Nudist’s Haven

Storms had damaged the road with potholes and washouts. Heavy rains had ravaged the earth, making the drive treacherous. Each jolt of the car reminded her of nature reclaiming its territory.

Many years had passed since Sarah last visited the remote cabin. On her last visit, a bear tore down the clothesline, angering her granny. Her Grandmother had threatened to make a rug out of that bear if he came back around.

It was now hers, a gift from her grandmother. Memories of her grandmother and the cabin flooded her as she neared the white split rail fence.  

Granny had mentioned some secret guardians nearby in her old letters. One of the Christmas cards had a picture of her and a shirtless guy smiling. Sarah guessed it was a neighbor, but who clicked the picture?

As she rounded the bend, the cabin appeared, its rustic charm contrasting with the expansive property. The house looked smaller and less charming, with a neglected exterior and sagging porch. 

Delicate wildflowers filled the field under ancient trees. Each small flower was a burst of color, like an artist's palette in the meadow. Nature's perfume filled the air as the summer breeze played among delicate petals.

Picking those flowers for her grandmother filled her mind with memories. 

Neat stacks of firewood surrounded the cabin, reminding her of cozy evenings by the fire. 

The lake behind the cabin mirrored the beauty around it. The water whispered secrets to the fish swimming in its depths. The dock extended onto the water, inviting her to lose herself in the hidden oasis's serene embrace. 

The birdsong filled the air, welcoming her. She could only hear the gentle breeze and the rhythmic water.

The memory of the cold water on her bare skin came alive as she remembered her grandmother's laugh as she dove off the dock. The saying "you can never go home" might have applied, but for her grandmother, this place was home. Her grandmother's lake cabin in the woods was her sanctuary during the summer months, where she could bask in the beauty of nature and cherish precious moments with her granny.

Sarah stood at the yard's edge. Her mind raced to reconcile rustic charm with her grandmother's reality. How did she endure such isolation living here alone? Who was cutting the wood daily, year after year? Why was their fresh sawdust by the wood closest to the cabin? 

Once inside, she saw the well-worn rocking chair before the fireplace—not two chairs, just one. Needing to pee, she headed back out to the back to notice the firewood and fresh sawdust.

She kneeled and ran her fingers through the sawdust, feeling the gritty texture crumble. Hearing the heavy silence, Sarah straightened and saw footprints leading into the trees.

The prints were much more extensive than her grandmother’s feet, each impression marked by the unmistakable shape of a boot. Who had been here, and why?

Her gaze followed the line of footprints. The tree shadows twisted, seeming alive, beckoning her to follow. The air chilled as she stood under the shade of the forest edge.

Sarah's boots crunched on the dried leaves and pinecones as she made her way around the cabin, engulfed by the woods' musty scent. 

The memories surged like a forgotten melody, vivid and unbidden. She was a child again, standing at the threshold of the outhouse, its dark interior both daunting and thrilling. Back then, the outdoor bathroom was a realm of adventure, a secret portal to a simpler time. She could almost feel the thrill of her small feet on the cool earth, and hear the creak of the wooden door as she peeked inside, eyes wide with innocent curiosity.

Her mind drifted to the outdoor shower, recalling the ritual of hoisting buckets of water to fill the tank above. The water, tepid and gentle, would cascade over her under the vast expanse of sky. What was once a cherished ritual of bathing under the heavens now weighed heavy on her heart, each drop a reminder of her grandmother's quiet solitude in this wild, untamed place. When they were just the two, her grandmother had a carefree attitude about swimming, sometimes opting to go without clothes. Even in her older years, she still exuded a hippie vibe. The splashing and screams of her youth seemed magical, even now, as Sarah remembered those days.

Sarah's need to use the bathroom became increasingly urgent. Her options were limited—either venture into the mysterious woods or make her way to the rustic outhouse. She inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with crisp air. Despite her attempts to reassure herself that it was just a bathroom, an unsettling feeling persisted, casting doubt on her initial belief.

As she brushed them away, spiders had been busy making the place appear like a gothic haunted house. With a rustic life came the infamous outhouse.

The creaking door of the outhouse sent a shiver down Sarah's spine, and she immediately recognized the familiar buzzing noise that followed. Flies were abundant in the dim interior, their presence evident by the overpowering smell of decay. The familiar stench triggered a flood of vivid childhood memories, overwhelming her senses.

Sitting on the makeshift seat, a chill ran through her from its cold touch. She heard sounds from below, triggering a forgotten memory. A flood of recollections brought back sensory details. Her grandmother wasn’t there to tell her that this was nature's way of getting people to do their business and leave.

Her fingers brushed the cold, damp walls as she reached for the toilet paper. She chuckled at the improperly hung paper. Going over, not down, she thought. There were reasons for this, and she was about to be instantly reminded of those reasons.

