Rowan Revived

by Colbert, Taylor Danae

  “Yes, we’re so sorry to hear that,” I say, trying to change my tone a bit. “Look, we’ve come a really long way, and my nephew was really excited to go fishing. Can we still get a room?” Jesse stands up straight, looking from me, to Millie, to Caleb. He sighs.

  “Inn’s closed, sorry,” he says, walking up the front porch and unlocking the door. The screen door slams behind him, and I feel my heart crumbling in my chest. I look at Millie, and Caleb, who’s now paying much more attention to us than he is to the dog.

  No.

  We will make this work.

  I stomp up the steps and pound on the door. But there’s no answer. I rap at it again, but nothing.

  “Hello?” I call through the screen. There’s a long pause.

  “Inn’s closed,” he calls back.

  Not today, asshole.

  I open the screen door and let myself inside.

  “Lena!” Millie calls, but I don’t look back.

  When I get inside, I forget about my mission for a second. I’m taken back by the sight of the inside of the house. While it could definitely use some TLC, it’s stunning. There’s a big staircase leading down to the foyer, and light streaming in from windows everywhere. To my left is a large sitting room, with couches and chairs enough for thirty people. To my right is another sitting room, with a piano, and bookshelves that take up the entire back wall. I walk through the foyer, and my jaw drops. At the back of the house is a massive parlor, with floor-to-ceiling windows. A row of armchairs is pointed toward them, looking out over the deep blue bay. The bay outside the huge windows looks like a painting, but it’s brought to life by the cattails blowing in the breeze on the shore, as if gesturing toward the long wooden pier to the left. It’s absolutely breathtaking, even with the “do not enter,” sign that’s blocking the dock.

  “Jesus, what are you doing in here?” I hear Jesse ask, and I jump. Ah, yes, back to the mission.

  “Look, we’ve been driving for a while. We’ve gone through a lot the last twenty-four hours, and we really just need a place to crash. My nephew has been dying to fish. Please, just let us have a room for a few nights, and I will figure out another place to go,” I plead. Ugh. I hate begging, particularly when it’s to some tall, handsomely gruff, smug ass. But I really need this room. We really need this room. Any other inn or motel just wouldn’t do. Because getting back in that car, and backtracking toward the highway could be fatal. The only way to ensure Millie wouldn’t back down was to keep moving forward.

  He gives me a look, raising one of his thick eyebrows and tilting his head slightly to the side.

  “No,” he says, moving past me and walking into the kitchen. “The inn is closed. Now if you’ll kindly—”

  “I’ll pay you double the normal room fee,” I say. This makes him stop in his tracks. He turns slowly to me. He looks me up and down, slowly, and I feel myself squirming a bit. I don’t look my best; my face is worn down from hours of driving, and sleeplessly reliving the experience of finding my bloody sister on the floor. I haven’t showered in twenty-four hours, and my dark hair is in more of a rat’s nest than a bun. But I’m not here to seduce the innkeeper. I’m here to get some damn rest.

  Then, he breaks into that half, broken smile.

  “Shit,” he says, filling up a glass with water from the big white ceramic sink. “Anyone willing to pay double to stay in this shithole is fine by me.” He nods toward the staircase. “Have at it.”

  I feel my shoulders drop involuntarily as I close my eyes for a brief moment. Finally. A freakin’ win.

  I follow him out of the kitchen, through the foyer and toward the front door. He grabs his keys off the small entryway table, and pushes the screen door open. He turns back to me, and when our eyes meet, I feel this little flip in my stomach. It’s annoying, because he’s still an ass.

  “Ah, pick any room you want. Keys are behind the front desk there,” he says, pointing to a desk at the front of the foyer. “There might be pillows up there somewhere. I don’t really know. We don’t have a chef anymore, so there won’t be dinner or breakfast, but there’s a Stop ‘n’ Shop a few miles up the road if you need something. Coby will just be running around, so don’t mind him.”

