Lauren shook her head. "No, she just said she worried that a close friend had betrayed her, but she wouldn't give me any details, though I pressed. I think she was worried that if anyone else knew, their life would be in danger."
She didn’t say any more, and our session ended. I left Lauren's office with a prescription for antidepressants and more questions than I'd had going in.
Which of my mom's friends killed her?
Chapter Twenty Four
Memories of Better Days
ASH AND I spent the evening talking through every possible murderer while drinking really expensive wine. Probably the wine was contra-indicated with my medication, but I didn't care. It felt good and tasted good and I liked how the dark burgundy liquid looked in the fancy wine glass as I swirled it around. The wine had 'good legs.' That was the term, right? A wine connoisseur I was not, but it didn't matter. I could still enjoy the taste of it and the fire crackling in front of us. The smell of burning wood and flames made me think of camping, the trips we'd taken as a family before my family died.
I closed my eyes and leaned back into Ash's arms, memories dancing behind my eyelids. Memories of s'mores and sleeping under the stars and my dad telling ghost stories even as my mom scolded him not to be too scary. But I never had bad dreams from his stories, even though my mom did. I never had bad dreams until after they were murdered.
"Cat?" Ash's voice held worry and I opened my eyes and looked up at him.
"Hmm?"
"I think I lost you there for a minute."
I set my empty glass down though I couldn't remember finishing it. "Just thinking about the past. About my family and my life as a child. Do you have any good memories of your childhood?" He didn't like talking about his family, which I understood, but it couldn't have been all bad.
"Sure. Everyone has something good, I suppose. Well, most people. My brother and I used to build fantastic forts in the woods behind our house. We'd find large leaves, branches, rocks, anything we could carry, and create these magical fantasy worlds where nymphs and fairies and dragons lived. We'd make swords from branches and train as knights." He stared at the fire, mindlessly running his hand through my hair. "We were so close in age that for along time we were each other's best friend."
"What happened?"
His eyes snapped back to the present and he finished the last of his wine and stood. "We grew up. Grew apart. Found that we had less in common than I'd thought. It happens."
There was more to the story, I could tell, but it could wait.
We locked up the house, turned off the lights and found solace in each other's arms, making love to the sound of a light rainfall outside and falling asleep holding each other.
***
The next day, Professor Cavin picked me up and we drove the two-and-a-half hours to his cabin. Ash wanted to come along, but I insisted against it. This was something I had to do myself. I had no idea what we'd find when we arrived, if anything, but a buzz of anticipation built in my stomach the closer we got to our remote destination.
The last leg of the trip we bumped along a dirt road that wouldn't have made it to any maps or GPS systems. Surrounded by oak, hickory, cherry and birch trees, with nothing but nature everywhere, it felt like stepping into another world. When the cabin came into view, it looked just as I'd imagined it. Cozy, small, made of polished logs, situated between the woods and a private lake.
I inhaled deeply as I stood on the porch waiting for Professor Cavin to unlock the front door. Nothing smelled as good as this—except maybe Ash. Clean air, wild flowers and a hint of the musky foliage decomposing under layers of forest floor. It smelled raw and natural, free of human pollution and toxicity.
Professor Cavin pushed open the door and fiddled with a light switch. The bulb flickered for a moment before coming on. "Wasn't sure it'd work. Haven't had electricity in here for years."
He shuffled in and I followed, dropping my purse on a small table by the front door. A love seat sat in front of a wood-burning stove, with a reclining chair to the right of it. The kitchen and living room formed a large L shape, open and inviting. The hardwood floors and colorful throw rugs gave the room a warm, intimate feel. A two-seater table sat in the middle, made of the same wood as the cabin.
"It's a humble place, but good for getting away and clearing your head." Professor Cavin coughed, and I could tell being here was hard for him. He showed me the rest of the place, including the one small bedroom with a queen-size bed and dresser, and a bathroom with a shower, sink and toilet.
I stared at the bed the longest, knowing in my gut that this is where my mom had her affair with him. Had they made love on top of that handmade quilt? Or had they taken the quilt off first? Was it rough and rowdy or slow and sweet? I couldn't look at my professor and imagine him naked, sweaty and entangled with my young, beautiful mother. I shivered at the thought.