A Dash of Romance

by Sydney Campbell

  “Hey,” I said.

  “Hello, there,” Beth, my agent, said. “Have you arrived?”

  “I have, but I also have no battery left on my phone, so I may cut out on you. I’ll get back in touch when I’m charged.”

  “Already making excuses, are you? You need to finish this script, Elena. You know that. They start pre-production in a month. They’re already casting.”

  “I know, I know. I’m on it.”

  “I’m still not sure why you had to actually go there to write the damn thing,” Beth continued, almost to herself.

  “I told you. I haven’t been home since my mom died. This film is about family relationships. When you throw in the fact that Mason Scott’s studio, which is right here, is producing it, it just makes sense, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah, whatever.”

  The bus slowed to a halt and I stood, gathering my purse and backpack.

  “Listen, Beth, I’ve got to go. The bus just pulled in and the snow is fierce. I’ll speak to you soon.”

  “You be careful. Death will not be a valid excuse for missing this deadline.”

  I laughed as I hung up the phone and dropped it back in my purse. But when I set foot in the parking lot, I wasn’t laughing anymore. At some point between me glancing out the window and stepping off the bus, the storm had really picked up. I pulled up my hood and quickly went to retrieve my luggage before heading over to the rental car kiosk. I’d lived in these mountains until I was 18 years old. I knew them like the back of my hand.

  The “bus terminal” was really nothing more than the parking lot of the one tiny strip mall in the village. My last visit had been right after my twenty-fifth birthday, fifteen years earlier, to bury my mother. After that, I left Canada altogether, making a life in LA. There was no reason to come back. Until now.

  As I walked towards the kiosk, I noticed a couple of new storefronts and one new cafe, but the rest was like it was stuck in a time capsule. I shook my head and approached the door. It was closed. There was a sign that read, Closed due to storm. For emergencies, call 555-385-5555.

  I pulled my phone out of my purse, but the battery was dead. Shit. I looked around, but all the windows were dark, save one. I tucked my phone away, pulled my hood further up over my head, and walked towards the door. I tried it, and mercifully it was open. I walked inside and pulled off my hood, shaking the light dusting of snow from my hair. It was only then that I stopped short, taking a good look around.

  The shop was narrow and lit by a string of fairy lights on either side of the ceiling. It was more of a workshop than a store, with gorgeous wood furniture packed into the space. Dressers, coffee tables, bookshelves—all beautifully-carved wood. Works of art, really. I took my time, looking around and running the tips of my near-frozen fingers over the tabletops. There was a distinctive quality to the furniture that appealed to me. It was warm and it felt like it was almost made just for me. There wasn’t a piece in the place that I didn’t love.

  I looked towards the back of the shop but there was no one there. There was a closed door, leading either to a staircase, a back room, or a washroom for all I knew. I figured whoever owned the place would show up eventually. There was no reason they wouldn’t let me use a phone to call for a car. I walked back to the front of the shop, looking out the large picture window at the snow swirling around outside. It was getting thicker and I worried the longer I waited, the tougher the drive was going to be. It was at least another twenty-five minutes to the cottage I’d rented and it was already dark. I checked my phone for the time, momentarily forgetting the dead battery was the reason I was standing there. I figured it had to be at least 7:30 p.m.

  I gazed out the window, mesmerized by the falling snow and the sheer beauty of the mountains I couldn’t even see. I must have been lost in space because I didn’t even hear the back door open or close before I heard someone clearing their throat.

  “Can I help you? I was just about to close up,” a deep male voice asked.

  I turned around, about to ask to use the phone when my heart stopped. At least, it must have stopped. There’s no other explanation for the fact that I could no longer breathe, see straight, or even form a coherent thought. I tried to swallow but there was nothing doing. For a moment, I honestly thought I was going to pass out, because standing there, about ten feet away, was Logan Matthews, my high school boyfriend.

  Taller than I remembered, he’d filled out in the years since I’d seen him. Broad shoulders, defined muscles, and a mop of curly brown hair that fell over his face. The only man I’d ever truly loved. And I hadn’t seen him in over a decade.

  “Lainey.”

  I finally swallowed.

  “Elena.”

  He laughed, hesitantly walking closer.

  “That’s right. Elena Wise, Hollywood screenwriter.” He smiled, stopping about two feet away.

  “Logan.”

  “Lainey.”

  We stood there for an eternity, or maybe 30 seconds, just staring into each other’s eyes. Everything I’d accomplished since high school melted away and I was 18 years old again, graduating and looking forward to college and life outside of a small town. My friends were all taking off in different directions, and there was nothing keeping me there—except Logan.

