Romancing a Curse

The weary ache of grief stretching through the cab of my truck as I drove up the long curving road toward the house made my stomach churn. Through the trees I caught a glimpse of the spires atop the mansion, remembering how the first time I had seen them I’d been struck with awe. Now, after hundreds of trips up the drive, it didn’t make my breath catch anymore, at least not until the left side of the house came into view, and with it a smoke and fire damaged husk of where I knew the kitchen used to be. Even that couldn’t override the underlying sadness over knowing she wouldn’t be there.

“Fuck, boss,” I heard crackle to life from my earpiece.

“It’s worse than I thought,” I told Jerry, knowing Mike could hear as they were both in the truck behind me. Happy for the distraction from my own self-pity, we were here for a job. Today was assessment day, among other things, but I focused on the mess at hand. Assess the damage, estimate repairs, and begin planning for construction.

“Really does look like a castle,” Mike added. “Damaged by a dragon or something.”

“You’ve been reading too many fantasy novels,” I teased him as I pulled my truck up along the circular drive just past the door. A man in a suit waited on the doorstep. He was an older Asian man, hair peppered white, rail thin, and shoulders squared. He held a stack of papers, a tablet, and I knew, despite the mask covering the lower part of his face, it would be kind rather than stern.

“Masks on,” I told my crew. I turned off the truck and reached for my mask, looping it over my ears and adjusting the nose guard for a perfect fit. My best friend Addy had gotten a group of fellow moms together to sew dozens of the things, specific to size, for my guys, with a fun choice of print. Mine was Legend of Zelda. I think Mike had Mario Bros., and Jerry, the Smurfs, today. Once the actual work began, we had construction masks for dust and paint fumes. These were for walk-throughs, assessments and social safety etiquette in the middle of a pandemic.

I got out of the truck, grabbing up my own tablet to make notes and heading toward the door. The slam of Jerry and Mike’s truck doors let me know they weren’t far behind.

“Mr. Yamamoto,” I greeted. “Happy to see that you look well.”

The edges of his eyes turned up, letting me know he was smiling beneath the mask. His was more of the surgical type of thing than the fun medical grade ones with filter pockets we had. “And you, Mr. Frank.”

“Zach,” I corrected. “Always Zach.”

“Of course,” he said, though I knew he’d never use my first name. It wasn’t his way.

“These are two of my best guys, Mike Hartford, he’s my plumbing guy, and Jerry Mitchell, he’s my electrical guy. I thought I’d expedite things by bringing them along to assess the repairs.” I pointed out each of my men. Mike, a big black man who knew more about pipes than anyone I’d ever met, and Jerry, a tiny Latino man who had a gift for finding problems and fixing them even when no one else could.

“I have copies of the fire chief’s report,” Mr. Yamamoto said. “Let me show everyone in, and then you and I can go over paperwork while your men are looking over the damage?”

“Sounds good,” I said.

He opened the door and motioned us inside. We followed and I heard Mike and Jerry’s awe as we entered the foyer. The inside front hall of the house had one of those double staircases, wide and extending through both sides of the room. It was the sort of thing meant for balls and elaborate cocktail parties where a princess caught a glimpse of her prince for the first time. The whole house looked like something out of a movie rather than real life. However, I knew it had never been the fairytale mansion the family had hoped for.

Through the door to the left, in the side of the stairway wall, was the kitchen. The back of the house, on the first floor, I knew to be a sprawling dining room and living area large enough to entertain a royal family or emptied to become a ballroom.

Mr. Yamamoto opened the side door to the kitchen. The damage was worse than I thought. Fire had eaten away a lot of the sidewall, all the cabinets and appliances, and a good portion of underlayment of the floor, leaving it all unstable and dangerous to walk on. We all huddled just inside the doorway.

“Wow. I thought they said it only burned twenty minutes or so,” Jerry said.

“Yes,” Mr. Yamamoto agreed. “However, the fire chief said it burned really hot.”

“No idea what started it?” I asked, though I’d already reviewed a lot of the information provided after the fire.

“Unknown, possible accelerant, though none was found, possible wiring error, though again, none was found. The origin of the fire could not be determined,” Mr. Yamamoto said. He handed me the fire inspector’s report. I took it and handed it over to Mike. The two of them would go over it with a fine-tooth comb.

“Can you two start a workup while I go over paperwork?” I asked them, though unnecessarily. “Get me some measurements so I can order cabinets.”

