27 Dates_The Rainy Date

by B. N. Hale

  Chapter 3

  In the days leading up to Kate’s date with Reed, she found herself anxious. As had become normal, they continued to text and talk on the phone, but for the first time she avoided interaction, claiming distractions from her first week of summer semester. The desire to confront Reed burgeoned within her, but she didn’t want to have such a conversation over the phone.

  “Or text,” Ember agreed emphatically when Kate voiced her thoughts over Saturday’s breakfast. “Breaking up over text is really stupid.”

  “She’s not breaking up,” Brittney said, and then her eyes flicked to Kate. “Are you?”

  Kate’s gut clenched. “I hope not,” she said fervently.

  “He’ll be here soon,” Brittney said. “You should get ready.”

  She sighed and went to her bedroom. Discarding several outfits, she settled on jeans and a t-shirt. Reed had informed her that going into a mine could get dirty, so she chose clothes that wouldn’t mind a stain. It was raining, so she grabbed a jacket as well.

  She went back and sat on the couch, trying not to fidget as she watched the documentary Brittney was viewing for her class. Reed arrived shortly before ten and knocked on the door, and she jumped, surprised even though it was expected.

  She stepped to the door and swung it open. Dressed in a pair of well-worn jeans and a Batman T-shirt, he also wore a jacket to ward off the rain, which sluiced into the street in quiet sheets. His hair was wet and dripped onto his jacket, which glistened with moisture.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  “Ready,” she said, casting a look at her roommates.

  “Good luck!” Ember called, and Brittney echoed the statement.

  Reed flipped an umbrella up and walked her to the car. Although it was June, the rain carried a chill that made Kate shiver. It should have been bright and shiny, but the ominous clouds made the late morning feel like nightfall.

  “Is there something I should know?” Reed asked as he held the door and umbrella for her.

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Just the way your roommates wished you luck,” he said. “Just seemed like they meant more.”

  She smiled and shook her head, but didn’t trust herself to speak. His eyes betrayed a hint of doubt, but he shut the door and made his way around the car. Water ushered him in as he closed the umbrella and stowed it behind his seat.

  “You said you’ve never been to a mine?”

  “I’ve explored caves before,” she said as they backed into the street, “but never a mine.”

  He smiled. “We’ve got about an hour and a half to get there. Then they’ll take us 600 feet down. We’ll even get to do a little mining of our own on the gold vein.”

  “Really?” she asked.

  She wondered how much gold it took to make a wedding ring. She stifled the thought and listened to him explain the mine and the activity as he left Boulder behind and pulled onto a smaller highway.

  The rain picked up as they headed west, taking Highway 119 as it wound through the mountains. Trees interspersed open fields and scattered homes, the settlements growing more distant as they worked their way toward Tungsten Mountain.

  “Have you ever been camping out here?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “Jackson and I have taken a few trips to the Greenbelt Plateau, but never this direction. You?”

  “I miss camping,” she said, watching the rain soak a field, the image reminding her of another field. “Before my dad left we would go camping at a place called Wildhorse Creek. We’d catch trout for dinner and hike up to Boulder Lake.

  “One year it rained most of the week and the tarp over the fire sagged, the water collecting into a big bubble. Bake decided to push it up and drain the water, but my dad was standing too close and it dumped all over both of them. I’ve never heard my dad swear so much, but we were all laughing.”

  “Sounds like a place worth visiting,” Reed said, meeting her gaze before returning his attention to the road.

  “I haven’t been back since my dad left,” she said. “But I’d like to.”

  “Am I hearing your next date?” he asked.

  “An overnight camping trip?” she asked. “Doesn’t that push your rules a little bit?”

  “We’ll use separate tents,” he said, nodding like it was settled.

  “Camping with my non-boyfriend in separate tents. What has my life become?”

  They shared a laugh, but Reed glanced her way again, his eyes filled with curiosity. Realizing she might have given too much of her thoughts away with the boyfriend comment, she pointed to a passing cabin.

  “Would you rather live in the city or the country?”

  “Between the two,” he said.

  “Like a suburb?”

  “Like the outskirts of a city,” he corrected. “I’d like it quiet but not have to drive an hour to get to the grocery store. You?”

  “City, I guess, but I’ve never lived in the country, so I can’t really compare.”

  “I used to live in a trailer park in the woods,” he said.

  “Really?” she swiveled to look at him.

  “No,” he said with a laugh.

  She slapped his arm in mock anger. “Liar.”

  “One summer, I did live in a cabin with my grandfather,” he said. “It wasn’t a trailer, but it wasn’t large either. I cut wood and went fishing most days, and helped him in his garden. My sister and I stayed there while my parents worked out their divorce. When we came home there were two of everything, two cars, two houses, two Thanksgivings.”

  “I hated that part,” she said. “No one needs that much turkey.”

  “Have you ever taken a boyfriend home for a holiday?” he asked.

  She threw him a sharp look, but he was focused on the road as a truck passed them, showering the car with water. The rain picked up, splattering the roof of the car, forcing them to talk loud in order to be heard. She suspected that bringing up a boyfriend was his attempt to fish about the topic, but without looking at his eyes she couldn’t be sure.

