It rained all morning but cleared up as I was getting in the car. Traffic was light and I made good time. I soon crossed the Tappan Zee Bridge and was in New England not long afterwards.
I knew I'd have a lot of time to think on the drive. I also knew I'd probably fixate on the past year. That was all that was on my mind lately.
A year before I was on top of the world. I was thirty-seven and a tenured professor with a pretty wife and an amazing six year-old son. Then one day I came home and Greta was waiting for me in the living room. She told me our marriage was over. It was just like any clichΓ©.
I staggered through the process of getting a divorce. There were lawyers, lawyer's fees, and lots of tears. We sold the house and I found an apartment near campus. The divorce was finalized in February, my wife and son by then living in their own apartment clear across town.
Then my dad died.
I barely knew the man. He ran out on me and Mom when I was three, moving in with his girlfriend. They married, moved to Massachusetts, and had a kid a few years later. That's my half-sister Stephanie.
Dad wasn't involved in my upbringing beyond paying child support. I only saw him once or twice a year at the most. He paid for college, though, all the way through graduate school. His trucking business had prospered and he was a wealthy man. I had no desire to refuse the funds, either. I figured he owed me.
We exchanged Christmas Cards and saw each every few years, but that was all. He'd only met his grandson once. That's why I was surprised when his death hit me so hard. Any remote chance we'd had of a real relationship someday was gone. Like my marriage.
The funeral was awkward. Everyone was from dad's life in New England. Dad's second wife passed away years earlier so the only person I knew was Stephanie, and she was practically a stranger.
I hadn't seen Stephanie in four or five years. I knew she'd been to culinary school and was working as a personal chef, but not much else about her. I found myself noticing how cute she was, but pushed aside the thought. Even so, I kept glancing at her more than a brother should.
I got a call from her a few months later. She'd been handling Dad's estate, keeping me informed the whole time. I knew I was inheriting a substantial sum, but had no idea how much.
I'd just gotten home on a Wednesday evening, looking around my miserable little bachelor pad. It was strewn with boxes I hadn't gotten around to unpacking yet. I'd been living there for months and it looked like I moved in yesterday.
That's when Stephanie called. She told me she Dad bought a cabin in Maine right before he died.
"A cabin? Really?"
"Yeah," Stephanie said. "I came across the paperwork this afternoon. He paid cash and never said a word to me."
"That's odd."
"Sure is," she said. "So, listen, I have a bunch of papers for you to sign regarding Dad's estate."
"You want to send them to me?"
"I was going to head up to the cabin some weekend," she said. "I thought you might want to see it, too, so we could decide what to do with it. While we're there, you could sign the papers."
"Yeah, okay. I can get away."
We talked for a few minutes, deciding to head up that coming weekend. It was completely innocent, and I was happy for the chance to be somewhere else for a few days.
All I had was a pair of freshman sections to teach on Friday mornings, and then I was free for the day. I'd leave at noon and be at the cabin around dinnertime. Stephanie would join me on Saturday morning.
***
I reached Maine late that afternoon. My exit was a half hour up Route 95, though, so I still had some driving to do. I was relieved to get off the interstate and was soon driving through vast, rural stretches of pine forest.
The cabin was down the end of a narrow dirt road a few miles from a small town. It was perched on the shores of a narrow lake some miles long. There were a scattering of cabins on our side of the lake, the opposite shore within the boundary of a state park and thus untouched.
I parked and went inside. The caretaker Dad hired said he would leave the cabin unlocked for us and the keys on the kitchen table. That was Maine for you.
The cabin was gorgeous. I'd worried I might be in for a weekend of roughing-it, but found no danger of that. There were three bedrooms, two full baths, and a great room with a pair of huge windows facing the lake flanking a massive stone fireplace. It had every modern convenience, including a modern kitchen with granite countertops and what looked like very expensive appliances.
I went back out for some essentials. At a grocery store in the nearest town I bought a twelve pack of beer, milk, coffee, and Cheerios. I pulled into the drive-thru of a fast food place and got a burger and fries for dinner.
I settled right onto the couch and switched on the satellite TV. I found an NHL playoff game and watched it while I ate dinner and drank too many beers.
***
I woke with a start the next morning, my neck stiff from falling asleep on the couch. I made coffee and stood at the window looking out at the lake while I drank it.
The waters were dark, almost black. Towering pines lined the far shores as a pair of geese flew by. I wondered if it was possible to keep the cabin. My son would love it here. Maybe summers in Maine would give him back some of his childhood happiness.
Finishing the coffee, I went out for a run along the dirt road. I did a few miles at a good pace. Even during the darkest depths of the past year, I never let up on my daily runs. Running was my salvation, my daily peace and time for introspection.
I ate some Cheerios for breakfast when I got back and showered. I was toweling off when I heard Stephanie.
"Hello! Andrew?" she called.
"Uh, just a sec," I answered. "I just got out of the shower."
I dressed quickly, throwing on a pair of jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt. Stephanie was in the living room looking out over the lake.
She wore jeans and a dark blue sweater. Her auburn hair was pulled back into a long ponytail that reached all the way down to the middle of her back. I noticed her long legs and the way her jeans showed off her ass. I admonished myself for the thought, wondering what the hell was wrong with me.
"Stephanie," I said.
She turned around. More un-brotherly thoughts popped into my mind as I was reminded how pretty she was. She had very fine features, olive green eyes, and full lips. Her breasts were larger than average and suited her frame. She was trim but had the perfect amount of that feminine plumpness men so frequently lust for. She certainly wasn't fat, but she had all the right curves and was soft to the touch.
We hugged and I smelled her fresh, clean scent. I felt a tingle of arousal followed by a pang of guilt. I told myself I would have to knock it off or it would be a long weekend.
We chatted for a few minutes about the cabin and the view. I kept looking at her face, marveling at her prettiness and feeling myself drawn in by her eyes. I wondered what her lips felt like, thinking what it would be like to kiss them and feel her tongue in my mouth.
I pushed my thoughts aside as best I could. I barely knew this woman, but she was still my sister. I told myself brothers shouldn't be looking at their sisters that way and wondered what was wrong with me. Yet I couldn't help myself.
She noticed the fast food wrapper and empty beer bottles on the coffee table.
"What's this?" she said, raising an eyebrow.
"Dinner."
She looked horrified.
"I think we've some grocery shopping to do."