Novel Dreams

by Jessica Anne Renwick

  “Really? Thanks!”

  Violet’s footsteps faded away.

  Matthew rested his gaze on Anna and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. A thin layer of sawdust coated his flannel shirt and jeans. “Hey, thought I’d grab a moment to talk with you before you left today.”

  Anna adjusted her glasses, which were filled with fog from wearing her mask. It’s not fair. He still looks amazing after a morning of work, and I’m here with mask lines on my face, covered in debris, like some sort of alien disaster. “Sure. Let’s go outside. It’s disgusting in here.”

  He held the door open. “After you, fellow Page Turner.”

  Her tension eased at his teasing grin, then she stepped out of the room and tore the mask from her face. She shoved it in her sweater pocket and glanced at the open barn area, where Violet and Rodger were chatting with drinks in their hands. “Let’s go out the back.”

  He nodded and followed her through the back door and into the field behind the barn. Two horses stood beneath the bright red leaves of a nearby maple tree, gently swishing their tails with their eyes half-closed. The rain had let up, and the sky had cleared to finally reveal the sun.

  Anna’s gaze fell on the horses, and her lips curled into a smile.

  Matthew closed the door behind them, then stepped through the brown grass to stand with her. “You like horses?”

  “Yes. Well, sort of. My mom used to make my sister and I take riding lessons. My sister was a natural, but I hated it. I was always afraid I couldn’t control my horse. The only part I liked was in the winter, when the stable we rode at would have sleigh rides.”

  “Sounds magical.”

  “It was, actually. One of my favourite childhood memories.” She sighed dreamily. “That’s one thing I miss about Alberta. The snow. I’m sure they’ve had loads of it by now.”

  “That sounds cold.”

  She giggled, and he was quiet for a moment. Then he cleared his throat, giving her a sideways glance. “So, about the other night.”

  Anna pushed her hair from her forehead and tried to lay it flat, wishing they’d had this conversation earlier, before she was covered in sweat and grime. “Oh, yeah. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make things awkward.”

  “You don’t have anything to be sorry for, Anna.”

  “I don’t want it to be weird between us.”

  He scratched his chin, giving her a roguish smile that made her want to kiss him again. “Weird seems to be our thing, right from day one.”

  “You’re not wrong about that.”

  He chuckled and put his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels. “Look, I just got out of a serious relationship a few months ago. I wasn’t expecting to meet somebody new so quickly.”

  Oh, this is how it’s going to be. The old, “I’m not ready for a relationship” thing. Anna lifted her chin, avoiding his gaze. “I get it. Honestly, it was only a stupid impulse. It won’t happen again.”

  “No, that’s not—”

  “You don’t want to start anything. And that’s fine. Jace and I broke up pretty recently too. This summer. So I probably shouldn’t—”

  Matthew held up his hands. “Whoa. Hang on. That’s not what I’m getting at.”

  Anna took a breath, trying to ground herself. Despite the sun casting a golden glow over the pasture, a cold breeze swept over them and she hugged her elbows. “Sorry. Go on.”

  “I wanted to see how you’re feeling about things,” he said. “I know we got off on the wrong foot. The whole thing about I’m a big mean editor and you’re the author whose dreams I crushed. But I had a lot of fun with you on Friday. More than I’ve had with somebody in a long time.”

  Anna took in the serious look on his face. For once, his eyes weren’t crinkled with laughter. The joke she’d expected he was about to make didn’t come. She blinked. “I did too.”

  “I was thinking, maybe we should go out sometime. On a real date.”

  She tilted her head. “You mean hanging out in a bookshop arguing over what to read with the book club ladies, sitting near my ex and his girlfriend, wasn’t a real date?”

  “I guess you can call it that. But maybe the next one should be a little more conventional. Maybe something like dinner at a nice restaurant this weekend?”

  She hesitated for a moment, wondering if this was a good idea. What if things don’t work out between us? He’s Madison’s brother, he has the start of my new story in his hands. I should be spending my time writing, not running around with a guy—

  “Anna?”