As Sarah reached for the toilet paper, her hand brushed against something soft and hairy. A blur of motion erupted from the roll, landing squarely on her lap. She let out a piercing scream, the sound echoing through the trees as she sprang from her seat. Her feet tangled in her clothes, and she stumbled forward, landing face-first in the dirt. "Fucking hell!" she gasped, spitting out a mouthful of earth.

Before she could gather her wits, a skittering sensation crept up her legs—a spider, its tiny feet like pinpricks on her skin, was making its way upward. "God damn it!" she shrieked, twisting awkwardly to swipe at the intruder. Her fingers brushed its bristly body, and she flung it toward the lake, her heart pounding like a drum.

“Mate, pulling up your pants before leaving the toilet is customary.” 

Her heart stopped, she was sure of it, as the strange male voice from down under-addressed her. Could this day get any worse? She thought.

His large boots were inches from her face. She turned over to see an enormous man staring at her.

“Who the hell are you?” She screamed.

"Geez, mate! Simmer down."

His eyes remained fixed on her predicament, and she couldn't help but steal a glance at his face, trying to decipher his thoughts. Was he an axe murderer or just some wanna-be Sasquatch?

"Do you mind?" she asked. She hoped to appeal to his sense of morality, praying he would turn around.

"Don't worry, it's fine."

She huffed as she tried to get off the ground. The great white ape extended his hand. She reached for it, feeling his calluses. She finally gave up on letting her modesty hold her back as he pulled her off the ground. 

He watched as she dressed and then stared at her.

"Excuse me, but I don't believe we've met. Who are you?" he asked.

She carefully brushed off the leaves and mud from the front of her pristine white blouse. 

"I'm Sarah," she said. “This place became mine through inheritance.”

The large man stared at her momentarily, and then it hit him. In shock, he muttered, "Ingrid's a goner, isn't she?"

Sarah stared at him as his countenance sank. “You were friends with my grandmother?”

He glanced at her, his eyes scanning her face for any resemblance to Ingrid. “Yes, I took care of her, and she absolutely adored this place.”

As she smiled, her eyes sparkled with a newfound warmth as she looked at him. Granny's opinion held weight; if she liked him, he was considered a good guy. “It's no wonder she has been able to live here by herself for so long, considering the circumstances.”

His lips curled as he attempted a smile. “Name's Nathan. I've been here for years now. My old grandad knew Ingrid; they were close.

That's how I came to know her."

“How close?”

He blushed, "Really close."

She pinched her lips while staring at him.

“Sorry, I didn’t know. You live here year-round?”

He glanced at her, noticing the sprinkle of freckles on her face. "Yeah, all year, right. What spooked ya so much you landed on your mug like that, love?"

She glanced at the ground before looking into his face. “Spider landed in my lap from the toilet paper.”

He chuckled. "Up here, mate, there's more spiders than you can shake a stick at. They don't bite much, but you'd best check your sheets before you hop in bed and give your shoes a good look before you slip 'em on. If you try to squash 'em, they'll give you a nip."

He reached over, pulling a leaf from her hair. Mud covered her clothes and face, and she didn't even realize it.

"Mate, it's a bit late in the day to get warm water. I can fill the tank up for ya to get that mud off, but it might be a bit on the cool side."

Sarah looked at him once more before deciding to find out more about him.

“Nathan, when you saw me lying there in the mud with my pants down, why didn’t you turn around?”

He furrowed his brow. "Oi, love, Ingrid and me grandad were nudeys. I'm often that way meself, and I figured you was as well. I’m sorry love, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Sarah smirked at him, imagining the rugged outdoorsman in his altogether. She decided to let him off the hook by admitting that she grew up that way when she was here. “I should have expected that Granny was a nudist, too.”

Chuckling, he glanced at her. "She was a ripper, alright!”

"The sun's about to dip, so I'll get a fire going so you don't catch a chill, mate."

Sarah realized he was going to stick around. “You expect me to get naked and take a shower out here with you watching?”

His lips tightened. “I'll stay here by the fire.” He walked toward the lake and found the bucket to fill the tank.  

The men in her life never captivated her attention. Every time they attempted to change a light bulb, it seemed like they were playing a dangerous game of chance. Instead of partaking in traditional masculine activities, they opted to spend their time glued to the computer screen, immersed in virtual worlds. This guy had a deep understanding of her granny's true nature and was skilled at surviving solely by relying on the resources of the land. Sarah, being open-minded, accepted his offer. 

Nathan could smell the aroma of stew before she came out to the shower. By now, the sun was down, and the moon lit her way to the platform under the cool water. Memories of the shower flooded her as she smelled the fire's smoke while washing her hair.