“On it, boss,” Jerry said.

I motioned to Mr. Yamamoto to leave the kitchen and we stepped back into the foyer. He shuffled through a handful of papers. “Everything is signed and transferred,” he began.

“I heard from a cousin of hers,” I said. “He’s not happy.”

“Not his choice.” Mr. Yamamoto handed over the stack and a set of keys, each with a colored fob on the end. “Ms. Yang wanted the house and grounds to go to you. I believe her words were that her family had been ‘cursed with it for too long.’”

“She did mention a curse,” I said. Actually when I’d first met Sofia Yang almost twenty years prior, she had said that she was cursed. I’d been in my early twenties, and newly out of trade school, looking for a chance to make my way. She’d offered me work. And we’d created a lifelong friendship based on long conversations during those construction periods over the years. “She thought I might be able to break it.”

Mr. Yamamoto laughed a little. “She was an optimistic woman.”

“Right?” I agreed. “I think the curse was something about true love breaking through the shadows of the past or something. Sounds storybook-ish, and I’m a little old for true love.” At almost forty-five and still single, I doubted there would be some magical kiss to save us all. It hit me then, not for the first time, but just as painfully, that she was gone. Taken not by the virus raging across the country, but by cancer. I sucked in a breath and briefly had to fight back tears. “Sorry,” I said automatically, a little embarrassed about getting choked up.

“Nothing to be sorry for, Mr. Frank,” Mr. Yamamoto said. “I know the two of you were close. That is one of the reasons I never disputed her changes to her will. She wanted you to have the house. She thought you would finally bring it to the glory it was meant to be.”

“I can repair it, but we both know the history,” I said.

Mr. Yamamoto nodded. “Something always goes wrong. Fire. Water damage, storm damage. It’s why they whisper of ghosts and curses.”

“Or really bad luck. What about the house staff? Are they still staying here? What are they doing about no kitchen? Should I call out for food?” I wasn’t even sure I could. The house wasn’t exactly near the city. Buried in the woods of upstate New York, with only a single, long, winding road, it was meant to be a retreat, first for the family, and later a bed and breakfast for nature lovers and hikers. Neither had happened. Too much unrest. No sooner would construction finish than something else would go wrong, from more property damage, to deaths in the family.

“The apartment over the garage has a working kitchen. It’s a small space, but has been useful. I’ve instructed everyone to keep away from the construction area as much as possible. But two maids, the cook, and their families all still live on the property.”

“I have no plans to change that,” I promised. “I still feel bad. Like she should have given the property to someone in her family. Her cousin wants it. He’s called me a half dozen times. Offered to buy it from me. Though I know the Will stated that was a no.”

“Correct. If you try to sell the property it will revert to a holding. Which means it will just fall into more disrepair. I will speak to her cousin. Remind him of Ms. Yang’s wishes.” He sorted through another batch of paperwork and handed me another few pages with a credit card attached. “This is the property management account and information. The money for repairs will come from this. The card is for ease of purchasing supplies. If you wish to find your own solicitor, I can provide them with account access and information.”

“You don’t want to hang around?” I asked him.

Again the slight uptilt to his eyes, a smile. “If you wish to retain my services, I would be honored.”

“I would.”

“Thank you, Mr. Frank.”

“Thank you, Mr. Yamamoto. I know you did a lot for Sofia.” I suspected in their elder years there had actually been a few sparks between them. If cancer hadn’t taken her, would they have found the sort of love that she had thought would break her curse? It made me sad to wonder. “She cared a lot about you,” I reminded him.

He nodded, eyes looking a little watery for a second as he gathered himself. “Her urn has arrived.” He pointed to a box on a far table. “I’ll need to take it out to the shrine.”

“Have the weeds been cut back enough to get out there?” It had been years since I’d seen the shrine. While the house looked like an old English mansion, a short path into the woods led to a huge Asian-style shrine set on the edge of a small island in a medium-sized lake. All the land, even the lake belonged to Sofia, or I guess me now, but the shrine had been something of a wonder for years. I’d been there once as a twenty-something to repair a footbridge. As far as I knew the woods around it grew ferociously, and very few ever ventured out that way, despite it being only a short walk from the back of the house.

“No,” Mr. Yamamoto admitted. “I asked the gardener to trim the path so I could get through. He tried. However, he said he heard some disturbing noises and was spooked.”