  I look out at the dog, running in circles around the property. He brings a sort of innocent, comic relief to everything, and I think I love him. Then Jesse heads out the door, hops down the steps and gets back in his stupid red truck. As he pulls away, I look to my left. Millie and Caleb are sitting on two old rocking chairs on the porch, swaying back and forth, flipping through the pages of one of Caleb’s books. Millie looks at me, fear and hope in her eyes. I smile.

  “Let’s go pick a room,” I say.

  “Yayyy!” Caleb says, hopping off of her lap and running through the front door. “Whoaaa!” I hear him call again, as he takes in his surroundings. I laugh as Millie wraps me in a tight hug.

  “I don’t know how you do this, but I’m just...I can’t even...” she says, and I hear her voice cracking. I squeeze her tight.

  “Stop, Mill. Just breathe. We’re gonna be okay,” I tell her, kissing her cheek.

  She might be three years older, but the truth is, I’ve been taking care of her for a long, long time. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  She follows Caleb inside, and as I move to follow, I turn my head and look down the long driveway, a trail of dust from his truck still settling to the ground. As much as I hate to admit it, Mr. Rowan sort of saved the day.

  3

  Jesse

  I’m flying back down the dirt road and over the bridge, the inn shrinking in my rearview mirror. I have nowhere I need to be right now, and yet, here I am, driving away. But if I stayed around the bossy brunette much longer, my head might explode.

  I had exactly two things planned for today: relax all day, work all night.

  I wasn’t expecting to turn the inn into some sort of shelter for wandering women and children. Although, I have to admit, the kid’s kind of fun. And he will keep Coby busy, which is nice. His mom seems nice enough. She’s quiet, but I can see that he’s her whole world.

  The sister, though.

  If I can’t get rid of her soon enough, she might make me lose it. I can already tell.

  She’s kind of short—her sister’s definitely got a few inches on her—but she’s tough. I can tell she’s scrappy. She’s probably used to getting whatever she wants as soon as she crosses those olive arms and sticks out that bottom lip. And here I am, just one more sucker who gave in. But she’s not staying for free. I was getting so used to talking to myself around the inn; it’s been a long time since another person—or three—have actually stayed there.

  I can’t figure this crew out. They’re definitely running from something, or someone, but it’s none of my damn business. If they’re desperate enough to pay double the nightly rate to stay in a non-operational inn, who am I to refuse their money? That would just be bad business.

  I pull into Billy’s—the only gas station in Baycrest—and hop out to fill up. I never go without at least a half a tank, but it seems like the right time to fill ‘er up. As I’m leaning against the bed of my truck while it pumps, I hear a familiar voice.

  “Mr. Rowan,” Trace Wilder says as he holds his hand out to me. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

  “Hey, Trace,” I say. “Good to see you, man. Still not used to you being back in town.” He smiles as he unlocks his truck.

  “Funny. The moment I stepped foot back in this town, I wanted to kick myself for ever leaving,” he says. “I’m telling you, man. There’s nothing like this place.”

  I smile and nod, but I’m not buying it. “Well, man, I’m glad things worked out with you and Em. We all knew you two were meant for each other. We just had to wait for you to figure it out,” I say with a smile. He laughs, but his mood changes quickly.

  “Hey, listen, man, I wanted to say I’m sorry again about your parents. I know I wasn’t here when everything happened, so I wante
d to give my condolences again. I’ve been meaning to come by the inn but I just…” his voice trails off for a minute. Then he starts again. “The whole town has been feeling their absence this past year, but I can’t imagine what it’s like for you.” I nod as I screw my gas cap back on.

  “Thanks, man. Means a lot.” I shake his hand and hop back in my truck.

  Trace is a few years older than me, but everyone from Baycrest knows everyone else. Half of the people that grew up here couldn’t wait to get out. They left for college, and never came back. The other half of us, we’re still here. Running our families’ businesses—or, in my case, running it into the ground—starting our own families, settling down just like our parents did before us.

