I live out in the country, with several dozen acres of land that overlook a small mountain chain. It's a beautiful view from the top of the ridge where my house is, with sweeping views of the valley, and the mountains extending for twenty miles or so before terminating. Aside from that, it's mostly wooded and very private; sitting in almost a half mile from the state highway. Because of this, I use an ATV to ride out to my mailbox. I installed one of those spring loaded yellow flags that pops up when someone opens the box, so with a pair of binoculars, I can check the status of my mail from the second floor of the house. One particular day during the summer, I headed out to pick up my mail, and here is where this story begins.
I reached the end of my graveled driveway/private road and checked for oncoming traffic. There was none, so I proceeded across the road to my box. I did notice someone walking up the long hill toward me and assumed it was one of my neighbors, so I paid them no attention. I collected my mail and sifted through it briefly, separating the junk from bills. As I returned to my ATV, I could see the person in question was NOT one of my neighbors, but a stranger; a woman. She was rather disheveled looking; in her forties, with dirty-blonde hair and a tattered dress, along with shoes with the heels broken off so she could walk more easily.
Being a retired detective, my radar immediately went on high alert. Something was definitely wrong with this situation. As she reached me, I smiled and said hello. She nodded at me with an odd look on her face.
"Hello," I greeted her. "I've never seen you in these parts before, and you're a long way from anywhere. Where are you headed?"
The woman appeared confused and shook her head.
"I- I don't know." she responded oddly.
"Well, where are you coming from?" I pressed.
Once again, she seemed confused and shook her head.
"I don't know that either."
I decided to take a different approach, and introduced myself.
"My name is Jack, what's yours?"
At this point, she looked absolutely panic-stricken.
"I don't know!" she burst out. "Oh my god, I have no idea! What's wrong with me?!"
"It's okay." I said soothingly. "You look parched. I have some water in my ATV. Would you like some?"
She nodded vigorously.
"Yes please, thank you."
I retrieved a bottle of water from the storage compartment and twisted the cap loose before handing it to her. She took it and drained the entire bottle.
"Thank you." she said gratefully. "I'm so thirsty. I've been drinking out of creeks whenever I see one."
"That's not very sanitary." I commented. "When was the last time you had something to eat?"
She shook her head.
"I don't know; a couple days, maybe." she replied. "New Mexico? I'm very hungry."
"Look," I said carefully, "I live on top of that hill over there. Why don't I get you something to eat, and you can get cleaned up and maybe try and figure out who you are."
The woman looked a bit uncertain, so I smiled reassuringly.
"I'm a retired police officer." I explained, opening my wallet and showing her my badge and ID. "I have the best of intentions, I promise. I'd like to help you."
She nodded in reply.
"Thank you." she said with a smile. "I am just so confused right now."
"It's okay." I responded. "I still like helping people. It never really goes away. Sit behind me here, and I'll get you something to eat. Then, we can try and figure out who you are and where you came from, okay?"
"Yes, thank you."
She climbed onto the ATV and sat behind me, putting her arms around my waist to hang on, as I made a U turn and headed back down my gravel road toward the creek.
"Is this your place?" she inquired.
"Not yet." I replied. "Once we cross over the creek it will be though."
We crossed the creek and wound uphill around a couple of turns, before finally emerging from the piney woods into the clearing of the ridge. I pulled up to the house and parked, so we could disembark.
"This is really nice." the woman observed, as she looked out over the valley to the south. "It's so quiet and peaceful."
"Yes it is." I agreed. "I'm a writer now, and I have a small studio in the attic, where I can stare out at those mountains and be inspired. The only problem is that sometimes, I just sit and stare and don't do anything at all!"
She smiled and I pointed toward the front door.
"Let's get you cleaned up and fed." I said kindly, as I opened the door to my log house.
It was two floors, along with the attic studio and a full basement that was built into the side of the ridge. My late wife and I had designed it, and spent two years felling the trees from the property, peeling and drying them, and finally stacking them into place. It was a labor of love, and we had the opportunity to share it for five years, before she passed away from cancer.
I buried her on an adjacent hill and visited every day. I was fortunate to live in a state that allowed me to do this. Since I own more than twenty acres, it was automatically zoned for agricultural use, which allowed us to build the house as a "farm outbuilding" without permits, as well as designating a cemetery; again, without permits.
"You have a lovely house." the woman said wistfully.
She looked around, and her gaze fell on several pictures of my wife and myself.
"That's your wife?" she inquired.
"Yes." I responded sadly.
"Will she be mad that I'm here?"
"No," I said quietly. "I lost her to cancer about three years ago."
"I'm so sorry, Jack. I shouldn't have said anything."
"You didn't know." I replied. "I do miss her though. She was about your size, and all of her clothes are still in the closet. You're more than welcome to try something on, after you take a shower and get cleaned up. In the meantime, I'll fix some lunch, okay?"
"That would be great, thank you." she responded.
I led her upstairs and showed her the bathroom and the closet where my wife's clothes were still hanging, as though she would come home at any time. I retreated to the kitchen, and began fixing lunch. It wasn't fancy; just some ham and Swiss sandwiches with mustard, but they were quick to make, and I could make as many as she needed to fill up. Fifteen minutes later, she appeared from the bottom of the stairs, wearing one of Ann's favorite sundresses.