The Aussie occupied her thoughts. He was a hidden gem. Some work could make him shine like a jewel, She thought. Why didn’t Granny tell me about him? She wondered.

The platform beneath her feet shook as the shampoo bottle fell and made contact. Nathan caught a glimpse of her silhouette against the moonlit night. In the soft glow of the fire, he stood, his figure accentuated by the flickering flames. Shadows gracefully moved in the background. Sarah couldn't help but smile at the cheeky situation of being completely naked in front of a total stranger.

She stole another quick glance at him, trying to decipher the emotions hidden in his eyes. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the cabin. Covered in bubbles from the soap, she jumped at the sudden crashing sound from inside the cabin.

Stopping the flow of water, she heard him yell. "Leg it, bear!"

The memories of her granny chasing the bear with a broom returned to the front of her mind. 

She turned toward the cabin, and her heart skipped a beat when she finally laid eyes on it, a large grizzly burst from within the cabin, heading straight for her. This was not the black smaller bear that she remembered.

 She sprinted towards Nathan and the fire, the sound of her heavy breaths drowned out by the thundering footsteps of the relentless bear. Reaching for Nathan, he grabbed her hand, pulling her faster than she could run. Falling by the edge of the lake, they could hear the crashing sounds from the bear as it managed to spread the burning logs while in pursuit of the humans. 

"Oh, crap." He said.

Pulling her to her feet again, they ran frantically into the darkness of the forest edge.

The woodland floor, covered in twigs, pine cones, and rocks, slowed her. Nathan grabbed Sarah and swiftly led her away from the lake, following a path he frequently used to reach his cabin. She faltered again when Nathan picked her up without asking and took off at a run, away from the danger. 

The loud crashes behind them became quieter. Slowing down, he noticed an orange glow and lots of smoke coming from the cabin's location. Flames emerged from the smoke. 

Following the boom of an explosion, he determined it was a complete loss. He glanced at her hair, soaked with soap and water, her body covered in mud and leaves, and then shifted his gaze back to the dancing orange flames rising above the trees.

He was still cradling her when he noticed her stare. Her arm was around his neck, and she was simply in awe of this man. "Mate, that spider's the least of your worries. That last bang was probably your car going up. Did you leave any grub out where the bear could sniff it?"

The water on her face was from tears. “I was making us dinner while I cleaned up.”

As he looked at her, a smile formed on his face. "Mate, those blokes are as rough as they come. My spot's just up the track, 'bout a half mile from 'ere. I reckon I'll 'ave to carry ya, coz you don't 'ave shoes, an' there's stuff you don't wanna step on, like snakes."

He could feel her shudder from the cold. Nathan held her close as he climbed through the trees, bushes, and briars to return home.

“What about Granny’s cabin?” He slowed to lock eyes with her.

"The bear sorted that out. With all the recent rain, the fire won't spread past the dirt around the yard."

He knew she was crying, but taking care of her physical well-being was at the top of his list.

He carried her to the edge of the lake. The moon was the only witness to what happened next.“What are you doing?”

"Scrubbin' the mud off, mate." The splash echoed far and wide.

The sensation of a shiver ran down her spine as she felt the contrasting temperatures of the cool night air and the warm lake. Relief flooded through her as he emerged, holding a warm towel. Wrapping her in the towel, he carried her inside, setting her in front of the fireplace on an old, worn rocking chair. “I’ll fetch you something hot to drink.”

The cabin had a nostalgic, frozen-in-time feel, much like her grandmother's home.

After feeding her, he put her in his grandfather's room. The soft, fluffy mattress was better than any she had ever slept on.

She couldn't find him in the morning until she heard a splash. Sarah made herself at home, watching him from the window while coffee brewed on the stove. He emerged from the lake and spotted her on the front porch swing.

"Being a nudist ain't all bad, is it, mate?"

“The warm sun feels good after that late-night swim.”

Water dripped off his long hair onto her feet as she handed him his towel.

He looked at her with the sun shining on her body. His eyes were drawn to a cup of coffee sitting there, beckoning him. I guess I'll have to adjust to the lack of clothes, she mused, accepting her situation.

Nathan was surprised to see a new car arrive in his yard with the arrival of spring.

“Sarah?”

She glanced at him and smiled.

“I thought about what you asked me when you called me last week from town.”

“And.”

"I want a generator, an inside bathroom with a shower and tub, and we must dress to go into town now and then," she said.

He smiled, disarming her from any other demands except one.

“Anything else?”

She giggled, “I want that moth-eaten bear’s hide as a rug in front of the fireplace.”

He chuckled, “And then it’s a yes?”

She laughed. “You, Tarzan, Me, Jane.”

Nathan and Sarah were a couple that would have made their grandparents proud. They upheld Ingrid and Dirk's tradition, adding two rocking chairs and a bear rug in front of the fireplace.