When Autumn Ends

by Beth Rinyu

  “I do.”

  He lifted his head from the book and creased his eyebrows in confusion.

  “I would love for you to guess what it is over a cup of coffee.” I was pouring it on thick, and he seemed to be falling right into my trap.

  He ran his hand down the side of his face and broke out in a wry smile. “The hotel I’m staying at has the best coffee shop around, and I’ll just happen to be there in about an hour drinking some. Maybe if I just happen to run into you there drinking some too, we can…talk.”

  “Sounds perfect.” I turned around and looked at the line behind me, which seemed to be dwindling down before moving closer and whispering, “So, what hotel is this that has such delicious…coffee?”

  His eyes widened, and he swallowed hard. Clearly coffee was code for something else for him. Now it was me who felt as if I were walking into a trap. What the hell was I doing? I knew nothing about this man, and here I was leading him on just to try and get information from him…and information about what? What the hell did I think I was going to find out? Clearly it was Ethan who had copied from him, so it was Ethan I needed the answers from, not this pompous asshole sitting in front of me. And, at the end of the day, it really wasn’t my business at all. Ethan and I were in a relationship, but was it really my business what he did with his career?

  He scribbled an address on a piece of paper and stuck it inside the book after signing the front page. “I look forward to putting a name in there in about an hour.”

  “We’ll see!” I giggled, feeling his eyes burning into my back as I walked away.

  I killed the next hour, browsing through the artsy overpriced shops, waiting until the last possible second to head over to the hotel. My legs trembled as I walked through the parking lot, almost turning back a few times. I pulled out my phone just before entering and called Amelia, so at least someone would know my last whereabouts in case this man was a complete lunatic.

  “You’re what?” she screamed after I told her about my plan.

  “Relax, Amelia. I’m just having coffee with him. I’m not going up to his room.”

  “Well, I’m sure he thinks you are, Jenna! You can’t do this. What do you think you’re gonna gain by it anyway? The real answers lie with the man you’re sleeping with not the one you’re leading on.”

  “I don’t know. There’s just more to it. I have this weird feeling.”

  “No, Jen, the only thing you’re feeling is you don’t want to believe that Ethan would do something like this. Look, I know you care about him a lot and don’t want to believe it, but all the signs are there. Don’t take the chance of getting raped or killed because you’re trying to prove otherwise. Just get back in your car and leave.”

  “I can’t, Amelia. I came this far. I’m not turning back. I promise I’ll call you as soon as I’m safe and sound in my car again.”

  “Jenna, please don’t.”

  “It will be fine…I promise.”

  Chapter 38

  Ethan

  I PULLED INTO THE MARINA and realized how ridiculous I was being to think there was an actual coincidence between the letter and the boat I’d seen here a few months ago. I was truly grasping at straws, but at least I’d be able to see Jenna, so it wouldn’t be a total waste of a trip. I walked up and down the dock several times, only to find the boat was no longer docked there. Just as I thought, this was a total waste caused by my overactive imagination, but that still didn’t stop me from heading into the office to try and get some more information.

  “Hi, can I help you?” an overenthusiastic blonde popped up from behind her desk and greeted me.

  “Umm…yeah. I was here a few months ago, and I was talking to the owner of one of the boats that was docked here. He gave me his business card and I misplaced it, and I really need to get in touch with him. The only thing I remember was the name of his boat.”

  “Oh.” She sighed, peeking into the office next to where she was standing. She leaned over the counter and whispered, “I can’t really give out that information.”

  “Really?” I pleaded, boosting her ego a bit as I pretended to check her out, resting my eyes on her massive cleavage that was hard to avoid.

  “I would, but—” She jerked her head toward the office next to her, stopping midsentence when the older, no nonsense-looking woman walked out.

  “I’m going to grab some lunch,” the woman barked as she wrapped her scarf around her neck and gave me a curt nod. “Are you being helped, sir?”

  “I am, thanks,” I responded.

  She eyed up the blonde questioningly, no doubt assuming my visit was a social one before rolling her eyes and heading on her way.

  Once the older woman was out the door and well on her way, the girl behind the counter spoke again. “You know I could get in big trouble for giving out personal information, but seeing how I’m a sucker for a handsome face…”

  I smiled when she typed something in her computer.

  “What’s the name of the boat?” she asked.

  “Angel Eyes.”

  “Oh…” She raised an eyebrow and sighed with reluctance. “Whatever you do, please don’t tell anyone who you got this information from, or I’ll get fired.”

  “Cross my heart.”

  She typed in some more information and stared at the computer screen, writing down the information on a slip of paper. “The information I have is his old address. From what I heard, he now lives in Washington State. That’s why he doesn’t dock his boat here anymore. Not sure if he has the same number or not, but at least it’s something to go by. Just remember, you didn’t get this from me.”

  I took the slip of paper from her hand, leaned over the counter, and kissed her on the cheek.

  “You’re the best.”

  She was grinning from ear to ear, holding her hand where my lips were just seconds ago. “Well, that was a nice thank you.” She giggled.

