Chapter Twenty-three 8 page

?You ready? Follow me.? And she took off with a long, loud beep, not waiting to see if Isabelle was ready or not.

?Hey! Wait up.? Jenna came out of the cookhouse waving frantically. Isabelle waited as she approached with a small satchel. ?I made you a picnic of sorts, considering it?s far from picnicking weather. I packed a few cans of soda, some beef sandwiches, and a flask of hot soup.?

?What a great idea. Thank you, Jenna.? Isabelle shrugged the straps over her shoulders.

?Make sure she eats something. She gets too excited and forgets.? Jenna nodded in the direction Mouse had taken. A loud series of beeps said Mouse had realized Isabelle was not right behind her as ordered.

?I?ll do my best.? With a huge smile, Isabelle released the brake and took off slowly after Mouse. Her smile remained for a long time. These little instances of kindness and inclusion made her feel more and more welcome.

Mouse was waiting for her around the next bend. She sat revving her quad at a branch in the trail. When she saw Isabelle catching up, she took off again along a different track from the one Isabelle and Ren had taken to the river. This track went east and kept high, while the other went down to the river and the hatchery lodge.

On the higher track the views were spectacular, and Isabelle would have dearly loved to find a place to dismount and enjoy them. Mouse was unconcerned with the panorama and pressed on at a daredevil pace Isabelle found hard to keep up with.

After about a mile a clearing appeared. It was big enough for a large vehicle to swing around in, and from the look of the cut-up ground, it was in frequent use. Isabelle scrambled to locate her horn and beeped a few times to catch Mouse?s attention before tucking her quad in off the track. She dismounted and stretched, taking in the wonderful view down into the heart of the valley.

?What?s wrong?? Mouse pulled up beside her.

?I?m old, and the trail?s bumpy.?

?You got numb bum.? Mouse glared at the offending body part.

?Let?s have a soda break.? Isabelle reached into the knapsack. Perhaps a cold drink would cool Mouse?s heels. ?It?s not like we?re having a race.?

Mouse?s eyes lit up. ?Can we? Later? Joey always races me and I always win. And it?s not because he lets me or anything, it?s because he sucks.?

?As long as you give me a head start.?

?Deal.? Mouse leapt from her bike and popped the soda can.

?It?s beautiful up here.? Isabelle sighed. Mouse responded with loud slurping and a small burp.

??Scuse me.?

Isabelle wandered over to the edge of the clearing to peep into the surrounding woods and found the start of a well-trodden trail. It was narrow enough for one person to move along it and dipped steeply until it disappeared from view altogether.

?Where does that go?? she asked Mouse.

?To the skinning hole.?

Isabelle pulled a face at the ugly name. Mouse obliged her with an explanation.

?It?s where Ren wants the carcasses skinned. No smellies are allowed near the farm. It brings in other animals.?

?Ah.? It made sense to Isabelle. The clearing must have been created so deer carcasses could be carted in, skinned and prepped off-site, and then transported back to Jenna?s cold room for storage. That surprised her. From the coagulated blood on the cold store floor, Isabelle assumed the meat had been prepared there.

?Can we take a look?? she asked. Mouse shook her head.

?Ren won?t like it. I?m not allowed to go there. Someone has to be with me.?

?I?m with you.?

?Pffh. Not you. One of the others.? Mouse guffawed. ?Well?maybe you later. But not now,? she added more seriously.

?Is it scary? Is that why you can?t go there??

?Nah. It?s because I can?t skin yet. Noah?s gonna show me when I?m older. He?s our best skinner. Next to Ren. Ren showed Noah how to do it first. She showed Joey and Patrick, too, but they suck. Especially Patrick. He sucks at everything. His hands shake all the time.?

?Okay.? Isabelle was dubious. The explanation was a little garbled and hard to follow. Mouse stood back and gave her a look of great consideration. Finally coming to a decision, she smiled slyly.

?I?ll show you if you want, but you can?t tell Ren. I been before, but I swore to Joey I?d tell no one.?

?I?m not a snitcher.? Isabelle acted offended. She did want to see the skinning hole; she wanted to see all of Ren?s valley, whether it was fry channels, big trees, or hunting places like this.

?Okay, but you gotta do what I say.? Mouse bristled with importance.

