Hannah's Novel Idea

by Carl Hamlin

  Finished at the furniture store, she decided to make one more stop before heading to a market to fully stock her kitchen. Back in the Cadillac, she turned on her GPS to locate an office supply store, and fortunately the town had one.

  She picked out a simple two-piece glass desk that would have to be located in a corner of the living room. Next she sat in several desk chairs and picked out one that she felt would be comfortable while sitting for a few hours at a time. She also arranged for a filing cabinet to come along with the delivery, then headed to the technology section and picked out a combination printer, copier, scanner and fax machine. She knew that she was not used to working in such a remote location, so having sufficient technology at hand would likely be advantageous. It would all look out of place inside the cottage, but for now at least, that was her home.

  A large market was just down the street from the office store, and she found herself enjoying filling her cart to the brim for the first time since she had originally moved into her apartment in Indianapolis. Even at 27, she felt a bit giddy and excited about establishing her own household once again. When she was done shopping, she could hardly have fit a pack of gum into the cart.

  Although she now had the back of the Escalade full of groceries and other household needs, and had cartons of beverages and bottled water stacked on the back seat, she still decided to once again succumb to her weakness. That was her fondness for hamburgers that came in Styrofoam containers next to cardboard sleeves full of French fries that wafted through the vehicle making her incredibly hungry during her drive back to the cottage.

  She was just leaving the parking lot of the market when her phone toned to indicate that she had received a text message. It was from the cable company, telling her that they had a cancellation, and a crew was now on hand at her cottage installing the cable line.

  She decided that she needed to head straight home to let them into the house to finish, then recalled that she did not yet have a television. Just up ahead she saw an electronics store, and to the delight of the young woman who waited on her, she made a rapid purchase of a set that she placed on her front seat.

  She arrived home just as the cable installer was tamping down the ground under which the cable line was buried. She let him inside, then allowed him to go to work with his drill and cutout saw at the corner of the house.

  When he was done 45 minutes later, she had television cable service, and a wireless router installed so that she could pick up the accompanying Internet connection anywhere inside the cabin, or even in a chair under the large maple tree in the backyard.

  She had eaten her shameful calories to the tune of the rumbling of the saw and the whirring high-pitched whine of the drill. Once he was finished, and the sawdust and plaster bits tidied up, she clicked on to the Internet while leaning back against the headboard of her bed and relaxing.

  She clicked on to her G-mail account, and had a message from her agent, telling her that a serious offer for film rights was being offered, and that more information would be forthcoming. The message made her catch her breath at the thought of how much more her bank account would suddenly grow and how just the news of movie rights would make her book sales soar even more.

  She scanned down the list past some messages from writing websites she subscribed to and saw that another message from the agent had come just a few minutes before. She opened the message and read in stunned disbelief that the film rights offer had been finalized. She was going to be able to be very generous with that college scholarship fund.

  Against her better judgment she began searching for recent references to herself. She did not know what she would do, or how she would react if there had been a continuing drumbeat about her hospitalization and now well-known sabbatical to rural Indiana. To her relief, the wave had subsided, although she chastised herself for having, in effect, looked for trouble.

  Chapter 4

  Through the evening, Hannah read several writing sites, including the blogs of several of her author friends. She had slept so well the previous night and late that very day. Still, as late evening approached, she decided to get undressed and ready for bed. She knew that as long as she was taking the Xanax, she would have some level of drowsiness when evening came.

  She also knew that the next day would be a good time for her to start working on the outline of her next book. She could not sleep late, as the furniture store and the office supply delivery truck would both be making an appearance there among their first deliveries of the day.

  She turned off the bedside lamp and closed her eyes. She felt a twinge of anxiety, concerned that she may have bought into too much peace and quiet. Over the course of time she had read on many blogs about writers who fantasized about going off to cabins in the woods, or closing themselves off in upstairs studio rooms over garages only to find that the quiet was more distracting than most of the daily irritations they had attempted to flee.

  She tried to sleep, but the events of the day kept running through her mind. She had always found that almost every dream she could remember in the morning could be traced back to actual events from the day before. She hoped that her dreams would be of things more interesting than office technology.

  She tossed and turned for a while and then thought back to her moment earlier that day alone in the cottage, bending over the back of the chair while swatting herself with a miniature breadboard. That was when her mind suddenly shifted to her brief encounter with Brandon Tangier. As her mind fought the drowsiness being prompted by the medication, the two lines of thought began to merge. Now she was imagining herself bent over the same chair, but with a small board being applied by the handsome professor.

  In her arousal, she sighed in resignation as she finally began to drift off to sleep. As she lost consciousness, she was at least aware that an indelible image have been imprinted in her psyche… and her wishes.