  “See ya!” I gave her one last smile, appreciating her naivety immensely. I waited until I got into my car and unfolded the slip of paper. Marcus Withers. That would be the M in the signature line of the letter, and when I looked at his former address and saw it was just a few towns over from where I lived, my mind really started to go at warp speed.

  I wondered if once again my overactive imagination was getting the best of me. After all, this was reality, not the setting for one of my books. The easiest thing to do would be to call my brother-in-law and see what he could find out on this guy, but that would require me to explain to him why I wanted to know, and as much as I hated to admit it, this all seemed a little farfetched. I typed his name and previous address into the search engine on my phone and came up with a few results that required you to pay to supposedly get more information about him. As I scrolled down further, I found the link to an article from one of the high schools that was local to me entitled: CENTENNIAL HIGH SCHOOL’S FAVORITE ENGLISH TEACHER WILL BE MISSED AS HE BEGINS A NEW CHAPTER IN HIS LIFE.

  My hunch didn’t seem so ludicrous at all anymore. In the letter he’d written, he’d said he was grading papers, which meant he was a teacher. I scrolled through the article, stopping when I got to the picture of him and a group of teenage kids who I’d assumed were his students. I tapped on the photo and zoomed in to get a closer look at him. If I had to guess, I’d say he was around my age, dirty-blond hair, glasses. Your average-looking guy. I scrolled back to the top and began to read that article.

  Tenth grade English lit students will be missing a very important member to Centennial High family in the next month. Marcus Withers who has been an English teacher with the school for the past fifteen years…

  How the hell could he afford a boat like that on a teaching salary? As I continued reading the article, the answer to that question became clearer, and I knew this was more than just some crazy figment of my imagination. My plans to visit Jenna would have to wait. I had some research to do, and in normal circumstances this would be great material for a new book, but this was by
no means for a book—this was my sad, pathetic reality.

  Chapter 39

  Jenna

  DURING THE SHORT WALK through the hotel and to the coffee shop, I devised a story as to why I wanted to have coffee with him. I’d come across as a little too flirtatious in the book store, and there was no doubt he viewed me as an overenthusiastic fan who wanted a cheap thrill. But it got me to where I wanted to be, so I couldn’t be too hard on myself for it. I followed the signs until I reached the cozy little coffee area that felt more like I was entering a quaint little Parisian café.

  “The girl with no name.”

  I forced a faux smile when he caught my attention as he sipped on an expresso and eyed me up.

  “Hey there!” I grinned, crossing the room and taking a seat across from him at the corner table.

  The waitress hovered over me, barely giving me time to decide on what I wanted.

  “I’ll have a mocha latte, please.”

  She nodded and was on her way.

  “So, girl with no name, what’s your story?”

  “What’s my story? What, are you thinking of putting me in your next book?”

  “That depends…” He raised his cup to his mouth, his lips turning up into a perverted smile.

  I cleared my throat and trudged forward with my plan. “I write for a local paper, and my boss would love me forever if I could surprise him with a piece about you. He’s a big fan too.”

  “And, what will I get from it?”

  My heart raced, my legs trembled, and a small bead of sweat formed on my brow line. He was shifting this back into the direction he intended for it to take. “Well, umm—” I smiled up at the waitress as she placed my drink on the table, creating a much-needed diversion. “Let’s just see how good the article is and then we could discuss payment—shall we?” I raised an eyebrow.

  He nodded in agreement. “But first, I think I should at least know your name.”

  “Fair,” I agreed. “It’s Jenna.”

  “Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

  “Thanks,” I whispered, shifting in my seat. I was feeling cheaper by the minute just sitting here with him and allowing him to eye me up like a lion stalking its prey.

  “So, Mr. Hampton…”

  “Carl. Call me Carl.”

  “But I’m sure Carl isn’t your real name, is it?” I batted my eyelashes. “Don’t all authors use pen names?”

  He shrugged. “Some do. Some don’t.”

  “And you?”

  “Maybe I’ll allow you the answer to that question later.”

  Later? I was sure in his warped mind he envisioned later as me calling his name out in the throes of passion. I swallowed hard, trying to mentally put together the list of questions I had for him, as I rummaged through my purse for a pen. “I’m such a ditz. I totally wasn’t prepared for this today. Okay, I think we’re good now,” I advised once I had my pen in hand and the napkin I planned on writing on in front of me. I had to make it look believable to him.

  “I’m ready when you are.” He grinned, and I knew he wasn’t referring to the questions.

  “Okay, when did you know you wanted to become a writer?”

  He shrugged. “I guess from the time I was in middle school. I was sort of an anomaly to all my friends, who were into sports and just starting to get into girls. I was more into poetry and actually paid attention in English class. I’d read the books for our assigned reading instead of skimming through them at the last minute to try and come up with a sensible report about it.”

  “So, what made you decide to take the chance and put it all on the line. I mean, putting your book out there is like baring you soul in a way, is it not?”

  “It is.” He nodded and sighed heavily. “I had this idea in my head and put it into words. Then I was lucky enough to catch the eye of an incredible agent who saw something in my work and shopped it around, and…voilà!”

  “So, writing the book is only half the battle?”