  “Jason, once,” she said. “My brothers said they liked them. Then he left and they said they hated him.”

  Reed snorted. “Sounds like a fast reversal.”

  “It was,” she said. “They liked the whole doctor aspect, but I think I told you his nickname.”

  “Nappy,” he said with a nod. “I remember. Should I worry about what they’ll call me?”

  “Oh, you already have a nickname,” she said with a sly smile. “Bake decided to call you Valentine.”

  “Because of our first date?”

  “Because you’re a romantic,” she said.

  He laughed lightly. “I suppose it could have been worse.”

  Abruptly the car shuddered and slowed, the engine beginning to labor. Reed frowned and gently tapped the gas, but nothing happened. The engine chugged like a dying animal gasping for breath, their momentum only holding as they coasted down an incline. The old Camry struggled, but the lights dimmed and they slowed when the incline leveled off. Reed’s frown turned into a scowl as he pulled onto the shoulder, where the car promptly died.

  “It’s not overheating,” he said, trying to start the car again, but the starter merely whined its futility.

  “I suppose it just got worse,” she said with a smile.

  He laughed and turned to face her. “I could pop the hood and pretend to look at the engine, but it would be about as useful as trying to push.”

  She laughed and pulled out her phone, her smile fading as she realized she had no signal. “Too far out,” she said.

  He checked his phone, and for the first time a trace of worry appeared in his voice. “Me too,” he said.

  Their eyes met and it was clear they were thinking the same thing. The car had died an hour outside of Boulder and they couldn’t call for help. They were trapped, and the storm was still mounting.

  Chapter 4

  “Is this part of the date?” she asked nervously.


  “I wish I could say it is,” he said, still trying his phone. “But sadly, it’s just my car deciding to quit on the job.”

  “At least there’s one benefit from this,” she said.

  “What’s that?”

  “I totally win this round.”

  He grunted in disagreement. “You’re going to take a win because my car broke down?”

  “Wouldn’t you?”

  “No,” he said. “Probably. Okay, I would—but you haven’t seen how I handle it yet.”

  She folded her arms and raised an eyebrow. He laughed at her silent challenge and reached for the umbrella. As he prepared to exit he popped the trunk and pointed to the rain, which came down in sheets across the road and countryside.

  “The forecast this morning said the rain would lighten up this afternoon. Unless you want to go trudging through the mud, I suggest we hunker down here and have lunch, and then find a nearby house.”

  “How romantic.”

  He grinned. “I’ll be back.”

  He opened the door and rain assaulted her. Even with the umbrella he was pummeled as he went to the trunk. A moment later he returned with his legs drenched. Shivering, he shut the door and shook his wet hair. Then he handed the old backpack to her.

  “Hungry?”

  “What’s this?” she asked.

  “It’s my emergency kit,” he said.

  “You actually have one?”

  “Last fall Shelby watched a documentary called ‘Stranded’ on the nature channel. She made Jackson and I make emergency kits. She’s going to love it when I tell her she was right.”

  “Please tell me you have something tasty.”

  He raised his hands helplessly. “I honestly don’t remember. It’s as much a surprise for me as it is for you.”

  She laughed and unzipped the bag. She began pulling everything out, surprised to find it fairly well stocked. Nuts, beef jerky, and a few cans of peaches were packed with Cup-o-Noodle, beef flavor. A few bottles of water were stacked neatly in the bottom.

  “I’ll have to thank Shelby,” she said, opening a bag of peanuts.

  He reached over and opened a smaller pocket which held a can opener, and began opening a can of peaches. “I thought she was a little paranoid, but we grabbed whatever we could find in the cupboards and loaded old backpacks. Jackson slipped a bottle of scotch into his pack when Shelby wasn’t looking.”

  “What are we supposed to do with the Cup-O-Noodle?” she asked, holding one up.

  Reed shrugged. “I didn’t really think it through.”

  “We could use the cigarette lighter to warm water,” she said. “But it won’t work in a water bottle.”

  “How about the can?” he replied, raising the opened can of peaches for emphasis. “Peaches are the first course, noodles are the second.”

  They set to work preparing a makeshift meal. Heating a can of water on a cigarette lighter proved to be a challenge, but working together they managed to heat water sufficiently to add to the noodles.

  “This is the strangest date I’ve been on,” she said, taking a bite. There was only one fork, so she then passed it to him. “But it’s delicious.”

  He slurped a noodle. “Am I gaining points for spontaneity?”

  “Yes,” she said. “But not enough to make up for the car dying.”

  He grinned and used the plastic fork to gesture to the car. “It’s got 240,000 miles on it. I’d say the car has lived a long life.”

  “So, are you going to put it out of its misery?”

  “Shh,” Reed admonished, passing the fork back to her. “I don’t want her to know I’m sending her to a farm to retire.”

  “Trading her in?”

  “I’ve saved up a few thousand,” he replied. “I want a nice, cheap, newer model.”

  She burst into a laugh. “You’re trading your car in for a newer version? Will it have a nice body?”