“Lots of woods out there. Could be anything. Birds, squirrels, bears.”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“I’ll grab some tools out of my truck to clear a path. I’m pretty sure I remember the layout, though it’s been a few years. Which reminds me. Since we are so far out, I’m going to rent a camper for the guys. As long as you’re okay with me having it parked in the driveway. That way they can come and go as needed while they are working and not bother any of the staff in the house. And I have a dumpster arriving tomorrow for clean-up.”

“Indeed, that sounds fine,” Mr. Yamamoto said. “Will you be staying in the house?”

“Probably? Maybe? I don’t want to be a burden. I know there’s the little cabin out by the shrine too.”

“It’s in disrepair.”

“Funny thing…” I said, smiling and feeling a little lighter knowing there were things I could do, “I’m a contractor.”

Mr. Yamamoto laughed. “Very funny thing,” he agreed. He patted my shoulder. “I am happy you’re here. Ms. Yang was always so happy when you were around. She always said things like ‘That fine young man,’ and ‘he’s such a good boy.’ I know she spoke of officially adopting you for a while.”

“Yeah I talked her out of that. Seemed silly at the time.” Though having grown up in foster care, the idea of having a mom had really touched me. What I didn’t want was her family coming in and claiming I was some sort of gold digger, and spending my life in court. Her naming me heir, and designating the house, grounds, and maintenance accounts already put me on their radar, despite the millions she had going to the rest of the family. However, everything here was done legally years ago, so they couldn’t even claim she wasn’t in her right mind due to cancer when she gifted me the property. “And I’m not much of a ‘boy’ anymore.”

“She still thought of you as her son. Never had one of her own. But always spoke so proudly of you and how hard you worked. She’d say, ‘Did you see that house he did? It was better than the stuff you see on TV.’” Mr. Yamamoto said.

I felt heat flush my cheeks along with the sadness for her passing. “Wow, this is still so raw,” I admitted.

He nodded. “I suspect it will take some time for all of us. She’s only been gone a few weeks.”

“Let me go out to the truck and grab a few tools so I can clean up the path. Let’s at least get her settled in the shrine with the rest of her family.” I clutched the papers to my chest. “Shouldn’t take too long.”

“Of course. I’ll be in the den working through some of the other paperwork. It’s likely I’ll be here all day. Just let me know when everything is clear.” He waved his hand toward the small door in front of the right stairway. It led to a small library-like den area filled with books and artifacts, and a desk for regular work. “You also have my phone number. Feel free to call any time.”

“Thank you,” I said and headed back to the kitchen to check on my guys. They had donned some gloves and were pulling things apart. “How’s it going in here?”

Mike looked up. “Not bad, boss. Making a list of the small stuff we need to get from town. Got all your measurements. You’ll have to decide if you want the same layout or a change. Outer wall is bad. We’ll have to replace a lot of the exterior wall sheetrock and supports. The report is legit. We don’t see any sign of accelerant or wiring errors.”

Which was a relief. “I actually did the wiring in here a good fifteen years ago. Painted the cabinets too. It was a little old school back then and Sofia didn’t want to do a full tear out.”

“You know your stuff, boss,” Jerry added. “There doesn’t seem to be a starting point. It’s like it all randomly burst into flames at once.”

“That’s not possible,” I said.

“No,” Jerry said. “But we have no other explanation yet. We’re just pulling some of the bigger pieces together to get at the walls.”

“I need to clear the path out the shrine, so I’ll be outside for a bit. You two okay in here?”

“Yep,” Mike said. “We will keep going on this. Make a pile. Will make it easier for demo tomorrow. Need help?”

“I’m good,” I said.

“Shrine?” Jerry asked.

“Old Asian style. A mix of their Chinese, Korean, and Japanese heritages. They bought the house over a hundred years ago. Briefly lost it during the internment, but were able to get it back, mostly by being the whole ‘Crazy Rich Asian’ thing. Their family had a lot of power, both here and abroad. The shrine has the ashes of a bunch of old relatives in it. If I recall, there’s a family tree etched on the wall in there, showing how they go back through several continents and dynasties for a few hundred years.”

Jerry’s eyes went huge. “There’s a tomb in the backyard?”

“Technically, yes. Though they don’t view it the same way.”

“No wonder they say this place is cursed,” he muttered.

“They sort of view their ancestors as protectors rather than the scary things of American culture,” I pointed out. “Think of it as Day of the Dead, every day. Respect equals respect.” Since I’d gone with Jerry last year for a huge Day of the Dead celebration in New Mexico, I knew how they took care of their elders.