Aha, the truth comes out, Little Miss Bossy Boots. Isabelle hid a smile and fell in behind Mouse as she trudged through the undergrowth down the steep embankment. The smell caught her first, and she realized that was what had first intrigued her in the clearing. Without being fully aware of it, she had been lured in by the gamey odor. Thank goodness it was winter and the outdoors was like a walk-in freezer. In spring and summer this place must stink to high heaven.

?Told you it was boring. No meat left.?

Mouse was right. It was a disappointment. The trail stopped at the edge of a large, cleared hollow in the forest floor. The soil was uneven and heaped all around, giving the impression of a small crater surrounded by shallow graves. Bones lay scattered across the center. Isabelle poked at one with her boot. It was covered in large gnaw marks. Other bones lay splintered nearby. Some huge animals come here to scavenge.

Isabelle shifted uneasily. Her skin crawled, and she glanced around. ?It?s spooky here. Like we?re being watched.?

?There?s always eyes in the forest. I feel it all the time.? Mouse looked around unconcerned, so Isabelle dismissed the notion. She kicked a bone at her foot. It was the foreleg of a deer; the hoof was still attached. Isabelle frowned. The deer hanging in Jenna?s locker had their forelegs missing. This must be where they dismembered them. Why not butcher the carcass in the comfort and convenience of that wonderful kitchen? It could hardly be less hygienic than doing it here in the woods.

?Yawn. Boring. Let?s go.? Mouse handed over her empty pop can and headed back. Isabelle gave up. What did she expect from a nine-year-old souped up on sugary drinks? She stashed their soda cans in her backpack and took one more look around. The feeling of being watched returned. She felt cold and vulnerable all at the same time, as if the surrounding trees oozed malice like sap. It coated the pores of her skin and left her feeling choked and poisoned. Unable to shake the feeling of unease, she slung the bag over her shoulder and hurried after Mouse.

?The Big Tree is this way. Race you.? Mouse took off at top speed again, leaving Isabelle in her dust. She swung her leg over her quad when something caught her eye in the weeds on the far edge of the clearing. She couldn?t quite make it out, but the sheen and texture looked so out of place that she dismounted to take a closer look.

The brushwood had been flattened. Tree branches were snapped at odd angles and the earth was heavily scored, as if a huge object had been dragged or pushed toward the edge of the clearing. The path of destruction ceased where the edge gave way to a sudden drop. Something big had been moved here recently. Something very big, that squashed everything before it.

Isabelle stooped to pull on the piece of silver plastic that had caught her eye. It poked out from under a flattened bush, covered with melting snow. The plastic was brittle and broke apart as she wedged it free. Isabelle stood stunned with part of a car fender in her hand. What an odd thing to find. She doubted Ren would use the valley as a dump for old vehicles. How had this trashed piece of fender got here?

Her stomach coiled into a sick knot. She?d had an accident, and she hadn?t found out exactly where yet. Ren had alluded to a branch road off Highway 20. Not by any stretch of the imagination could this be called a branch road. It was too great a leap of logic to conclude it was her car. She couldn?t afford to be fanciful. She needed hard facts, and the best way to do that was go down the slope and examine the area.

A distant beeping told her Mouse had realized she was in a solo race. She was such a forceful, demanding little madam. So like Ren in many ways.

Isabelle set the piece of plastic back where she?d found it. It was as a marker for her mystery. Something was not sitting well with her. She would come back at the first opportunity and investigate.

Another long beep made her scurry for her quad. She had a race to lose. A last look over her shoulder helped her to memorize the exact spot with its telltale marker. Isabelle stepped on the gas and chased after Mouse, determined to see this big, big tree.

Chapter Thirteen

The Big Tree was a sight to behold. Mouse made Isabelle march around it with her two times just to be sure how big it really was. Then they paced around it again, measuring it with their steps, thirty-nine of Isabelle?s and fifty-two of Mouse?s, though she admitted cheating a little and taking extra-long ones. Then they sat on a large rock under the lower branches and ate the picnic Jenna had made them, thankful for the warm soup.

?This is the biggest tree in the whole valley,? Mouse informed her between bites. ?Ren says the Nuxalk used to worship it hundreds of years ago. They hung their wolf skins from it so the wolf ghosts would guard the valley, and that?s why they come back at night and howl.?

?Does the howling scare you??

?Nope.?

