It took almost forty-five minutes, instead of thirty, to reach the Jeep. Brady was relieved when it finally came into view. Ella had offered to stop several times so he might rest, yet Brady always responded, don’t stop for me. I am okay if you are. When they finally reached the Jeep, he told himself he needed to drop the macho routine, and the next time Ella asked if he needed a rest, he would say yes.
Much of the snow along the driver’s side of the Jeep had already melted by the time they reached it, due to the angle of the car in the ditch and the direction of the morning sun. It was necessary to remove their snowshoes before clearing away enough snow to gain access to the door on the driver’s side and the rear hatch. Brady was grateful for the waterproof ski gloves, which enabled him to shovel snow without getting his hands wet.
One of the first things Ella noticed was that the door was not shut all the way. She opened it and sat down sideways on the driver’s seat while Brady stood beside the vehicle.
“The keys are in the ignition!” she told him.
The next moment, he heard her curse.
“What’s wrong?”
“The battery is dead. We won’t be driving it back, sorry.”
Brady realized he wasn’t upset over the dead battery. If the car worked, it meant they could drive back to the cabin instead of walk, which he wouldn’t mind. Yet, it also meant it would be easier for him to leave Ella’s cabin.
Ella turned around in the seat to reach the suitcase. It was open, so she re-zipped it before pulling it from the backseat and handing it to Brady. He took the piece of luggage and set it on the sled.
“There’s some boxes in the back, do you want them? I think we have room.” Ella told him. She looked around the front and back seat, and saw nothing else. He travels light, she told herself.
“Kevin thought I would need that,” Brady laughed. “It’s some beer and wine. We don’t have to take them.”
“The hell we don’t!” Ella laughed. “Are you insane, man? Who knows how long we may be stuck in the mountains! We need it for medicinal purposes, doncha know. It could save our lives!” Ella handed Brady the keys so he could open the back of the Jeep. He couldn’t help but laugh at her.
While everything fit on the sled, Brady wondered how they were going to keep it from falling off. Before he could voice his concerns, Ella was standing at his side and pulling a long rope from her parka’s pocket.
“What are you, a Girl Scout?” He watched as Ella quickly tied the items securely to the sled.
“I like to be prepared.” She didn’t ask for his help, and obviously didn’t need it.
“I guess you do. Lucky for me. Maybe I should hire you as my bodyguard instead of Kevin.”
“Ha! You couldn’t afford me!” Ella laughed. After she secured the items on the sled, she helped Brady put his snowshoes back on, before putting on hers.
Brady insisted on pulling the sled back to the cabin, telling Ella it was only fair. Since Brady seemed to have mastered the snowshoes, she didn’t argue. Together they trudged back to her cabin. Overhead, the sky darkened.
“I think it’s a good thing we did this early,” Ella noted, glancing up to the sky. She found herself breathing a little heavily, getting tired from the outing.
“I think you’re right. It looks nasty. After yesterday, I really don’t want to be stuck out in a blizzard again.”
“At least you’re dressed for the weather today. Of course, a blizzard can be deadly even if you’re dressed properly, considering how easy it is to get lost, even if you’re in your own backyard.”
“True. I’m starting to get cold. How about you?” Brady asked.
“Not only cold, I’m exhausted. For your first time on snowshoes, you did really good.”
“I guess you forgot about my initial launch?” He laughed.
“Oh, that. Not a terrific start, but it all worked out. Another photo opportunity missed. Put that baby up on Youtube, and it would go viral in a matter of minutes!”
“Listen to you! Turning into a paparazzi before my very eyes!” Brady teased.
“Nah, I would never have the heart to follow someone around day in and out and invade their privacy. I don’t understand how those people do that.”
“In the beginning, it’s flattering to be the object of the paparazzi.”
“You mean, like a sign that you’ve made it?”
As they chatted, they continued to steadily plod through the snow with Brady pulling the sled.
“Yes. In the beginning, you welcome all the publicity you can get. You look for it. I can’t speak for everyone, but for me, when paparazzi first started camping at my door, I really didn’t understand it was not a temporary situation. Maybe a part of me didn’t believe my success was going to last, so I expected the paparazzi to just get bored and move onto the next hot topic.
“One day something clicks. I realize, I’ve truly arrived. It’s all real. And you know what, those rude people flashing cameras in my face, day in and out, are not going away. That’s when it all started to change for me.”
“Change?” Ella asked.
“I guess the best way to describe it. I felt isolated.”
“You feel isolated, and your solution is to go alone to a mountain cabin, and stay for several weeks? I won’t even mention the looming blizzard part.”
“It worked. Today is the first time in years I haven’t felt isolated and alone.”
“But your plan didn’t work out. You never made it to the cabin, and you aren’t alone.”
“Exactly, Ella. Exactly.”
Ella silently considered his words. She stared ahead, and continued to walk, her snowshoes occasionally sticking to ice.
