Sitting in a picnic area alongside the Juniata River, Peter felt a peace he had never experienced before. The world would be perfect, if I could take this woman and Jack somewhere no enemies could ever find us. Next Monday, the problems will start. No ranking officer of perhaps the most effective intelligence agency in the world would want to see me just to talk. I don’t think I personally am in any danger in this meeting. I am just too insignificant for this man to be involved with killing or seizing me. I’m using Bernadette mostly to impress them that I don’t trust them and coming after me would have its downside.

After their excellent picnic lunch from the hotel kitchen, Peter asked Bernadette to drive. He wanted her to be able to find the cabin later and to get a feel for driving narrow mountain roads. But first they had to stop in Bedford to pick up groceries for a week.

By the time she drove through Jennerstown, Bernadette had picked up the skill of mountain driving with some coaching from Peter to anticipate the curves and brake, if necessary, before the curve and accelerate through it. Moving slowly through Ligonier she said, “This town is even more pleasant than Leesburg. I could live here.”

“Good, but you need to see this place in the winter. Cold, windy, and heavy snowfalls. The snow sometimes shuts the town down for a few days. I’ve never been here in the winter but the realtor I’ve been working with told me winters were hard on newcomers until they learned to stop fighting it.

“At the bottom of the next steep downgrade there is a small dam across the Loyalhana Creek.” Peter pointed out the right turn right across the dam and told Bernadette to follow the road. “But not too fast, you will soon be turning back to the west and up a steep ridge.

“Okay, there is your turn next on the right. When you reach the top of the ridge, slow way down. The turn off is hard to see – there is no mailbox and the opening is partially grown over with spruce trees. See the slight break about 75 yards in front on the right? Turn in there. Don’t worry, the branches will brush both sides of the car. There should have been some trucks in here, but I don’t see any signs of them. There is a gate across the driveway. Stop and I’ll open it.”

“Where is the place? I can barely find it with you telling me every turn. How did you ever get here?”

“A woman brought me here in her car.”

“I might’ve known.”

“She was more than twice your age and a sales person.”

“Is that your story?”

“The truth is the truth. Okay, the gate is relocked. Drive ahead and park in the small graveled circle.”

When Bernadette stopped, she was out of the car before Peter. “My God, Peter this place is like a hidden paradise. How much do you own?”

“As far as you can see from here. Around 1,000 acres. I was hoping work had started but no signs of it outside. Let’s go inside. We might not have to use the tent.”

Inside on the dining table there was a note from the contractor saying he would be there with a backhoe tomorrow morning to put in the 1,000 gallon diesel tank and generator. Another crew would be there to tear out the bathrooms and install new appliances. They may also be able to get a start on the kitchen. Peter put the note down and said, “I spoke too soon. Looks like the tent will be our home until Sunday. If it rains hard we can hurry back here and share the cabin with the workmen.”

“Not my idea of a honeymoon,” said Bernadette, flashing her rings.

“Are all Irish ladies so fussy?”

“We’re never fussy as long as our man feeds and beds us often enough. Can we stay here tonight and move out before the workmen get here in the morning?”

“Sure, but in that case come outside with me.”

As soon as she stepped out on the small porch, Peter swept her up and carried her across the threshold. “Every woman should get carried across at least one threshold.”

“That’s a good custom. I can now take that off my ‘to do before I die’ list,” Bernadette said.