Beckoned by the Mist

Chapter 1

At First

Three Years Ago

Dan and I were at our holiday cottage, our beloved little space that sat graciously back from a calm lake located on the outskirts of a Heritage National Park. Located nearby was the small, quaint village of Grace Lake Falls with only two crossroads. The little town sat an hour and a half north of our home base in Upstate New York.

In that rural area of the north, there were also many old ghost towns, and on a fall day, full of radiant sun, the leaves would dance their natural red and orange through the wind of winter’s first chill. If you listened closely enough you would hear the echoes of those ethereal voices rustling gently through the trees; spirits connected to the land that would never leave. Their mystical stirrings seemed to easily move through those that felt them near and longed for a touch of the divine.

On most weekends, the quiet of the wooded area soothed and eased our tired minds and bodies. We’d always endured long working weeks spent tussling with the intellects of the good, the bad, and the wretched. Students, by any other name. Dan and I had become professors, as our passion was to try and instill the love of learning in others. But what an arduous task this really was…and a great life challenge, too.

The vast majority of today’s generation were loud mouthed, opinionated, and possessed a sense of entitlement. Perhaps they felt their tuition afforded them such luxuries. It was the curse of the millennial's. Graciousness was a lost art. Most didn’t know the growth or wisdom that physical and emotional hard work brought. Yet our job was first and foremost to educate and enlighten, searching for different ways to unravel mystery and move the mind forward.

Thankfully, Dan was my partner in all things and we strove to make a difference, impacting on their young lives together. Some experiences were indeed joyful, and others fraught with tension. Our relationship, however, was richly predicated on undying friendship beyond all else. The secluded little place on earth where we had chosen to live was the perfect escape for rejuvenation from the challenges the working weeks brought.

That particular weekend we planned to have our own very private—and very sexy—holiday celebration before joining up with family. We craved intimacy. My imagination ran rampant with thoughts of what sexy might look and taste like. Was Dan ready to experiment? Admittedly, satisfying sex was always a treat and eagerly welcomed.

On the Saturday before Christmas, sitting comfortably in front of a blazing fire with golden flames ever-reaching for the heavens, I looked around the rustic rural space that he and I had renovated so lovingly and tirelessly. It had been a dilapidated mess that required a total gutting when we first made an offer to purchase, and luckily the owner was ready to walk away.

We literally built our dreams on very special land, full of ancient history. Maybe it was truly only a cabin. Nonetheless, we adored this place we had carved out just for the two of us, far away from the hardships of work.

Early on in the relationship, when we began connecting on deeper levels, we had definitively decided that we didn’t want a conventional marriage with a house in the burbs. The idea was boring. We wanted a lifestyle that spoke of our love for the outdoors, the tranquil and the sumblime.

Yet life, in the end, seemed to have a different plan for us.

Determinedly, every spare moment we could find we worked on the renovations. Devoted and committed with hammer and nails in hand, we poured over DIY books and truly did it ourselves. It was a different kind of fun, an exhausting and physically painful adventure, but somehow, at the end of each day, full of joy. We even danced with glee in every newly repaired spot.

Every weekend for three years, we packed up the SUV, battled Friday night rush hour traffic, and traveled north to work on our dream home. Those were great times filled with sheer pleasure and laughter. We painted a picture for the outside world of two people so in tune with each other. But looking back, perhaps the special friendship full of unbridled camaraderie was the greatest element of the relationship.

Maybe hindsight was serving as a window to truth.

On that particular night at the cottage, we lit our little evergreen tree and she twinkled her multi-colored and beautiful lights. Hints of the fragrant and relaxing scent of pine filled the air. We left the bitterly cold winter outdoors, and together we sat huddled in the corner of the couch in front of the fire. A fine bottle of red rested open on the coffee table before us, waiting to be enjoyed as the two of us settled in for a night of closeness.

Shall we toast to a job well done? Dan looked at me lovingly as he spoke the words.

Yes, we are a great team!

When I looked to return his gaze, all at once he looked gray and ashen. What was happening?

The air around us stood still as disbelief replaced our sense of harmony. Then shock ensued, but a natural, primal instinct took over my whole being.

Dan, what’s wrong, what’s going on? I could hear the panic in my voice and felt the pull of despair on my chest.

Remain calm, I urged myself.

I think you’d better call an ambulance.

I reached for the phone and quickly dialed 911, and then came back to his side. The closest ambulance was twenty minutes away.