“Yeah? Well, maybe the ancestors need a refresher? Since they aren’t protecting so well?” Jerry quipped as he waved to the mess of the kitchen.

“Or maybe too well,” Mike added staring at the damage.

“Oh, creepy,” Jerry answered. “Like maybe keeping people away? Creepy.”

“Stop, both of you. Work already. I gotta go trim weeds.”

Their laughter followed me out the door, making me feel a little bit lighter about this whole situation. I was a simple contractor, master of general trade and carpentry, and a small business owner, not some millionaire property guru. I had no idea what I would do with the place once it was fixed. But that would be a road I’d cross down the line.

Maybe Sofia had been right and finally having it out of the hands of her family would remove the curse. If it weren’t for the long history of mishaps, I’d think it was all bad luck. However, years of events over and over were not normal for any residence. Not even one this large. I had actually suspected a time or two, out loud to Sofia, that someone was causing the damage, at least the house stuff. Like a disgruntled employee or family member. She always insisted not. Plus almost seventy years of trouble did equate to a lot of mishaps and a really long-lived bad guy.

With the excitement of the holidays over, the cold settling in on a planned month of quiet seemed to deepen the usual January chill. My grocery lists were much shorter, meal planning only taking a few hours a day, and prep was fast and easy. The manor was on winter break, as my boss Zach Frank, called it. No classes, no guests, just a few weeks of quiet after the stress of the holidays.

I had to admit that a break was nice. The handful of small holiday parties and last minute craft classes that turned into a gift exchange, had been sort of crazy. My days had become endless, dawn to dusk, cooking, planning, and even serving when the parties got too busy. The one thing I still took time for each week was taking food to the local food bank.

Once a week, the two local groceries closest to the house loaded up my little Matrix and sent me to the food bank. It was always canned goods and processed foods, but necessary. Often, I brought bread baskets of freshly made loaves, and these past few weeks, a mix of cookies and pies. The handful of families needing the food often waited for me on Wednesdays to get first dibs. A few of the other volunteers drove stuff out to those without transportation and the elderly who didn’t drive. People didn’t like to think their quiet towns or pockets of wealth housed those with food insecurity, but I’d found that it was a reality everywhere. Even in upstate New York, buried in a small tourist area with large plots of land. I always made sure there was enough for everyone. Those with nothing, and those with only a little.

Today one face had been absent. In fact, I hadn’t seen him in a few weeks. Rio wasn’t always at the food bank. I knew he lived in a trailer on a tiny piece of land that didn’t even have a road leading to it. He had a car, but it didn’t always work. In the nicer months he’d hike down and catch a ride. But with the heavy snow, and brutal wave of cold that had dropped over the weekend, maybe he hadn’t been able to come down. That worried me.

“Has anyone seen Rio?” I asked Diana as she helped unload the last of the boxes of canned goods from my car. The small crowd had already chosen their pies and cookies from my stash.

“Hey, Montana,” Jim called as he reached for the stack Diana brought to him. “Everyone has been gushing about how amazing your pies were for the holidays. How grateful they were to have them.”

I felt heat rise into my face. The compliments shouldn’t have embarrassed me. I was a trained chef. Pastries were a hobby to my cooking passion, and the holidays gave me opportunities to share my skills. The manor had even been open to the locals for a holiday dinner I’d prepared. That way everyone had a chance to have turkey, ham, and all the trimmings. We had to schedule times so we hadn’t been overcrowded, but the day had gone smoothly and the joy filled faces had made my holiday.

Sean, Zach’s fiancé, had helped create small gift baskets for everyone local filled with baked goods, small crafts like handkerchiefs, safety masks designed to be almost medical grade while still fun and cute, and wooden puzzle toys. I’d never met anyone more skilled at making things than Sean. He’d even helped me perfect a few recipes of some Chinese pastries and steamed buns that had become a favorite at the manor. I’d brought a couple dozen to the food bank this week and had been hoping to push a dozen or so off on Rio so I knew he was eating more than beans and ramen.

“Thank you,” I told Jim. “Have you seen Rio?”

“Not since Christmas at the manor,” Jim said.

Diana shook her head. “He hasn’t been in at all. I’ve been a bit worried. After we had that big drop in temperature, and he’s out so far… I know his car hasn’t been working for a while.”