Isabelle was amused at this daylight bravado from a girl who?d sworn there were monsters under her bed last night. The howling unnerved Isabelle more than a little. Mouse took a massive bite out of her sandwich, her cheeks bulging. Her lustiness and high energy kept calling Isabelle?s mind back to Ren. Was she like this as a child? Isabelle would have loved to have seen photos of the young Ren.

?The Nuxalk are the indigenous community, right?? She brought her mind back to the present.

?Yeah. But Ren says the wolves have been here longer,? Mouse said with her mouth full.

They were high up, near the lip of the valley. There was more wildlife on display than in the denser woodland farther down the slopes. Red-winged blackbirds squabbled in the mighty branches above them, and several feet away a nervous shrew scurried back to its nest.

?The thaw?s waking ?em up early.? Mouse nodded sagely at the disappearing tail. ?They?ll grab what they can from their food stores before the next big snow.?

?You know a lot about the wild!?What?s that!? A distant rumble startled Isabelle. Mouse looked over her shoulder.

?It?s the logging trucks. They come along the top road whenever they can.?

?Logging trucks? Where are they going?? Between float planes and logging trucks, Isabelle felt they might as well be on a traffic intersection. So much for the rural isolation Ren purported they were living in.

?They don?t come often. Only if the Black Knife camp is open for cedar. And this time of year they hardly move at all.? Mouse shrugged.

?Where do they go??

?Dunno. The log harbor at Bella Coola, maybe??

The rumble of the giant truck engine died away and Isabelle became aware of the silence and gloom around them. The birds had taken their noisy fight elsewhere, and even in the early hours of afternoon the light was already becoming muddy. She shivered.

?Time to pack up and head back, I think.?

?Race you.? Mouse was on her feet in a flash, brimful of energy. Isabelle was about to refuse when a thought struck her. When would she be out this way again, or get the loan of a quad to explore the valley for herself? Not anytime soon, she reckoned. She was growing more and more uneasy at the vagueness of Ren?s plans to help her leave. Even Noah assumed she?d be around for summer picnics.

?But it?s not a fair race. You know the trail,? she said.

Mouse screwed her face up. ?So??

?So you have the advantage. Instead, you should take the long way home and let me go back the way we came. You?re quicker anyway, so it?s more even.?

?Okay, then.? Mouse brightened at the challenge. ?I?ll go along the river road. That?s miles longer, but I?ll still be first. Ready, steady, go!? And she was off, leaving Isabelle with all the picnic packing to do.

Isabelle shook her head ruefully at such a competitive streak and continued packing. When she was ready, she revved her quad and went back the route they?d come. She easily found the clearing and the plastic fender. She had to find out what had been pushed over the edge. She had to prove her hunch either right or wrong, though in her heart she already knew.

She lay on the edge on her belly and inched forward until she could clearly see the bottom of the fifty-foot drop. The area below was in heavy shade; the thaw had barely touched it and it was deep with snow. Even so, she could clearly make out the blackened metal of a burned-out vehicle protruding from a snowdrift. Against the soft, white snow and the frost-jeweled pine needles it looked hideous and twisted.

Isabelle lay and looked at the car until the damp seeped through her jacket. Her stomach cramped and her fingers curled so tightly to the ledge they lost all feeling. She was barely aware of the numbing discomfort. Her head was ringing with the order she had heard Ren give Patrick on the night she had finally clambered out of her sick bed. Round and round the words spun. ?Burn it. Burn it. Burn it.?

Ren had not lied to her. She had not told Patrick to burn her car documents. She had ordered him to burn her car.

?I win. I win. I?m the winner!? Mouse crowed as Isabelle finally drew up before the barn. Joey set aside his broom and came to claim his quad.

?How?d she go??

?Oh. Great, Joey. Great. Thanks for the loan.?

?I won!? Mouse crowded her for attention. Isabelle was still upset and distracted by her find, and she had to focus hard to present an amiable front to Mouse and Joey.

?Yes, you did. I?ll think twice before I challenge you to a race.? Isabelle wrapped an arm around Mouse?s shoulders and gave her a hug. ?You?re a speed demon. Now, let?s take this bag back to Jenna and thank her for our picnic.?

She had to act calm, even though her heart pounded and her hands tremored. No one must know about her discovery. Not yet. Not until she had processed what it meant. She caught herself watching Mouse and Joey as they locked up their quads, and decided they knew nothing. They were so guileless, so happily innocent. She couldn?t bear it if they knew about her car.

