by ID Johnson
After a long pause, she said, “I’ll bring Gramps’s dish back when I’m done.”
“Don’t bother,” Memphis said, waving her off. “It’s disposable.”
“Oh.” She’d hoped it would give her an excuse to see him again, even if there was no point, since they’d likely never see each other again after the New Year.
“I mean, you can stop by anytime,” Memphis added, as if he realized he’d just told her not to come over. “I’m sure Gramps and the rest of the family would love to meet you.”
“Okay,” she said, managing a smile. She had no idea if that was a genuine invitation or if he was just trying to be polite.
“Well, I guess I’ll let you get back to work.” He smiled, and she felt her knees soften just a bit. She tightened her grip on the door jamb.
“Thanks again for the fish.” Olivia realized she was lingering now. She needed to back up and shut the door. She just couldn’t seem to do it.
Memphis took a step backward. “Sure thing.”
“See you… later.”
“Bye, Olivia.”
“Bye, Memphis.”
Somehow, societal expectations cut through the fixation in her brain, and she managed to step back inside the cabin and close the door. The urge to watch him walk across the yard kept her glued to the window for a few minutes, but eventually, she realized she was being ridiculous and pulled herself away. “He lives in Texas,” she reminded herself as she headed back toward the couch and her laptop. “Besides, you write romance novels—you don’t live them.” Coming to the acceptance that she wasn’t meant to fulfill the same roles as her leading ladies had been something Olivia had developed over the years. It had never really bothered her before. Now, however, as thoughts of warm brown eyes and a charismatic smile filled her mind, she started to wonder if maybe she was missing out. Was it too much to think she might also be able to find her own hero?
***
Memphis walked back to the cabin slowly, despite the chill and the grumbling in his stomach. While he had stuffed a few pieces of trout in his mouth before he took Olivia her dinner, he hadn’t eaten his fill. He didn’t want to eat any of hers, though. There was plenty back at the cabin, assuming Nash didn’t eat it all while he was gone.
He had been shocked to open the door to Olivia’s beautiful, smiling face so put together. After this morning, he’d just assumed she was a pretty girl who might look a little better when her hair was brushed and her make-up wasn’t obviously slept in. What he actually saw took his breath away. Olivia Kensington was easily the most gorgeous woman he’d ever laid eyes on.
Not that it mattered, he reminded himself as he crossed into the yard right behind the cabin. She may as well live on the other side of the moon. Even if he were to move to Alexandria to work with his dad, that would still put him at least an hour away from her, and he wasn’t sure if she’d even consider starting a relationship with someone who lived so far away. Besides, he couldn’t even imagine attempting to start a new relationship after what had happened with Ellen. He had been certain she was the one he’d spend the rest of his life with, and she’d walked away so easily. It was like the years they’d spent together didn’t even matter to her at all.
Stepping onto the porch, Memphis attempted to push thoughts of Olivia aside. Clearly, there was something there in the way she spoke to him, the way her eyes twinkled when she was amused, the way she’d taken such good care of his cut earlier that morning. But just because he was attracted to her didn’t mean that anything had to happen. He’d be leaving soon enough, and then he’d get back to his old, isolated life on the oil rigs where there was no need to worry about women, or love, or anything else.
“You get lost?” Gramps asked as Memphis entered the kitchen.
“Nah,” he chuckled. “Just got to visiting. Where are Nash and Dad?”
“In front of the television, I suppose,” Gramps replied. He was sitting at the table with a cup of coffee and the newspaper, even though Memphis had to assume it was at least a day old. “What were you visiting about?” he asked, setting the paper aside.
Shrugging, Memphis went about fixing himself a plate. There was plenty of trout left, and his grandfather had also made a vegetable dish and rice. He loaded his plate up as if he hadn’t seen food for weeks. “Nothing much,” he finally replied. He poured a glass of iced tea from the pitcher in the fridge and then headed for the table. “Just being neighborly.”
Something in Gramps’s eyes told him he didn’t quite buy the story. “Figure out anything more about the hermit woman? Like her name, maybe?”
Memphis finished chewing the over-sized bite he’d stuffed in his mouth. “Olivia,” he replied. “Don’t remember the last name, though.” Why was he constantly lying to his family?
“She still look weird and smell funny?”
He almost choked on his food. “Not as much as before.” He took a long drink of cool, refreshing sweet tea. “I guess I caught her at a bad time this morning.”
Once again, there was a knowing look in the senior’s eyes. “Well, maybe you should invite her over. I’m sure your dad and brother wouldn’t mind having a little company.”
“She was really busy working,” Memphis explained, which was true. “I told her she could stop by anytime, but I’m not sure if she will or not. Seems like she has plenty to do.”
“Oh?” Gramps asked. “And what line of work is she in that brings a young woman up to the mountains by herself over a major holiday?”
Memphis would be the first to admit it did seem strange that Olivia would come up here all alone over New Year’s, but then, when she said she was working on a book, it became a little more believable. “She’s a writer,” he explained. “I guess she’s got a deadline or something.”
