Sadie's Cabin

Chapter One: Welcome Home

It was time, Jean decided. She had planned the move for many years, saved and dreamed about it. Now was the time for action.

Jean was a single woman on the downward side of middle age. She had been a good wife, while it had lasted. She was a pretty decent mother, when she was needed. But Jean was an absolutely fabulous grandmother.


She smiled with a small tear as she thought of her beautiful, almost grown-up grand-daughter, Carrie. They would both miss their "Girls Nights." But Carrie promised to visit and in fact encouraged the move. The family was supportive even if it was hard for them to completely understand Jean's need to get away from the city.

"Go be a hippie, Mom." her son had told her with a big smile.

Jean's career had lasted thirty years with the same school district. At the end, she was teaching grandchildren of her original students. At times it had been just a job and a paycheck. Other times it had been a calling and her passion. Years that had smoothed the rough edges had also dulled the shine. It had felt right to let a younger teacher take her place in the classroom.

All Jean's responsibilities had been fulfilled. Everyone who had depended on her were either grown with their own responsibilities or in their graves with none.

"Oh, shoot, I'm forgetting Harley and Davidson. What a bad mommy I am." Jean said aloud. "My two furry babies who aren't so young anymore." They had been named during Jean's "motorcycle momma phase." She wondered if they'd adjust to their new home.

Jean had developed the habit of speaking her thoughts aloud. She really wasn't crazy, " not yet, anyway" she reminded herself. But in reality, by hearing her thoughts, ideas and problems she was able to deal with life's challenges. "It's cheaper than spilling everything to a psychiatrist."

It was also helpful while she explored her new passion, writing. And that was another reason or excuse for leaving the city in her rear view mirror. The traffic, rude people, nightly tragedies playing out on the news were all the reasons her muse refused to cooperate. .

Her little, red Prius was packed with everything she'd need. The cats were expressing their attitudes at being forced into their carriers. Jean's computer was securely boxed and only comfortable shoes and clothes filled her suitcases. All her suits and high-heels had gone to the Salvation Army. Her make-up and her hair styling products were in the garbage. With her GPS set with the address the realtor had e-mailed her, Jean was on her way.

It had been a miracle that she'd come across the vintage log cabin. It was up north and on the waterfront of a small lake. It had been advertised on a small index card on the bulletin board at her local grocery store. The price listed seemed too low to be believed, but the words "a great writer's retreat" caught her eye and imagination.

She followed up with a long look at the realtor's web site and a few phone calls. Suddenly, one contract and a check later, Jean had a new home.

The drive went by quickly. Jean was shocked she didn't once get lost. It was a new record for her, even with a GPS. She told anyone who complained that she was geographically challenged.

But on this trip, every turn was the correct one. Any time Jean got turned around and began to panic, she'd suddenly be where she needed to be. It was starting to get a little spooky by the time she arrived at the cabin.

As Jean stepped out of her car, she studied her latest investment. At first glance, she saw a very old and run-down log cabin. It had an abandoned look about it. Jean looked a little harder and with a forgiving eye. "You've got good bones, old lady." Jean said aloud to the house. A window shutter slammed to the ground, breaking the silence of the surrounding woods.

"What I mean to say, good bones for a mature and experienced lady." Jean quickly recanted. It almost felt to Jean that the house settled back into the quiet.

"I must be more tired than I thought." she sighed.


Jean went to the hatchback of her car to release her still complaining captives. With a cat carrier in each hand, Jean approached the steps to the porch. She stopped herself and spoke aloud again, "Where are my manners? Good evening, house. Well, that sounds plain silly. I can't keep calling you 'house.' What is your name? Hummm? I know, Sadie, I'm Jean and these are Harley and Davidson." She held up each carrier in turn.

"Now, where did that realtor guy say the key would be?" Jean looked around for a lock box when something shiny caught her eye. The key was already in the door.

"That wasn't there when we first walked . . . it was suppose . . . oh, well." Jean stopped arguing and carried the cats into their new home.

Jean stopped as soon as she crossed over into what was described as the "great room" on the web site. What Jean noticed first was a huge natural stone fireplace at the far end of the long room. Shiny, wooden floors gleamed in the light of the matching tiffany lamps sitting on end tables. They were separated by a long, comfortable looking leather couch. "You've seen better days, but that won't stop me from taking great naps." As Jean turned in the direction of the kitchen, she missed the pillows fluffed by an invisible hand.