  “Oh, absolutely. You could write the most fantastic story that without a doubt could be a bestseller, but without the right backing, it’s nothing. You need a strong agent and even stronger publicist because in the end it all comes down to marketing.”

  I tried to steady my shaking hand and was hoping it wasn’t apparent to him as I scribbled down the answers on the napkin. “Do you have any advice for writers who are just starting out?”

  “Just to keep going. It’s a lot of rejection in this business. Believe me, I had my fair share of it, but all it takes is for the right person to come into your life, and things could change in an instant.”

  “Is there anyone you’d like to give a shout-out to, who may have helped you along the way? You know like maybe a successful author you may have looked up to or a family member who kept you going?”

  He dropped his head for a moment, appearing to be deep in thought.

  “Probably my agent and my public relations person. They’ve been—”

  “Marcus?”

  We both raised our heads to the female voice in the distance. My eyes widened as I focused in on the woman and the little boy standing beside her. She glared at me and I was unable to look away. Something about her was so familiar when it occurred to me just how much we resembled one another. My gaze dropped to the little boy holding her hand, clutching to a teddy bear—the same teddy bear Ethan had. His cleft chin and familiar blue eyes sent chills through my spine. I tried desperately to remain composed. This woman and this little boy couldn’t be who I thought they were.

  “Caroline, what are you doing here?”

  “I-I thought we’d surprise you, and then head up to Boston with you tomorrow.”

  He stood up and walked over to her, placing a kiss on her cheek while my eyes remained locked on the little boy, and my heart immediately began to ache for Ethan. I’d come here thinking Ethan had stolen this man’s story, only to find out this man was the one who’d stolen everything from Ethan. How could I have doubted him?

  “Jenna, this is my wife, Caroline, and my son, Landon. Jenna and I were just wrapping up an interview she’s doing for an article about me.”

  “Oh.” She raised an eyebrow, seeming threatened by my presence. Little did she know, I posed a much bigger threat to her than this man cheating on her.

  I stood up and shook her hand, my legs trembling the entire time. “It’s so nice to meet you. You must be so proud of your husband. You have a really beautiful family.”

  “Thank you. I am,” she whispered.

  I bent down to get a closer look at the little boy to ensure my suspicions were correct. “And you are a little cutie.” Tears pooled in my eyes. The resemblance to Ethan was undeniable. For the past year, he’d been in a living hell and here, this woman was off living her life with another man and Ethan’s son, like she didn’t have a care in the world. “I love your teddy bear. He’s really cute.”

  He smiled, revealing the same exact dimple I’d seen on his father’s face so many times. I stood back up and pulled it together.

  “He looks a lot like you.” I played it up to Carl or Marcus as his wife referred to him.

  His face reddened and he nodded while she dropped her gaze to the floor and cleared her throat.

  You look away, you bitch. You know this child is not this man’s. “Well, it was really nice meeting you, and thank you for taking the time to allow me to interview you. As I said before, my boss will be very happy. Just one more question…” My voice cracked.

  “Sure,” he responded.

  “I was asking you about who you wanted to give a shout-out to. I’d really like to include the people who helped make this book a success in my article.”

  “Oh…um, yes, of course. My publicist, Tina Warren, and my agent, Edward Bailey.”

  I forced a smile while trying to pick my jaw up from the floor. “Thank you so much for your time, and it was very nice to meet your family.”

  “You’re most welcome.” His amorous behavior fro
m just a little while ago was now all business.

  I gave them both a quick nod, casting one last gaze on the little boy who I was certain was Nolan then nearly sprinted out the door. All the emotions I was trying to disguise just moments ago now came to surface.

  I got into my car and took a few deep breaths. I needed to get in touch with Ethan but wasn’t sure if I should just yet. Rightfully so, he’d be overcome with emotion and want to see his son right away, and in the same token I was sure his anger would be at an all-time high with his wife. His wife. Ethan was still married. My stomach churned with that thought. I couldn’t take the chance of him flying off the handle and doing something rash that would take him away from his son again.

  Think, Jenna. Think.

  If I went to the police with this, they’d think I was crazy. Ethan’s brother-in-law, Tom. He was a cop. He knew the whole situation. I’d get in touch with him. But how? I didn’t have his number. I didn’t have his sister’s number. I didn’t even know their last name.

  “Shit!” I threw my head back on the seat, a million thoughts racing through my mind. I pulled my phone from my purse and opened up the Facebook app, my hands trembling as I punched in Helene Banks, praying she had an account and that she used her maiden name. Relief washed over me when the photo of the first person to pop up matched Ethan’s sister. Helene Banks-Redding. I sent her a friend request and immediately private messaged her, leaving her my number and asking her to call me ASAP.

  “Please check your messages. Please check your messages,” I begged. It was only a matter of minutes before a New York number flashed across the screen of my phone. “Helene,” I answered, certain it was her.

  “Hey, Jenna. Is everything okay?” Her voice was laced with apprehension.

  “Umm…yeah. I mean…no.”

  “What is it, honey? Is Ethan okay?”

  “Yeah, Ethan is fine. Helene, is Tom with you?”

  “Yes, he’s sitting right here.”

  “Can you put the phone on speaker, so you can both hear this, and please make sure you’re both sitting down?”