Joanne's Cabin - Part 13

Liz’s feet are lead and sunk ankle-deep in the damp moss at the bottom of Joanne’s cliff, which is helpful because her head is buoyant as a balloon with a mass of excited bees flitting around in her brain. She could lift off at any moment if she wasn’t grounded in the earth. She should be scared after her mom’s revelation and keep far from Big Wolf Cliff but here she stands. She’s never been one who spooks easily. Nothing really bad happened to her mom. Maybe what Joanne said was true, she lost track of her for a short while? Liz promised not to come here alone but her fingers were crossed behind her back. Her mom should know that an oath is only sealed with a pinky swear. She was a kid once.

“Well, here goes.”

She reaches up, planting her hand onto the root she knows well, and pulls. Her foot wedges into the crack of the cliff as her other hand stretches up to the jagged rock next to the rotten skinny jack pine trunk. She doesn’t have to think anymore as to where to move each body part and which sturdy piece of earth to grab. Her muscle memory does its thing and even though her feet had kept her anchored to the bottom for a long time, they now follow along with no fight. Her left foot finds its last rock and she propellers herself up and over the edge.

The sky is clear and bright. Slices of warm sunshine cut through the trees as Liz follows the path to Joanne’s glade. She’ll be careful to not go too far into Joanne’s world today. She may not have hesitated returning but she isn’t stupid. Her mom has very good intuition but so does Liz. She may not have her mom’s luck for friendships but she has a bond with nature that no one else has, except perhaps Joanne. God’s earth has never let her down like people have. She’ll turn back if she feels any weird vibes.

She steps into the glade and it's empty. She’s never arrived without the cabin sitting in the back near the crescent grove of white pine. It looks strange without Joanne’s cabin but also beautiful. The moss glistens in the early morning light because the dew hasn’t evaporated yet. Everything sparkles like it’s covered with fairy dust.

“Joanne?!”

She waits but nothing out of the ordinary chimes back.

“Joanne?! It’s Liz! Are you here?”

Maybe it’s too early? She didn’t want her mom to be suspicious so Liz headed out first thing for a kayak instead of in the early afternoon for a hike, which has been her ritual when her cousins are not around. She likes to gather leaves and flowers for iced tea and hunt for mushrooms. Her mom hates critters and bugs so typically won’t ask to join unless it ends in a blueberry patch or a neighbour’s cabin for a G&T. This morning, her mom was happy to stay put in the porch sipping coffee and reading so Liz escaped with no problem.

Liz walks over to the edge of Big Wolf Cliff and carefully drops her legs over the side. Reclining back on her hands, the lake vista calms her roving brain. From this height, she can see all the cabins around the large bay and no one is moving yet. The calm water is free of boats and the human world is quiet.

“I wish I could have a cabin right here,” she mumbles to herself. Her head swivels around, hoping to see her friend but she’s still alone.

From this perch, Liz could watch the lake action without needing to be a part of it. Perhaps that’s why she feels so drawn to Joanne who lives entirely with the animals in her peaceful refuge. She lays back in the moss with her legs still hanging loose down the cliff side and waits. A butterfly lands on her nose and she lays so still it stares into her eyes as her breath rustles its wings. Why was she made a girl? She’d make a much better critter. The butterfly eventually flutters away and Liz rises to check back on the glade.

Joanne’s cabin is where it should be but not completely settled, floating in the steam of the evaporating dew. It’s translucent; Liz can see the line of white pines through the walls of house. The steam glitters in the warm light that beams out of the windows. It’s like the sun is trapped inside.

Liz skates across the damp moss with sneakers soaked through to her toes.

“Joanne, are you here?”

She doesn’t answer.

“Hello?”

“It’s Liz.”

She stops at the door and her hand instinctively grips the knob. Without knocking or even one thought about what she’s doing, she yanks the door open and the sun pours from the house across the glade. It pulls her through the opening and into its warm embrace.

The door slams shut and the cabin dissolves from the glade.