  Trace, on the other hand, is one of the few who tried both. He went to college out in California. He graduated and got some big-time job out there, but he hated it. He hated every second. We were all shocked when he came back, but we knew exactly why he did: Emily Barnes. His high school sweetheart. She was a lifer, like me. Stayed back in Baycrest to help her mom, Edith, run the diner, and never wanted anything more. When Trace left, everyone was shocked. It took him a few years, but he got smart and came back. Of course, Emily wasn’t the type of girl to stay single for long—hell, I even made a move or two on her at the Broken Shell from time to time, but we all knew she’d never look at any of us the way she looked at Trace. It took almost no time for the two of them to mend their past, kiss, make up, and get married.

  Mom was always trying to match me up with her friends’ daughters. I had a few girlfriends in high school that turned into weekend hookups after we graduated. But none of them really stuck. Everyone in Baycrest sort of cycles through each other, until we figure out who works together, and who doesn’t.

  I’m a Baycrest lifer—or, at least, I thought I would be until my parents died. Now, I have no idea where I’m going to live out the rest of my life. I used to love the feeling this town gave me—the way I knew it all like the back of my hand. Now, it’s just a reminder that it will never be the same. There’s nothing left here for me.

  And as I pull back down the gravel driveway and see the inn, I realize I couldn’t be more right. Sometimes, I feel so shitty that I let things get this bad. I mean, things around the place were always falling apart. It was built in the 1920s. But after I lost them, I lost everything. I don’t know how to do this without them. I don’t want to. I loved this place. It was a huge part of me. But that part of me is buried right along with mom and dad.

  Now, all that’s left to do is to sell it and cut my losses. High-tail it out of Baycrest, and find somewhere to start over, doing whatever the fuck I want, without the reminder that I let them down, again.

  When I finally put the truck in park and hop out, I almost stumble and fall when I see her again. The one that talks a lot. The pushy one. Jesus, I forgot they were here for a second.

  The kid’s still running around the yard, his mom following close behind him.

  But the sister, she’s walking slowly around the house, staring up at it like it’s some sort of gigantic diamond. She’s running her fingers along the wood, trailing them around in a wispy line as she walks. The breeze rolls off the bay and through her long, coal-colored hair—no longer in a bun—and for a minute, I forget that she’s a bit of a pain in the ass. But as quickly as her eyes find me, my eyes drop to the ground.

  She looks up at me as I walk toward the barn.

  “Hey,” she says. I clear my throat, but I feel all weird. Not nervous, but kind of...I don’t know, jittery. I’m not sure why. She really is a pain. But the few times I’ve seen her crack a smile at the kid, or the dog, I just...I don’t know.

  So I don’t say anything. I just nod.

  I walk into the barn and shut the doors behind me, then scoot over to the window. She goes back to looking up at the house. She’s looking at it like it’s not falling apart at the seams. She’s looking at it the way...the way my mom used to look at it. Shit. The way I used to look at it before it started crumbling down.

  She lifts her long hair off the back of her neck, pulling it back up into a ponytail, and exposing her bare shoulders. I feel this slight twitch in other regions, and I want to kick myself.

  Get it together, Jess. She’s a paying customer, and you’re outta here as soon as you can find someone dumb enough to buy this place.

  She looks up quickly, just as a frisbee comes flying through the air, landing right at her feet. She laughs and bends over slowly, slowly, her tiny little jean shorts riding up...buzz. I jump as my phone goes off in my back pocket. I snatch it out, frustrated both at the fact that I had to stop looking, and at the fact that I wanted to look so bad.

  As soon as I see who’s calling, I wish I hadn’t even looked.

  “Yeah?” I say. She scoffs on the other end.

  “Nice. That’s the way you’re gonna answer?” she asks. I can practically hear her crossing her arms through the phone.

  “What can I do for you today?”

  “I wanted to give you a heads-up that I’m coming home,” she says. I roll my eyes and slide my hand down my face. There are a few people left in this world that give me a little bit of peace and solitude ever since my parents died.

  My sister is not usually one of them.

  “For what?” I ask.