  She met his gaze, and her resistance melted away. “Sure. I have Friday evening off, as usual. I don’t know the Fraser Valley that well yet, so if you have somewhere in mind, I’m in.”

  “Great, I’ll pick you up around six. There are a few places in Abbotsford we could check out—”

  The barn door scraped open behind them, and Anna turned to see Violet pop her head outside. “Hey, sorry to interrupt. But, uh, the dogs are out again.”

  “What?” Anna put a hand on her hip. “I’m sure I tied that rope around the gate post. How did they get out?”

  “I don’t know, but Uncle Rodger said to get you to round them up.” She gestured to Matthew. “And he also said to tell you that he needs help unloading the new bar from the truck.”

  Matthew gave her a wave. “I’m on it. Thanks for letting us know, Violet.” He looked at Anna. “Need help rounding up the dogs first?”

  Anna wrinkled her nose. “Nah, go help Rodger. I can handle the runaway mutts.”

  “If you’re sure—”

  “I am.” She motioned toward the door, then followed him inside with her gaze lingering on his broad shoulders.

  A real date. With Matthew. I hope this is a good idea. Her chest tingled and for once, she didn’t push that hope away.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Matthew stared at the laptop before him, shifting his seat in the hard oak chair at Marshal’s kitchen table. Anna’s manuscript filled the screen. The first line was a zinger. He was instantly hooked by the main character’s turmoil as she watched her sister teeter on the brink of death on a narrow mountain ridge, her heavy backpack and gravity threatening to win the conflict at any second.

  This is pretty good. Why wouldn’t her agent want it? A sale is a sale, even if it’s not her niche genre. He’d been looking at Anna’s chapters for almost an hour, typing notes into the margins, trying to be honest but more sensitive than he’d been with other clients before. If she made it clearer from the beginning why the main characters haven’t spoken for two years, really dig us into the first sister’s feelings, I think the hook would work.

  He’d been taught by the senior editor at Raven Stone to edit ruthlessly, that it would teach the authors work ethic and to grow a thick skin. But maybe there was a better way to do things. To critique in a constructive manner, while encouraging the author to build upon their strengths. He remembered what Brittany had said to him when she broke things off, that he could be thoughtless and inconsiderate. That she needed somebody more sensitive.

  He closed Anna’s document, a knot in his stomach. Maybe Brittany had been right. He hadn’t exactly been a doting boyfriend, often poring over manuscripts rather than going to after-work social hour with Brittany and her friends. He’d even missed her mother’s birthday dinner, which he hadn’t felt was that big of a deal at the time. But it had been to her. That’s the point.

  Still, that’s no excuse to dump me over a text message. She couldn’t even do it in person, and now she expects me to read her emails?

  He tapped his fingers on the handle of his empty coffee mug, eyeing the glass vase filled with some sort of orange flowers that sat in the centre of the table. His mouth twitched at the gesture from Sophie. Along with tea in the cupboard, a tidy pantry, and a proper mail organizer, her touch was everywhere around here. And he had to admit, he liked her effect on Marshal. Even while struggling with getting this greenhouse built, a phone call from her wo
uld always melt his scowl into a smile. It had never been like that between Matthew and Brittany.

  His mind wandered to Anna, and the way she poked fun at him at the book club meeting as if they were old friends. He’d known her for only a week, yet somehow it felt like much longer. The second he’d seen her coming out of that inn, walking toward him in the rain, a spark of attraction had lit inside him. And then, he’d gone and ruined it with his big mouth, bragging to Tad about his job. Did I have to sound like such a jerk?

  But things seemed better between them now. More than better, actually. Friday night, when Anna kissed him, that spark had flared into a flame. Something inside him had aligned, but before he could kiss her again, she’d said goodbye and was already making her way up to her apartment.

  Despite the cool demeanor he tried to maintain, he’d been beside himself all weekend while helping Marshal finish setting up the garden boxes in his greenhouse. At his parents’ weekly family dinner on Sunday evening, the thought of Anna sitting next to him at the table didn’t make him freak out, which was weird . . . and interesting. But before he invited her to a family dinner, they had to have some solo meals first—after all, all they did was share an impulsive kiss. Hardly a reason to ask her to meet his parents. Even if she did know them a bit already.