“What is she writing?”
“I honestly have no idea.” He hadn’t asked. Was that because she didn’t seem to want to talk about her work or because he was just that self-absorbed?
“Does she live around here?” Gramps took a sip of his coffee and set his cup back down, his eyes still full of wonder and merriment.
“A couple of hours away,” Memphis replied, hoping the interrogation was about over. “I think she said the name of the place was Charles Town.” He emphasized the two separate words.
“That’s a really pretty little town,” Gramps nodded. “Jefferson County has a lot of historic little places like that. Not too awfully far away from here.”
“Well, it’s a long way from Texas,” Memphis muttered. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he realized Gramps would know he’d been thinking about Olivia differently than he was letting on. He glanced up at his grandfather to see if his expression had changed.
Clearly, Gramps was fighting a smile. “Not that awful far from Alexandria, though.” He seemed nonchalant, as if he were just making a geographical observation.
“They building oil rigs in the middle of Virginia now?” Memphis asked, finishing up his dinner and standing to take his plate over to the sink.
“No, but I believe there are plenty of other opportunities for talented engineers to find work,” the old man replied. “If one is so inclined to look.”
Memphis rinsed his plate and set it in the dishwasher, finished his tea and put his glass in as well. He finally turned to face his grandfather who had a slightly amused expression on his face. “Gramps, I only met her a few days ago. I hardly even know her.”
“I know,” Gramps replied, putting both hands up, as if he were feigning innocence. “I’m just saying, I know that look in your eye, Memphis. I’ve seen it before. I’ve worn it before. Don’t let a little thing like geography get in the way of what might be if you’re willing to take a risk.”
Listening to Gramps’s words of wisdom was easy, but actually taking them to heart was another thing entirely, and as much as he wanted to believe it was all as simple as his grandfather made it out to be, Memphis knew better. It wasn’t just a matter of geography, not wh
en his heart still felt constricted from what he had been through before. And he wasn’t the kind of guy to have a little fun with a girl over a holiday, never planning to call her again, either. No, if there was any chance of him having a relationship with Olivia, he’d have to be all in, and so would she. Since there was little possibility that either one of them would be willing to gamble on such a dark horse, he decided it would probably be best if he just stayed away from her for the rest of their trip.
Despite his decision, he didn’t want to be rude to his grandfather. “Thanks for the advice,” he said, managing a smile. “I think I’ll go see what Dad and Nash are up to.”
“All right, young man,” Gramps said, nodding. But his eyes said something else, and Memphis was happy to turn away from them. It was obvious Gramps thought he was walking away too easily. But if the older man had any idea what his grandson had been through recently, he’d understand that sometimes it’s better just to avoid the situation entirely when you’re certain it will end in heartbreak.
Chapter Eight
Olivia was up early, much earlier than she usually was after she’d been up most of the night before working. But she felt energized and ready to take on the world, despite having been up until past midnight going over everything she’d written since she’d arrived. She’d made some changes and done some editing. The manuscript was really starting to come together, and she felt like she knew exactly where the story was headed.
She was hoping to get at least six thousand words written that day, but she should be able to do that in a few hours if she really put her mind to it, so she decided to take a walk out in the woods. The snow had let up completely, and the sun was shining. While it was still below freezing outside, it would be nice to have a look around and let winter’s majesty inspire her from within.
Dressed in her warmest outfit, she put on her coat, boots, gloves, scarf, and a winter hat before setting out. The crisp morning air hit her lungs, and she closed her eyes to take it in, breathing deeply. Stepping off the porch, she heard the crunch of the snow beneath her feet, a thin layer of ice encapsulating melted snow from yesterday. Across the way, a thin trail of smoke rose from the chimney of Memphis’s cabin, and she assumed no one had gotten up to throw on a fresh log this morning. While it might be nice to explore the woods with the handsome cowboy, she’d accepted the fact that it would be best to give him some space. It’s not as if she could take him with her when she left.
The tree line was only about a hundred yards away, and before long, she was breathing in the fresh scent of pine and cedar. A few birds flittered about from branch to branch, and she thought she heard the chittering of a few other forest animals as she made her way beneath the bending boughs laden with snow. Everywhere she looked, a fresh blanket of undisturbed white covered the earth, and memories from her childhood flooded her mind. She’d ran through these same woods with her brother and sister when she was younger, her parents never too far behind. It seemed like ages ago, and yet it made her miss those carefree days when the world was full of possibilities.
She remembered a branch of the stream passed through here somewhere close by. She watched her footing as she entered a clearing, and once she was sure it was solid ground beneath her, she continued on her way, letting the trees envelope her again. While she assumed the stream would be flowing loud enough for her to hear it, she wasn’t sure how wide it was here. She could distinctly remember leaping across it when she was a child, despite a perfectly good bridge her father pointed out nearby. Jumping across was just part of the fun, and even though her mother warned her she’d end up in the water if she wasn’t careful, it never deterred any of the siblings from hurdling across the expanse.
