Ten Miles Beyond the Asphalt

"No evil thoughts, Jake."

Following in her general direction, I turned into the kitchen to check on dinner.

** ** ** ** ** ** **

Like most storms here on Reese Mountain, be it snow or rain, this one would, most likely, last till around midnight then drizzle out into a wet fog. I've probably seen dozens of variations of that storm pattern play out and this seemed no different.

The warm mist drifting out from under the bathroom door was honey scented.

Sitting in the living room, in one of the many comfortable chairs, with my feet propped up towards the fire I worked my way through my dinner. The cabin always felt strange at this time of year. In winter this place can be a madhouse. I've seen as many as thirty people trying to call this place a vacation home for a few weeks. The normal smell of damp wool was missing. The numerous pegs by the door was missing the normal sea of brightly colored ski jackets, all dripping snowmelt to the stone floor. And there should be a pile of boots left to trip anyone walking past.

The cabin was haunted. Not by ghosts but by memories of people now gone. Surrounded by what they left here for the next ski season they never saw I felt momentarily morbid, wondering what I would add. What bit of myself would be forgotten here for the next generations of Reese to look at?

The bathroom door opened and light bathed the shower fog. Then it vanished. I saw my sister pass through the hall and into the kitchen then I smiled hearing her softly singing. The words too mumbled to make out but I knew it would be some song by Pink. Megan would marry the woman if she was single. When most teen girls had boy band posters Megan had the Fun House album cover.

"Na na na na So, so what ..."

Of course, given how much she also idolized Carey Hart, Pink's MX Freestyle riding husband, Megan might be considering a threesome.

Ah, threesomes. Wonder what those two twins from last year are doing now? Certainly not me, which was my hope for what I would be doing about this time. Oh, the plans I had for this weekend. This month! Grumble cuss, grumble cuss.

"What has you looking like someone fucked you cat?"

Glancing up from my empty bowl I watched Megan, now wearing the borrowed bathrobe, cross to one of the other chairs. She sat down with her legs tucked under her. The flash of her bare legs only added to the general lack of what I desired. Looking up, I shrugged.

"Just wishing I was at the beach. I had a very nice vacation planned."

"So why aren't you at the beach then? Mom guilt trip you?" My sister crushed a few crackers into her chili. "When's Dad getting here, by the way? He and I have got to have a long talk. What?"

The look on my face must have been comical. "You haven't heard? Damn. Dad got hurt, broke his hip."

"When?"

"Two days ago. He was ..." I began but she slammed her bowl down on the table next to her and all but came out the chair.

"And no one thought to call me!"

I held up a hand. "You've been here how long?"

Her anger slumped and she slid back into her chair. "I forgot about this mountain eating cellphone signals. No, that's a lie. I was kind of counting on it so that once mom found out I quit school she wouldn't be able to rag me about it."

"Petard, consider thyself hoisted." At her look, I relented. "Dad's alright, he rolled the riding lawn mower; broke his hip. He's had worse, you know that."

Megan nodded at the truth of that. We had both spent our childhoods with a lot of time in hospital waiting rooms while Dad got patched back together. The list of broken bones he had was approaching epic. He always joked he was trying to beat Evel Knievel's Guinness Book record. A joke Mom didn't find funny at all.

"So you're here to do the summer repairs?" At my nod, she picked up her food again. "I had wondered what brought you here alone. I just figured Dad was running a day or so behind." Megan moved the chili around in the bowl, clearly having lost her appetite with worry. In that, she was a lot more like Mom than me. I tended to shrug things off and go forward, Megan would worry about things she couldn't fix till she was sick. Of course, my sister could toss disappointments off like worn clothes, something I've never been able to do easily.

Debating a second bowl I sat, my eyes absently taking in my sister as she ate. Her hair shorter than what I had seen it last, short enough her dark curls were more evident. Fresh out the shower she had no makeup of course, not that Megan ever wore much. Her years when Mom had tried dressed her like a living doll for beauty pageants had ruined Megan on cosmetics. Not that she couldn't wow the world if she wanted to; my sister knew all the beauty secrets.