  She rose the next morning around 7:00 o’clock, and this time she was relieved to be able to shower with truly warm water. She may have forgotten her father’s reminder upon her departure to start the water heater, but at least he had told her that it was the one appliance that had been installed soon before her grandmother’s death and had been used very little.

  She dressed quickly and put some bread in the old toaster with the black and white braided cord that ran to an outlet on the wall that she did not totally trust. She then heated some oatmeal in a pan on the oven top. It was microwavable, but she did not have a microwave in the cottage and would likely not purchase one. Nor was she likely to buy a new refrigerator until she was certain that she would be living there long enough to justify having much of the electrical wiring replaced.

  She had just finished her breakfast and was heating up water for coffee, when the furniture truck arrived. She quickly went into the bedroom and stripped the sheets, blankets and pillows off the bed. She went to the door to greet the deliverymen, and then got out of their way as they placed the new box spring and mattress set on the antique bed.

  Just as the furniture truck pulled away, the one from the office store came down the lane and pulled up in front. She watched as two college-age men worked together to assemble the glass desk, obviously finding the task more than a bit tedious and difficult. She made herself scarce in the kitchen, leaving them to vent their frustration and use any language that struck their fancy. Once they were done, Hannah spent over an hour arranging her laptop computer on the desk and on uncrating and hooking up her new multiple use office machine. Everything seemed to be in place for her to go to work.

  She sat down in the new chair and opened the file for the outline of her next book. Her agent was one of many experts in the field of writing who had told her that if she did not do a sequel, she was tossing away several hundred thousand dollars. Now that Living With the Witches Upstairs had been sold for film rights, she was nearly guaranteed a healthy advance and a high level of sales for a follow-up story. The difference was that, this time, she was going to take her go
od old time to write, as now people were waiting on her, and she was in the driver’s seat.

  To her relief, she found the solitude to her liking. Without the sound of the traffic of a large city, the absence of wailing sirens and the sounds of door buzzers from neighboring apartments, she did not find herself losing her train of thought every twenty seconds. She did allow herself to log on to the live stream of one of her favorite New York radio stations, and that bit of background sound was welcome, while not diminishing her productivity one little bit.

  She found herself amused by the process of writing an outline for a story that was the extension of one with which she had lived for so many months. It was also made easy, knowing that she would likely never have to write another word for the rest of her life, or to work at anything else for that matter. It may have been reckless for her to give up her teaching job, but she was at heart a frugal woman, with the exception of the Cadillac. She was capable of making her current bank account last for a very long time, if not the rest of her life.

  She played with the outline until lunchtime, then strolled out to the kitchen to glance down at the greening trees along the side of the lane. There was still a pole in front of the cottage, upon which at one time had rested a bird feeder. The bird feeder was long gone, but she watched in amusement and appreciation as a bluebird landed on the tip of the poll and posed for her. It looked like any number of quaint country scenes she had seen on the walls of the homes of friends and relatives, and country themed stores. She mused that all she needed to complete the scene was a pair of kittens perched on the windowsill peering longingly at the bird.

  She watched the bird until it flew away, then stepped outside into the mild temperature and another blue sky. She began to stroll down the steppingstones that lead to the driveway and looked around and began to feel very fortunate. She closed her eyes and stretched her arms and took a deep breath. She could smell the muddy river two hundred feet behind the house, but it was not an all an unpleasant aroma. She regretted that she had never known the grandfather who had found so much pleasure sitting along the bank sinking nightcrawlers to the river bottom, waiting for the telltale tug of the large whiskered catfish he so enjoyed cutting into strips and deep-frying for friends from down the road.

  Hannah wished that she could also have spent more time with the spunky old woman who had been the last inhabitant of the place. Until the woman died, Hannah had seen her a couple of times per year, but circumstances had never resulted in her feeling close to the old woman. In her absence she now missed her very much.

  She walked back inside and decided to go ahead with lunch. Feeling more compliant to her well-being on this day, she made herself a large salad and a glass of iced tea. As she munched on her leafy meal, she thought back over the work she had done on her outline, and felt pleased with the progress she had made.

  As she took the last bite her cell phone chimed, and the screen showed a number with which she was unfamiliar. “Hello?”

  “Miss Miller… uhm… Hannah? This is Brandon Tangier.”

  Hannah felt flustered. “Oh, hello.”

  “I was wondering… uhm… I know this is short notice, but I was wondering, if you’d like to go to dinner with me this evening.”

  Hannah had to restrain from answering as if she were leaping at the invitation. “Well, that… that would be nice. Sure.”

  “I know you don’t know me at all… so how about we meet somewhere in town this evening?”

  Hannah hoped that she was concealing her emotions sufficiently. “That would be just fine. Just tell me where.”

  “How about the Continental Shelf on West Avenue? It has a lot of European food to choose from. Would 8:00 o’clock work for you?”

  Hannah cleared her throat in anxiety. “I’m looking forward to it. See you then.”