It was an open floor plan, so the cooking area, a counter with two stools and the dining area all flowed together. Jean stepped closer to the counter and blinked hard a couple of times. There sat a steaming mug of coffee and a plate of chocolate chip cookies. While she wondered if the realtor had just been here, the cats were busy digging into bowls of food on the floor. Bowls of water sat near for their convenience.


"Someone has gone to a lot of trouble to make us feel at home, girls." Jean said to the cats. "Should we be thanking you, Sadie?" Jean asked with more humor than seriousness. The coffee maker gurgled loudly. " I'll take that as a "yes". Jean answered as she went back toward the front door.

"I need to start now, if I want to get all that stuff in from the car before dark." Jean warned herself. She opened the door and stopped short. There, stacked neatly on the porch were all Jean's belongings. Even her computer was gently placed on top.

As Jean began hauling everything inside, she said "I guess I should be freaking out about now, but I'm too damn tired. Maybe tomorrow. Tonight, I'll just be grateful. Thanks. Sadie!" she called out cheerfully and a little slap-happy.

Jean took her suitcase with what she'd need for the night and walked into the master bedroom. She missed the flames in the fireplace giving one last burst and then banking themselves for the night.


The bright sunshine and screeching blue jays woke Jean the next day. Before she opened her eyes, she murmured "What's with these rural birds, making a racket in the middle of the night?" She turned over to peek at the travel alarm she'd placed on the nightstand. Jean, being a insomniac for years, expected to see two or three a.m. So when the clock showed 10:00, her first, sleepy thought was p.m. not a.m. But the sun was shining through the curtains. Puzzled, Jean got out of bed. As she slipped on her robe and slippers, it occurred to her how rested she felt. But more surprising, she remembered she had not taken her usual sleeping pill. " Must be the air up north, it makes everyone sleep great. Heck, I didn't even hear H or D roaming last night." Jean remarked as she went on the hunt for coffee.


She greeted the girls who were busy with their morning-after-breakfast baths. Jean could smell the heavenly aroma of Sumatra brewing when three sharp knocks sounded on the front door. Unsure of who would have come way out here at this time of the morning, she said nothing. Three more brisk knocks were accompanied by a baritone voice saying, "Ms James? it's William McKay, from McKay Realtors."


Recognizing the sexy male voice, Jean opened the door a small crack. Mindful she was in her robe, slippers and little else ,she talked through the opening. "Good morning Mr. McKay. I apologize for not asking you inside. But it's still early and I've just now gotten up."

The deep voice responded with, " I apologize for not calling first. But cell phone reception up here is sporadic at best. Long way from a tower."

Jean opened the door a little wider, enough to see a handsome and rugged face. If you like the strong, sexy type. Must be business-casual everyday up here. Jean thought she'd said to herself as she looked over his blue jeans and Henley shirt.

William McKay gave her a quizzical look and answered her, "Yup, its blue jeans all the time, flannel in the winter and T-shirts in the summer. And thanks, some do go for the strong, sexy type."

To her complete embarrassment, Jean realized she had spoken aloud again. She blushed all the way down her toes. For once, she stayed silent.

"I do have a suit jacket in the cab of my truck, if I need to impress down-staters. Do I need to put it on to impress you, Ms James?" William said with a charming half-smile.

Jean would have bet a retirement check that half the women in the area fell down like dominoes when McKay focused that beam at them.

Even guessing that, Jean heard herself stammer , "Yes, you do, no I mean, You don't need the jacket to impress . . . oh damn, just come on in for coffee."

She rushed away leaving the door open for him. She shouted over her shoulder, "Help yourself to Sadie's coffee, I'll be back in a minute. I hope you like cats." With those clipped commands, Jean left quickly to put on some clothes.

Coming back into the kitchen as fast as possible, Jean was not surprised to see a fresh pot dripping and the smell of cinnamon coming from the oven. Putting her arms akimbo, she told him "You really like to make yourself at home, don't you? Not that I don't appreciate yesterday's housewarming, but really Mr. McKay."

"Call me William, and what the devil are you talking about, Jean?"