Mouse led the way to the cookhouse, and Isabelle took a deep breath before mounting the porch steps. What about Jenna? Was she in on it?

Patrick was idling at the kitchen table while Jenna worked. Isabelle could tell by Jenna?s sharp, constricted movements she was annoyed at having him there. Patrick didn?t gel with this group at all, Isabelle noted, despite his supposed authority.

?We?re back,? Mouse shouted as they entered. ?We went to Big Tree and had a race back and I won.?

Isabelle placed the backpack on the kitchen bench, tactfully avoiding eye contact with Patrick. She was angry, but careful not to show it. It was important not to tip her hand too soon, and especially not to him. He didn?t seem pleased to see her either. He picked up a magazine and pretended to read. The pages tremored in his hands and Isabelle remembered Mouse?s earlier comment about Patrick having the shakes. He did. His entire body trembled ever so slightly, his hands in particular.

?Thank you for the picnic, Jenna,? she said. ?It was very much appreciated. Mouse? What do you say??

?Thank you, Jenna. The sandwiches were nice and I liked the soda best.?

?Wow. That?s a first.? Jenna stopped to look at Mouse. ?Mouse, are you learning some manners at last??

??Bout time,? Patrick said. ?She needs to learn respect for her elders.?

?You?re not an elder,? Mouse retorted. ?You?re just old.? She slid onto the seat and dragged one of her play magazines over and began to color in a picture.

Isabelle and Jenna both smiled, and even Patrick let it go. He sat sprawled with his magazine, his feet up on another chair watching Jenna. Isabelle noted how he gauged Jenna?s reaction to Mouse?s behavior and followed her lead.

So he?s sweet on Jenna. That will cause problems later. I can?t see Noah letting it go. And between the two, my money?s on Noah. Isabelle was surprised she was picking up these little nuances so easily. And that she was becoming concerned about the internal workings of this small group.

The door opened and Ren walked in. She hesitated on seeing Isabelle there, then smiled and came farther into the room.

?Any coffee on the go?? she asked. Patrick scooted upright in his chair and Jenna went to pour a generous cup.

?Busy day?? Jenna asked.

?Manic,? Ren answered. ?Hi there,? she said to Isabelle, and came over to stand close, making sure their arms touched. ?I hear Mouse took you on a guided tour.?

?Yes.? Isabelle side-stepped and went to stand behind Mouse, resting her hands on her shoulders. She was too upset to have Ren touch her. ?We went all the way to Big Tree and had a picnic.? Her face muscles ached from trying to keep a bland look. If her hands weren?t sitting on Mouse?s shoulders they?d be two balled fists.

?Then we had a race back and I?? Mouse piped up.

?Won,? Ren finished for her. ?You win all the time. Like your mom used to.?

?Because she cheats,? Patrick said. He seemed to begrudge Mouse getting any of Ren?s attention.

?I do not!?

?No, you don?t, honey. You?re just the best, that?s all.? Isabelle reassured her with a shoulder squeeze. ?Don?t let him tease you. I know you won fair and square.?

This seemed to appease Mouse, and a temper tantrum was avoided.

?I told Isabelle all about Big Tree and the ghosts,? Mouse told Ren.

?Did you now?? Ren took a seat opposite, and Isabelle slid in beside Mouse, glad of the tabletop between them. Even looking at Ren hurt her. She surveyed her sitting nonchalantly at the table, as if butter wouldn?t melt in her mouth, or cars burn in her valley. The afternoon light pooled behind and haloed her, and Isabelle felt the siren?s pull. Her fingers tightened on the table. She wanted to give up and give in. She wanted it all to be untrue. She wanted never to have found the damn car. She wanted Ren.

What did a beautiful woman like Ren want with her?

Isabelle tried some self-scrutiny. She was a bedraggled specimen of womanhood, far too thin, sallow and haggard with illness. She had memory blackouts, and night terrors so fierce she was afraid to go to sleep. Why would Ren cheat her into staying in the valley?

Perhaps I?m rich? She pondered the possibility for a microsecond, then dismissed it. Ren?s property was run-down and threadbare, and in no way did Isabelle believe she had the funds to change that. Look at her. Her hair and complexion had never had money thrown at them. She was no missing heiress. Ren pulled her attention back to the conversation.

