The Long Way Home

We drove up the snowy, winding road towards the cozy A-frame cabin. This was the third place we’d tried in as many hours. The first one didn’t have indoor plumbing, which, of course, was completely unacceptable. Expedia had said nothing about that. The next one had seemed okay at first, except that it was too close to town, but it turned out that it didn’t have central heat and air – just a wood stove that didn’t even have a pilot light. But now we were coming up on a quaint little log cabin set on a hill, the smoke trailing out of its chimney painting an exquisite portrait against the white-and-brown backdrop of winter in Montana.

“It’s gorgeous!” I gasped, glancing at my husband Jacques for confirmation.

He sighed, his face grimly set. “Eh, it’s okay,” he said, noncommittally.

When we drove closer, I smiled to see that the driveway was mostly clear of snow. I wouldn’t be getting my feet covered with snow on the way in this time. “Oh, how thoughtful!” I said.

“Sure. Thoughtful,” Jacques agreed absently.

As we made our way into the cabin, the first thing I noticed was that the door wasn’t locked. “Oh, Jacques,” I said, stopping in my tracks. “I think they forgot to lock the front door!”

“It doesn’t have a lock,” he replied, cheerlessly.

I gasped in surprise. “What if someone breaks in?” I asked. “Or what if they already broke in, and they’re in there waiting for us?” The unexpected idea made my heart pound in sudden fear. My right hand rose to my breast as my left frantically searched the wall on the other side of the door for the light switch. To my dismay, I couldn’t find one.

“Um, I don’t think that’s very likely,” Jacques said, unmoved by my panic.

“Please go in and check!” I begged. “I can’t find the light switch. Maybe I can just wait here?”

“There isn’t any electricity,” he said, “but it’s still light out. I can go check.”

“No electricity?” I wailed in dismay. “What do you mean it doesn’t have electricity? What is wrong with these people?”

Jacques sighed. “It’s a cabin in the wilderness,” he explained patiently, as if that really explained anything. I mean, electricity is a necessity. How could they not have it? Seeing my confusion, he continued, “Cabins in the wilderness don’t have electricity.”

“Well, it didn’t say that on the listing!” I said. “And if that’s the way it is, I don’t want to go to a cabin at all. Maybe we should just go back to New York.”

“No, no,” Jacques said, “Dr. Matlock said we needed to get away for a weekend, and you’re the one who wanted to work on our marriage. We’re going to do this.” His jaw was set firmly, and after five years of marriage, I knew he wouldn’t give in.

I meekly demurred. “Okay,” I said. “But not this place. This is just ridiculous. There could be a cold-blooded killer in there, and we wouldn’t even know it because we can’t see!”

Jacques shook his head slightly. “If we couldn’t see him, he couldn’t see us either,” he reasoned, “and besides, it’s daylight, Heidi. We can see just fine.”

“You and your logic!” I said. “This is what’s really wrong with our marriage, you know? You just always think you’re so much better than me!”

“That’s right,” Jacques said. “I do think it’s important to be logical, and you clearly don’t. But whatever. I really don’t care anymore. Look on one of your apps and we’ll just cancel this. Of course, we’ll lose our deposit . . . again . . . but whatever.” He stood on the threshold of the door, looking in, then slowly pulled the door closed and waited patiently.

Somewhat mollified, I pulled up the Expedia app on my phone, then reconsidered. After all, we’d struck out with that one three times, and everyone’s always saying, “Three strikes; you’re out,” so maybe it was time for them to be out.

I did a quick internet search and found something called Trip Advisor. I went to their Weekend Getaways section and looked around. Everything looked kind of stupid in that section, but then I saw Yellowstone National Park. It said we could camp there.

“Hey, this says we can stay in a ‘lodge’ on site!” I said, showing Jacques my phone.

“I don’t think you want to stay in a lodge,” Jacques said doubtfully. “You should try to find something else.”

I frowned at him. “You never want to do what I want!” I shouted. “Why can’t you just try something I suggest for a change?”

“Didn’t we just do that?” he asked.

“Well, yeah,” I said, “but then we couldn’t do those things, so they don’t count,” I pouted. “Nothing I ever want to do ever seems to work out with you.”

“Heidi,” he said, taking my face in his hands and looking earnestly into my eyes. “Lodges are a lot like cabins.”

Deflated, I turned my head, escaping from the warmth of his hands and his kind eyes. In my anger and frustration, I welcomed neither. Tears stung my eyes, but the snow quickly dried them. “Fine, have it your way,” I said, “I’ll find something else.”