Not that she needed them or wanted to use them. She was happier in bike leathers than ball gowns. Had been since she was thirteen and tossed the hissy fit to end all hissy fits. The one that made Mom finally accept that her daughter was not her younger mirror twin but was more like her husband than herself. Not that she gave up completely, not on your life but the fight seemed to go out of her efforts to get Megan to be more demure and lady-like. Which was about as likely as getting a kerosene fire to go out by blowing a stream of pure oxygen at it. Take now, for instance, her robe had parted enough that I was seeing all the way to her mid-thigh. Hell, a shift of her leg to the left and I could tell if she had anything on under that robe.

"What?"

"Huh?" I looked up from her legs quickly.

"You're staring at me."

"Oh, sorry was thinking about the past. " Gestured to the surrounding family memorabilia I shrugged. "Hard to avoid here."

"True." She scraped the last bite out the bowl. "Too many winters spent wishing the rest of the family would go freeze in the snow."

I chuckled at her bitterness. We had both had those times here. Especially when all our aunts, uncles and cousins piled in here, overcrowding the place to levels of madness. How many Christmas holidays would I have begged for this room to be this quiet? Then, almost as if to make me wish I hadn't thought that, thunder shook the whole mountain top. The rumbles echoing round and round till we felt it finally die out. Megan was curled up on herself in the chair by that time.

"Still afraid of storms?" I had to keep my eyes on her face as her huddled position answered that question about what she had on under the robe. Nothing, damn. Why did this have to be my sister? Why? This could be such a good place if it was any other nearly naked girl. Fuck.

"Yeah." She shivered at another rumble "I think it was my time here that started it, when we were little. Daddy wanting to beat the summer heat, getting here with lightning still frying the skies every afternoon. Then the nights, those were worse." She looked outside at the darkening skies.

I knew without looking that sunset was almost over, and night comes quick here. The shadow of an arm of the mountain would be already reaching out towards this cabin like a claw of night. Within the hour it would grip this structure in tight fingers of darkness.

The cabin shook again. Megan jumped.

"How about some music?" I asked getting to my feet. At her scared nod, I went to the old stereo cabinet by the wall. A relic of my dad's childhood, it had an honest-to-god 8-track player. That worked! But it was the record player I wanted to use. Mainly for my dad's Ramones albums, true, but mostly because the 8-tracks were a hideous collection of disco. My mom and disco ... there should be a law somewhere to put a stop to that kind of child abuse. I've endured having to "turn the beat around" so many times I would rather take a beating than hear that song again.

Putting on a few musical selections that had storm covering power, I thought about something else that might help my sister.

"Want a beer?"

She looked up from inspecting her own bare knees. "You brought beer? Sure."

Heading to the kitchen, I opened the big Igloo cooler full of bags of ice, pushing them aside I uncovered the two six-packs. Popping the tops on two bottles I headed back in, catching another eye full of my sister's more private anatomy as she shifted her position in her chair. Just ... damn, it all. I held out the wet bottle.

"Coors Light?" She took the silver labeled beer but shook her head and grimaced. After a sip, she cleaned her teeth with her tongue. "You are such a predictable frat boy, Jake."

"I never joined a fraternity."

"Which makes it all the more disgusting. Why? You took to college like it was your second home; I couldn't stand three days of it." She took a longer sip.

"You quit after three days?" Oh, god mom's gonna have a hissy.

"No, I stuck it out two weeks. By that point, I was so bored it was leave or do something to get thrown out." She drained half of the beer in a gulp, and then wiped her mouth with a finger. "Punch a professor or walk to class naked was high on the list of ideas."

"Either would have worked." I leaned down and tapped my bottle to hers. "And made you very popular."

She laughed. Then she nodded in a self-depreciation way. "That was part of the problem."

"High school all over again, huh?"

"Yeah," she said after a moment's hesitation. "Pretty much. I still get all the creeps. They only see the tough girl and want to try breaking that, or else it's a guy that's a wimp, who wants a girl to kick his ass. And the nice guys, well they're too scared. I ride up on my bike and they scatter."

I looked at her for a second. That was all it took to see there was more to this than what she was telling me, but knowing her as I do I knew that asking now would be pointless. Megan was the definition of stubborn on her default setting and when she didn't want to talk about something she could give a rock lessons. Leaving it, for now, I held up my half empty beer. "Yes?"

