Page 40 of Van Cort

EVERETT

She’s showering by the time I finish up some emails and return to the bedroom.

I listen to the sound of the water running and consider joining her.

It’s a personal space for me, private. It always has been ever since those days when bruises littered my body and bones cracked a little sometimes.

And although this is the closest I’ve felt to a woman, perhaps ever, I push the thought of enjoying a shower with her aside and choose to run my fingers over her discarded clothes instead.

I watched her in the woods for a while as she ran.

West went wherever West went, and I chose to search for the glimpses of colour that flashed through the greenery from the study window.

She ran like something was chasing her, powering on with each next step.

I looked behind her a few times wondering if something, or someone, was chasing her.

Nothing was. It was just her. This time.

She chose to run that fast, chose to push herself harder to expel whatever demon she was outrunning. That demon is probably me and my inability to give a fucking inch of emotion to anything.

Something shiny catches my eye on the bed.

Gold? I pick it up and turn the small nugget over in my fingers.

Where’s she found that? I smile. West and the island, no doubt.

It’s been a long time since I’ve seen it in its raw form like this.

The thought makes me chuckle at my own raw, emotive feelings around her.

“Hello, you,” she says behind me.

I swing back to look at her and find nothing but fresh, clean skin and wet hair. “You look delicious.”

She walks closer. “Definitely better than battered hair and sweat.”

“Debatable.” She smirks. I hold the nugget of gold up. “I was going to suggest we did something with this, but you naked and wet really isn’t helping me make up my mind. Put some clothes on.”

She snorts and reaches for a robe. “What do you mean ‘do’ something with it?”

“Turn it into something.” She frowns and quirks her brow.

“How?”

“It’s getting late. But we can go tomorrow. I know a guy. Or I did.”

***

After she had breakfast with West, I take her out. It’s been years since I visited the Devlin ranch, but they’re the best, and so that’s where we’re going.

A while later, and we’re headed out onto the dirt track leading up through the mountains. She’s smiled the entire drive, occasionally making me stop so she can get out and look at the views.

“You have no idea how lucky you are living in a place like this.” I keep driving, unable to comment because of the myriad of emotions associated with that subject.

“I mean, I know you’ve got a past here and things weren’t good, but look at it all.

Try seeing it with fresh eyes like mine.

It’s amazing. Astounding really. Who gets a view like this to enjoy?

We’re all so busy going about our daily lives, giving every bit of us over to promotions and deals.

We forget, don’t you think? We forget that we’re here for such a small amount of time and there’s so much to see. ”

I pull to a stop, listening to the crunch of the wheels on the dirt, and switch the engine off. “You like it that much?”

“Who wouldn’t?”

I stare with her, attempting to dismiss the corrupted part of my memories to try seeing the beauty.

It doesn’t necessarily work, but her reaching over to take my hand in the silence somehow brings a long-held breath out of me.

I don’t even realise it until I find myself smiling at the feel of her and the hundreds of miles of nature around us.

There’s a peace in that that I’m not sure I’ve ever sensed before.

It’s quiet and dignified, elegant even. It brings visions of happiness and family and children running and swimming.

“Shall I give you some corrosive parts of the picture?”

“No. I don’t want anything other than this. Don’t ruin it.”

“Tough. Three-metre snow depths at the house. Around six or seven up here. Snowed in means exactly that. It’s why the groundsmen pile up wood all summer.

Generators fail, often. Snowmobiles struggle.

The bobcats are useless when the sky really means it.

It goes on for months some years. All the internet and phone signals go down. ”

“And so you have to snuggle up by log fires and read books? What a hardship.”

“Either that or skate.”

Her head whips to look at me. “Oh, I didn’t think about that. The lake. I used to skate a bit when I was younger. Never on a proper lake, though.”

I chuckle and bring her hand to my lips, kissing it before starting the engine again and driving forward. “Seems like you can find the fun and joy in anything.”