He had lain himself down on the couch, and grabbed my arm from where he lay. Listen, Eve…I am leaving tonight. You have much more work to do. Live…I want you to be happy. I’ve left you a detailed note in my safety deposit box. I’m sorry…there is no more money. His speech was rushed. No more words followed.

Dan, be quiet! You are not going anywhere; the ambulance is on its way.

But he didn’t hear me; he was trying frantically to catch his breath.

As I started to administer CPR, his last little bit of warm breath escaped into my own mouth. Clinging to that breath of his air, I held on for as long as I could, and then I felt my heart tear apart, as if a piece of me had left with him.

Looking at his pale gray face, his blue lips, and glaring wide open eyes that sought Heaven, my sorrow bellowed out. My life was in ruins. He was gone. Dan was gone too soon.

In ever so brief a moment life became both tumultuous and cruel.

* * * *

The paramedics finally came to remove his body from our home but their presence was a blur to me. The numbness had fully invaded my body; taken over.

* * * *

In the end, the autopsy report concluded that he had a myocardial infarction, a massive heart attack. He had been otherwise quite healthy…but what did that piece of paper know?

What he had was a major combustible moment that radiated and spewed tiny pieces of our love and memories all over a landscape called Life. Dan was gone, and I was abruptly widowed at thirty-five.

Life usually starts around that age; but mine, like Dan’s, had ended.

Chapter 2

Present Day

C’mon, time to get inside, I quickly beckoned my two best girls from the front door of the cottage. Big, stocky, and barrel-chested yellow labs made for the best companions. The wind had picked up speed and the skies looked ridiculously ominous, dark smoky charcoal with total cloud coverage looming overhead. The two dogs trotted in, tails wagging, without a care in the world. I tightly closed the door behind them and then put the latch on; up north in the winter, the driving snow could be fierce and unrelenting. But I didn’t mind. The howling wind and pounding snow that followed echoed my still present sorrow. It was a little over three years since Dan left so quickly, and it still felt like I didn’t have a say. That pissed me off. Anger was not pretty at all…it tasted bitter and sour.

Yet, there was a reluctant admission to myself, from time to time, that a strong, smart, and resilient woman still existed. I still got up every morning and functioned. That fact filled me with some self-assurance and a belief in myself. Romantically though, my motor hadn’t cranked up for anything.

I didn’t crumble outright. Groveling and reaching for understanding of the unknown, my sense of logic figured that one just had to do the hard work of letting go to come out at the other end of it all. It was, after all, a matter of time and acceptance, right?

The girls snuggled in next to me as I got comfortable in front of the fire and readied myself to ride out this one of many storms in my life. Orli was a six year old lab that Dan and I had adopted the year before he left, and Lily was the three year old I bought on a whim when I couldn’t refuse her adorable face on the rescue site. Each one was a loving, sweet friend with tons of wet licks that spoke of their unconditional love.

Sitting in front of the fire, curled up in a ball, my thoughts always went to vivid recollections of better times, usually the ones of working hard to fix up the cottage. It made me smile. Looking around now, there was pride in all the hard work we’d put into restoring that dump we had bought. Indeed, we were a good synchronized team.

Death helps you forget the rough spots in a relationship that are natural to life. For example, death helped me forget that Dan didn’t think about any kind of financial stability. The stench of ignorance from a man so smart made me grimace.

Since Dan’s passing, it had become harder and harder for me to maintain the country cabin, both physically and financially. There was only one of me for the upkeep and only one income now. Dan didn’t think at thirty-eight years of age he would need a ton of life insurance. He bought only the minimum to pay for his funeral and a few debts. So, this was probably my last bit of precious time in this beautiful space before I would have to put it on the market.

Looking up, I thought of how the wooden-beamed ceiling gave it a truly country feel. It was one big room that encompassed a kitchen, living room, dining room with a bathroom to the side, and a staircase that led to a loft that acted as a bedroom. The floors creaked with joy to remind us of their own heritage.

Most weekends, I relished knowing that I could make my way out of the city and up to the cottage. What a splendid way of coping with being alone. Instead of it being a lover’s retreat, it now afforded me a place for perspective and distance to just sit and idly think on happier times, to reminisce and map out a tenuous future. My friends prodded me to move on. I was still a young woman. Dan would have wanted you to be happy! Their perceived kindness annoyed me. I was indeed happy, just not by society’s norms. There was a certain peacefulness in the calm that a solitary life could bring.

People in the nearby town knew me well by now, too. I was the lonely, almost spinster-like widow who chose to be a recluse. But most were kind and helpful when needed.