?Did Mouse tell you the whole legend?? Ren was asking her.

She shook her head. ?Only that the Nuxalk hung wolf skins from the tree. Sounded pretty icky to me. What?s the whole legend?? She tried to sound casual, normal even.

Patrick muttered something about work, then stomped out the door.

?He?s a scaredy cat,? Mouse whispered to Isabelle.

In Isabelle?s opinion, he was annoyed his time with Jenna had been interrupted. Jenna looked relieved he had gone.

?Oh? Maybe I?m a scaredy cat, too. Is it a scary story?? Isabelle said.

?Hold my hand if you?re frightened.? Mouse held out a grimy hand and Isabelle slipped hers in it. Across the table Ren watched them with a curious expression. Her face softened and her shoulders eased into a less tense posture. Isabelle hadn?t been aware she was so keyed up until these little changes occurred. She realized Ren was as awkward around her as she was back.

At first she worried she had given herself away and somehow shown the discomfort and suspicion she?d tried so hard to conceal. She chanced a quick glance to see if Ren?s face revealed any clues. The inky surface of Ren?s eyes spilled out words that Isabelle could read as easily as print. They shone with adoration and with pride, and showed gratitude for her presence in this home. Ren looked at her with love. Isabelle broke away and fussed over a tangle in Mouse?s hair. She was overwhelmed. Ren loved her, and she was afraid of the intensity in that look, and all it meant.

What if Ren could read her as easily? She was not ready for her secrets to spill out. Isabelle was jealous and guarded of her heart and what it held. She was falling in love, too. But she was fighting it. She was fighting it hard.

?The stories are old and the words worn,? Ren began in a soft voice. Jenna settled in beside her. This seemed to be a well-loved story. ?They actually belong to the people who were here before the Nuxalk, but no one knows who they were, or how long ago they passed through this valley.

?They tell of a Wolf-demon who came to these mountains. She found the valley beautiful, and settled here. Soon the hunters noticed the wildlife behaving differently. The animals were skittish. They stopped having young and began moving away. The shamans asked the bear why the forest was out of balance, and the bear told them a Wolf-demon had come who devoured souls, and so the animals were leaving.

?On hearing this, the elders sent their best warriors to hunt the Wolf-demon, for if the animals left, the tribe would starve. One by one the warriors set out. The bravest and best went first, and the less experienced last. One by one they disappeared until the tribe had no hunters left.

?Then one day a bedraggled, half-dead youth stumbled out of the forest. He had been the last hunter to leave, and he spoke wildly about an ancient tree and bad magic, but he was half mad with terror and no one could make sense of his words. So the elders traveled to the ancient tree, Big Tree as we call it today, and found it draped with the skins of their warriors. They had been flayed and left to hang in the wind like so many drying hides. And late that night as the elders made their sad way home, the valley began to ring with the howl of multitudes of wolves, and the elders knew these were the souls of their lost warriors the Wolf-demon had trapped in wolf bodies.

?And so the elders killed as many wolves as they could find, and hung the pelts from Big Tree to release the souls of their brothers and sisters up to the mountains. Then the tribe, like the animals, packed up and moved away.?

?What happened to the Wolf-demon?? Mouse asked.

?The Wolf-demon ran out of souls to eat, so she moved on, too,? Ren said. ?The howls you hear at night are supposed to be wolf souls still trapped.?

A lot of things get trapped in this valley, Isabelle thought.

?They wander the valley singing for release,? Jenna said.

?And that?s why it?s called Singing Valley,? Mouse added with great aplomb.

?Well, that was creepy?and sad, too. I?ll think differently when I hear the wolves crying,? Isabelle said.

?Do. They might be your ancient sisters and brothers.? Ren rinsed her cup in the sink. ?I?ve got to go to Williams?s horse ranch, would you like to come?? she asked Isabelle.

?Me. Me. Can I come?? Mouse bounced in her seat.

Part of Isabelle would have loved the excursion, but her secretive, cunning side knew this was the ideal opportunity to explore Ren?s cabin again while she was away for a few hours. There had to be some information about the float plane delivery schedule somewhere. All she had to do was check out the farm accounts in Ren?s bureau.

?Thanks, but I?ve got a headache. I think I should lie down for an hour or two.?

?A headache? Do you want a poultice for your forehead?? Ren was immediately concerned. ?I have homemade remedies for headaches.?

