It was starting to get dark when they reached their destination, but there was a full moon. He'd driven to the river. A path wound from the parking area, down to the river bank. Turning off the car, he smiled at Wynter.
"My folks have a cabin up here. We stayed out here all summer, only going into the city for services. When I was making my decision to join the seminary, I came up here for a retreat. I fished for food, prayed a lot, and completely unplugged from life—no computer, no phone, no TV. It was bliss."
"Sounds like you enjoyed it."
"I did. Very much. This is my favorite place, of anywhere I've ever been. I feel most like me here. After the crash and burn with Cieran, I had decided to come up here for a few days. Then everything else happened, and that plan got postponed. Would you like to see it?"
"I would!"
"Great." He reached into the back seat, grabbing a battery operated lantern. "I put this in here a few days ago, and forgot about it. There's power at the cabin, but no lights along the way."
Helping her out of the car, he looped her arm through his, after opening the lantern. Blue-white light cast bright beams, creating eerie shadows. These danced and dipped as the lantern swung from Obi's hand.
Around a bend in the path, Wynter saw a cabin. It was split logs, with a low, red metal roof. The porch circled it on three sides. Low eaves dropped nearly to the ground, creating a comforting shade against the midday sun.
"Welcome to Rose Cottage," he said as he unlocked the door.
It was then that Wynter noticed that there was a beautiful stained glass panel in the door, covered in dozens of different colored roses. The shutters on the windows, were painted a dark rosy red. In the center of each shutter, someone had cut out intricate rose shapes.
"It's beautiful!" she gasped.
"Thank you. It was built by my great-great-grandfather. Initially, it was the family homestead. Eventually, they had enough money to move into town, but kept the cabin."
"This is wonderful. It's so homey!"
She admired the blond wood floors and rough hewn walls. The furniture was rustic in design, covered in colorful, handmade cloth which reminded her of Native American patterns from local tribes. On the wall, on either side of the fireplace, were framed shadowboxes, with a beautifully embroidered and beaded blouse and shoes.
"Is this Potawatomi work?"
"Yes. My great-great-grandmother was Potawatomi."
"No kidding! That's so cool! We have some Native blood, too. Also my great-great-grandmother. Only she was Tuscarora."
"Cool. Do you have anything from her?"
Sadly, she shook her head. "She died when her children were very young. Their father wasn't able to care for them, so they were separated and put in care."
"That's a shame. I hope they had good homes."
"Some of them did. There were twelve, and the older ones didn't fare as well as the younger ones. They were put into work camps, where they worked fourteen hour days."
"That's criminal!"
"Yes, it is. That's what happened then." Sniffling a little, she touched the frame, stroking the glass. "I can't get over how intricate those designs are. Simply stunning."
"Yes, they are. My grandfather had them hermetically sealed and put here when I was a boy."
"That was a good idea."
"Want to see the rest?"
"I'd love to. How many rooms is it?"
"Living room," he gestured. "Dining area," he pointed to the other side of the cabin, where a sturdy, circular table stood. "Let's go see the kitchen, because you'll love it."
There was a bar perpendicular to the back wall. The kitchen was snug, but well laid out. The sink overlooked the back yard—which was mostly trees. But the way that the house was sitting, there was a view of the river both from this window, and the front porch.
"This is beautiful!" Wynter sighed.
"Want something to drink? We keep it stocked. I've got coffee, tea, sodas and wine."
"Something cold," she replied with a smile.
He got a cold Coca-Cola from the refrigerator, handing it to her. "It's clean on top. I washed it before I put it in there."
"I thought I was the only person to do that!" She smiled, popping the can open.
"You've met my mother," he stated as if that made it all clear.
"Exactly like mine, apparently."
"In all the very best ways." Tapping his can against hers, he smiled. "Cheers."
"Cheers."
It was cool in the cabin, so he started a fire. They sat on the couch, snuggled closely, gazing into the flames. Wynter could tell that Obi was more relaxed than he'd been earlier. She felt calmer, too. The worries of her life slipped away, washing down the river.
They finished their sodas in silence. Obi slipped his arm around her, and she put her head on his shoulder. Turning his head, he tipped her chin, planting a soft kiss on her lips. Wynter sighed happily, smiling a little as they kissed. They spent a long time in one another's embrace.
Obi wasn't sure when they'd passed the threshold of friendship, to something more, but he was happier than he could ever remember being. Wynter filled a gap in his soul, he hadn't even realized was there. He'd heard Eagle yammer on about soul mates, since meeting Sarah. Obi hadn't really ever given it much thought, until the first time he kissed Wynter. It was as if his soul recognized hers, and vice versa.
His phone rang, piercing their solitude. "Yeah?" he answered, not looking at the screen.
"Sorry to bother you, Brother Mine," Clive said. "But Mom's worried."
"We're at the cabin," Obi said.
"Planning to spend the night?"
"No, why?"
©Dellani Oakes 2023
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