by A. J. Wynter
“Is the library near here?” I asked.
“It’s just behind City Hall.” She pointed toward the door with her clippers. “It opens at ten, I think.”
“I’m Emma,” I said as I raised my hand to wave at her, not wanting to disrupt her work. “Ruth.” She set down the clippers and wiped her hands on her green apron before shaking my hand.
“Ruth, can I ask you something?” I didn’t know how to pose the question without sounding rude, but she seemed to read my mind.
“How does a flower shop survive in this town?” she laughed.
“I didn’t know how to say it without sound rude.” I realized that my shoulders had been up around my ears and I relaxed in the warm presence of this woman.
“You’re new to town?” Ruth leaned her elbow on the counter and met my eyes.
“I’m here for a few weeks. For a story.” I pulled off Chase’s gloves. “I’m a reporter,” I added quickly.
“A story,” she raised her eyebrows. “In Windswan?”
“On off-grid living.”
“Seems like an odd place for that kind of story,” she said.
“I know, but editors and their assignments,” I smiled and shrugged. I didn’t realize how farfetched this story would sound to everyone who lived here and wondered if I should come up with a better cover.
“Well, good luck with your story. And to answer your question, my husband and I moved our flower business here. It’s the only place we could find land cheap enough and with enough spring water for our greenhouses. We grow all of these flowers just outside of town.”
“All of these?” I looked around the shop. “That’s incredible.”
“Thank you,” Ruth replied. “We provide flowers to all of the fancy hotels in the city, and Chance Rapids has turned into quite the wedding destination. Those orders could keep us going alone.”
“What’s it like living here though?” I asked. Ruth and her store were a bright and colorful splatter of paint on a canvas of gray called Windswan. “I love it, but it takes a bit to get used to the isolation.” Ruth picked up her clippers and continued to talk while pulling leaves off stems. “As rough as it looks, there’s a solid community here, people look out for each other. Since the mine closed, it’s been tough for a lot of people.”
I wondered if the crew in the coffee shop were former mine employees. That could explain their working hours coffee club. “And this railway diner, it’s good?”
“Yes. And that’s a good thing, because it’s the only place in town to eat,” she laughed.
“What about coffee?” I groaned, but I regretted it as soon as I said it. What if Ruth was friends with the owner of the terrible coffee shop? I didn’t want to be the city slicker who came to town and complained about everything.
Ruth laughed. “Oh God, you didn’t drink that diesel fuel at the coffee shop, did you?”
I nodded. “I’m going to be jittering for days,” I held my trembling hand out to show her.
“Hey, Ruth,” I wasn’t sure if I’d created enough camaraderie with her, but added, “Do you know a man named Jack?”
“No.” Ruth looked at me over her glasses. “Why are you looking for this Jack?”
“It’s for the story I’m writing. I’ve heard that he’s been living off the grid for years.”
“I don’t know where to find him,” she said a little too quickly. I hadn’t asked her where to find him, only if she knew him. She obviously did.
“I think he could give some great depth to this story.”
“That’s the last thing he would want to do.”
I bit my tongue. The reporter in me wanted to call out Ruth on her contradicting statements. If she didn’t know him, how did she know he wouldn’t grant me an interview?
Ruth cleared her throat. “I mean, from what I’ve heard, he doesn’t really talk to anyone. It’s probably best to leave him alone. I’ve heard he’s a bit of an...”
“Asshole?” I interjected.
“That’s the rumor,” she replied. “It was nice to meet you, Emma.” She rolled up the bouquet of lilies in brown paper and secured it with a piece of tape, the dispenser squawking a clear end to our conversation.
“Nice to meet you too, Ruth.”
A full-body shiver ran through my body as I left the humid jungle of Ruth’s flower shop and stepped into the dampness of the Windswan Circle. My Spidey reporter senses were on high alert. Were the residents of Windswan just being protective of one of their own, or was something deeper going on?
I headed back to the truck. I figured I should have some groceries in the house if there wasn’t anywhere decent to eat in this town. As a run-off- her-feet reporter in the city, I lived off take-out, but it didn’t look like there was an abundance of noodle shops and sushi houses in town. I felt the eyes of Sam, Gary, and Ned on me as I hauled myself up into the diesel beast as gracefully as I could.