Most nights my sleeping spot ended up being on the couch by the fire with the dogs huddled close by. The bed in the loft could evoke nightmares; dreams of Dan dying, and me rushing to the front door, looking frantically for the blasted paramedics who might help. The hardest dreams of all were those of me lying wrapped up warm and tight in his loving embrace. Yes, those recollections were the most frightening. I missed feeling loved by another. Upon waking, cold, shaking, and without him, the stark reminder of his absence further chilled my being.

When the fire finally died out and all that remained were the woodsy, earthy smells from the dying embers, I wrapped the blanket tightly around myself and Orli and Lily lay next to me. Warmth surrounded me. Sleep always followed.

* * * *

The next morning a loud and startling thudding on my front door quickly roused me out of my deep sleep. It stunned me awake and the dogs ran to the door, barking. My heart raced. Shushing them, I tried to open the door to see what all the ruckus was about, but the big wooden door wouldn’t budge. The snow was packed up against it so tight and high that the door wouldn’t move.

Hey, I can’t open my door. Who’s there? I called out. Then I became really frightened. What if I couldn’t get out? What if I couldn’t open the door to let the dogs out? What if there was a freaking axe murderer on the other side?

It was the first time I heard his voice. Hold on, I’ve come to dig you out.

Thank you, I called back out to this stranger with a kind voice. Or at least he sounded kind. And then I thought for a moment that I could detect the faintest Scottish burr.

I heard him shoveling.

Powerless, I called out, Is there anything I can do to help?

Nope, hang tight and I’ll let you know when it’s safe to open it up.

Quickly I ran back and threw on my gray sweats and a hoody. After about half an hour of constant shoveling, I heard him say, You can open it up now. Go ahead and give it a try.

It was still a bit stuck and frozen from the snow, but with me pushing and him pulling, it finally gave way and we were able to break it open. With one fell swoop the door opened outward, and as it did, the dogs went barreling out. It truly was quite the entertaining scene. I laughed so hard, and then noticed this strange and yet somewhat familiar face watching me intently.

With the door wide open, the frozen and chilled air instinctively had me wrapping my arms tightly around my body to guard against it. Shivering and gathering myself again, I said, Oh, I’m sorry…I meant to thank you so much for your wonderful help. Please come in. A leftover giggle tried to escape me, but was stopped immediately when I saw a dagger clutched purposefully in his hand.

My look must have been a mixture of amazement and surprise. The blade shone luminously in the brilliant winter sunlight. It looked like something out of a history textbook. The handle was black and beautifully trimmed with gold scroll, and the blade was engraved with a form of ancient script. It definitely caught me off guard.

Quickly reading my face, he returned it to its sheath that hung off a belt draped around his waist. Plainly he stated, My knife helped me cut through the ice.

Something tugged at me to allow him forward.

Please, do come in.

I’m a mess, covered in snow, and would drench your place, he replied, waving his arms around his body as if to display his snowman appearance.

I laughed again.

Yes, you are indeed covered in a huge amount of snow. But please, do come in, and don’t worry about the mess at all. I’ll put some coffee on to warm us both. I would like to say thank you. I don’t know how we would have made it out of here if you didn’t come by to help.

Sure, he replied rather abruptly; or was he just shy? He entered and closed the door behind. But his snow-covered self brought with him the smell and taste of a frigid winter’s day.

I made my way to the kitchen area, and as I slowly moved, he deftly undressed the layers of protective gear he wore to keep himself warm. Methodically he hung up that chilled wetness—his coat, gloves, and toque—on the wall hooks and placed his boots on the mat by the door. Puddles of water formed around them as the snow melted. He appeared to be a tidy man. Dan was always tidy too. Don’t do that, I reminded myself.

Please come and be comfortable. I motioned him over to the kitchen table. Would you like coffee or tea? I felt myself becoming very formal. After all, here was a strange man in my kitchen, and yet a neighbor I had seen in passing. Well, he did save you…. Quiet, I instructed my unsettled thoughts.

Coffee would be great.

I put the coffee on to brew and went back to the door to let Orli and Lily back in. After giving them a good wipe down from all the snow attached to their fur and faces, they ran up and snuggled their snouts into his lap, as if they had known him a very long time.

I’m sorry. They’re just too friendly.

I don’t mind at all. I love all animals. And these guys are wonderful. He smiled a great big ear-to-ear smile in my direction. His piercing blue eyes sparkled pools of radiant light, as if to illuminate the space before us. It took me aback, and took a concerted effort to pull away from his gaze.

I put the thermo coffee pot on the table with cream and sugar, and found some leftover cake and put that out too. I sincerely felt grateful for how he had come to dig us out. Yeah, that was it. It was gratitude, not attraction.