I gnawed at my lip a bit in worry as I helped them stock the shelves. “I could drive up; it’s not that far past the manor, right?” I tried to recall the gravel trail that veered into the woods, but I had only ever driven past it. Would it be lost in the snow? He was only a mile or so from the main road; though far enough that he had no actual address. I wasn’t even sure he had power, and now that I thought about it, that worried me too. We’d hit single digits in the last week, dropping overnight below zero.

“It’s a bit of a hike from the road. You won’t be able to drive close at all,” Jim said. “Trees are too thick even when there isn’t snow. He’s probably hunkered down for the winter like he usually is.”

I tried to think back to last year, but I’d been new to the area, and hadn’t started the food bank runs yet. With the manor on holiday, and my new kitchen already stocked full, it wasn’t like I had a lot to do. I had a cooler full of food for the manor in the car, but it was just stuff I’d gotten on sale or in bulk to refill basics like flour, sugar, salt, a few pounds of steak, and a giant bag of rice. Taking the time to check on Rio wouldn’t set me back at all, and if it would stop the anxiety welling up in my stomach, that would be a bonus.

Of course, the thought that he might have gotten sick crossed my mind. Our small town has been very strict about mask guidelines, especially after a visitor showed up just before Thanksgiving bringing the virus with them. After a half dozen were infected, with the entire town up in arms and contract tracing, we’d shut it down fast. But maybe Rio hadn’t been so lucky. Maybe he had visitors over the holidays we didn’t know about. Which of course made me think back to our holiday party and how many people might have been exposed. The tables had been ten feet apart, windows open for ventilation, and masks required while people weren’t eating. Everything disinfected and sanitized to death. Zach worked hard to follow health guidelines to ensure the staff was safe even while feeding the community. The gift baskets we’d given out had provided at least a week’s worth of food. And since the staff had all been tested before and after the event, I hoped no one had it.

Though since it had been several weeks since Christmas, I thought it unlikely someone wouldn’t have displayed symptoms. Maybe Rio had been the unlucky one. That thought worried me even more.

“He doesn’t come down much in the winter,” Diana agreed. “It’s why we always let him take a little extra. He stocks up for the worst few months of the year. Poor guy still comes down in the spring looking like a skeleton.”

Rio hadn’t looked like a skeleton when he’d come to the holiday feast. He looked good. Wide through the shoulder, hair a bit long and wild, but clean and bright eyed. He looked of Greek or Italian ancestry but I didn’t know for sure. He had mentioned once to Zach that he’d been in the military, and used some sort of disability pay as his income. He’d grown up in New York City, that much I knew. I had tried not to be nosy, but couldn’t help watching him. He was pretty in a rugged way, like Zach was in a bear sort of way.

I’d probably made a fool of myself flirting. Being small, pretty, and the definition of a twink, I’d sort of naturally fallen into the fem boy habits I’d picked up working in the big city. Being flirty and cute used to bring in the guys like bees to honey. Didn’t work so well out here in the middle of nowhere. And I had to admit I was lonely.

Rio always smiled and nodded, at least appearing to listen. We’d never had long conversations, especially now that the virus scared most of us away from social situations. But I did try to make him feel like he wasn’t so alone.

Watching Zach and Sean over the holidays, seeing them glow with happiness, hold hands, or sit cuddled together near one of the massive fireplaces, had made me want that for myself. Maybe I’d make a trip into the city soon. Take a few days and see if I could meet some people. Though swiping left felt really hollow right now, when what I really wanted was someone to smile at me the way Zach smiled at Sean. Like I was their world.

I still didn’t feel safe randomly hooking up with someone. Too much illness around. And didn’t that put a damper on my love life. The world at large taught us that sex was crucial. In truth it wasn’t sex so much as human interaction. The last year of stunted contact had really hammered that point home.

Rio had a nice smile. Warm and kind, though guarded, he’d always seemed very genuine. And now I was really worried. “Skeleton?” But I’d spent some time living off ramen myself before Ms. Sofia had found me. Not balanced meals by any means. “Does he even have power up there?”

“I think he has a generator,” Jim shrugged. “He doesn’t like people much. Keeps to himself. Heard someone say he has a bit of PTSD. But he’s been up here ten years or so? No one sees him in the winter. Then spring he shows up.”

“And no one worries about him all winter?”