The floorboards creaked as I walked every aisle of the general store twice. It was the oddest assortment of goods I had ever seen in my life. Expensive coffee beans imported from Colombia? Check. Pickled eggs? Check. Spam? Oh, there were at least seven different varieties. I piled my basket high with crackers and cheese, local eggs and milk, and some Shreddies. There was no organic produce section, and I felt my cheeks redden as I realized that Gary must have been mocking me and I didn’t even pick up on it. As the ancient white-haired man rang up my order, I added a vacuum-sealed pack of jerky. “Is this local,” I asked.
“If Chance Rapids is local, then yes,” he smiled and started to pack my items into a paper bag. I glanced at the milk and eggs; they were both from Chance Rapids as well. I wondered how that town, less than 20 miles away, was so vibrant, compared to Windswan.
I handed the man the Titan Expense card. He looked at it, sighed and crouched down reach under the counter and returned with one of those old-fashioned manual credit card machines, the kind with the carbon paper and heavy sliding mechanism.
“Wait, I’ve got cash,” I offered and reached into my purse.
“That works a lot better around here,” he said. He looked at the card again, “Mrs. Titan.” He handed the card back to me.
“Oh, no. I’m,” I placed my hand on my chest, “I’m Emma Hunter.”
“You can be whoever you want to be Miss. Doesn’t bother me none.”
“No, I’m not...” I stopped. I balled up my fists at my side. I couldn’t believe I had been so dumb; I should’ve used my own card. Since the cat was out of the bag, I decided to be upfront. “I’m looking for someone.” The bill was thirty-four dollars and I handed him five twenties.
“Is that so?” He licked his finger and then counted the money. “Look like you overpaid.” He slid three of the twenty dollars bills back across the counter and counted out the change for my groceries. My sad attempt at bribery had failed, and I had definitely lost any shot at getting any information from this man.
“Big guy, beard. Keeps to himself.” I kept digging my grave.
“I hope you find what you’re looking for.” The man handed me my change and returned to sorting the mail behind the counter.
“Thank you,” I murmured and rushed out of the store.
Why was I so off my game? I was flashing that Titan expense card around town without giving it a second thought. If anyone knew ‘Jack’s’ real identity, they would be able to put two and two together pretty damn quickly. From now on, it was cash only.
I tossed the groceries into the back seat and headed back to my place to make something to eat. There was a hole in the pit of my stomach, and I didn’t know whether it was because it needed food, or because I had made such a rookie mistake.
WITH A BELLY FULL OF Shreddies and jerky I headed back into town on foot. I shoved my gloved hands into the pockets of my down jacket and wiggled my fingers around. I liked wearing Chase’s gloves. They were a reminder of what I was doing here, what I was looking for, and if I was being one hundred percent honest, I liked the woodsmok
e and leather smell on my hands.
Next on my list was the hardware store and the library. There had to be someone in town I could charm into giving me the dirt on Chase. I had my bets on Bob, the hardware store man. A winding side street led to the town square and as I walked by the coffee shop, which I now noticed was called Coffee Mine, the three men were still seated at the table in the window. I smiled behind the collar of my jacket and waved. The three of them waved back. I had to remind myself to take baby steps. These were small-town people, I couldn’t expect everyone to open up and welcome a stranger with open arms, could I?
The library was an old red brick building with heavy wooden doors. I stepped inside and immediately felt at home. I walked past the desk and started exploring the aisles. I had been a voracious reader, but with the increasing demands on my career lately, that hobby had fallen by the wayside. I pulled out a copy of Margaret Atwood’s latest and headed back to the desk.
I could see a white-haired woman milling around in the back and I hated to do it, but I dinged the little bell at the desk, a sting in the silence.
“Oh, hello, dear. I didn’t see you there,” she smiled. She had horn-rimmed glasses like my grandmother had worn, complete with tiny pearl strands hanging from the frame arms; her name tag read ‘Marion’.
“May I open an account?” I asked.
“Do you have a piece of identification?”
Having learned from my interaction at the general store, I was careful not to flash the Titan card when I pulled out my driver’s license. Marion picked it up and studied it, her brow furrowed.
“This says you live in the city.”
“Oh, I... don’t live here. I’m just staying here for a while.”
