tried was:
Is Justin going through the same thing that I am right now? The agony and the
ecstasy? Is he being tortured, as I am, with alternating flashes of pain and
bliss?
Here she was, tortured,
tossing and turning, losing sleep. Was he down in the bunkhouse, tortured,
pacing the floor, also miles away from sleep?
She couldn't stop picturing,
imagining, what he might be going through down there. And after all, hadn't she
been congratulating herself on how mature she'd grown in the years since he had
been gone? She would just put on a sweater, slip on her tennis shoes, head down
to the bunkhouse, and knock on the door. What was more mature than just
confronting a situation head on? If you have an issue with someone, you discuss
it. That's the adult thing to do, and that's what I'm going to do, Amanda
decided.
She opened and closed her
bedroom door and padded down the stairs as lightly as possible so as not to
wake the girls as she headed out on her midnight mission. This was between
Amanda and Justin, no one else.
When she reached the back
door, she again made every effort to be as stealthy as a cat burglar when
opening and closing the exterior door. She didn't want any company on this
trip, and prying eyes weren't welcome either. This felt like private business.
The cool, crisp air pricked
at her skin, making her feel even more alert as she walked down the well-worn
path to the bunkhouse. Although in the past decade, she had done everything in
her power to avoid having to come down this path, walking it now, she couldn't
deny that it still felt incredibly familiar. Every footfall was an old familiar
friend, and the old tingle of anticipation that she had felt every time she had
tread this path in the past returned in full force. This path didn't lead anywhere
else, only to the bunkhouse. If she was traveling it, it was bringing her to
Justin, that was its only purpose, and that knowledge was always – ALWAYS –
delicious in some respect, no matter how much trepidation also colored that
excitement.
The darkness didn't impede
her. She knew that she could walk this path blindfolded, one hundred years from
now, and still know every single step of it like the back of her hand. It was
burned into her brain through both repetition and emotional intensity. Every single
time she had ever walked this path, she had been suffused with the tingling
sense of anticipation that was caused, for her, by one thing and one thing only
– the knowledge that, in just a few moments' time, she would be with Justin.
Yes, this was the path that led her to Justin, and it felt as familiar and
right as it always had.
When she arrived on the
front porch of the bunkhouse, she heard a sound that cut her to the core.
Snoring.
That absolute rat!
She cupped her hands around
her eyes and pressed them to the window, straining to see in. She couldn't
believe her eyes.
There lay Justin, fully
clothed, on top of the covers, using his duffel bag as a pillow.
Not only was he able to
sleep – but he had been so anxious to get to sleep that he hadn't even bothered
to undress. And now that he was asleep, it wasn't a fitful sleep. He wasn't
feverishly tossing and turning, vulnerable to being wakened by the slightest
disturbance. No. He was sound asleep, unmoving, and snoring sonorously without
a care in the world.
So, there she had it. There
was the proof. That was how much he cared, i.e., not at all.
Well, great, she thought as
she stomped angrily back to the house. Two can play at that game.
Chapter 7
“I don't know what to tell
you, Amanda, I'm just saying that if he took off once, he could take off again.
Guard your heart,” said Lauren reasonably as she guided the shopping cart she
was piloting down the aisle of the grocery store.
The four women had made a
special trip down into Lake Tahoe for the morning. They had treated themselves
to breakfast at Heidi's on Highway 50, a long-standing tradition, and were now
filling their carts at Grocery
Is Justin going through the same thing that I am right now? The agony and the
ecstasy? Is he being tortured, as I am, with alternating flashes of pain and
bliss?
Here she was, tortured,
tossing and turning, losing sleep. Was he down in the bunkhouse, tortured,
pacing the floor, also miles away from sleep?
She couldn't stop picturing,
imagining, what he might be going through down there. And after all, hadn't she
been congratulating herself on how mature she'd grown in the years since he had
been gone? She would just put on a sweater, slip on her tennis shoes, head down
to the bunkhouse, and knock on the door. What was more mature than just
confronting a situation head on? If you have an issue with someone, you discuss
it. That's the adult thing to do, and that's what I'm going to do, Amanda
decided.
She opened and closed her
bedroom door and padded down the stairs as lightly as possible so as not to
wake the girls as she headed out on her midnight mission. This was between
Amanda and Justin, no one else.
When she reached the back
door, she again made every effort to be as stealthy as a cat burglar when
opening and closing the exterior door. She didn't want any company on this
trip, and prying eyes weren't welcome either. This felt like private business.
The cool, crisp air pricked
at her skin, making her feel even more alert as she walked down the well-worn
path to the bunkhouse. Although in the past decade, she had done everything in
her power to avoid having to come down this path, walking it now, she couldn't
deny that it still felt incredibly familiar. Every footfall was an old familiar
friend, and the old tingle of anticipation that she had felt every time she had
tread this path in the past returned in full force. This path didn't lead anywhere
else, only to the bunkhouse. If she was traveling it, it was bringing her to
Justin, that was its only purpose, and that knowledge was always – ALWAYS –
delicious in some respect, no matter how much trepidation also colored that
excitement.
The darkness didn't impede
her. She knew that she could walk this path blindfolded, one hundred years from
now, and still know every single step of it like the back of her hand. It was
burned into her brain through both repetition and emotional intensity. Every single
time she had ever walked this path, she had been suffused with the tingling
sense of anticipation that was caused, for her, by one thing and one thing only
– the knowledge that, in just a few moments' time, she would be with Justin.
Yes, this was the path that led her to Justin, and it felt as familiar and
right as it always had.
When she arrived on the
front porch of the bunkhouse, she heard a sound that cut her to the core.
Snoring.
That absolute rat!
She cupped her hands around
her eyes and pressed them to the window, straining to see in. She couldn't
believe her eyes.
There lay Justin, fully
clothed, on top of the covers, using his duffel bag as a pillow.
Not only was he able to
sleep – but he had been so anxious to get to sleep that he hadn't even bothered
to undress. And now that he was asleep, it wasn't a fitful sleep. He wasn't
feverishly tossing and turning, vulnerable to being wakened by the slightest
disturbance. No. He was sound asleep, unmoving, and snoring sonorously without
a care in the world.
So, there she had it. There
was the proof. That was how much he cared, i.e., not at all.
Well, great, she thought as
she stomped angrily back to the house. Two can play at that game.
Chapter 7
“I don't know what to tell
you, Amanda, I'm just saying that if he took off once, he could take off again.
Guard your heart,” said Lauren reasonably as she guided the shopping cart she
was piloting down the aisle of the grocery store.
The four women had made a
special trip down into Lake Tahoe for the morning. They had treated themselves
to breakfast at Heidi's on Highway 50, a long-standing tradition, and were now
filling their carts at Grocery
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