“I try. Life’s taught me to be grateful for the good times, as they aren’t guaranteed.

Positive mindset. Fight. Find a way to achieve your goals and dreams. You know, when I was at university, I had things to prove, a place to make sure I was worthy of.

It’s hard to fit in against the likes of you at school. ”

“Me?”

“Advantaged.” I arch a brow at her.

“I can guarantee you, you would not have swapped your life for my apparent advantage.”

“How many private tutors before you went?”

“Several.”

She turns sideways and looks at me rather than the view.

“Did your father donate to Harvard each year, ensuring your place?” Visions of the island flash through my mind, of West telling me he was to go to Stanford instead.

No amount of money made sure Van Cort went to Harvard.

Only one of us. It was damned lonely. Painful, even.

“I’ll take the silence as a yes. And I don’t suppose you’ve ever thought about it, but I guess there were plenty of scholarship students there while you were, all of them trying desperately to fit in.

Did you give any of them the time of day?

Socialise with them? Notice anything about them other than their lack of money or position? Date any of them?”

“I didn’t date.”

“No?”

“No. I fucked when I needed to. And if we’re being completely honest, I barely socialised either, despite my father’s insistence that I should make connections.

Most of it was a blur of booze, tests and hormonal angst. I didn’t give anyone the time of day, including those I should have.

I didn’t want to.” I look at the large ranch cabin coming into view as we drive around a long sweeping curve in the track. “Does it bother you that I have money?”

“No.”

“You’re sure? You don’t need to battle me about it or prove your worth, River. You’re more fascinating to me than anyone before you has ever been.”

“Me? Why?”

“Because… I don’t know.” I chuckle and pull up to the wood cabin, pleased to see three old, battered trucks still sitting in roughly the same place they used to years ago.

“Because when you’re with me, I think of a peace I’ve barely ever thought of.

You won’t understand what that means, but I do.

” I cut the engine and turn to face her.

“All this that you seem to love is beginning to mean something to me again, because of you. That’s why. ”

A smile sets on her face, but she doesn’t comment on the matter. She stares for a while longer before turning her gaze to look at the cabin instead.

“Where are we?” she asks.

“The Devlin ranch. Come on.”

A woman I don’t know comes out onto the porch as we get out, wiping her hands on a cloth. She smiles at us and makes her way down the steps.

“Can I help you?” she asks.

“Is James around?”

“Which one?”

“The older.”

“Sure is. He’s over in the workshops out back.” She waves us in the direction, climbing her way back into the main house. “Help yourself.”

Walking around the back, River looks around and continues smiling that smile that seems almost permanently set in since we’ve been in Canada.

“Whoa. Your place is great, obviously, but this is on another level of natural beauty,” she says.

“I can’t believe people live out here like this.

We’re literally in the middle of nowhere, and yet this huge ranch is in the centre of it?

Do they even get out into towns? How do they manage?

” I keep walking, as she fires out questions, until we reach the workshops and open the main door.

“You should ask the owner.” Grumbling filters through the air back to us, and I instantly recognise the noise. “James?” I call.

He comes walking around the corner towards us, a hammer in one hand and a chainsaw in the other. His wizened eyes narrow as I approach, but he puts the saw down and offers his hand to shake. “What brings a Van Cort up here?”

I hold the small piece of gold up. “I’m hoping you can make me something special out of this. The lady deserves it.”

He looks at River, softening his face. “Hello, ma’am.”

“Hello,” she says. “This place is astonishing.”

“We like it,” he replies, gruffly, as he reaches for the gold in my hand.

He inspects it, turning his back on us so he can make his way back to the workroom. “Yep. That’s Van Cort gold.” He waves at River, asking her to follow. “What do you want, missy?”

“Oh, I don’t know. What can you do?” She scrutinises his limp. “Please don’t put yourself out. Something simple would be wonderful. Something I can put on a chain, maybe?”

“How long have you got?”