She had to admit she liked this Brady much better than the first one she met. It was almost as if there were two Brady’s. The first one was the famous, demanding and narcissistic rock star. He was the one who didn’t think twice about cutting her off at the gas pump, accusing her of stalking him, or demanding she risk her life to take him to his cabin. This second Brady was more subdued, slightly vulnerable, and she enjoyed his company. Ella knew that once he returned to his own life, any friendship that might develop would most likely be forgotten. She understood that he would never have the time to maintain a friendship with someone like her, considering his lifestyle. Plus, she had no desire to step in to his world.
They chatted for the remainder of their walk back to the cabin. Ella was so engrossed in their discussion that she never once asked Brady if he needed to stop and rest. In turn, Brady was so caught up in their conversation that the thought of stopping along the way never occurred to him, either.
It was just starting to snow when they reached Ella’s cabin. They hurried into the garage, pulling the sled behind them. Ella let Sam out to do her business, and then she and Brady shed their boots, gloves and jackets, leaving them on the garage bench to dry. Brady helped Ella pull down the garage door before going into the cabin.
Chapter Twelve
One of the first things they noticed when entering the cabin was that the heater was running. The electricity was back on. Ella went immediately to the telephone and picked up the receiver, but the landline was still out.
Instead of using the Dutch oven in the fireplace, Ella put the chili in a stainless steel pan to heat it on the stove. She asked Brady to put some more logs on the fire while she heated lunch. Although they’d eaten breakfast less than three hours before, both were hungry. Cereal and juice wasn’t enough to ward off hunger pangs until noon, not after their morning hike.
“When did you refill the log rack?” Brady asked when he pulled several sticks of firewood from the rack sitting adjacent to the fireplace. It was completely full.
“I did that when I got up this morning. I’ve a cord of wood outside, and I figured I’d better refill the rack before the snow started again.”
“You really are a Girl Scout,” he chuckled. Brady tossed the wood on the fire before looking out the window. The snow was no
w falling at an accelerated rate. White streams of snow on a grey backdrop replaced the once blue, cloud-filled morning sky.
“We made it back just in time,” Brady told her, still staring out the window with his back to Ella, who was busy in the kitchen area.
She looked up from what she was doing and gazed across the living room to the large picture window.
“Looks kind of nasty out there. Not saying it isn’t pretty, but I’m glad we’re in here and not outside.”
“Do you need me to help you with lunch?” Brady asked, turning from the window and walking to the breakfast bar.
“No, I think I have everything handled.”
“Then I’ll bring in the boxes and suitcase from the sled.”
Brady brought the boxes of beer and wine into the kitchen, setting them on the counter. Ella teased him about his expensive tastes in beverages, yet she had no clue how much the beer and wine cost. Had she known how expensive they really were, she would have been shocked.
He took the suitcase into the downstairs bedroom, and began to unpack. Anxious to get out of Kevin’s pants and shirt, and into something he felt more comfortable in, he changed his clothes before returning to the kitchen.
“For some reason, those clothes look more you,” Ella said when he walked into the room. He wore dark slacks and a black pullover sweater. “I think black is your color. Although, I’m not sure it is a color.” His slacks were more fitted, and not baggy like the borrowed pair. Ella understood why women found him so attractive. If he wasn’t a rock star, I would so be all over that, Ella told herself, only half-teasing.
After lunch, Brady offered to help her clean up, and this time she didn’t say no. He wasn’t as inept in the kitchen as she originally thought, and the two managed to efficiently move around in the small area without getting into each other’s way.
Ella made them each a cup of hot green tea, which they enjoyed by the fire, while Sam slept by their feet. The conversation began by recounting their snowshoe adventure. Brady asked if she snow skied, which led to a story about his water skiing trips before he became famous. The discussion moved to tales of travel, comparing notes on places they’d been, when Ella finally realized they’d been talking for several hours.
“I really need to get upstairs to work on my manuscript, before the power goes out again.”
“You think it will?”
“Possible. Anyway,” Ella stood up from the couch, “this was fun. But I better get to work.”
“Yeah, me too. I’m going to grab my iPad. I promise to use my earphones, so I won’t disturb you.” Brady stood up and resisted an impulse to kiss her goodbye. Watching Ella walk up the stairs, he wondered briefly if his attraction to her was in part fueled by her seemingly lack of interest in him. He imagined her rushing back downstairs into his arms, and begging him to make love to her. That would be a great way to spend the rest of the afternoon, he told himself. Letting out a sigh, he walked to the downstairs guest bedroom.
The two fell into a comfortable routine for the rest of the week. They shared their meals, each participating in the preparation and clean up. Between meals, Ella would go upstairs to write, and Brady would stay downstairs and work on his music. Outside, the snow piled higher, and there were no signs of the snowplow. The phone remained off while the electricity remained on. Each evening, they opened a new bottle of wine and lingered by the fireplace while discussing every topic imaginable.