"Oh, yes I'm going to be wanting another one." My sister tipped the bottle back and drained the last of the first. "It's been a bitch of a week."

"Miss, I'll need to see some ID first." I took the empty from my sister and held it up shaking the few clinging drops to the bottom. "One beer never hurt anyone but more than that is excessive and drinking to excess is illegal in this state."

"Jake, don't make me hurt you." She titled her head to the side and gave me the slightly psycho look that scared off so many want-a-be bad boys. "I love you brother, but you are standing between me and a good buzz."

Striking a pose like I was terrified, I smirked. "Not scared. You hurt me you have to do the summer repairs."

Her face fell. "Please get me another beer."

Smiling I winked. "Much better."

Of course, when I turned around a thrown pillow hit me in the back of my head.

** ** ** ** ** ** **

There was a triangle of empty glass bottles beside us on the floor, like some beer bowling alley. Set up and ready for the next drunk fool to try and bowl a strike. With the alcohol buzz I had, I would have gutter-balled every time and my sister, if anything, was worse.

The hops had flowered under her nose to be sure.

I think the storm probably had a lot to do with that, or maybe it was those things she wouldn't tell me about. I could see them hiding behind her eyes but I couldn't guess at what was bugging her. Not really. I mean I knew it was something to do with school, Mom, Dad, or a mélange of all of those. She had hedged around any question about those for hours, till we were now both snockered and had ended up sitting on the floor in front of the couch.

"You know something that's stupid?"

I looked up from peeling a label off a bottle in long silver strips. "Humm?"

"I said do you know something that's stupid?" Megan took a sip to wet her lips. "Student loans. All those poor fools out there putting themselves in debt so badly they will be thirty before they ever pay off those loans. And for what? A fucking job that they won't even get!" She laughed and leaned back against the chair, resting her head against the seat cushion. "And the banks are needing to be bailed out left and right, so they don't even have the money they are loaning. Brad Pitt was right, you know. A whole generation thinks they are going to be rock stars and movie gods. Fuckheads that couldn't sell water in a desert think they are going to fly through college and be some kind of damn dot.com millionaire. HA! Those dumb fucks." Then she was poking me in the side. "And you're one of them, aren't yah?"

I flinched away from her finger. "Stop it! No, I'm not. I have no delusions that I'm going to be rich. I simply want a better job; something that I enjoy doing. Is that so much to ask for?"

"Yes, it fucking is. A job is a job; they are all work and they all suck." She pushed herself back upright, her robe making her butt want to slide on the floor. "Somewhere out there is a guy doing the most depraved sexual thing you can think of and he's bored out his mind wishing the day would hurry up and end. Do you know they pay cops to sit and watch porn for eight hours? It's true, there is a whole division of the police ... or maybe it's the FBI, that all they do is check the age of girls in porn movies. And they are so bored of watching porn they could puke."

"I know a few guys that would do that job for free." I chuckled thinking of a few of my dorm mates. "I think I'll pass on being the next great the porn reviewer."

"Why? Got a better job idea?" She grinned at me. "Or don't you like porn?"

I shrugged. "I like it well enough, but it's always the same crap, though. Fake tits, fake moans, fake sex, or else it's some amateur with their laptop cam." My eyes came to rest on her long bare legs. "I would rather spend my time really having sex than watching a bunch of crappy sex."

My sister grinned at me. "Do tell?"

"What?"

"Come on, give-give. Let's hear it. What's your sex life like?" Again she poked my side.

"Would you fucking stop that!" I batted her hand away from my side. She tried to dodge that to keep poking me. "Stop!"

"No. I want juicy details. I'm drunk and I'm bored. Fess up."

Putting my hands under me, I shifted around till I was sitting across from her instead of beside her, in poking range. She mischievously fished out a foot but I warned her, with a glance, of the potential of that foot getting tickled. Megan shot those toes out of my range quickly. But she did look at me expectantly. I sighed.

"I lost my virginity to Susan Reynolds when we dated through our senior year. But when we broke up, I then I spent last summer chasing, and catching, bikini girls at the beach. I've had a couple of dates this year at school, but nothing more serious than dinner or a movie. I've just been too busy."

"Chasing a grade point average rather than tits and ass?" My sister stuck the tip of her tongue between her teeth and grinned at me.

"Pretty much."

