A Little Night Muse(9)

                With the Hunters out of town, he’d offered to keep an eye on                     the place—said he’d use his good eye, which always got a laugh—since that spot                     of strangeness last spring had left them all on edge. The unexplainable lights                     and noises had been the last straw for Danielle, though she’d had one foot out                     of the valley long before that.

                “I don’t want my fifteen minute of fame to be a News of the                     Weird report about getting mutilated by aliens,” she’d snapped.

                “Aliens only mutilate cattle, so no worries about those fifteen                     minutes unless you’re a cow.” As soon as the words cleared his lips, he knew                     he’d made a mistake.

                She packed the next morning—he hadn’t tried that hard to stop                     her, had he?—and he signed the divorce papers, postmarked California, without                     another word being exchanged. Still, Danielle had lasted longer than his                     brother, Cole, who had ditched the valley a week after graduation.

                “This place is crushing me, like it crushed Mom,” he’d said as                     he folded the bus tickets labeled New York into the back pocket of his                     jeans.

                Josh had protested. “The sky goes on forever here.”

                “Yeah, that’s even worse.”

                Watching them leave—first his mother, then Cole, then                     Danielle—had torn at Josh like the spring snowmelt undermined the willows along                     the stream. But nothing could uproot him. As his father had said often enough                     before dying (another kind of leaving) some people just wouldn’t see the wonders                     of the valley. They would always want more, and it was best to let them go.

                Josh wished he could let go of the memories as easily as they                     had forgotten him.

                Grateful for the distraction ahead, he focused on the                     homestead. Vaile and Imogene Hunter had built a beautiful place. The huge                     timbers of the cabin had been harvested seemingly without touching the                     surrounding old growth, and a three-story picture window flawlessly reflected                     the valley beyond. The house emerged like a dream from its surroundings.

                Vaile had said they might have a few guests, but they had come                     to the mountain valley to “get away from it all.” Josh’s impression—though they                     hadn’t been specific—was the Hunters had left some strangeness of their own                     behind. Hollywood, he guessed, or some other foreign land. They were both                     stunning enough to be movie stars, though the exotic lilt in their accents                     suggested maybe their country of origin was farther off. Regardless, they were                     here now and obviously loved it.