“You can really make a living self-publishing?” Brady asked one night. The two sat on the floor, leaning against the front of the couch as they faced the fireplace. Sam’s head rested on Ella’s lap. Absently, Ella stroked the top of the dog’s head while she used her other hand to hold the long stemmed wineglass that was half filled with merlot.
“I do alright. Last year, I actually made more than one of my friends who’s a teacher. Of course, what they pay teachers, that isn’t saying much.” Ella laughed, then took another sip of wine. “Why do you sound so surprised?”
“Oh,” Brady continued to stare into the flames. “A while back I met with a publisher, who was interested in a book deal on my life. She warned me against the independent author, telling me most were hacks.”
“Sounds like someone feels threatened by self-publishing upstarts,” Ella chuckled. “Yet, not everyone who is doing this is making a living. I know of a number of Indies—some very talented, who feel lucky to sell a couple books a month.”
“What’s the secret? If you say they’re talented, why you and not them, too?”
“I was fortunate to discover a fan base, and they’ve been really supportive and continue to buy my new books. And, I keep writing. When I publish one, I move onto the next. I have no idea what would happen if I stopped writing. Would my books continue to sell? I’m not getting rich like some successful Indies. For me, it’s a decent wage, doing something I love. So I guess I’m blessed.”
“What’s the process?”
“What do you mean?”
“How does a writer decide to self-publish? I’m curious, how it all works.”
“Obviously, it begins by writing something.”
“When did you start writing?”
“Do you really want to hear all this?” Ella turned to look at Brady, wondering if he was just being polite. He didn’t appear bored; just the opposite.
“Yes, I do. I find it kind of fascinating.”
“Well, I’ve been writing stories since I was a little girl. I was a history major in college, and while I loved history, I always thought the classes were kind of boring. I had a lot of friends that couldn’t understand why I was majoring in history. It is so boring, they would say. One day I decided to write a story that wasn’t boring, yet would also teach the reader something about history. While I write fiction, I try to make the historical settings accurate.”
“Did you try the traditional publisher route before self-publishing?”
“After I finished my first book, my sister urged me to send it to a publisher. I bought a copy of Writer’s Market to figure out how to do that. I learned I needed an agent first, so I sent the manuscript to one. It was immediately rejected. I know traditionally published authors tell of submitting a manuscript to dozens of agents or publishers before getting a nibble. But for me, once was enough.”
“You didn’t like rejection?”
“It wasn’t the rejection, it was the process. I hated it. Seriously. So instead of sending it to another agent, I filed the book away, and wrote my second historical romance. And then my third.” Brady couldn’t help but laugh. The image of her writing books without looking for a publisher somehow appealed to him. She was writing for the love of writing, and he respected her for that.
“So what happened, Ella?”
“I stumbled across a blog about self-publishing. I started looking for other online articles and blogs, and eventually signed up for a free publishing account at Amazon. I decided I wanted to do it right, so I asked several of my friends to beta read for me.”
“Beta read? What’s that?”
“Oh, they read the manuscript and give me honest feedback. From there I did some re-writing, and then I hired a professional editor to edit the manuscript, and my sister, who is an artist, designed my book cover. I’m pretty computer savvy, so creating a file to upload at Amazon wasn’t too difficult. I immediately started getting my other manuscripts ready for publication, in much the same way as the first, and my sales really took off after I had five books online, which I did within six months. Of course, it helped that I had already written them.”
“That’s interesting. So you just publish eBooks at Amazon?”
“No. I also publish at other sites, like Barnes and Noble and Smashwords. My books are also available in paperback, and sold online. But I don’t sell many of those.”
“Impressive, you get to make a living doing what you love without the burden of notoriety.”
“Yeah, I suppose so. I guess it really isn’t possible to beco
me a successful musician and still maintain your privacy.”
“I suppose I could have made a decent living being a musician and still maintained my privacy, to some degree.”
“Ah, but you would not be a star.” Ella was careful to say star, and not rock star.
“No, I would not be a star. And for as much as I hate the loss of my privacy, I love what I do. I really do.” Brady realized in that moment that a few days earlier he might not have expressed that sentiment. But it was true; he loved his career.
“Have you always been into music?” Ella asked.
“My dad was a musician; I suppose it started with him.”
“What does he think of your success?”
Before answering the question, Brady wondered how much she’d read about his past, when she initially looked him up online. She obviously didn’t know his father, like his mother, was deceased.
“My father died when I was in fourth grade.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. That must have been rough. Did your mother remarry?”
“Actually, my parents were never married. Mom met my father when he was playing some local dive. They had an affair and she got pregnant. I guess you could say she was a groupie. I don’t think for a moment it was a monogamous relationship for him.”
“Was your father someone I might have heard about?”
“Considering you didn’t know who I was, no,” Brady chuckled. “But no, probably not, even if you were more attuned to the music world. According to my mother, he was very talented, but he did what many in my world do: drugs. Lots of drugs. He died of an overdose.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Brady.” Ella’s sentiments were sincere. “Was he in your life at all?”
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