?No, honest. I?ll be all right. I just need to rest.? Isabelle held her breath at her blatant lie, relieved Ren couldn?t read her well at all. Quickly she said good-bye and excused herself, and headed straight back to the cabin.

Isabelle ignored the bureau and walked through the living room to Ren?s kitchen. Straight to the bread bin where she had cleaned up Ren?s sooty fingerprints only yesterday morning. Her car lay burned out at the bottom of a gully. Her car documents had been tossed in the fire. So why was Ren rummaging about in the cold ashes? What had she been looking for? What else had been burned?

Isabelle was certain she had not crashed in this valley, but most likely somewhere close by. The marks in the clearing suggested her car had been towed in, dragged to the ledge, and pushed over. When Ren said ?Burn it? she had meant the car, not the car documents. Ren had not ordered that, so she hadn?t lied to Isabelle about it. For some unfathomable reason, she could not lie to Isabelle, but she could omit the truth. Isabelle was bitter, and she worried Ren had no intentions of letting her leave the valley at all. She had covered Isabelle?s tracks so no one would know she was even here. And that left the question of why?

Isabelle opened the bread bin. It was empty. She checked the tin containers on either side. Empty. The cups on the shelf. Empty. The spice jars. Empty. Everywhere she looked she drew a blank. There was something she was not seeing. It was frustrating. Ren?s sooty fingerprints had left clues, and all Isabelle had done was wipe them clean.

She stepped back, drew a breath, and glared at the kitchen cabinets. What had Ren found in the ashes? Patrick had dumped a book in the flames. What if it was not just her car documents, what if there was something else?

Then she saw it?a thumb smudge on a soup ladle. It hung from a hook with other utensils. Isabelle tipped out a small brass key into the palm of her hand. A key! But to open what?

She ran into Ren?s bedroom and went straight to the dresser. The key fit in the locked drawer and turned with a perfect, oiled click. She opened the drawer.

?Oh God.? Her fingers touched the battered cover of a Canadian passport. She knew it was hers even before she checked the ID page. Her driver?s license was there, too, and a wallet with American and Canadian dollars. The credit cards were all in her name, and there was a set of house keys?for where? What was her address? Her driver?s license gave a characterless apartment building on a boring Portland street. Everything about her was nondescript. She was the perfect person to grab and hide away. What were Ren?s plans for her?

At the back of the drawer she found a battered digital camera and another burned book. It was the remains of a handmade journal. An expensive one, and that was what had saved it from total annihilation. The thick covers had protected some of the pages, but most were lost to the flames. The inner cover showed it was a Christmas gift from her aunt Mary, but the last section of the book was the more intact; a few pages were just about legible. Isabelle recognized her own handwriting. The journal entries were chronologically consistent, and ended at a date sometime in the last week or so.

This was her journal, and Ren had salvaged it from the ashes. She had wanted to preserve it after Patrick had carelessly tossed it away. Why was it so important? What did it hold?

Isabelle perched on the edge of the bed and opened the soot-caked covers. It smelled acrid, but she could still make out ash-smudged words on the cracked pages.
13^th

It?s Friday the 13^th today. Do I feel particularly unlucky? Well, I signed the last of the divorce papers and mailed them off to Jaggart, Swartz, and Tresco this morning, and that felt very, very good, if not a little lucky.

Aunt Mary says Paul Jaggart is a ?damned good divorce lawyer,? and she should know, she?s used him three times already. She?s being so sweet and support?
15^th

I am so looking forward to seeing the Old Ironshoe falls. I?ve even packed a picnic. I love spending time with her?so much fun and easygoing. She?s exactly what I need right now. A new friend and such a beautiful person?

Aunt Mary adores her, too, because of Atwell?poorly?
16^th

?arrived this morning on a massive quad! Fantastic day, we went miles and?Came home and downloaded my photos immediately to show Aunt Mary.
18^th

?kissed?can?t believe I did that.?as gay!! But it feels so right. As if I have been waiting for this moment all my life. And she is so wonderful. I think I must be?
23^rd

?acting so strange?we argued because I did not want to visit this lake she insists on going to. I became very upset. I hate it when?cold and distant. Lonesome la?Unpleasant?too intense, and?I feel awful, but she?s acting like she owns me, or something. I told her I was leaving in a few days and said good-by?
27^th

Date: 2016-06-12; view: 68