AllFreeNovel
Share Us
HELEN
Igrinned on the way home from dropping my basket off to Brenton. We hadn’t known each other for very long at all, but still I couldn’t deny that, for some reason, I missed him. Lately I had tried to avoid him, and he didn’t seem too keen on running into me either. I wasn’t sure what prompted his note; if it was sincerely that he missed me or if he had other motivations. Everyone deserved a second chance, and it was easy to offer it when he could fuck like that.
That same day, I went into town to pick up ingredients for the dessert I promised Brenton I’d bring. It was Saturday, so I still had a day to make it. I decided I’d make an apple pie with the apples he’d brought me the other day. I had taken a bite of one and was shocked to find it had a flavor I’d never experienced before. It was sweet and tart, but slightly salty too. Not what I expected from an apple, but I was excited to challenge myself to make a pie out of its flavors.
Recently, I also had begun drafting my mystery novel based on this strange adventure Dudley had taken me on. I dove right into chapter one soon after discovering his photos and seedlings, and I was already on chapter six. Admittedly, it had taken up some of the time I usually dedicated to my publishing position, but between writing and searching for Dudley’s journal and then subsequently being even more inspired to write about that day’s search, I struggled to find time or energy for more work on top of it all.
Lisa was able to talk my boss off the ledge after a few missed deadlines, and I assured them both that soon I’d be done completing Dudley’s dying wishes and I’d be back to the office. I promised that once I found his journal, I could move back to the city. Plus, if I never found this journal, I’d need that job, because the inheritance would not be mine.
I didn’t mention my original two week timeline to my boss, not entirely convinced I could stick to it at this point. I was sure she’d ask, but I’d deal with it in a few days. I had a week left anyway and I had to face the facts: I was in too deep. I couldn’t cut my search or my writing short. Something was pulling me to these hills, and I wasn’t sure that pull would let up by the end of next week.
I pulled back into my driveway after the grocery trip. I opened my back door and grabbed my paper bag which was stuffed to the brim with my baking materials. I used two hands to grip it, but I only made it two feet before the bottom gave out and ripped, sending my groceries flying down the gravel drive.
I ran after them, collecting as much as I could find. I had recovered almost every ingredient, aside from the heavy whipping cream.
“Shit,” I exclaimed to myself. I needed that for the filling, so I put all of my groceries inside and set out to look for it. It couldn’t have rolled far. Finally, I saw the bright white can, nestled next to the fenceline against Brenton’s property. I ran over and grabbed it in triumph.
I looked up from the fenceline and noticed that the pole which Samson was usually tied to had been uprooted and was lying flat on the ground. I looked around for any signs of Samson, but that drooling dog was nowhere to be seen. Begrudgingly, I hopped the fence and called out for him a few times.
“Samson! Samson, here buddy!”
He didn’t come, so I went up to Brenton’s front door and knocked, hoping he was inside. I knocked a few times and rang the doorbell a few more. There was no barking dog and no Brenton.
Brenton’s truck wasn’t parked in the driveway, so it was possible that he had taken Samson along wherever he was. But if that wasn’t true and Samson had run away, then who knows how far Samson would be able to trot with his long legs and annoyingly energetic personality if I waited for Brenton to get home.
My heavy whipping cream in hand, I set out to look for Samson in the mass of trees on Brenton’s property. Hopefully, Samson had stayed within Brenton’s fence line.
“Samson! Come here, boy! SAMSON!” I couldn’t believe it. Had I grown fond of this dog? I felt a bit of worry rise in my chest at the thought of him lost out there
I walked the property calling for Samson, but also marveling at how gorgeous the land was. Rows and rows of trees, bursting with fruit, as far as the eye could see. It almost felt like a fairytale. I lost track of time and realized it had probably been over an hour when I decided to give up. Samson had just been with Brenton this whole time, and I was just the queen of avoiding my work! I gave one last call and I heard a whimper in the distance.
“Samson?”
Another whimper.
“I’m here, bud. Where are you?”
One more whimper and I found him. He was sitting with his ears back and his head down next to a tree. He had tangled his leash on a low hanging branch and couldn’t move. He shook his tail excitedly as I approached him and I got him loose. I was thanked by licks to the face and happy whimpers.
“Okay, okay. You’re welcome, bud.”
I gave him a couple pets to calm him down and made the trek back to my house. Brenton’s property was much larger than I imagined.
I took Samson back to my place, not wanting to risk him running off again. I had left a little note on Brenton’s doorstep telling him where he could find his slobbery companion.
Samson and I spent the rest of the afternoon working on my novel and baking a pie. I had to pause both a few times to yell at him for jumping on my furniture. I was definitely not ok with his drool and hair contaminating every inch of my living space. After I had exerted all my creative energy for the day, I let Samson come on my scavenger hunt for Dudley’s journal with me.
“What do you think, bud? Maybe you can sniff the journal out for me. I feel like I’ve looked practically everywhere.”
He just sat and wagged at me, clearly nothing going on in his noggin. Further proof to me that animals were just stupid and smelly. Nonetheless, he followed me around while I looked. I kept coming back to Dudley’s office, thinking one of his books had to have some information. I opened up a book about apple varieties and didn’t even notice the photo fall out until Samson barked at my feet.
“What is it, Samson?”
He was sniffing the image on the ground. I picked it up and looked at it. There were two grown men standing in front of a grove of trees and a child playing in the background. The trees were in similar rows as Brenton’s are now, so I figured it must be his property. I recognized a young-ish Dudley in the photo, but I wasn’t sure who the man next to him was. I flipped the photo over and in Dudley’s handwriting, it said:John McLean, 1990.
I flipped it back. Sure enough, he looked very similar to Brenton. He had a salt and pepper beard that wasn’t quite as shaggy and blue eyes that made me think for a second that I was exchanging a look with Brenton himself. I looked closer at the child in the back of the photo. He had lighter brown hair that was long and tousled. His little hands were wrapped around an apple and he had the same piercing, light blue eyes as his father.
“This must have been while Dudley was working at TruFruit!” I said to Samson. “Good work, bud!”