I went back to searching through Trip Advisor’s site. Suddenly, I noticed the Vacation Packages tab. I gasped. “We could go to Greece!” I exclaimed. “I’ve always wanted to see the pyramids!”

Jacques’ eyebrows rose even as his lips turned down at the corners. “The pyramids aren’t in Greece, Heidi,” he said, “and that’s a little far for a last-minute weekend getaway.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but he interrupted me before I could speak. “Why don’t you just check the dates on that and see if there’s something available for if we left today and arrived back in New York by Sunday,” he suggested, holding up a finger. I tried his suggestion, but nothing came up.

“Well, that stinks,” I said. “There aren’t any trips to Greece available this weekend, it looks like. Oh well, it’s probably all sandy there anyway.” Jacques opened his mouth and then closed it again with a snap. I wondered why, but I didn’t dare to ask.

The wind blew a strong gust our direction, and I shivered as it cut through my jacket, penetrating my skin. Jacques looked at me with concern and said, “Why don’t we go do this in the car? I’ll turn the heater on.” I smiled gratefully at him and let him take my gloved hand in his bare one and guide me to the car.

He opened the door for me, and I slipped in, studying my phone for more information even as I did. He pushed a button on his fob and our traveling car roared to life. The heated seat began to warm my body almost immediately, and I leaned back against it in contentment. Then I sat up and looked at Jacques as he got into the driver’s seat.

“Why didn’t you tell me all this about cabins before we left New York?” I asked him.

He gazed at me for a moment before he answered. “Well, I tried,” he said, simply. “But you didn’t want to hear it.”

Distantly I remembered him starting to argue with me when I had first suggested going to a cabin. I, however, had overridden his objections, obstinately insisting that he just didn’t want to go on a weekend getaway with me. So he had closed his mouth and the subject matter simultaneously. I shrugged. “I guess that’s true,” I said, relenting. “Well, maybe I’ll try to listen better next time,” I said.

He smiled at me, his green eyes sparkling for the first time in a long time. “You already did,” he said, caressing my right cheek softly with one finger. I smiled back, tentatively. “Did I?” I asked.

“Yeah, don’t you remember?” he asked. “I told you about lodges being like cabins, and you listened,” he said.

I turned my head to one side thoughtfully. “I guess I did,” I replied. I smiled again and as we looked into each other’s eyes, I felt a warmth in my heart that I hadn’t felt in years. He had just leaned toward me as I prepared for a kiss, my heart beating with excitement, when my phone blared with a loud beep. I glanced down at it and saw that my sister had sent me a text.

Opening the message, I gazed on the warm sands of Hawaii, the blue ocean painted against the background. My sister stood there in a hula skirt and lei, beside a wooden sign that read, “Aloha! Welcome to Hawaii!”

I gasped. “Let’s go to the beach!” I said.

Jacques looked out at the sun as it made its way toward the horizon. “We’d have to hurry to make it to the airport in time to catch a flight, even if one went straight to Hawaii,” he said, “and then it would take quite a long time to get there.”

“Well, I didn’t say Hawaii, now did I?” I asked in my most indignant voice. I put my hands on my hips as well as I could while still sitting in the passenger seat of a car. Actually, I had no idea how long it took to get to Hawaii, but I didn’t plan to tell him that.

“Okay,” he replied. “Where’d you have in mind?”

“How about Florida?” I asked, hopefully. Maybe that was closer.

He glanced at his watch. “If you want to try for that, I guess you’d better hurry,” he said.

I glanced at the clock and saw that it was already 5:30 p.m., then went back to the Trip Advisor website. I could only find one flight from anywhere near where we were in Montana to Florida that would be going out that night, and it was leaving in less than 30 minutes. I told Jacques, and he sighed. “There’s no way we can make that in time,” he said.

“Well, can we try?” I asked, plaintively.

He raised his eyes to the heavens, then dropped them back to look at me. “Sure,” he said, with a grimace, “I like to drive.”

Thirty minutes later, we were back in something resembling a town. The drive had been spent in silence while I scoured the Trip Advisor site to find available vacation rentals on the beach. However, after being unable to find anything on there after about 15 minutes of searching, I gave up and switched over to the Air B&B website. Within minutes, I had located a cozy-looking house in Orlando. I was still investigating the pictures and daydreaming about staying there when I felt the car slow and then come to a definitive stop. I looked up from the phone to see that we were in a hotel parking lot.

“What are we doing here?” I asked, frowning in confusion.