  He clicked out of his client files and opened his web browser, then typed in a search for restaurants in the area. Cedar Lake didn’t have a lot of options—Josie’s Diner, a few fast-food restaurants, the Last Call pub . . . He didn’t want to take Anna out for pub food though, and the inn was not an option. He was sure the last place she wanted to eat would be her workplace, with Sophie and Tad hovering around. No. Absolutely not.

  As he skimmed through the list of restaurants in nearby towns, an email notification popped up in the corner of his screen. He clicked over to his inbox, and there beneath the survey for the Page Turners, the name Brittany Holt glared at him in bold letters. The subject line read, One last chance.

  He frowned and scrubbed his jaw with his palm. One last chance for what? For us? No, we’re over. Isn’t she with Frank now? He couldn’t imagine what she wanted. She’d made it clear she was done, and he was grateful for it now. Whatever, may as well see what she has to say. He opened the email.

  Hey Matthew,

  I don’t know if you’ve been reading these, but I really hope this one gets through. I know this is weird, but again, I wanted to say I’m sorry with the way we left things back in Toronto. I’d been wanting to talk for a long time, and I let it go on for far too long. When I reached the end of my rope, a text was all I could do. I am sorry for that. I could have handled it better.

  Like I said in my previous emails, I’m coming to Vancouver for a business trip next week, and I was wondering if I could pop out to that little hometown of yours for lunch. Obviously, I’d like to talk and give us some closure, but I have an interesting business proposition for you too. I can email you some information if you like. The job would be in Vancouver, so not far from your family.

  Please let me know, so I can stop harassing you.

  Britt

  Matthew bit back a low growl. Britt? As if we’re buddies now? Fat chance. He reread the email with guilt pricking his skin. Maybe they did owe each other some closure. As soon as she’d broken it off, he’d blocked her number and avoided any of her typical hangouts. He’d moved to Cedar Lake without even telling her, though somebody must have. He gritted his teeth. Probably Frank.

  The new business opportunity was intriguing, however. He’d checked this morning and his profile with Editors Canada was live for potential clients to browse, and he had written a proof of a discount offer he could send to Anna to share with her author friends. While he’d gained motivation to get his freelance career rolling, a stable pay cheque was still alluring. Especially one in Vancouver, close to his parents. To Madison and Marshal.

  And Anna. His throat tightened. No, I can’t think like that. I barely know her yet. I rushed into things with Brittany, and look where that got me. I need to take things slow with her.

  He typed Brittany a curt email, asking for more information about the job, then tabbed over to his professional website. He frowned at the boring white screen with his name and credentials. No wonder I’m not getting any work. I can’t let Anna send this to potential clients. It’s horrible, as if I don’t even know how to run a computer. And the truth was, he didn’t. He had no idea to make his website look more appealing.

  The front door banged shut, and Marshal’s heavy footsteps thumped down the hallway. He entered the kitchen and flicked on the light. “A bit dark in here, isn’t it?”

  “I work better in the dark.” Matthew twisted in his chair. Dirt streaked his brother’s face, and his clothes were caked with mud. “You just get out of a mud wrestling competition?”

  “Dylan dumped a load of dirt outside the greenhouse door. He told me he knew how to run a bobcat, but I should have known better. We had to hand shovel it into the boxes.” The look he gave Matthew warned him not to ask further questions. “I’ll go strip down at the washing machine downstairs. Want to have a beer and play Fallout after I shower? I could use a few hours of shooting ghouls.”

  “You bet,” Matthew replied. “I’m almost done here.”

  Marshal peered over Matthew’s shoulder at the screen and frowned. “You know, Dylan might be able to help you with that.” Matthew wasn’t exactly sure what Madison’s boyfriend did for a living, but it was in the realm of computer sciences and information technology.

  “It’s not very good, is it?”

  “Not really,” Marshal agreed. “You should take a look at the farm’s page, Morning Harvest dot com. Dylan had a photographer come out and everything, and he even designed an online order form I can check from my phone.”

