Backwoods. Jill Sorenson

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СКАЧАТЬ from modern amenities, but she’d travel to the ends of the earth for Brooke. “I’ll stay in the cabin. We can go on a few day hikes.”

      “You’ll be bored.”

      “Never,” Abby said, lifting her chin. She’d brought plenty of reading material, only half of which was work-related.

      “Just don’t try to coordinate activities, okay?”

      Abby was the wellness director at Seaside Retirement Center in San Diego. She planned exercise classes, therapy sessions and outdoor excursions for the residents. It was a challenging job that required close attention to detail. Brooke had often complained of Abby’s tendency toward scheduling every moment. OCD, she called it.

      “You won’t even know I’m there,” Abby promised.

      Brooke sighed, shaking her head.

      They didn’t discuss the main reason Abby had tagged along. She didn’t trust her ex-husband to show up. He’d canceled last year’s trip at the last minute. Ray Dwyer was a successful plastic surgeon, always running late or flaking out. He showered Brooke with expensive gifts instead of giving her his full attention.

      Ray was supposed to arrive tonight with Lydia, his current wife, and Leo, her son from a previous marriage. Leo was about Brooke’s age. The combined families would spend a week at the cabin, hanging out and exploring the wilderness. Brooke got along well with Lydia and Leo. She was an easygoing, well-adjusted child of divorce.

      Abby wasn’t so well-adjusted. She’d been coparenting with Ray for seven years, and they were civil. Under normal circumstances, Abby wouldn’t impose on their vacation. She didn’t try to limit his visits or interfere in his relationship with Brooke. He’d taken her to Hawaii two summers ago. Ray was a good father—when he made the effort.

      But if something went wrong and Ray changed his plans, which happened all too often, Brooke would be on her own. Abby didn’t want her daughter traveling through the High Sierras by herself or hanging out alone at the cabin. It was easy to get lost in this area, by vehicle or on foot, and there were innumerable dangers. Last fall, a young couple had disappeared while camping in these woods. The boyfriend had turned up in a shallow grave. The girl’s body was never found.

      Abby shivered to think of what might have happened to her. A lost child was a mother’s worst nightmare. Abby had been separated from Brooke for several days after the San Diego earthquake. The agony of not knowing if her daughter was dead or alive still haunted her. She continued to struggle with anxiety and overprotectiveness.

      Abby had missed Brooke terribly since she’d gone off to college. They were still going through an adjustment period. Abby had been looking forward to reconnecting with her over the summer. Instead, Brooke had been traveling with friends and jumping from one activity to the next. Abby wanted to sit her down and hold her close, but Brooke seemed determined to maintain her newfound independence. Maybe she thought keeping her distance would make it easier to leave again.

      Abby smothered the urge to ask Brooke how things were going at school again. Every time she reached out, Brooke retreated a little more.

      “Where is this cabin, at the edge of nowhere?” she asked.

      “Practically,” Brooke said with a smile. “It’s tucked right up against the mountains, close to the trailhead.”

      Brooke lived for adventure. She had the temperament of an extreme athlete, always pushing herself physically, game for any challenge. She was a track star at Berkeley. Whenever Brooke wasn’t making Abby proud, she was driving Abby crazy with worry.

      The cabin at the end of the road was no rustic shack, thankfully. It was an impressive getaway, sturdy and sprawling. Abby knew it boasted a full kitchen, three bedrooms and two bathrooms. There was a fireplace and a stocked fridge. Ray might not be reliable, but he didn’t skimp on luxuries.

      She parked next to a beat-up motorcycle in the driveway. “Whose is that?”

      “It must be Leo’s,” Brooke said, her eyes bright with excitement. Not bothering to bring in her bags, she hopped out of the car and bounded to the front door.

      Abby followed Brooke up the walk, pocketing the car keys. She was relieved that Ray and Lydia hadn’t arrived yet. It had been a long drive. She needed a few minutes to collect herself, to take deep breaths and smooth her hair.

      When Leo answered the door, Brooke tackled him with an exuberant hug. He stumbled backward, laughing in surprise. Although she was tall for a girl, almost his height, he didn’t drop her or fall down. She clung to him for a few seconds and let go, squeezing his shoulder for good measure. “Is that your motorcycle?”

      His lips curved into a smile. “Yeah.”

      “Take me for a ride.”

      Abby had never met Leo before, and he wasn’t quite what she’d expected. He had a mop of jet-black hair, in dire need of cutting, and ragged clothes. His Green Day T-shirt, torn jeans and high-top sneakers gave him sort of a punk-rock edge. Although he didn’t look like a jock, his physique appeared strong and lean.

      Instead of agreeing to mount Brooke on his death machine, he cleared his throat and glanced at Abby.

      “You must be Leo,” she said, stepping forward. “You look exactly like your mother.”

      He didn’t seem embarrassed by the comparison, as some boys might have been. But then, his mother was beautiful. “Thanks,” he said easily.

      “I think he looks like his father,” Brooke said.

      Leo frowned at this comment. Abby had only seen Leo’s father in photographs, and in the infamous video clip that Leo had uploaded to YouTube. The pro baseball player had been falling-down drunk in the footage. It hadn’t cast him in a very flattering light.

      “Your dad is seriously hot,” Brooke added.

      He grimaced in distaste.

      “Will your bike hold both of us?”

      “Sure.”

      Abby studied the motorcycle with trepidation. Brooke was an adult now, so she couldn’t forbid this activity. “There’s only one helmet?”

      “She can wear it,” Leo said.

      Brooke let out a squeal and ran toward the motorcycle, hair flying.

      Abby rubbed her temples, trying not to visualize deadly accidents. Maybe she shouldn’t have come on this trip. It was bound to be one anxiety attack after another. “Brooke, you should put on real shoes. Flip-flops aren’t safe.”

      “She’s right,” Leo said.

      Sticking her tongue out at Leo, Brooke opened the car door and grabbed her hiking boots. She sat down in the driveway to put them on quickly. Her jeans offered minimal protection against injury, but her tank top left her arms bare.

      “And a jacket,” Abby said.

      “Oh my God, Mom. We’re not going on the freeway.”

      Leo sided with Brooke this time. He was a teenage boy with a motorcycle, so his judgment was questionable. “I’ll СКАЧАТЬ