Jacques pointed at the clock and said, “I told you there was no way we could make it. May as well get a room for the night.”

“In a hotel?” I asked, panic making my voice rise. I hated hotels. Jacques knew this. Even a bed-and-breakfast would’ve been better than a hotel. “Let me see what they have on the Air B&B site, at least,” I said.

Fingers under my chin lifted my face to look into my husband’s. “Heidi,” he said. “Can we please just relax for a bit? I’d really like to just check into a hotel real quick, unload our stuff, and go find somewhere place to eat. Don’t you think that might be nice?” he asked.

“No!” I said, “I don’t like bedbugs or lice!” My skin started to crawl at the thought of it. “And you know they never wash the sheets in those places! I’ve seen the exposés on TV about that!”

Jacques sighed again. “You know people go to hotels all the time . . .” he said.

“Yeah, and they get bedbugs and lice all the time too!” I said hotly. “That’s exactly how that stuff spreads!”

Jacques looked down at his lap; then, very slowly, he crossed his arms across the top of the steering wheel and laid his head down on top of them, closing his eyes.

Now it was my turn to sigh. “Don’t be like that!” I said.

He opened his eyes to look at me blearily. “I’m not being like anything,” he said. “I’m just resting.”

I had already typed in a search on Air B&B, hoping to find a nice rental house for the night, when our argument from earlier occurred to me. I thought about how I had said I would try to listen to him better, and it struck me that I hadn’t done that.

I put the phone down and said, “Okay, Jacques, I’m listening. Why should we go to the hotel instead of looking for something better?”

Jacques raised his head and smiled at me, his green eyes sparkling with joy. “Because we would actually get to relax on our vacation instead of constantly looking for something better. I’d really like to just be with you, relaxing, than always looking for the next best thing.”

I watched his face as he talked, and his words stirred old feelings inside me, feelings I had been sure were long dead. He wanted to hang out with me! My heart soared. And yet, I hesitated. My head swam with the possibility of pests or disease spreading from those tainted bedsheets. I began to shake my head, and Jacques continued speaking before I could say anything.

“I know you’re worried about staying in a hotel, but I packed some of our own bedsheets and pillows before we left, because I wasn’t sure where we would end up staying. Maybe I could just strip the beds before you go in and put on fresh, clean sheets. I could spray the bed down with Lysol before you come in too, if that would help. What do you think?”

I thought about what he had said and what our marriage counselor had said. With a great effort of will, I turned the phone off. “Okay,” I said. “I’ll try.”

“That’s all I’d ever ask of you,” Jacques said, reaching down to grab my hand and bring it to his lips for a soft kiss as he gazed into my eyes, a gesture once common, but now almost forgotten. Before I could respond, he left the vehicle and headed for the front desk. I waited patiently in the warm car while he made all the arrangements. Soon enough, he returned to grab our bags, then disappeared once more into the hotel. While I waited, I checked for nearby flights to Florida.

When he returned to the car, he cheerfully asked, “Now, what about some food?’

“Sure, let me just check some reviews!” I said.

Jacques pointed out the window and said, “How about there?”

I followed his finger to a Denny’s sign, then eyed him dubiously. “They’re not very good,” I said, with a frown.

“I know,” he replied, “but the company might be nice.”

My instinct was to argue, to shout him down and refuse to eat at such a low-class place. But something made me hesitate. Something our marriage counselor had been telling us for months, and it felt like maybe today was the day to listen, and maybe even try it out.

You see, Dr. Matlock had told us to try to meet each other halfway. And while I felt like I had done that with the hotel, perhaps I hadn’t with anything else so far since we left New York. In fact, I hadn’t even consulted Jacques. Just the phone. I looked him over. I wasn’t used to seeing this hopeful demeanor, this spark of joy in him that made his face soft and pleasant. Usually, these days, his eyes were dull, his cheeks sunken.

“Okay, Jacques,” I said, gazing directly into his eyes, “let’s go eat at Denny’s. And then, let’s do something even crazier.” He looked up at me expectantly. I continued. “I always talk about trying things my way, but this time, let’s try it your way. If it were up to you, and you could choose anything to do and anywhere in the world to go for vacation, what would you do?”

He studied me earnestly for a moment before he responded with a smile that made his green eyes sparkle emerald. “Dr. Matlock be damned! This is our marriage! Let’s go home,” he said, and somehow, that seemed like the perfect place to spend the rest of our vacation.

Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed the read. I'd love to hear what you think, so please feel free to leave a comment, click the heart, and subscribe for free!