Somewhere In-Between Read Free Page A

Denim pine they call it, because of the streaks of blue grain that the beetles cause. I did the wainscoting in my kitchen with it. Looks great.”
    He turns away from the corral fence, effectively ending the conversation. “Now let’s see the rest of the property.” He directs them toward his crew-cab and Julie climbs into the back seat beside Elke. A few minutes later they turn down onto a driveway flanked by mountain ash trees.
    â€œThe rental cabin is just down here,” Richard says nodding ahead. “We’ll have a look at that first.”
    Elke leans forward, shaking her head. “No. No. We cannot go inside.”
    â€œYou didn’t give the tenant notice that we were coming?” Richard asks slowing the truck to a crawl.
    â€œWhy would I? It is his home.”
    The back of the cabin, nestled on the water’s edge, comes into view. Typical of the ancient settlers’ homes sprinkled throughout the Chilcotin, the weathered, square-hewn log cabin has a low slung roof and few windows. Except for the dented, road-weary pickup truck parked behind it, there’s no sign of life.
    â€œI’d like to see inside,” Ian insists.
    â€œThere is nothing to see. It is just a small cabin, of no value. I have never been in it. Just my husband. No.” Elke sits back. “We must leave.”
    â€œSorry, folks,” Richard says, the frustration evident as he throws the vehicle into reverse.
    During the jaw-chattering drive to the northeast fields, in answer to Ian’s questions about the tenant, Elke explains that Virgil was already living in the cabin when she and her husband bought the ranch. “He was here before we came, and he will be here when we are gone.” Her husband had promised Virgil Blue he could live in the cabin as long as he wanted. She means to keep that promise.
    â€œHe does so much work around the ranch,” she adds firmly. “You will be glad.”
    Uncharacteristically, Ian does not press the point. Another tell. Julie watches in amazement as he nods in agreement. He turns to face the road and she studies the back of his head. For the first time in months he is sitting up straight. Lately it seems as if he is shrinking, that the essence of who he once was is diminishing, and the solid walls that once made up his defences are caving in. She is afraid that something beyond weight and size is being lost. Even his neck looks different, like a turtle’s retreating into its shell to shore itself up from the outside world. Is it possible that this crazy idea of his, this getting away from it all, might be their saving salvation after all?
    Inside the ranch house Ian’s buying signals escalate. Even a wet-behind-the-ears realtor can’t miss Ian’s need to touch things, to run his hand along the smooth logs, the polished wooden doors, as he wanders from room to room. In the prow-shaped living room he stops to admire the massive central rock fireplace, and then walks over to the floor to ceiling windows. Beneath the high open beam ceiling, he stands in front of the plate glass staring out at the lake. “Amazing, just amazing,” he says to himself, before heading to the next room. Julie follows silently, skirting the glossy black bear rug splayed out in front of the fireplace. An involuntary shiver grips her at the sight of the bear’s enormous head, its fierce open-mouth display of carnivorous teeth.
    In the large office adjoining the living room, Ian paces off the floor, measuring the space. Julie can see him mentally placing his desk and furniture to take advantage of the views from the wall to wall windows. She walks over and opens one of the French doors that overlook an ambitious garden on the east side of the house. The smell of freshly turned earth wafts in with the breeze. Feeling the need for counter measures, finding something negative to balance Ian’s overly positive enthusiasm, she closes the door.