“Most of us are too busy to get up that way,” Diana admitted. The manor was almost thirty minutes north, and with Rio’s tiny plot of land being past that, it made sense. In the snow it would be even harder. The roads were always well plowed, but since he wasn’t on a dedicated road, it was unlikely he’d be anything more than snowed in most of the winter. Crap.

“I’ll stop up,” I said making a commitment right that minute that I would not let that man spend months in the miserable cold all alone. “Can I load up a box for him?” What were some of the things he normally picked?

“Sure,” Jim said. “Take whatever you need.”

I went through the pantry, choosing things that could stretch meals, canned chicken, green beans, stuffing, and even got a few fresh items including a sack of potatoes and some bananas. I loaded it all into paper bags, got directions from Jim and headed back up, dialing Zach from the car on the way.

“I wanted to let you know where I’m going,” I told my boss. “In case I’m not back till late or something. It sounds like it’s a bit of a walk.”

“There’s a storm coming,” Zach said, sounding worried. “Ten inches of snow predicted. This far north you know it’s more likely we’ll get over a foot.”

“I’ve got my coat and stuff,” I said. “It’s not far. Just seven or so miles from the manor.”

“Call if there’s trouble. I’ve put the plow on my truck and can tow a car out of a ditch if necessary.”

“I will,” I promised and hung up. My plan was to send him the coordinates as soon as I arrived. I accidentally drove by the outlet twice before finding a small break in the snow. It almost looked like someone had partially shoveled the edge of the road where the trail began. I pulled off, parking out of the way, and sent a text off to Zach. I only had one bar on my phone, so hopefully it went through. Jim hadn’t been kidding about the trail. It was literally nothing more than a thin hiking trail etching through the trees. I couldn’t see anything but a dark overlay of woods.

When I opened the back of the car I cursed, realizing that I had no real way to carry pounds of food to a cabin that was a mile or so away through the snow. I stared at the cooler. It was a giant thing with wheels and a handle. That would have to do. I pulled out the cooler, which only had five pounds of bacon and a pack of steaks in it, loaded it with as much as I could, then stacked what I was able to on top before locking up the car. There was more he could have, but I’d have to make another trip back.

I tugged on the thick winter coat I almost never wore, a hat, and some gloves, then pulled the cooler to the trail. The wheels were almost useless. The snow on the path was shoveled, but not sturdy enough to roll on, so it was like pulling a lead weight. It wasn’t until I hit a dozen or so yards into the trees that the cooler seemed to find ice and begin to slide.

Thank god.

There were tracks along the edge of the trail. I examined them as I walked. Rabbit I thought, since they were small and sort of looked like a dick dragging through the snow. It made me laugh a little. A wild dick running through the woods, a meme I’d seen a few times but could actually fit it to factual life. City boy like me wouldn’t normally know much about wildlife, but Zach had arranged for a local hunter to come in and give mini tours of the woods, and how to identify critters. I admit I took it because the forest surrounding the manor was endless and very intimidating. I’d had lots of nightmares since starting the job about being snatched by mountain lions or bears. The hunter assured us that both were rare even in the manor’s huge stretch of woods. He’d given us a little e-guide of footprints to keep saved on our phone. Birds, squirrels, and rabbits were easy. The bigger stuff we were to avoid if we saw a hint of a handful of things. The class had helped ease some worries, but I kept my eyes peeled.

After several yards there were a scattering of bigger tracks. Okay well, they were huge. I paused to look at them, holding my hand beside one to make sure I was seeing what I was seeing. Yeah, bigger than my hand. Wolf, maybe? Nature queen I was not. But it looked sort of like a dog print. Big ass dog, or wolf. Should I go back?

I looked around, wary of the woods now, though the tracks disappeared into the trees heading away from the trail. No sign of movement. Hopefully that wolf was napping somewhere far away after its little rabbit chase.

Turning back to the supplies, I tugged it and we rolled along for a while, me just following the trail and hoping it would lead me somewhere. The cold was more intense out here. Wind not as strong as the trees acted as a good break, but the temperature almost seemed to drop. I tugged my jacket up and hat down, leaving little more than my eyes clear. Could eyes freeze? They sort of felt like it.

Brand pulled into the gas station on the outskirts of the last town before heading out to the manor. He knew the manor wasn’t that far from city life, but the long, empty roads and never-ending trees felt otherwise. He worried he’d be too far from a hospital if something happened. Not that there was much a hospital could do for him anymore. He would either recover, or remain as he was, forever disabled. This entire trip was to give him a chance to heal, but he wasn’t certain he had much hope left.