  “Thank you Hannah. See you this evening. Be sure to bring a good appetite.”

  Hannah flipped the phone shut and sat in pleased astonishment. At first her mind started to review what she had available to wear for the occasion. However, the next thought made her blush as she recalled the spanking imagery in her mind as she drifted off to sleep the night before. She tried to dismiss the scene as merely the effects of sleepiness and medication. However, she knew it was more than that. It was a wish.

  Hannah Miller had experienced much in her nearly 28 years of life. She had been a stellar student in high school, a popular girl, whose popularity was enhanced by her striking good looks. She had dated often, but was known as a goodie – goodie girl, off-limits to the randy antics preferred by many of the boys in her high school.

  Her life had been much the same during college, where she had taken her studies seriously, intent to be a top-notch schoolteacher, while dabbling with writing as a hobby. Or so she thought.

  In her first year of teaching, she had a brief and chaste relationship with a teacher from a neighboring school district. He was the first man that she was ever tempted to sleep with, but after a while, she decided that he was too self-centered, and would never have sufficient room in his life for her.

  When she was 25, she engaged in yet another dating relationship that eventually fizzled out after some time, when she decided that the only energy in the relationship was her physical attraction to him. The end of that relationship also saw her virginity intact.

  Her confusion toward men came as an unwelcome revelation to her, and was a primary catalyst in her decision to reevaluate her life and priorities and pursue what she had to finally admit: her first love was writing. Her father had always told her, “Pursue what you want like there’s no tomorrow”. This evening she was going to be with Brandon Tangier. Those words from her father echoed in her mind, and although she was certain he had other things in mind when he spoke those words to her, she could not help but wonder if they were just as applicable to what was dancing around in the back of her mind.

  Partially just to relax, Hannah took a second shower of the day. Under any circumstances, she had never been a fashion maven. Now she found herself separated from much of her wardrobe, but decided that her dark blue dress with tiny yellow sunburst dots would fit the setting and mood that she was imagining for the restaurant.

  She decided that the neckline was cut low enough to tease Brandon’s imagination, but not so revealing as to show too much of her generous chest. The hem was cut a few inches above her knees, not so short as to make her appear to be immature, but short enough to sufficiently reveal the shapely legs that had been the object of many a compliment.

  The time finally came for her to leave for the restaurant. She had already checked the location on the Internet and had her directions in hand. She had also clicked onto the restaurant website just to ensure that she would know what the established looked like, and while she was at it, she reviewed the menu.

  She felt edgy, but it was a nervousness brought about by pleasant anticipation. The 15 – minute drive seemed to take much longer than it really was. When she pulled up in the parking lot at the restaurant, she saw Brandon getting out of a small red sports car. He was dressed in khakis and a black leather jacket. Even in the dim light he looked striking to her.

  They walked toward each other to meet in the parking lot, and upon their meeting, Brandon took hold of Hannah’s hand and began to lead her to the front door. She felt that it was a sign of manners and caution that he had suggested they meet at the restaurant, rather than asking to pick her up at her home. Still, the taking of her hand was enough of a gesture to reassure her that his interest in her was indeed romantic.

  They walked into the restaurant and stood at the greeting stand. Brandon had called ahead with the reservation, and as they were escorted to a back table, many heads turned as the familiar and well known professor passed by with a stunning woman that a few recognized as author Hannah Miller.

  As they were seated, Brandon was sitting to face most of the other guests. He could not help but notice the quick glances and turned heads that were facing the
ir way from time to time. They took off their jackets and Brandon smiled at his date. “Hannah, you look lovely.”

  Hannah reached for his hand. “Thank you. And I think you’re very sweet.”

  Their server came to take drink orders right away, and considering the medication she was still taking, Hannah ordered iced tea. Brandon ordered a scotch and soda, explaining to Hannah that it was his favorite drink. They started chatting, making small talk about the college. Hannah asked him about his career at the school. Brandon asked Hannah about her mother’s education there, and how Hannah had come to choose their distance learning courses.

  Without mentioning the circumstances that had caused Hannah to make a recent course change, he asked about the home she was now living in, and of the people who used to live there. He explained that he had moved to Manton from Kentucky, and was brought there originally as a teaching assistant after just having received his Masters degree.

  They continued the light banter over their meals, each seeming to be very much at ease and comfortable with each other. Brandon found it interesting that Hannah had relinquished a very secure teaching position at a public school and taken a long step into the unknown in becoming a writer. He commented that to take such a bold initiative had to require a high level of personal courage.

  Upon hearing that comment, Hannah decided to breach the subject of her temporary collapse. However, once she brought up the subject, Brandon listened with obvious concern, but reiterated his opinion that to pursue her dreams had to require much courage and strength. He even added that he had learned a long time ago to not confuse weakness with a well-earned bout of exhaustion from working very hard for an extended period of time.