  “This is all yours?” I asked, gesturing to the furniture.

  “Yeah.” He gave a soft laugh. “I guess woodworking kind of stuck.”

  I looked around in amazement.

  “I’d say so. What the hell are you still doing in this shit town?”

  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly before replying. I saw all the emotions I’d felt a moment earlier pass through his eyes.

  “Are we going to start already?”

  “Sorry,” I said, shaking my head.

  He took another step closer and reached out, letting his hand hover in the air between us.

  “Can I—” he asked.

  I nodded and before I knew it, he had me wrapped up in his arms. I stood there, just absorbing the moment, before I let my arms find their way around his familiar shape. I rested my cheek against his chest as he stroked my hair. I had come in looking to make a phone call. I was beyond confused. I pulled away and looked up at him.

  “Seriously, Logan. I can’t believe you’re still here. How are your parents?”

  “My dad passed away. My mom’s okay. Getting older. I moved her to a retirement home in the city. But what…what are you doing here?”

  He looked out the front window, confused.

  “There’s a storm, you know?” he said.

  “Thanks, Captain Obvious. I rented a cottage for a few weeks. I’m on deadline for my next project, well, fuck it, I’ve got writer’s block. The film takes place in a small mountain town, so I figured coming home might kickstart things for me.”

  I stopped talking long enough to notice he wasn’t looking at my face but at my left hand. I covered it immediately with my right and glanced at his hands, both of which were bare. I nervously twisted the band around my ring finger, the feeling so foreign to me.

  “It’s not what you think, Logan—”

  “What do I think? That you got married? I knew you’d get married, Lainey.”

  “I’m not. I’m not married. And I’m not Lainey anymore. Elena. I told you.”

  Logan shook his head.

  “Sorry. You’ll always be Lainey to me.” He studied me for a heartbeat. “What do you mean, you’re not married?”

  “I’m not. It’s an inside joke. My agent, Beth, made me wear it while I was here so I wouldn’t get hit on. She’s very focused on me finishing.”

  “Hit on? In a cabin in the mountains?”

  “She’s a city girl. She doesn’t understand cottage life. Or isolation of any sort, for that matter. Anyway, I would love to catch up, but the reason I came in was because the rental car place is closed and I need a car to get up to the cabin. Have you got a phone I can use?”

  Logan smiled his o
ld easy smile and once again time evaporated. It took all my energy to focus. After the plane trip and the bus ride and the building storm, it was all a bit much.

  “I’ll drive you,” he said. “Len’s not going to open the rental shop now. The roads are too bad. Let’s get your stuff.”

  “You sure?”

  “Positive. It’ll give us that chance to catch up.”

  I smiled and waited for him to close up. When he was done, he grabbed my bags and took me out to his truck. He loaded everything into the back and we climbed into the cab. He reached over and gave my hand a quick squeeze before starting the engine. I turned on the radio, flipping through the stations until I landed on Dobie Gray singing Drift Away. I settled back into my seat and looked out the passenger window, watching the trees go by in the dark, almost hidden behind a veil of snow.

  “Where’s the cottage?” Logan asked.

  “Just off Route 6.”

  “Bear Lake?”

  I nodded. He sighed.

  “Nice choice. Quiet.”

  “That’s the plan. I need quiet to write.”

  “Well, unfortunately, I don’t think we’re going to make it there tonight.”

  I looked over at him.

  “What do you mean?”

  “They closed that road half an hour ago. No way in or out.”

  “Shit. I’m sure we’ll manage. Can we try?”

  “You got groceries? A cord of wood? Have you even got toilet paper?”

  I stared ahead through the windshield, not bothering to answer.

  “I didn’t think so,” he said. “Listen. I’m doing some renovation work at a B&B just off the next road. They owe me a favour. I’m sure they’ll find room for you.”

  “Logan. I need to get to my cottage.”

  “Well, you’re not getting there tonight. It’s too dangerous. Too much of a risk.”

  I bit my tongue. Once again, that decade disappeared, but this time not in a good way. This was always our problem—I was ready to forge ahead, he was too scared to take risks. That was how I ended up leaving this shit hole and he ended up staying.

  But in this case, I had to admit he was right. I wasn’t equipped to ride out a mountain storm. If there was no power, I wouldn’t even have a phone, forget transportation.

  “Fine. Take me to the B&B.”

  We drove without speaking as the snow came down around us. I honestly had no idea how Logan was able to navigate. I assumed living here his entire life gave him that ability. After a few minutes, he pulled onto a small gravel road and stopped in front of a large rambling house. We got out and he grabbed my bags. Neither of us said a word as we walked up the steps and went inside.

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