He left Hunter in the backseat of the truck’s cab to refill. The cold of winter added a layer of muffled white noise to the edges of his senses even though it was barely October. He stared at the empty station, no one around as far as he could see. He opened the fuel cap and filled the tank to prepare for the last leg of the journey. Was he really doing this?

A man stepped out from the convenience store, not dressed for the cold. Brand wondered if he’d done something wrong, like pumping his own gas, as he could vaguely recall there were some states that didn’t allow that. He was pretty sure that was New Jersey, not New York, but as the man approached, he didn’t look upset or angry, more worried.

He was shorter than Brand by an inch or two, young, maybe mid-twenties, stocky, not fat, more solid through the core, shoulders broad, hair dark under a beanie, but only a flannel shirt over the top of his jeans rather than a winter coat. Not bad looking, Brand thought, though found his eyes the most intriguing and unsettling part about him. They were heavily lashed, and deep brown, even from a distance. What was the phrase Brand had read that fit that? Soulful?

“Hey,” Brand said in greeting.

“Hey,” the man replied, stopping a good ten feet away, “I’m wondering if you’re headed north?”

“Um, yeah, up to the manor?” Brand knew it was a tourist attraction. Would this man have heard of it?

The man’s face lit up, eyes brightening. “Can I get a ride? The spot I need to be dropped off is a couple of miles from the manor.” He glanced away, looking sheepish. “I’ll see if I can grab a mask from the owner,” he pointed at the convenience store, “but I am vaccinated if that helps.”

Brand worried at his lip for a minute. He wasn’t strong enough to fight anyone off if they tried to take his truck or something, but nothing about this guy set off alarms. He seemed normal, looked clean enough, not like he was on a bender or anything. Hunter was in the cab and could be fiercely protective, but he was also strapped in for safety.

“I understand if you don’t want to,” the man continued. “We live in a shitty world right now.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Brand said finally. How many times had he wished he’d received simple acts of kindness? “I’ve got a box of masks in the cab. Let me grab them. I’ve had both shots, too, but after I already got the nasty.” He finished at the pump, and opened the door to the cab to lean in for the box, grabbing one for himself and one for the new guy. He tugged his mask on and held out the other.

“Thanks,” the guy said, adjusting the mask and wearing it properly. It said a lot about him that he bothered to both offer to wear one and to know how to do it right.

Brand waved to the passenger door. “Get in. Let me know where you’ll need out. Map says there is only one road up.”

“It’s a straight shot unless you take the long way around to the highway and then over. Roads are pretty slick right now. The curves can be rough.”

“I’ll keep the speed down,” Brand said. He had planned to anyway. “You need to grab anything?”

The man shook his head. “Nah. But thank you. I appreciate the ride. Not much for rideshare options out this way.”

Brand snorted a laugh. “Right? Hadn’t thought of that. Probably would pay a left nut for a drive this far out.” He got in, shutting the door and waiting until his guest buckled up, Hunter leaned over the console to sniff the man as Brand turned the truck back on.

“Who’s this beautiful guy?” The man asked, carefully holding out a hand for the husky to sniff. He obviously knew a little about dogs. Hunter examined the man’s hand before leaning in for a scratch.

“Hunter,” Brand said.

“He’s gorgeous. Is it okay if I pet him?”

“Sure,” Brand agreed as he steered the truck out to the road.

The man scratched Hunter’s ears, and the dog leaned into his touch. Hunter was a good judge of character, sometimes growling at people when they got too close, even when Brand didn’t see an issue. Instinct, he’d learned, was important, and he trusted Hunter more than he trusted most people.

“You from around here?” Brand asked.

“Got family up this way.” His voice had the edge of an accent. “It’s been a rough year. Everything shutdown. Cost of everything going up. Thought I’d spend some time with family until things are a little more normal.”

“Normal…” Brand grumbled. Was there a thing anymore? He’d never be normal again, would he? He swallowed back bile at the thought.

“You have family up at the manor? I know Zach and Sean have been running it for a bit, since the lady who had it before passed.”

“You know them?” Brand wondered.

“Yeah, they employ half the workforce in the area, and the rest feeds into the tourism it generates. Even with the shutdown, there has been a steady flow of folks visiting. Lots of talk of the lake up behind the manor having magical powers. Brings more tourists.”

It was the first Brand had heard of it. “Magical how?”