The church was back this direction, too, somewhere, though she wasn’t sure exactly where. Thinking about the direction they’d headed from the other cabin, she changed her angle and headed more in what she thought was a northwest direction. Thoughts of getting lost didn’t really discourage her since she could still see the smoke rising from the chimney of her own cabin and that of the one where Memphis was staying. She had a pretty good sense of direction, partially from the time she’d spent exploring these very woods with her family when she was younger.
Eventually, she began to hear a noise off in the distance, and once she entered a clearing, she could see the stream. It was much more narrow here than it was across from the larger cabin. This was just one of the tributaries that fed into the larger creek, and today, it seemed more like a brook than a river. She still approached it with caution, and once she got right up on it, she could see that ice formed along both banks with a thin trail of moving water down the middle. It didn’t appear to be more than a foot or so wide here, and she thought she could easily hop across it. However, glancing up the way a bit, she saw the old footbridge and decided to go look it over.
Her father said it’d been there longer than the church, as far as he could tell. It was just a few old boards and a hand railing on each side, and Mr. Minter had explained to them once that the church goers would all cross the stream here, where it was safe, except those daring young men who would ride their horses right through. Back then, the stream was faster and wider, and the bridge cleared both banks by several feet now. It was rickety, but Olivia didn’t hesitate to walk over, knowing it would hold. She didn’t bother to jump up and down to test it as she had when she was a little girl, but she did stand and look down at the water for a few moments, thinking about all of the men and women who must’ve passed over here throughout the years. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, trying to imagine them dressed in their Sunday best, on the way to weekly meeting. Maybe there was a young woman hoping to see a certain young man, or a couple who would secretly meet up in the woods for a quiet moment before heading home. Olivia had a talent for finding the romance in nearly every situation, so long as it pertained to other people and never herself. With a sigh, she crossed to the other side and continued on her way, thinking she could see the outline of the church through the tree branches ahead.
The church was not as dilapidated as she remembered it, either that or she just had a new perspective having aged and worn a bit herself since she was eight or nine. The roof did have a few holes in it, and some of the siding was giving way. There was debris scattered across the front entry, and the door was standing open, which meant there was probably more inside than the ghosts of Christmases past, but she wouldn’t let the potential of a few church mice and maybe a sleeping chipmunk dissuade her, so Olivia stepped over a few fallen branches and into the sanctuary.
A few pews had fallen over through the years or were covered in various foliage, but many of them were still sitting just as they must have been whenever the last sermon was given here. Olivia quietly made her way to the front pew and sat down, remembering how her father had stood on the little dais and read from the Book of Luke. His family had joined him in prayer, and they had thanked the Lord for all the wonders He had given them, all creatures great and small, the majestic landscape around them, and each member of their family. It seemed like ages ago as she sat with her eyes closed, imagining her father’s rich tenor echoing throughout the little chapel.
How many others had preached God’s word from here? How many non-believers had come to know the Lord because of the sermons delivered from behind a pulpit long gone? How many lives had changed within these four walls? Was hope rekindled; was life revived? Olivia had no way of knowing, but she thought certainly that must have been the case. She felt as if she’d stepped back in time, and it was easy for her to imagine churchgoers, dressed in pioneer or Victorian style clothing filling the pews around her. She could only imagine the stories these walls would tell if only they could recount all that they’d borne witness to throughout the years.
Now, the church stood all alone, on a mountaintop fairly far from civilization. Technology and industry had passed this little chapel by, but the people from the past, the ones who had lived and died here, they deserved
to be remembered. As Olivia sat and looked around at the pews, the faded shadow of a cross behind the dais, indentations on the wood from where an organ or piano might have stood, she remembered her mother saying something to that extent the last time she was here. They’d been sitting on this very pew, and her mom had offhandedly made the comment that, “Everyone’s story is just as important as anyone else’s. Even the simplest life is still worth living, still worth remembering.” Olivia realized that’s when the spark had ignited within her, the day she realized not only would she be a writer, but she would tell stories about people long ago, of the days that had come and gone. Her characters might be real only in her imagination, but the lives they lived were so very similar to the ones of her ancestors.
Olivia closed her eyes and listened, waiting to see if any voices from the past might speak to her again while she was here. It had been a long, lonely road fighting through writer’s block to finally begin to piece her story together once more. Now, sitting among so many encapsulated memories, she was certain she’d be able to finish her novel, and whenever the doubt began to creep in, she’d load up her car and come back here to the place where she’d first met her muse.
Even as thoughts of her story and the faces of her characters flittered across her mind’s eye, Olivia couldn’t help but let her mind wander back to Memphis. There was just something about him that made her feel so comfortable, as if she’d known him for ages instead of just a couple of days. The impracticality of trying to start a relationship with someone who lived states away was at the forefront of her mind, but in the back of her head, that still, soft voice that whispered to her in times of doubt was saying, “Take a chance. See what unfolds. You’ve nothing to lose.”