The Cabin
The log split with a loud crack and toppled to the ground. The man wielding the ax wiped his brow and sat down on an old stump. Beside him lay a stack of wood that he had structured ever so carefully. He admired his work, and then stood unsteadily. He picked up a bundle of the logs and hobbled back toward his cabin. The frost covered grass crunched under his feet.
As the man reached the front door of his cabin, he juggled the logs in his arms as he attempted to turn the doorknob. Stumbling through the entryway, he laid his cargo down by the fireplace. A little Yorkshire terrier lying on an intricate oval rug perked his ears but continued dozing.
“Outside, Reginald,” the man’s voice rumbled through the house, which had previously been a serene environment. The dog jumped up and trotted out the door, which remained ajar. The cool air blew through the house, rustling a few papers on the handmade kitchen table. One paper coasted across the room to land at the man’s feet. At the top it read, Dear Arthur,” but he read no further. It was something that he, Arthur, would concern himself with later.
After kneeling down in front of the fireplace to stack a few new logs on it, Arthur heard the pitter-patter of Reginald’s nails tapping across the hardwood floor. Arthur turned and greeted him with a treat.
“Here ya go, Reg.” Reginald wagged his tail smugly and took the treat in his teeth, tossing it into the air like a toy. Arthur shook his head, smiling. He stood up and closed the front door to block the cold air breezing through the doorway. He turned around and faced his one-room home. Only here did he feel truly at peace; atop this mountain, in his cozy log cabin, with no one to bother him.
The day was growing old, and the light began to fade from the windows. Arthur pulled out his lantern and lit the candle within. The wind began to howl outside and the shutters on the windows creaked and rattled. Inside, the fire crackled and Reginald whimpered as he chased a squirrel through his dreams. Arthur sighed, and picked up the letter off the kitchen table. Then he slumped into his armchair.
Reluctantly, he opened the letter up again and scanned down a few lines.
I know you may not remember that night as well as I, but I hope you will remember me. I have thought of you often since that night and can only hope you are doing well. He closed his eyes for a moment, thinking back to the night being referenced in the letter. It had been so many years ago, and he still remembered it like it was yesterday.
The days had slowly drifted by, but that night was colder than any night he could remember. Arthur had rented a cabin, just for the night because he needed a breather. He went out to a bar nearby for a drink, and that was when he saw her, Catherine. Her hair was a dark brown and the curls bounced off her shoulders, rolling across her back as she threw her head back laughing. The small dimples in her cheeks reminded him of a crescent moon, which happened to be what was in the sky that night. He remembered the way the moon reflected in her eyes when they had finally left the bar to go back to the cabin.
He smiled at the memory and shortly drifted off to sleep. When he opened his eyes, it was pitch black. His candle and the fire had both gone out. He fumbled in the darkness, feeling around for the matches that he had left on the side table. He bumped the matchbox with his hand and it fell to the floor.
“Goddamit,” he muttered. Reginald’s feet ticked across the room, and soon he was at Arthur’s feet. He picked up the matchbox in his mouth. Arthur patted him on the head and took the box, quickly lighting a match and setting the candle ablaze once more. Next, he worked on the fire and got it started from the coals that still burned slowly in the grates. He sat motionless, watching the logs begin to catch fire, and was jerked out of his daze when Reginald pulled on his shirt from behind.
“Alright, alright. Let’s go out.” Arthur grabbed his lantern, shrugged on his winter jacket, shoved his feet into his boots, and they headed out the door. “Stay close now, Reg,” he said, knowing Reginald was bound to wander. Arthur headed over to the woodpile as Reginald ambled about. Arthur heard a loud squawking off in the distance behind him, and when he turned around, Reginald was gone. All that could be heard of him was the crunching of the leaves as he bounded through the woods after the noise.
“REGINALD!” Arthur roared. He dropped all the wood in his arms and picked up the lantern he had set on the stump. He no longer heard or saw any sign of Reginald. Arthur hurried to where had seen him disappear and hollered again. “Reggie! Where are ya?” There was nothing. All he heard now were a few owls hooting and some branches creaking under what he assumed were squirrels finishing up their acorn stores for the winter.
“Reginald! Come on buddy! Get back here!” Arthur tried once more. “No, no, no, no, no!” He kicked the ground and stumbled forward, landing on his bad knee and dropping his lantern which shattered on a rock. “Goddamit!” He tried to get up, but he could not lift himself at first. He knew now there was no way he was going to find Reginald in the dark. He would have to wait until morning, or until Reginald came back himself.
Finally able to lift himself off the ground, Arthur hobbled back into the cabin. He left the door open a crack just in case Reginald came back. Arthur would deal with the cool air. He stumbled around for a while, unsure of what to do. He decided to light another candle and sit by the fireplace, anxiously waiting to hear Reginald’s feet pattering across the floor to cozy up on the rug. But, the sound did not come.
For the next few hours, Arthur dozed, slipping in and out of consciousness. He kept thinking of Reginald out in the woods, all alone, freezing. He tried to think of other things, like that letter that still sat, half-read, on the tabletop. He had been unable to get past the first page.
Once the first light broke over the horizon, Arthur was up and out the door, despite the throbbing pain in his knee. He needed to find Reginald. He started on the path where he saw Reginald take off. It was hard for him and slow going. His knee had not been fully functional since the accident that occurred ten years ago, the same one that had left him a widower. He missed Dahlia every second of every day, though Reginald helped to fill in some of that gaping hole she had left.
As he followed the path, he came upon the road that led to the town that lay below, at the bottom of the mountain. It was harder for him to walk downhill, so he had to stop every few steps to take a break. As he neared the first sign of civilization, he heard a car coming towards him. He looked up and saw a silver jeep making its way slowly up the road. There were many potholes and cracks in the road, and eventually, it just turned to dirt.
At first, the car drove past him, but then it stopped. Very carefully, they backed up and stopped once more right beside him. He turned to see a young woman, about twenty-two, in the driver’s seat looking upon him. He knew in an instant who she was, though he had never seen her before and she seemed to have recognized him as well.
The woman rolled down her window, and a furry little head popped up from the passenger seat.
“Reginald!” Arthur cried out in sheer joy. The dog nearly jumped out of the car and into his arms. “How did you find him?”
“Oh good! He’s yours! I heard him yipping outside my door at the motel last night. I figured he would freeze out there if I didn’t bring him inside. I was worried his family would be missing him, and I can see that I was right.” She grinned. “Please, get in, I can drive you home and we can talk, if that’s okay.” Arthur hesitated, but he knew that it would be a long walk back up the mountain.
“Yes, okay.” He struggled to get into the jeep, but once he was sitting, a huge wave of fatigue passed over him and the warmth of the car began to seep into his chilled bones. “I got your mother’s letter, and I assumed you would be coming. You look just like her, you know.”
“So I’ve heard.” She smirked. “But she tells me that I look just like my father.”
“You have my eyes.” Arthur could not help but smile and think back to that one night he had spent in a cabin with a woman who would never become his wife but would, unknowingly at the time, be a part of his life forever.