A Crossing of Paths

Chapter One

Melissa was fleeing conflicting emotions, worth a few years on a couch in therapy. She was driving west into Oregon, the moving van a few states back, having sold the brownstone apartment in New York. She was fleeing the city, her old life, her grief, which she couldn't seem get on with. She was 36, and a new widow, and that was all she was certain of. Before Daniel had died, she had been certain she was living the life any woman could have wanted, a good job with a newspaper, a nice home near Central Park, all the museums and culture one could want to experience, all that crap. Now, she was fleeing one misconception, and not entirely sure she wasn't headed right back into another. All she really knew was that her husband had died, and the tears had not come.
She had met Daniel during her senior year at NYU, not long before graduation, and it was easy, natural, for them to become a couple. He was no jock, not exactly a nerd, not handsome in the classic sense but with a personality that transcended any perception of lacking good looks. And he was NICE. Within a few years, as they settled comfortably into their monogamy, their careers, she began to think she had married her best friend. In most cases, that would have been a GOOD thing. Why that made her uneasy was only adding to her angst. It was not as if a powerful torch had suddenly been snuffed out......it was more like a small candle burning down to nothing, a wisp of smoke in it's demise. He was gone, and there was no emptiness in her soul; it was more like he'd never filled that hole to begin with, and to discover this now, of all times, was numbing. Only a cold, uncaring person could not cry over losing the love of her life. Melissa was fleeing the chill.
Daniel, being the irritatingly responsible and caring person he was, had taken out a life insurance policy covering both of them for a hefty half mil each, and the apartment, due to the outrageous housing market, had netted her another eighty grand. After the tax men took their cut, she was still going to be well taken care of. So, she packed up and headed to the opposite coast, to find some solitude, to reevaluate her life, to discover who she really was, and perhaps figure out why her husbands death was not a bigger blow to her than it should have been. She'd done her search for a new home on the internet, and had come across a nice old place near a national forest,on a good 60 acre parcel, giving her the elbow room and solitude she needed, but close enough to a town to keep in touch with the world. The only caveat would be that her access road passed closely to the residence of another homestead, right thru the middle of his property. The agent assured her that as long as she simply stayed on the road, passing thru, she would have no problems with the owner.
Melissa turned off of the highway onto the the road that snaked into the thick redwood forest that surrounded and protected her new home. It wove three miles into the woods before it broke into a small clearing that announced the end of this swath of protected land and her neighbors. His parcel was heavily wooded, an elegant log cabin nestled into a well kept clearing that faced the access road, with a clear line of sight up that road to her own new home, albeit with a spyglass. She slowed the car as she passed by her neighbor, her curiosity already keen, but she saw no one outside the cabin. The surface of his portion of the road was well kept and smooth, a fact that became glaringly apparent as she crossed the line onto her own property and starting hitting ruts and potholes, a symptom of long neglect. She had been assured the house had been kept in good repair; she was now hoping her agent's definition of "good repair" was better than that of this road.
She pulled up in front of her new house, a two-story post and beam affair with very articulate trim, white except for the exposed framing, a splash of bright blues and reds here and there, with french doors facing the nice deep porch. The roof was covered with the new solar shingles she'd heard about, which in conjunction with the solar panels on the garage and utility sheds, would keep her happily independent of the power grid, and she smiled to see the satellite dish on the roof, which would provide her with internet access, or so the agent said. She was not a gadget freak like Daniel had been, but she understood enough about technology to be happy to take advantage of it. She got out of the car and walked up the steps onto the porch, then pressed the button on the keychain remote the agent had given her, which turned off the security system and unlocked the front door. A happy little chirp told her it was safe to try the door, which she did, and entered her new abode.
It was really more than she needed, with four large bedrooms, three baths, a huge kitchen and an open great-room, but she had all kinds of projects in mind to delve into, so the extra rooms would provide plenty of work space. She hadn't planned to cut off contact with what family and friends she had, so the extra room would come in handy for visits and perhaps even parties. But for now, she just wanted to get moved in and settled so that she could settle herself into her new reality. She walked into the walk-in cupboard connected to the kitchen, which the agent had said was still stocked with some canned goods and dry goods, to put together a simple lunch, and was amazed at the amount of shelving, most of it fully stocked.
She noticed one of the shelf units was out of line with the others, and frowned at finding something already in need of fixing, and tugged on it to see how it had come loose, but it swung freely outward to reveal a hidden door, which surprised her, for the floor-plan had not revealed it, nor had the agent mentioned it. How exciting, she thought to herself, already a mystery to explore!
She swung open the shelf unit, which was hinged with a hidden catch that had not caught, apparently, and tested the handle of the door behind it. It did not budge. She frowned again, and pushed down harder on the handle. It wouldn't move, and she peered closer in the dim light to see it had a keyhole, apparently locked. Oh well, she thought, I'm sure I'll come across the key to this eventually. She pushed the shelves back, and the hidden latch engaged, so that the unit set flush with the rest of the shelves. Only the happy accident would have ever revealed it's secret function.
She grabbed a can of soup from a shelf and walked back out to the kitchen, glancing at her watch. The moving company would be arriving in less then an hour, so she set about preparing her quick lunch and enjoying the ambience of her new, overwhelmingly well-equipped kitchen. If ever there was a place to get one's head on straight, she thought to herself, this had to be it. She was more right about that thought then she ever realized.