The man continued to stare back at me. If he was weighing the validity of my arrival, his face didn’t show it. In fact, it only showed one thing, irrevocable distrust.
Without a word the man got up and left the small one room cabin where he had asked me the only question that seemed to matter to him; “How did you get here?”
As he stepped from the door, he was careful to shut it tightly behind him. I saw a glimpse of the sun setting outside. It had evidently taken much of the day to get here, it seemed the remainder would be spent trying to convince my new acquaintances of my honesty.
In silence, I scanned the room, I saw no indication of who these people were, what they stood for, what they valued. The cabin was sparsely decorated and held only the chair I sat upon, a small table and an additional two chairs. There was a small stone fireplace behind me, unused at the moment, but there were logs inside it at the ready.
Some time passed, I can’t be sure of how much. My anxiousness tells me an hour, but it very well could’ve been ten minutes.
However, long it was the man came back, entering the cabin the same plain face. I was surprised to see a woman trailing behind him, for whom he held open the door. The man hung back by the entrance, as the woman walked towards me. Unlike the man, she had a mature face, but the years had been more kind to her, giving her a look that was both matronly and majestic. She wore a long dress, and was wrapped in an equally long coat, both were an earthy brown. She slowly drug the empty chair the big, bent old man had been using, but rather than sit a comfortable distance away as he had, she sat upon it right in front of me.
Before she spoke, she brushed a wisp of long grey hair away from her face.
“What luck you had finding the dog,” she gave an easy smile that felt neither fake, nor forced.
I nodded.
The canine stood, leaving my side for the first time in hours, and went to the woman. He sniffed her outstretched hand, and then licked it a few times.
“Sweet animal. And hungry I can see.” The woman gave a sideways look to the door and hollered at the man, ”Thaddeus fetch the dog a plate...and some water.” I noted that as she spoke to the man, apparently Thaddeus, her eyes never left me.
“What’s your name?”
“Rob.”
“Mine’s Helena, I am pleased to meet you, in spite of the circumstances surrounding the meeting.” She paused as if I was expected to say something, so I did.
“Forgive me ma’am as I say this, but I’ve been here- wherever here is- for quite awhile and I would like to say thank you for your hospitality,” I pointed to the dog, ”And for feeding the dog. But- and you probably saw that coming, but again I have been here for awhile now and I get the sense that I may be am being held against my will here.”
Helena held up a hand, stopping me short, she flashed that concerned smile again, “Yes and?”
I swallowed hard, my nervousness giving way to full blown fear. “And I have no way to prove to you how I got here, other than my word, nothing more that will make you believe me.”
Helena nodded, but said nothing.
“If I meant you harm, I wouldn’t have come to assault you wearing Wal-Mart pajamas, a tee shirt, and shoeless. I mean I don’t know karate…” I chuckled even though the joke fell flat, noting an odd flash of confusion in Helena’s eyes.
After my weak laughter faded Helena said, “That’s all fine and dandy mister, but that still doesn’t explain the dog.”
“Pardon?”
She nodded to the dog who was still at her side, “Do you know this dog’s name Rob?”
“No it didn’t have tags.”
Again, I saw Helena scrunch her brow, for the briefest of moments.
“The dog went by Old Rufus.”
Shrugging, “I don’t follow.”
“The dog went by Old Rufus when he was around twelve years old.”
“I’m sorry, if this is supposed to mean something to me…”
“I’m sorry, if this is supposed to mean something to me…”
Helena’s eyes narrowed, her tone lost much of its matronly air, “That was over forty years ago when I was a small girl.”
I didn’t have the words, connections were still being made inside my mind.
“Rob,” her inflection questioned the truth of my name, “Old Rufus died before I finished school, decades ago.”
