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I toweledoff my hair and wiped the steam from the mirror. The night with Jack had been incredible. I had been in the shower for less than twenty minutes and I already had flutters of excitement to be back in his arms. I wrapped the towel around my body and peeked out the door.
“Jack?”
A mug of coffee sat steaming on the counter, but there was no sign of Jack. I tiptoed to the kitchen to take a sip of my coffee and noticed a coffee-soaked tea towel in the sink. Pulling the curtain back, I looked for any sign of Jack in the field. Figuring he went to feed the animals, I decided to slip back into bed and do some editing on my new story.
That’s when I noticed a piece of paper stuck to the back of the door with a thumbtack. I smiled and pulled the love note from the door.
Luckily I had set down my coffee, because I would have dropped it. The piece of paper wasn’t a love note at all, it was the complete opposite. The number for a local taxi company was scrawled underneath the words: You need to leave.
What the hell had happened? The paper looked like it had been angrily torn from…
My throat constricted. From a notebook. I rushed to the table and picked up my notebook, it was heavy and soggy, the pages warped and sticking together, stained with coffee.
“Oh no.” Jack must have read my story. The story that was never going to get published. “Shit.”
I re-read the story and it was bad – especially now that I had seen the other side of the town. I needed to fix this. I got dressed as quickly as I could and rushed to the main house. There was no sign of Jack, or his parents.
Just in case Jack could never forgive me, I headed to the cabin to pack my bags. I looked around the tiny cabin. So much had changed for me in the time I’d spent between these walls. Next to this river, I’d found myself. I knew that I didn’t want to write for the Platypus anymore. I knew that I wanted a man like Jack. That was a lie – I didn’t want a man like Jack, I wanted Jack.
I tossed the notebook into the trash can, then changed my mind and opened up the woodstove and tossed it in. The damp pages curled and it took some time, but eventually all the cruel things I’d written about Chance Rapids and the Rapidians disappeared.
Even with the notebook destroyed, Jack had still read the things I’d written. I couldn’t take them back. Maybe I could make it right, though. Before I left the cabin, there was something I had to do.
Opening up my laptop, I finished the new story and sent it to my editor. The fire was almost out by the time I pressed send. When the taxi arrived, the fire had been reduced to a few glowing red coals. I took one last look at the cabin, shut the door, and rushed to meet the taxi.
“Where to?” The driver asked.
I didn’t know. “Are the roads open?” I asked.
“The road east is open, but they’re still clearing the westbound route.” The driver glanced in his mirror. “I don’t travel out of town.”
The east route would take me seventeen hours in the wrong direction. “Take me to the G-Spot please.”
The driver gave me a quizzical look; obviously he wasn’t in on the colloquial name. “The General Store and Garage.” I clarified.
He nodded and was silent for the rest of the drive into town. I was grateful for the silence. I was doing my best to hold in my tears. The wreaths and red bows hanging on the lamp posts hung heavily with the fresh snowfall. The town looked even more magical than when I’d arrived.
The bell jingled as I rushed into the general store. I wanted to speak to Jack in person, and I hoped that I would find him at his parents’ shop. A shaggy haired teenager stood behind the counter. “Can I help you with something?” he asked.
“Is Jack Lumber here?” I asked.
The kid, whose nametag read Taye, shook his head. “Nah. I haven’t seen Jack today. Muriel is here though, you can ask her.”
I thanked him, but before I rushed into the diner, I had to talk to Jack. I slipped out the side door and huddled next to a trash can and an ash tray. My hands trembled as I pushed Jack’s contact. The phone rang six times, and I was getting ready to leave a message when Jack’s voice, gruff and cold, came through.
“What’s up?”
I took a deep breath.
“I can explain.”
There was a long pause.
“I don’t think that you need to explain anything. You used every single person you met here. Good people Henri. You used them for your dirty story.”
“What if I told you that story would never be published? “
His sigh came through loud and clear.
