Two weeks ago when he had run out of firewood, he began breaking up the wood furniture he and Amanda had picked out so long ago. Something made him burn just enough of it in the fireplace to keep from freezing to death.
Food was a different story. He had exactly two things left in the place to eat – crackers and Ramen noodles. He’d been out of fresh water since early January, but it was easy enough to open a top floor window and fill a pan with snow. At first, he strained the water through a piece of cloth. But now, he pretty much didn’t give a shit.
The cabin was 17 miles off the main road, and he knew that without snowshoes, he wouldn’t make half of that. Besides, hadn’t he wanted to end up in this position? For a long while, he juggled the idea of freezing to death vs. starving to death.
He was just heading back down the wooden stairs from the loft when he saw her. It had been ten long years, but she hadn’t changed. She was wearing the white burial gown he had bought for her that cold December morning. He stared at her, and for some reason, was not the least bit surprised to see her. Although she hadn’t seen him yet, she appeared to be looking for him. Common sense told him that she was a ghost, but he couldn’t see through her. She appeared to be as corporeal as he was. Finally, as if she sensed him, she turned. Her gaze slowly rose to the spot on the stairs where he was sitting.
“Hello, Marty. How I have missed you,” she said.
He opened his mouth, and although his lips moved, there was no sound of his greeting. He remained frozen in place as she came to the bottom of the stairs, and spoke again.
“Well, aren’t you going to come down and see me?”
He got moving, but not without an effort. When he got to the bottom of the stairs, he was still unable to speak. She reached for one of his hands, and when she took it, her skin was icy cold.
“What does a lady have to do to get offered a drink in this place?” she asked him. This time, he did find his voice.
“What would you like?” he asked shakily.
“Oh, just whatever you’re having.”
He walked to the propane fridge, which was still working. He took out the biggest of the three items left – a fifth of Dewars. He poured them each an inch in the bottom of identical glass tumblers. When he handed it to her, he could feel the chill of her, radiating through the glass.
“Come sit with me and we’ll talk awhile. We have a great deal to talk about, don’t we?” I guess there could be a few things,” he said reluctantly.
“I am impressed that you never took another wife after I went.”
“After you, there could have been no other.”
“That is so sweet,” she said. “And the way you mourned so long for me and comforted the children, telling them how much we meant to each other.”
“I always tried to be there for them,” he said.
“I guess you must know by now that I have come back for you.”
“If that’s the case, I’m not surprised,” he told her.
“Why don’t we drink to that?” she said.
When they touched glasses, he once again felt the ache of the cold she had brought back with her.
“I guess what I don’t understand, even after all these years, is why?” she asked.
“Why what?”
“Oh, come now, Martin. Don’t be coy – you know exactly what I’m asking.”
“Maybe I do, and maybe I don’t. But I guess I want to hear it from you just the same.”
“Very well then. Why did you kill me and leave me in that awful place, to be found full of maggots? I can show you what I looked like when they found me, if you want. Would you like that?”
Before he had a chance to answer, she went on.
“I’m sorry – I’ll try not to stray from the subject. You only had a small insurance policy on me, and there was never any money in my family. So why? I am convinced there was another woman, but I want to hear it from you.”
“You must be here from the afterlife, how come you don’t know everything already?” he asked her.
“It is one of those things that I couldn’t explain to you, even if I tried,” she said. “Let’s just say I don’t. Even if I did, it would be so much better to hear it coming from you.”
“There was no other woman, and I think you already know that,” he told her.
“Why then? I must know, or I will never be able to, how shall we say, ‘Rest in Peace’?”
“I did it because you were beautiful, and you were a bitch,” he said finally. “I got sick and tired of men always looking at you like you were so much filet mignon in a butcher shop window. The bitch part was because you let them! You let them look at you that way and drank it all in. You enjoyed every minute of it.”
“Surely you know I never cheated on you. In fact, I never even came close.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he said. “That’s not what it was all about; I already told you.”
“So you took it upon yourself to be my executioner? Is that how it was?”
“Yes,” he told her. “And after ten long years, I still don’t regret it.”
“Well, I think this little reunion has gone on long enough,” she said. “Let’s get down to business.” She took the last sip of her scotch, and set the glass back down on the table.
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