Finding Home Read Free

rugged hills. In
summer the verges are bordered with bright orange tiger lilies,
blue chicory and creamy Queen Anne’s lace. Sometimes I’ve seen an
entire hillside, cleared for pasture, so completely covered with
daisies it looks like fresh snow. That day though I noticed fall’s
first gentle touches: whole wide fields of goldenrod and wild
purple aster spread between the sumacs’ surprising splashes of
scarlet.
    When I reached the main highway, which
follows the Gatineau River south, my thoughts settled on the next
big question. If this was the end for Jay and me, what next?
    Did I want to buy Auberge Ciel and go ahead
on my own? Yes. Absolutely . But I couldn’t see how. I didn’t
have enough money saved, and doubted I could get a loan by myself.
I had no collateral and my job didn’t pay much above my room and
board.
    But if I couldn’t buy the lodge, what then?
Where to go and what to do? I couldn’t simply give up my dream just
by wanting to. I pictured a long, empty life wandering the world
alone. I’d never get over my loss, and forever regret what might
have been. I felt hugely sorry for myself. In fact I can’t remember
much else about that trip to Montreal, except for wallowing in
self-pity. I spent the time in my hotel room, crying.
    There was just the one other incident, the
beginning of the bizarre chain of events that would change my
life.
    Forever.

Chapter 2
     
     
    Just before leaving Montreal I drove up to
Mount Royal, the mountain park in the middle of the city. I needed
to go for a run. I parked near the lookout, then jogged along the
wild woodland paths. The day shone with that careless September
blue which hides the coming ache of autumn. I ran all the way to
the lake, then circled back to the lookout. There I stopped and
stood stretching my legs against the stone guard wall.
    The view out over the city of Montreal and
the St. Lawrence River was magnificent. Throngs of tourists milled
about, exclaiming and snapping photos. But I couldn’t appreciate
the scenery. I was too aware that I was facing south, looking
directly towards Burlington, Vermont, where Jay and Becky
lived.
    I knew it was over with Jay. I had to let him
go. Still, I missed him with heart, body and soul. And I couldn’t
forget how miserable I’d been the last time we broke up. The loss
had left me bleeding with pain.
    There was a huge chalet at the lookout, and I
wandered inside feeling wretched. Usually running cheered me,
really lifted my spirits, but that day it hadn’t worked. I was sure
I’d never be happy again. At the snack bar I bought a bottle of
water and stood staring at the menu, knowing I should eat something
but not the least bit hungry. Then I had the feeling of someone
watching me.
    I turned and saw some guy eyeing me, the way
hunters at the lodge did just before they hit on me. There was no
mistaking that obnoxious expression. Semi-interested, slightly
amused, supremely confident.
    I ordered some frozen yogurt and when it was
ready I hurried past him towards the open area at the front of the
chalet, where plastic tables and chairs were arranged by the
windows. There was something familiar about the guy. Something that
made me uneasy. Maybe he’d stayed at the lodge before and
recognized me from there. All the more reason to dodge him.
    But he followed.
    Get lost loser, I wanted to say. You’re not
my type. You’re not Jay. Just because you’re good-looking and we’re
both dressed for running doesn’t mean I want to meet you. But I
knew that wouldn’t stop him. It wouldn’t even make a dent in his
attitude. He must have money, I thought. That kind always did.
    I chose as public a table as possible, near a
large tour group, to put the guy off. He followed again. I couldn’t
eat with him watching me like that. As I stirred the yogurt I gave
him a dirty look, then turned to study the paintings over the
chalet’s windows, which depicted Montreal’s history.
    And then he came over and spoke.