I looked down rather that see the sarcastic judgment in her eyes. Those blue-gray circles could strip flesh from the bone when she wished but, when they were filled with pity, they were razor blades. Gun metal blue scalpels. Given the conversation and the alcohol, it was no surprise that I found myself looking at her breasts, hiding behind that terry cloth robe. Her robe had parted enough to display runway model levels of cleavage. And of course when boobs are peeking the eyes go further south.

Pale white legs all the way up to silky smooth thighs; a whole lot of thigh, in fact. Now if that robe parted just a bit more ....

"That hard up?"

The sad tone hit me with as much surprise as the foot that kicked my ankle. My gaze met hers and she was looking at me strangely. Then she winked and blew me a kiss.

"Too bad you're my brother. Any other guy would be pounced on by now." She looked down, realized just how open her robe was, shrugged and sighed. When she looked back up she held out her hand. "Help me up, please. I think I need to go to bed before I do something stupid I'll regret, like flash you a tit or something."

Not sure how to take that, I put my hand behind me on the chair and pushed myself to my feet. With a few wobbles I took her hand and pulled her up. If she hadn't held that robe together at the last second I would have gotten that peek. She smiled seeing the look on my face, gave me a hug, then one last poke to my ribs."

"Night, night," she whispered.

I looked at those lips so close. All I would need to do was lean in a foot and I would be kissing her ... Megan ... my sister? Holy shit, I'm thinking of kissing my sister. I don't mean some fantasy to get myself off with; I mean an honest-to-God lip lock with my sister, the bane of my childhood.

I've kissed enough women to see in her eyes that she was thinking the same thing. The tip of her pink tongue wet her lips, and I took a deep slow breath.

Then Megan was gone, disappearing up the hall towards the stairs. I heard her feet on the steps up into the loft where the cabin's bedrooms are.

Still not sure what had just happened, I closed down the bottom level of the cabin for the night. Shutting off anything that wasn't needed, and putting the metal screen in front of the fireplace. I gathered the beer bottles up and tossed them into the trash. Stopping by the door in the kitchen, I looked out into the night, watching the lightning bring details of the mountain into harsh relief every few moments. The door shook in its frame when one pop of thunder rumbled around and around.

"I'm too drunk for this shit."

** ** ** ** ** ** **

Cool sheets. Soft pillows. The comforting weight of the blanket, even though I don't really need it. The sounds of the storm. The smell of cedar that the cabin always has and all the many memories that go with that scent. The soft marshmallow feeling to my head as the alcohol buzz fizzled out and sleep approached. My eyelids fluttered back open when my door opened.

"Jake? You asleep yet?"

Turning, I looked over my shoulder. Megan was standing silhouetted in the doorway, backlight by the soft, single LED nightlight in the hall. I turned the rest of the way over.

"Not completely," I said a yawn about to break my jaw. "What ya need?"

Before she could answer lightning struck outside, close, and the roof overhead and the thick log walls did little to muffle the power of Mother Nature in her wrath. My sister yelped and cowered.

"Can I please sleep in here?"

The echoes of that thunder were still rolling through when the next jolt of electricity split the night.

"Sure." I moved over and then chuckled as she all but dove into bed next to me. "It will be like old times."

"Uh huh." She shivered. "Hold me, please."

Smiling, I placed a hand on her hip and let her snuggle into my chest. Her hair under my nose smelled of her honey scented shampoo. There was also a scent I couldn't place, but that the inner animal in me recognized as fear. It awoke with a predator's fierceness and that gave me the desire to protect the woman in my arms. From the storm. From the world. From anyone that would want to hurt her. Then, as I listened to her breathing grow even but before sleep took me, I knew that I had to also protect her from myself. And maybe from herself.

That thought carried me into troubled dreams.

** ** ** ** ** ** **

Ah, the joys of manual labor. Not.

The cabin, as built by my grandfather and his brothers, was never meant to have electric lighting. In fact, the last power pole is a good ways down the compacted gravel road. But there was no way on God's green Earth my mother--prom queen, debutant, seven-time beauty pageant winner--was going to live in a place for more than a few hours without power. So ... my dad and Uncle Tim put their heads together with some good-old-boys from the tech crew of Dad's racing team and came up with a solution.