  “Jesse, if you ever want to sell this place, you’re going to have to actually do something about it. The house is a fucking disaster. It’s never going to sell if we leave it like this,” Josie says. I roll my eyes again, but I know she’s right. There’s a lot of frustrating things about my sister, but probably the worst is that most of the time, she truly is right.

  “Great. Looking forward to it,” I say, sarcasm oozing from my voice.

  “Don’t sound so excited, you ass,” she says. “See you tomorrow.”

  4

  Lena

  I wake up when I feel a tiny foot gently kicking me in the gut. We let Caleb pick the room, and he chose one of the smaller ones because it had a view of the water. The rooms were all charming, each with an old, cherry wood four-post beds, a small bathroom, and a rocking chair in the corner. Our room also has a window seat, where I spent much of last night sitting and staring out. The moon shone so bright over the bay, I couldn’t sleep.

  I heard Jesse get back around one in the morning. Coby’s collar jingling at the front door woke me. I heard him put his keys down, go to the fridge, and crack open what I could only assume was a beer—since the only thing in the fridge when I opened it earlier in the day was a six-pack and a half-eaten sandwich that was starting to smell.

  I heard the back door open, and I climbed onto the window seat. I watched him take a swig of the beer, then chuck the can across the lawn. He walked down to the shore, his silhouette all I could make out in the moonlight. I watched as he sat down in the grass, looking out over the bay. He leaned his head back, letting the breeze blow through his hair. After a few minutes, he stood back up, turning toward the house. And that’s when he caught me, spying on him through a window in his own house. I sprung from the seat and climbed into bed. Moments later, I heard the big barn doors sliding open out front. I snuck out the into the hallway and to the big window at the end. I watched him lift the latch and disappear inside the barn. Then the doors slid—and slammed—shut.

  We found two pillows in a linen closet in the hallway last night, but no sheets or bedding. The three of us squeezed together underneath Caleb’s child-size blanket, but somehow, by morning, Caleb had both pillows and the entire blanket to himself. I was too tired to care, though. I can’t remember the last time I slept so hard.

  I slide stealthily off the bed and over to my suitcase on the ground. I find a white tank top, and pull on the same ratty jean shorts I wore yesterday. I brush my hair out and twist it into a braid. As I reach for the door, I hear him.

  “Can we go fishin’ now?” Caleb asks. I smile and put a finger to my lips, motioning to a very-much sleeping Millie. I wave him
toward me, and he springs off the bed. I help him get dressed, and we quietly sneak out of the door to let my sister catch up on the sleep she hasn’t gotten in years.

  As we make our way down the big staircase, Caleb is practically bouncing off each step.

  “I’m gonna catch a blue one, and a green one. Oh, and a shark! A big huge shark. But I’m gonna let him go free after I catch him,” he says. I smile. “Oh! I forgot my dinosaur.” He turns to run back up the steps.

  “Okay, buddy,” I say. “But keep quiet so you don’t wake your mama.” I get to the bottom of the steps, and I stop when I hear high heels clicking across the wood floors.

  “How could you let it get this bad?” I hear a woman’s voice ask. She appears in the curved doorway of the parlor, and freezes when she sees me. “Oh,” she says, startled.

  Jesse appears close behind her, looking up at me. I see a bit of surprise in his eyes, too, and I wonder if he forgot we were even here.

  “Hello,” the woman says to me. “You have...a guest?”

  Jesse doesn’t say anything—he just nods. A sly smile forms on her face, and I realize she thinks I’m here for him. Like, a lady friend. A lady friend that spent the night with him. Gross.

  The woman is tall and slim, with a cream blouse tucked into a skin-tight black pencil skirt. Her hair and makeup are impeccable, and she’s got the same striking bluish-green eyes as Jesse.

  “H-hi, I’m Lena,” I say, to her, and I catch Jesse’s eye on me. I realize this is the first time he’s actually heard my name, because he was too careless to ask for it. Suddenly, I hear the pattering of little feet flying down the stairs behind me.

  “And I’m Caleb!”

  Her eyes grow wide, and then she smiles at us.