He switched on the windscreen wipers as heavy droplets began to fall, flashing brightly in the headlights as the truck climbed the road up the mountainside. The night was dark, the slopes steep around him and pine trees lined the road as he swept around the switch-back curves.
Eventually the gradient topped out and he began the descent. The summery storm was now beating down and he took care as he had no desire to get stranded in a night-time ditch miles from any town. He cracked open the window an inch and inhaled the scent from the damp forestry as the oppressive humidity of the day dissipated. It was refreshing after the muggy heat to be able to switch off the air con of the truck which dried his nasal passages.
He saw lights in the distance and then just as described on his handwritten sheet of paper, the open gateway that accessed the track to the cabin. It was a gloriously isolated position he thought, but why anyone would spend winter here he couldn't imagine.
He was past his first flush of youth and now that he'd never see his thirty-fifth birthday again he had noticed some occasional grey hairs appearing on his temple. Vanity had led him to pluck the offending strands so that his mid-brown hair was retained. He was naturally slim and had yet to develop the bulging gut that so many of his contemporaries were growing. Single once more, on the market for love now that his ex-wife had been divorced. He had finally bitten the bullet, after too many drunken scenes and the incessant rows that had started to affect his health. Life was too short to put up with the crap.
So here he was, making his way to a date with an ex-girlfriend from way back. She had contacted him out of the blue several weeks previously via a social networking site. He remembered her as somewhat jolly in nature, carrying just too much weight but with spectacularly innocent-looking wide brown eyes and long raven locks of hair. Tall, with 36C breasts which bore nipples that always rose to his touch. Why they had split, he couldn't really remember. They hadn't really separated – merely drifted apart and then he had met 'The Drunk'. A wild passionate courtship with crazy had ensued, followed by a spiral of jealous fights and alcoholic stupors. Never mind that, it was all behind him and he had the rest of his life to enjoy, peacefully.
The old flame had apparently never married, never had children. Why was she searching out old relationships? His mind churned as he followed the headlights, wipers washing waves of water across the windscreen, the wheels bouncing on rocks hidden in puddles.
He realised that the track was widening into a turning area. He reversed the truck and parked next to a small city car which stood there already. Most people had dates in a bar or restaurant, he mused. This one was in a hut in the mountains surrounded by bears and wolves.
He killed the engine and alighted. The cabin was a short walk away, lights were showing in the windows and he could make out a wooden deck with the black water of the lake behind it. He grabbed the bottle of expensive wine that he had brought and his coat which he threw over his head, then automatically locked the car with the remote key-fob as he bolted for the door.
The door opened before he reached it and she was standing, framed in the light. A short dark blue tailored sleeveless skin-tight dress with a high neckline up to her throat, high heels, dark stockings - yes it was her. Always well groomed with an effortless style. Her luxuriant locks were shorter and more expensively styled, but something else had altered. The thick waist had gone, she was athletic - muscular even. He hesitated and took in the vision, she looked gorgeous. Her breasts stood proudly, not a hint of droop, contrasting with the taut midsection, fully rounded ass and toned thighs.
“John.” The single word hung between them.
“Rhoda.” He replied with matching simplicity.
“You made it, I was wondering if you would.”
“Why would I not? We shared some good times. Hey, you're looking good, Rhodes.”
“And yourself.” She looked him up and down. “Come inside anyway, out of the snow.”
She stood back and he entered. They hugged briefly, formally. The place was warm and bright, chintz furnishings and a simple dining table laid with candles and flowers. He could smell food cooking in the oven. She took the bottle, placed it on the table and thanked him. Then they sat on the sofa, stiffly distant after the years apart.
He broke the silence. “Your place then? A lovely spot.”
Rhoda nodded. “My parents have both passed and I inherited enough to get this as a weekend retreat. I come here to get away from things and relax, then on a Monday it's back to the rat-race.
“So, how did things pan out for you?” She paused for him to answer.
John considered how much of the tale of woe to tell. “Married, no kids, messy divorce. I had to sell the house as part of the settlement, now it's an apartment until I recover.
“So, I give in” he continued. “What's this about? I mean, years after we stop seeing each other, you find me and get in touch. Why?” His curiosity was unabated.
“I had some stuff in my life, that's all. That was getting sorted and I was thinking about how things were turning out, compared to what I thought life would be like when I was a kid.
“I was without a husband, family, dog. I never really got over you I suppose, so I started looking around and there you were on the web. It was an impulse in many ways, but I thought, what the hell, what's the worse thing that could happen. So here we are.”
They chatted like this for a while,stupid pointless rubbish, then dinner was ready. She was a good cook, nothing complicated but well prepared and tasty. After they had eaten they exchanged even more about their life stories, then eventually it was getting late and John found himself glancing at his wrist-watch. He began to think of the drive back to the city. He still couldn't think of any reason why he was there, making small-talk about nothing. It was turning midnight; he looked outside and found that the torrential weather was continuing – he could hear it hammering on the roof anyway, didn't need to check - and there was a gushing stream coming from the direction of the vehicles and the track from the main road.
“Wow!” Rhoda inspected the scene from the doorway, the noise drumming in their ears. “How far do you have to go?”
“A couple of hours – if I can get up the hill.” John kissed her chastely on the cheek, bade farewell and dashed back to the truck. However the wheels span uselessly every time he tried to drive up the slope towards the road. After a dozen tries he gave in, all he was achieving was a ripped up strip of land. Perhaps an Ice Road Trucker would laugh at his abilities but there was no way that he could get the car through the churned mud. He returned to the house with a shrug, shaking droplets from his clothes and kicking off his caked shoes.
