps to the cabin and knocked. She could hear Ansel moving quickly inside. See? He’s nervous too. This commiseration took the edge off.

“Quiet,” he barked back at Pearl. A beat later the door only partially opened. Ansel breathlessly poked his head out. “Ellie. What’s up?” His face was a little red, his eyes moderately puffy.

He looks like he’s high, she thought. She surreptitiously attempted to sniff out the distinct smell of weed, but couldn’t place it. “Hey, we’re really cold over in our cabin. Is there like…”

“Yeah! Hold on,” he said as he closed the door. He returned a moment later, this time opening the door a little wider. He handed her a hoodie.

“Oh. Wow.” She paused. Thank you." She held the hoodie out in front of her. It was clearly one of his own. It would be a dress on her. As she put the shirt on, the smell of Ansel was all over it. The scent was intoxicating and it took every ounce of strength she had to not live the rest of her life inside the cave of this sweater.

Before she could swim her way through the whole of the sweatshirt she heard Ansel’s low voice gently proffer, “I’ve got a fire going. You can come in and warm yourself up if you need to.”

Her stomach dropped and the anxiousness returned instantly. Her head finally surfaced through the neck of the hoodie, its hem falling just below her knees. She fumbled to accept his invitation. Well, she joked with herself, this wouldn’t be the fastest I’ve ever slept with someone.

Ansel’s cabin consisted of one large room with three smaller rooms off of it. As she entered, she noticed a sturdy old rocking chair was coming to a rest. In front of it was a large chest which he made a point of closing before she could see what was inside.

This was the first time she had seen inside his cabin. She was impressed by the rustic charm of it all. Looking around, there were homey accents on the walls. More than half of the furniture looked like something Ansel had made himself. She jokingly observed, “It’s so cute in here. If I didn’t know any better, I’d ask where your wife was.” Ansel didn’t reply.

Along the far wall was a steep staircase made of live edge lumber. There was a large, black, and ornate cast iron wood stove just inside the doorway. It had a flat cook top, and numerous nickel embellishments. The largest door on the front was open and she could see the fire inside. Adorning the front there was a large nickel emblem with “1829 • 2004” emblazoned across it. Ellie had never seen anything quite like it before and she was drawn to it like a moth to flame.

“Wow. This is absolutely beautiful,” she said as she cozied up to the source of warmth.

“Yeah. I love that stove,” he said, clearing his throat. “I bought it from this elderly couple a few years ago. They used to restore them until they passed away. I actually had them custom make that nickel emblem” Ansel walked across the room to the other side of the stove and looked down at Ellie. “I don’t know what I’ll do if I ever need to replace a part on it.” A moment passed and Ansel asked, “do you want me to go get Brittany so she can warm up, too?”

But Ellie was deep inside her own head and simultaneously lost in his eyes. She was debating on whether or not to go in for a kiss. The problem is, though… he’s just too tall. She reasoned, I’ve gotta wait for the right opportunity.

“Ellie?”

“What?” She asked, snapping back to the moment.

He had grabbed two chairs from the dining table and brought them over to the stove. He placed one chair beside her and set the other right next to it. “Do you want me to… wow. Your hands are ice cold.” Ellie had grabbed his hand as he had started walking away. She pulled at him, beckoning him to sit. “Wait, I’ve got the perfect thing,” he said.

Ellie was crestfallen as her grip loosened. Ansel walked through the door in the far corner. Crashing and banging rang out as the overhead light snapped on. “Where the heck did I put those?” A moment later, he sprung out of the doorway with excitement. He was clutching what looked like a pair of oven mitts. He bounded across the room and put the mitts on the stovetop. “My neighbor Harvey got these for me. They’re freakin’ awesome. Especially when you come in from shoveling snow.”

He sat down in the chair, pulled a glove off the stovetop, grabbed Ellie’s wrist, and placed it in the mitt. “What do you think?” he asked, his eyes bright with excitement.

This was it, his face was within reach. Ellie closed her eyes and went in for a kiss. Unexpectedly, though, Ansel grabbed her other wrist and put the other mitt on her bare hand. He was completely oblivious.

About The Author:

B.E. Waites

B.E. Waites is a New England-based author. They're also a gamer and an amateur photographer. When they're not writing, they work in the public health sector.