She looks at me in question.

“As long as you need. We can wait, but it will have to be today.” I tell him.

“Mmm. How about a pendant? I can smelt it down. Won’t be as pure as it could be, but we can work with it.”

“Maybe something natural. Organic, to reflect the place it came from?” Her eyes light up talking about it to James.

He nods and leaves, apparently clear enough from that.

River looks at me, her smile beaming.

***

We explore around the ranch for an hour or so before we head back. The woman from the house comes down shortly after and brings some food and drinks on a tray while we wait. She tells us she’s James Jr.’s wife and they moved back from California two years ago when James Sr. had a fall.

“We never left,” she says. “I fell in love with the place, and I think my husband always felt like he was in the wrong place in California. He spends all day out on the ranch now. I’ve never seen him happier.

” She laughs. “It’s something about the air here.

Anyway, I’ll leave you to eat. Come on up if you need anything. ”

We sit at the old table behind the workshop and eat a simple homemade meal of caribou and homegrown vegetables.

I rest my chin in my hand as River talks about all sorts of things I’ve never really contemplated.

Things she’d like to do, places she’d like to visit.

She asks me how often I’ve travelled, where I’ve been.

“I haven’t that much.”

She finishes her last bite of food. “No? Why not?”

“Busy.”

“Good lord, Everett. There’s busy, and then there’s having a life. You can’t spend it all in nice restaurants and offices.”

“Why not?”

“It’s boring.” I reach for the bottle of wine and top her up.

“You’re calling me boring?”

“No. I don’t think I’d ever call you boring. But, well, there’s a world out there and you don’t want to see it?”

“I don’t need to see it. I’m quite happy looking at you. That’s enough of a view.” Her hand hovers the wine glass halfway to her mouth.

“Wow. You should be careful. Talk like that will do something to a girl. You’ll get me thinking all kinds of things.”

I lean back and pick up my own wine. “Good. Think them.” I stare at her, wholly invested in the thoughts she’s suggesting she’s thinking about, because she is enough of a view for me, but for one missing piece she’s yet to understand.

“Ma’am?” She looks sideways, breaking our gaze with each other, as James sticks his head out from the workroom. “You want to come and check on the progress. Choose a chain?”

“Yes. I’d love to.” She looks back at me and stands from the bench, keeping our eyes locked as she starts walking away, and eventually shakes her head and smiles as she disappears with him.

I take the time to sit in contemplation on my own rather than follow them inside.

She’s right. This place is astonishing. Endless miles of nothing but wilderness and rugged scenery surround them here, as if there’s nothing that could interfere with it.

I only came here once when I was young. Charles brought me, just me, for some reason.

I must have been around twelve. I know that because West was bruised when I got back, and he never was again after that.

It was the last time I left him alone, the last time he took a beating that I could take for him.

I’m not surprised old James Devlin remembers me.

Genes, I suppose. And there’s no denying both West and I look like our father would have done in his younger years.

A little softer around the eyes maybe, and the green must have come from our mother, but every harsh feature, the cut of the jawline, even the way our frame is built – it’s all him.

It’s there every time I look in the mirror, and the only thing that makes it even slightly bearable is the way my mind seems to show me West on occasion rather than a fucking monster.

The beauty of this place fades with every next thought that enters my head, and as the afternoon sun begins to drop, the darkness I’m so used to seeps into my bones again without her near to counter it. I lull in it, unable, or unwilling, to pull myself from the memories and confusion.

“Everett?” I blink and look up, turning my gaze to see her.

She smiles and holds her hand out. “Come look. Mr Devlin is amazing.” I smile a little and get up, attempting to shake off all the crap I just let back into my own fucking head.

She stops me from entering the door as I get there, reaching up on her tiptoes so she can drop a light kiss on my lips.

“You’re amazing, too. Just so you know. This has been an amazing day.

Few days, actually. Just… I don’t know what I’m trying to say, but thank you. ”