Annette Broadrick – Mysterious Mountain Man (страница 2)

Jake glanced around the small café that had been a part of his childhood, as though seeing it for the first time. He became conscious of the scarred tables and chairs, the linoleum whose design had been scrubbed and wiped off years ago and the worn countertop.

A couple of oil paintings hung on the back wall, mute evidence that Betty and Mel would never turn away anyone who was hungry, even if the person was broke. Those two scenes of El Capitan—the majestic peak of the Guadalupe range—and the surrounding desert area were their payment for feeding a fellow who had camped out for a few weeks in the vicinity many years ago.

“So what are you doin’ here?” Betty asked once again.

Jake pretended dismay. “You mean I’ve already worn out my welcome for the winter?” He took a huge bite of the roll and almost groaned out loud from the savory sensation.

She punched his arm. “You know better ‘n that. But you came down here for supplies just a while ago. We didn’t expect to see you again anytime soon.”

He took a sip of coffee, giving himself time to think about his answer. “I guess the truth is that I’m getting a little bored with my own company these days.”

Mel called from the kitchen. “Betty, don’t forget to give him the card that fella left here a couple of weeks ago.”

“Oh, yeah. Good thing you reminded me. I’d done forgot all about that.” Betty walked over to the old-fashioned cash register and slid her fingers beneath it, coming out with a card. “Here you go. This guy showed up and was asking all kinds of questions about you...like where you lived and if you had a telephone or a fax or something. I told him that nobody knew where exactly you lived up in them mountains, not even the park rangers.”

She smiled when she said that, to remind Jake that she knew of his unauthorized use of land that had been claimed by the government as a national park area several years after he’d made his home there.

When he continued to eat the sweet roll without changing expression, she added, “He asked us to give you his card the next time we saw you.”

Jake took the card and immediately recognized the logo in the corner. The address was familiar as well. CPI Enterprises in Seattle, Washington. The name meant nothing to him; he’d never heard of a Woodrow Forrester. He must have been hired after Jake left the company. He placed the card on the counter and sipped his coffee without comment.

She waited for a few minutes, then said, “He insisted it was real important for him to get in touch with you as soon as possible. Like it was some kind of an emergency or something.”

Jake took another bite of the roll.

“Isn’t that the company where you used to work?”

He finished chewing and took a sip of coffee before replying. “That was a long time ago.”

She looked at him, puzzled. “Not so long, surely. You’ve been back about a year, haven’t you?”

“Thirteen months.”

She nodded her head in agreement. “That ain’t so long a time, when you think about it. You worked for that company how long?”

“Almost five years...but that’s all ancient history now.”

She lifted one eyebrow and tapped the card with a pudgy forefinger. “Well, young man, I’d say your history’s tryin’ to catch up with you.”

He stuck the card in his shirt pocket. “Only if I let it.” He took another bite of the savory roll. He’d never found a pastry anywhere to compare with Mel’s cinnamon rolls. They were worth the long trek out of the mountains.

He glanced up and realized that Betty was still standing on the other side of the counter, watching him. As soon as she made eye contact with him, she spoke.

“Whadduya s’pose this guy wants?”

“Who knows?” He wished she’d drop the subject, but he knew Betty too well to think she would.

“So. You goin’ to call ‘im?”

That took no conscious thought at all. “Nope.”

She crossed her arms and leaned her hip against the counter. “Just out of orneryness, I s’pose?”

Jake straightened, fighting to control his impatience. Betty knew nothing about his reasons for leaving the company. Only Brock Adams, the head of the company, knew. Once Jake left, he’d never discussed the matter with anyone.

Whoever this Forrester character represented in the company, Jake knew it wouldn’t be Brock Adams.

Betty was still eyeing him expectantly. “Look, Betty. It would be a waste of time for me to call this guy. I have nothing to say to him or anybody else in that company. I’m no longer a part of that world.” He glanced out the window and nodded toward the mountains. “That’s my life now. I’ve returned to my roots.”

“You know, Jake,” Betty said. “I suppose most people would probably believe ya, but I happen to remember how hard you worked all them years to get your education. I was there, remember? You took all kinds of part-time jobs, refusing to let me and Mel help ya, no matter how hard you had to struggle. You even got yourself some sports scholarships by playing your heart out, all so you could get the kind of education you needed to make it in the business world. I’m afraid you ain’t going to convince me that all that effort you went to meant nothing to you. I don’t care what you say.”

He supposed she had a point. Maybe he needed to look at things from a different perspective now that he’d had some time to himself. CPI Enterprises wasn’t the only company in the world, even if he’d spent his years there being groomed to succeed Brock Adams, thinking the company would be his life.

At the time he’d left, all he’d wanted was to leave the business world behind. He’d returned to the Guadalupes in search of some kind of inner peace, a way to live with the choices he’d made.

He’d ignored the park rangers and their petty governmental rules that said he could no longer have a home in the national park area. He’d actually made a game of circumventing them while he turned the shack he’d built up there as a kid into a habitable home.

Eventually he’d formed an uneasy but peaceful coexistence with them. He ignored them and they left him alone.

The months of hard physical labor had done him good. He’d come to terms with his life. He’d accepted the kinds of behavior he could live with and had set boundaries for those he couldn’t. The mountains had done their healing work on him. Maybe it was time for him to look at his options and consider what he wanted to do next.

One option he knew he’d never consider would be to return to Seattle and the life he’d once attempted to establish there.

Mel came out of the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee. He studied Jake for a moment before he asked, “How ‘bout a game of dominoes?”

Jake nodded. “Sounds good.” He picked up his cup, stepped behind the counter for a refill, then followed Mel over to one of the tables in the back. He set the cup down and pulled off his coat, hanging it on a nearby hook before he sat down across from the older man.

Mel and Betty were the closest thing he had to family. He loved them with a deep-seated sense of loyalty and appreciation. But he still couldn’t talk to them about his life and the choices he’d made. He knew that they loved and accepted him, but they had trouble understanding him.

He wasn’t any good at trying to talk about his feelings. He never had been. He’d learned early on that if he was going to survive, he had to depend on himself. Nobody else. He’d never been one to talk about himself, about his goals in life. About his dreams.

After his mother had died, he’d been like a half-wild animal, snarling at everybody, resisting any authority. He hadn’t trusted many people in his life, that’s for sure. Mel and Betty, of course. Hell. They’d more than half raised him.

And Brock Adams. For whatever reason, he’d learned to trust and admire Brock Adams during the years they’d worked so closely together. He’d made an error in judgment, though, believing in Brock, believing he knew the kind of man Brock was. And he’d paid for the error. He’d left a well-paid job and a promising career without looking back or regretting the cost.

Payment enough in any man’s book.

So why in hell were they looking for him now, after all this time?

“You gonna play or just sit starin’ at the spots?” Mel asked, breaking into Jake’s thoughts.

Jake blinked, suddenly focusing on the dominoes in front of him for the first time in several minutes. “Sorry, guess my mind was wandering.”

“No need to be sorry. This ain’t brain surgery. You’re allowed to take all the time you want, but I’m going to have to get to work here directly,” Mel responded, glancing at the clock over the front door.

Jake studied the layout before him, then placed a domino along one line.

“Maybe I shoulda kept my mouth shut. Looks like you’re gonna beat me if I don’t do somethin’ mighty fast here.”

Jake scratched his chin. He hadn’t shaved in a couple of days, another sign of his abstraction. He’d been taking long hikes lately, now that he’d finished all the construction plans for his place. Sometimes he would end up camping out overnight if he was too far from the cabin when the winter dusk caught up with him.

“Gettin’ restless up there in them mountains, aren’t you?”