How did you know we were trapped? I inquired innocently. I had seen him in his yard many times before, but I had never spoken to or been up close to him until today.

"Well, after I dug myself out, I looked over and saw the snow piled up against your door, and knew that unless you had some help, you and the dogs were not getting out. So, I decided to come over and see what was going on."

Thank you again…. I hesitated, because I realized I didn’t even know his name. As if reading my mind, he stuck out his hand to shake mine and introduce himself.

I’m Maxwell MacGregor. But Max, to most. He had an old-fashioned hearty handshake.

Nice to meet you, Max. My name is Eve, and my maiden name was Campbell. My family is of Scottish descent too…. The air was still between us for seconds as we both sat and thought what to say next. I thought I saw Max smile shyly upon hearing what my family name was. Or perhaps I imagined that.

Max, how come we have never met before? I was being bold, but the new resilient me didn’t care and said what was on her mind. I used to be more subtle.

Well…I just thought you wanted your privacy. I didn’t want to intrude on that. He surprised me with that honest reply.

Why?

I heard from the folks in town about your husband, and there were many times I wanted to come by to give my condolences, but you seemed so closed off to visitors. So I just let it go, and then too much time slipped away. I’m sorry…really sorry for not coming by earlier, and sorry for your loss…Eve. He, Dan, seemed like a nice man.

He was, and again, I must say thank you. Seems like all I am doing is thanking you, I said, half-nervously joking.

Hey, no thanks are necessary. It’s all for a reason. He was so assured in his words.

So, tell me a bit about you, I inquired, and with that he took a big gulp of coffee, looked into the distance, and began.

I’m not from around here. I move on much of the time. But this is a kind of home-base for me right now. I’m in the repair business. Whatever people need fixing, I try to see if I can help out.

As he talked I took a good look at him. He was a bit over six feet tall in my estimation. His hair was dark brown, long and wavy, with a luscious thickness to it. Because I always checked out the eyes of a person, I would say that his were azure blue, and reminded me of tropical seas. I also felt that his eyes relayed an unspoken language. They appeared almost transparent, and I could see the ocean in them...hmmm. He was well built, probably because of all the physical labor required for the work he did. Yet there was a slenderness about him down the middle that was offset by those broad shoulders.

I had to shake my brain back to the now.

Dan and I, as academics, were not too physically inclined, yet we did love to trek the outdoors. Okay, focus and come back to the conversation, I reminded myself.

Wow, that sounds exciting! You get to see different people and different places all the time.

It can be interesting, but it can also be very lonely, to be honest, he said, looking down as he spoke the words.

I felt a tug at my heart. This gorgeous, kind man could be lonely. I understood loneliness.

How can that be, Max? You are good looking, and from what I’ve just experienced, very kind.

He seemed a bit embarrassed by my remark and so he spoke slowly, looking away again. I guess it’s just my journey. Some of us have to do what others won’t.

That sounded way too profound for a journeyman and I wanted to ask for more info, but thought better of pushing it. Max, where did you grow up and what schools did you attend? I asked. After all, I was a teacher by trade, thus my interest.

It was his turn to laugh out loud. I went to the school of life and learned on the streets!

I smiled back. True, some of the best learning is by chance. Can I offer you a slice of coffee cake? I asked, to change the subject. I’d known many successful students like that. Learning wasn’t always in the books.

No cake, thanks; I’m good. But Eve, I have to tell you that I noticed last fall that you have a hole in your roof. It’s big enough that I can see it from the ground. When the weather thaws, in about a month’s time, would you mind if I came back to fix it for you?

That would be so helpful. How much do you charge?

No charge for a neighbor! he exclaimed.

Oh, Max, that is so kind again. But really, I want to pay you for your services.

Okay…um…how about you pay me with a nice home-cooked dinner? I haven’t had one of those in ages. That would be great repayment.

That’s a deal! I reached out to shake his hand again. He shook mine back and made direct eye contact with me. Those pools of blue held me again and I couldn’t move. Stuck and staring!

* * * *

I’ll always remember that moment when I first saw into his eyes. They reflected back a history; he had seen too much…his soul was dark, old, and knowing.

The loneliness escaped him and he let my hand go first. Then he got up to put his things back on and leave. At the door we exchanged pleasantries again, and then I shut the door firmly behind him. I heard him pause outside before moving across the snow back to his cabin.

Making my way back to the kitchen to clean up, I thought about what an interesting person this Max MacGregor appeared to be. At