  “Hopefully,” he said. “But I’m more concerned about the engine. It’s what’s inside that counts.”

  “That’s what all guys say,” she lamented. “But they all want the body.”

  He smiled and shook his head. “Not all.”

  She inclined her head, conceding the point, but her thoughts shifted to Ember. Kate hadn’t talked to her about Gavin, and Ember had pretended her anger had never happened. With Ember it was impossible to know if she really was upset or if she’d let it go.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked.

  She hesitated, and then shared what had happened to Ember. When she finished his expression had darkened. She sipped her now lukewarm noodles, surprised to see anger tighten his features. She’d never seen him angry.

  “Is she okay?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure,” she said. “With Ember, most emotions turn into anger at some point. But with this? I think she’s still hurting.”

  “I hate how men think they can do that,” he said, stabbing at his food with the fork.

  “At least you’re different,” she said. “And whether you’ve intended to or not, my roommates and I now have hope that there are still decent guys out there.”

  “Too few,” he said bitterly.

  “Maybe,” she said, wondering why the story had elicited such a strong reaction. “But I hope the others can change.”

  He put his cup down and shook his head. “I have a friend doing a thesis similar to mine, except his is on male dating behavior. With apps like Tinder and websites devoted to cheating husbands, he wanted to see if there was a correlation between how men date and men that cheat.”

  “Is there?”

  “He hasn’t found one yet,” he said.

  “Is there a correlation to the good ones?” she asked. “Inquiring minds want to know.”

  “All I can say is that time tends to increase affection,” he said. “But that assumes there is already affection to enhance.”

  “How many dates does it take to fall in love?”

  “That depends on how much affection there was to start,” he said, his anger gradually fading from his voice.

  “Let’s say a lot,” she said, and then smiled. “For argument’s sake.”

  “Then not long,” he said, his lips twitching with amusement. “But that assumes there are no other factors that impact the relationship.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like an ex reappearing.”

  She held his gaze. “And what if the ex is gone? Then how many dates?”

  “For two people to fall in love?” He scrunched his face up and muttered numbers like he was solving a math problem. “One day.”

  “That’s it?” she asked. “I think your math is off.”

  “I didn’t say the first day,” Reed said. “It could be the tenth day, or a day in the second year. But all it takes is one day.”

  “So how do you know which day counts?’

  “How should I know?” he said. “My thesis doesn’t cover everything—and my premise could be entirely wrong.”

  “I hope not,” she said fervently.

  He smiled and motioned to the rain, which had diminished enough the region was not obscured. A short distance ahead a driveway led off the road, and through the trees Kate spotted a house nested in the trees at the edge of a farm.

  “Looks like the rain is letting up,” he said. “Ready to get out of here?”

  “No,” she said. “It’s cozy in here.”

  “In my broken down car?”

  “It’s comfortable,” she said, disliking the idea of walking in the rain.

  “You can stay here if you’d like,” he said. “I’ll come back once I talk to them.”

  “And if no one is home?”

  “Then I’ll go to the next house to call Jackson,” he said. “He won’t mind coming to pick us up. I hope.”

  He’d begun to gather the garbage up. She added hers, and smiled to herself as she put the single fork into the trash. She’d shared it without thinking, as if they were an old married couple and the
y shared everything.

  “I’m going with you,” she decided.

  “Are you sure?” he asked as lightning flashed nearby. “You just said it’s comfortable in the car.”

  “That’s because you’re here,” she said.

  He grinned. “Let’s find out if farmer Joe is friendly.”

  Chapter 5

  Kate stepped out of the car and ducked under the umbrella. The rain had slowed to a drizzle but the wind still carried a chill, causing her to shiver. Pressed against each other under the umbrella, they hiked to the driveway and started towards the house.

  “Just how long is the driveway?” Reed asked.

  “Too long,” she said.

  They rounded a curve and ascended to the house, which proved to be a two-story structure with a wraparound porch. A barn was visible beyond the house, as well as a pair of sheds. A battered truck sat in the driveway, rain washing at the rust.

  They walked up the path to the house, the boards of the porch creaking as they climbed the steps. Reed collapsed the umbrella while Kate knocked on the door. It didn’t take long before the inside door swung open and a tiny, white-haired woman appeared. She took one look at them freezing on the porch and ushered them inside.

  “You’ll catch your death of cold,” she scolded, and then turned toward the living room, where the sounds of a television rumbled. “HAROLD!” she shouted with surprising vigor. “Get some towels!”

  A chair creaked and a large man appeared in the hall. With more hair on his chin than his head, he looked them up and down and then turned away, rumbling a, “yes, dear,” as he walked out of view. A moment later the giant returned with two towels.

  “I’m Marge,” the woman said, “but everyone calls me Pepper.”

  “Our car broke down up the road,” Reed said, drying his hair. “We were hoping to use your phone.”

  “Of course,” she said. “Are you hungry? HAROLD! Go look at their car!”

  “Yes, dear.”

  A back door opened and shut before Reed could argue. “He doesn’t need to do anything,” he said. “My roommate will come and get us and I’ll call a mechanic.”