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“Not sure. Got a weird feeling.”
We both sit there for a minute more, watching and waiting. Nothing happens.
“Must just be the weather, messing with me.” Connor only hums, still watching. “Let’s get this over with. I don’t want to be down here when the rain starts and get stuck.”
I unclip my seat belt, open the door and gather all my reusable bags and the bins I brought. With a nod, Connor heads in the direction of the mechanics shop across the street and I head into the store.
Thirty minutes later I’m pushing my filled cart across the parking lot and grumbling to myself. Taking a deep inhale of the fresh air, I’m thankful that’s over. I’m used to the people of this town staring at me when I do show my face—I’m a big guy, hard to miss—but I hate their need to make small talk with me. It’s a torture that I seem to have to endure every time I come off the mountain.
That strange feeling pricks at the back of my neck again as I begin placing my grocery bins and bags in the bed of the truck. My movements are easy and practiced as I continue to unload the cart but I’m vigilant. Trying to determine if my mind is playing tricks on me or if someone really is watching me.
“Mr. McGowan! Mr. McGowan! Hey, hi, hello.” I turn, feet braced apart, ready for anything. An older gentleman, maybe in his early seventies, is hobbling toward me, an envelope raised in his hand.
I don’t greet him as he approaches, a wary look on his face.
“Sorry to bother you,” he begins, running his free hand down his wet jacket. “But this was left at the diner. Has your name on it though the address is a little wet.” He extends his hand, and I eye the envelope, inspecting it before taking it from him.
The address label is soaked. The ink blurred and runny. My name, spelt incorrectly, and the town’s name are the only decipherable words.
With a nod, I thank him, my voice gruff from disuse over the last hour.
“Oh, no problem. You should come by the diner sometime. My daughter cooks up a great fried chicken sandwich.”
I’m not sure if the man is genuinely inviting me to the diner or if he’s trying to set me up, but either way I give him a tight grin of thanks and turn back to my truck bed.
The rain starts in earnest then. Making everyone who is idling about in the parking lot begin to scurry to their cars or into the store. I no longer feel like I’m being watched—it must have been the old man waiting for a glimpse of me.
It concerned me for all of a moment that the townspeople could anticipate my comings and goings. I needed to get better at not being suspicious of everyone. I was no longer a covert operative, having to watch my back at every turn.
I was just a man now. A mountain man.
I reach for the tarp I keep folded and clipped in the back, unfold the noisy material and spread it over my groceries, anchoring it down.
Just one more stop to get Connor and then I’ll be back home.
A flash of color grabs my attention as I settle in behind the wheel. My eyes dart to the rearview mirror. I only catch the edge of a light purple rain jacket before it vanishes behind a parked truck.
Something about the color stirs an unwanted memory. My heart rate increases and my body has gone tight. I don’t like this. My gut is telling me something is wrong.
Maybe it wasn’t just the old man looking out for me.
Turning out of the parking lot, I scan the area one more time. Lightning flashes across the sky. My jaw clenches as I make my way away from the store and to the mechanic’s.
“Got everything you need?” Connor asks, shaking his head like a wet dog to get rid of the rain. Jumping into the passenger seat with too much energy, he sends a goofy smile my way, knowing exactly what he’s done.
“Oy! What are you, a dog?” He laughs, delighting in my grumpiness it seems. A low noise sounds through the truck. Connor pulls out his phone and his smile falls. Instead he glares at something on the screen. His mood instantly changes. “Yeah, I got what I needed. You need anything before we head back up?”
“Nah, I’m good.”
He didn’t look good, annoyance blanketing his features. I didn’t pry. Wasn’t my place.
We headed back up the mountain in silence. Visibility grew worse as we ascended but I knew these roads like the back of my hand. I dropped Connor off, and we exchanged quick goodbyes as he dashed for his house.
I drove the rest of the way back to my cabin at a slower pace, my eyes taking note of the muddy terrain and streams of water running over the road. By the time I pulled into the dirt trail I called a driveway, the rain was pouring down. I could see only a foot in front of me as I dashed back and forth with all my groceries.
The air was cold enough for me to see my breath as I huffed through the chore. It may be spring, but that didn’t mean much in the mountains. The weather could change at the drop of a hat up here.
Everything unloaded, I stomped my way inside, dragging all the bags I could with me. Water dripped off me, pooling at my feet as I stood in the main hallway of my cabin. I was soaked to the bone.