“A portal to another world,” the man said with a smile as he looked out the window. The road was a winding thing through the trees. Brand kept his eyes fixed as he felt a bit of ice here and there. “Thought your family might have mentioned it if they are from here.”

“I don’t really have any family,” Brand admitted.

“No girlfriend up there waiting?” The man’s tone was light and teasing.

“Not really into girls,” Brand said, wondering if the guy would freak.

“Boyfriend then.”

“No one wants the mess I am,” Brand said.

“You’re an attractive guy, don’t see why not. The town is small and it’s hard to meet new people up this way, there are more than a handful of gay men up this way.”

This guy thought Brand was attractive? How was that possible? Brand had never felt more unattractive in his life. “My best friend, Montana, works at the house. He’s the chef. Invited me to visit for a while.”

“Ah, sounds like he’s a bit of family then,” the man said. Was his accent Scottish? Brand thought he caught an edge to the tone that reminded him of the movies. “The kind we choose at least.”

“I guess,” Brand agreed. “We grew up in a group home together. He’s an amazing chef.”

“I’ve heard the food there is good.”

“You haven’t been? I thought they did a holiday thing every year for the entire area?” Brand asked.

“They do, but I was working last year closer to NYC.”

“I see,” Brand said.

Brand glanced his way, studying the shape of his face and his relaxed posture. Those things helped ease his anxiety a little. Brand had never been one to pick up hitchhikers. But they were in the middle of nowhere. Kindness cost nothing, even while he’d seen little of it himself.

They drove awhile, the silence comfortable in the cab, Brand focused on the road. He saw the movement out of the corner of his eye before actually registering what it was, but he slammed on the brakes, the truck sliding for a few seconds, his heart pounding.

He lurched forward in his seat belt. Hunter strapped in, behind him, barely moved at all. Neither did the man. But they all stared wide-eyed as a group of horses trotted across the road. Brand blinked. Had someone’s horses gotten out? The man leaned over and tugged on Brand’s seat belt, adjusting it until the strap was tight. Brand flushed; he must have been tugging it too much over the long drive.

“Sorry. Was that insane or what?” Brand asked, happy he’d stopped only feet from where they crossed, but a little shocked he’d been able to stop at all as the road was pretty icy. A bit of vibration began in his spine, a warning of too much stress, meaning he was going to be down-and-out most of the day. He sucked in air, hoping he’d get to the manor before having a breakdown.

“Wild horses,” the man remarked.

“Wild? Or someone’s horses got out?” Brand asked.

“Wild,” the man said. “There are a handful up this way. Not much for stables.” He pointed up the road. “My stop is up there on the left. It’s a little inlet. I’ll walk the rest of the way.”

Brand waited another minute, examining both sides of the road for any more movement, but the horses had vanished into the trees. He steered the truck up the road and to the small inlet the man pointed out. It didn’t look like anything, just a section free of trees. “You sure?” Brand asked as he stared at the space. There was no road, but maybe a bit of a trail through the snow. “If there’s a road nearby, I can drop you off at your family’s place.”

“Nah,” he said, unbuckling and sliding to the edge of his seat. “This is fine. It’s a short walk.” He opened the door and turned back to give Brand a wide smile, which showed in the crinkle of his brown eyes over his mask. “Thanks for the ride. I appreciate it.”

“Glad I could help,” Brand said, thinking the man had amazing eyes. Memorable, even if it felt like they saw right through him.

The man slid out and closed the door, waving as he crossed in front of the truck and to the inlet. Brand worried at his lip again. Was it safe for him to be out here? The guy didn’t even have a jacket. It was below freezing, at the very least. Brand hit the button for his window. “You sure I can’t bring you closer? It’s cold out there.”

The man had taken off the mask and shoved it in his pocket. “Thank you. I’m fine.” His smile was bright as he tromped toward the tiny trail leading into the trees.

Brand looked at the GPS. The manor was another five miles, and the station behind them had been twenty back. Hard to tell when the road was little more than winding through the trees. But he took his foot off the brake and headed toward the manor, his heart still beating fast from the almost collision. He hoped that his time at the manor was as healing as everyone thought it would be. He wondered about a magical lake. Montana had said nothing about it. But Brand’s conversations with Montana were mostly about Brand’s recovery these days, or food.

He sighed and glanced at Hunter. “You okay, buddy?”

Hunter’s ice blue gaze peered behind them as if he missed the man who had become his fast friend in the car.