  Matthew pulled it up, and a photo of Marshal holding a basket of carrots popped up on the screen. “Well, look at you. A real Mr. McGregor. Chase any rabbits lately?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Peter Rabbit? Beatrix Potter?”

  Marshal shook his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Mom read the books to us when we were kids.”

  Marshal waved him off and walked toward the hallway, leaving a trail of dirt behind him. He paused at the entrance. “Hey, what are you doing this weekend?”

  “I’m having dinner with someone on Friday, why?”

  “Who?”

  “Does it matter?”

  Marshal raised his brows. “I guess not. Just curious.” He leaned his shoulder against the door frame. “Sophie and I are heading out for the weekend. I was wondering if you’d mind watching the place.”

  “She convinced you to go away?” Matthew feigned a shocked expression. “What can’t that woman do? Where are you going?”

  “We’re heading to a cabin in the Okanagan valley for a couple nights. She was able to call a friend who’s a chef to fill in for her.”

  “That’s great, Marsh. I never thought I’d see the day you’d step foot off this farm for more than a few hours. It’s good, you deserve the break.” Matthew stood from his chair and stretched his back. “I can take care of things here. There isn’t that much to do over the weekend, is there?”

  “Well,” Marshal scratched his ear, “there’s going to be chickens to look after.”

  “What? Like, live chickens?”

  Marshal nodded. “Sophie’s been talking about laying hens for weeks. She’d love farm-fresh eggs for the inn, and for some reason she actually likes the flappy things. They’re going to be her pet project.”

  “She doesn’t even live here.”

  Marshal shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I can scatter some chicken feed around in the mornings. Can’t be that hard. Beena and I cleaned out Grandpa’s old coop today. All the supplies were in there, and the structure is still in good shape. I bedded it down with straw from the garden, and I have some laying hens being delivered on Thursday.”

  Matt
hew bit back a laugh at the thought of Marshal looking after chickens. He’d always been afraid of birds, ever since their mom’s old pet parakeet had escaped its cage and dive bombed his head when they were kids. “Alright, I can throw some feed for them.”

  “Thanks.” Marshal straightened. “Don’t tell Sophie. It’s a surprise. I’ll show her on Sunday when we get back.”

  “My lips are sealed, Mr. Tweedy.”

  “What is with the names tonight?”

  Matthew laughed and bent over to shut down his computer. “Come on, you haven’t seen Chicken Run?”

  Marshal furrowed his brows. “Right. But for the record, Sophie’s a lot nicer than that Mrs. Tweedy. A lot better looking too.”

  “Ha!” Matthew grinned and made his way to the fridge to grab a beer. “That’s true, I’ll give you that.”

  “See you in a few minutes. Be prepared to actually protect the compound this time, okay? Instead of daydreaming about whoever you’re taking to dinner.” Marshal headed downstairs to the laundry area, and Matthew wandered to the living room.

  He’s one to talk. Matthew plopped down on the saggy green couch across from the big screen TV. He cracked his beer. It hissed, and he took a sip, enjoying the savoury taste. Flowers on the table. Going on vacations. Raising chickens. He shook his head, then caught himself thinking of Anna and his desire to spend an evening at home with her.

  Was he actually jealous of Marshal’s relationship with Sophie? His stomach knotted. It’s pretty nice, I guess. With the right woman. Was Anna the right woman for him? She was definitely a better fit than Brittany. But despite Brittany’s faults, he’d been the one to drive her away without even being aware of it. Could he trust himself to do better with Anna? To give her what she deserved?

  Ease off the gas, buddy, or you’ll ruin things before they even begin.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Anna ran the paint roller over the wood slats of the barn wall before her, covering up the faded brown with a darker streak of stain. A rock song played from the radio on the now-clean counter of the back room. The destroyed linoleum on the floor had been pulled up to reveal the concrete beneath, which Anna and Violet would paint in a few days. There was no sign or smell of pigeons or mice or debris. They had worked hard the last few days, and it was beginning to believably look like a coat room.