“I need something that says you’re a resident here.” She smiled grimly at me and I saw my evening reading plans disappearing before my eyes. She glanced back at my I.D. “Wait, are you Emma Hunter? The Emma Hunter from The Times Source?”
“I am,” I smiled at her. I got recognized every once in a while, but since readership of the paper had been on the decline, so had the fame.
“I love your column,” she gushed, handing back my license. She leaned across the counter and whispered, “Are you here on assignment?”
I leaned in a whispered, “Yes. But it’s not a secret.”
“May I be so bold as to ask what you are writing about?” Marion asked.
“Off-grid living.” I slipped my license back into my wallet and dropped it into my purse.
“Well, isn’t that something.” Marion pulled off her glasses and let them hang over the collar of her floral blouse. “Come with me.” She lifted the partition in the desk and waved me to follow her to the back of the library where she pointed to a section of books, “All of these were special ordered. Solar, wind, canning, preserving, skinning...” She dragged her fingertips lovingly across the spines of the books.
“Thank you, Marion. Do you mind if I take a look at them?” I pulled a thick book on apiculture from the shelf. “Go right ahead. That’s our newest addition,” she pointed at the book in my hand. For such a small town, Windswan had an extensive collection of books about off-grid living and homesteading.
I set my bag in one of the wooden chairs and sat down at the table. To my surprise, Marion also sat down. “Emma, I’m usually a by the book kind of gal,” she whispered, wringing her hands together, “but you’re going to need access to the collection outside of office hours. I’m going to fudge the address in the system. You wait right here and let me go get you your library card.” It was the sweetest gesture I had experienced in years. My feminine wiles hadn’t worked on the men of Windswan, but my journalistic background had won over this Windswanian.
I flipped open the book and noticed that it was published recently. As a matter of fact, all of the books looked practically brand new. When Marion returned with my contraband Windswan library card in her hand, I asked, “You said these were special ordered? They hardly look used at all.”
“That’s because only one person has read them,” she laughed, then her eyes grew wide. “You know who you should talk to?”
“The person who ordered these books?” I didn’t want to seem too eager. This woman was about to give me the biggest lead in the case so far and I wasn’t going to blow it.
“Yes. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner. He would be perfect to interview for your story. He’s been living in the middle of nowhere for years, and I’m pretty sure that he’s done everything that you see in these books.”
“That sounds like a great resource,” I prodded.
“His name is Jack Smith,” she replied, her cheeks tinting pink when she said his name.
Victory, I screamed inside. I’m usually pretty good at reading people, and if I wasn’t mistaken, I would say that this seventy-something-year-old woman had a little crush on this ‘Jack.’ “And where would I find this Jack Smith.”
Smith. How original, Mr. Titan.
“Ooh, that’s a good question. Let me go check his file.”
For a self-proclaimed rule follower, Marion was turning out to be quite a rebel. I flipped through the book while I waited for her to return. When she did, her brow was furrowed. “His address is general delivery at the general store.”
My heart sank. “Has he ever mentioned anything about his compound? Does he have friends in town?”
“No, never,” Marion replied. “And in terms of friends, I don’t know. I only ever see him here and sometimes at the general store. You might want to try asking Clyde. “Is there anyone else who might know where to find him?” I had already crossed Clyde off my list of potential sources.
“Dear, I don’t. But I’ll tell you what, the next time he comes in, I’ll give him your card.”
“Does he have a phone number? An email address?” I prodded and handed her my business card.
“Well, he comes here to use the internet and he doesn’t have a phone number listed on his file.”
This hot lead was quickly fizzling. “How often does he come in?” My mind was whirring, I might just have to perform the nerdiest stakeout ever... right here in the library.
“Oh,” Marion played with the string of her glasses. “It depends on how fast he gets through his stack of books I suppose. Sometimes once a week, but there are times when I don’t see him for months.” She smiled and her cheeks went pink again. “I shouldn’t say anything, so this is off-record, right?”
“Of course,” I nodded.
“He tried to get me to do a winter loan for a bunch of books, and although I could have, I refused. He’s so kind and polite, I would miss our visits if I didn’t see him all winter.”
I was surprised at Marion’s subterfuge, and also confused. “Did you say that he was kind and polite?” I stood up and piled a few of the homesteading books into my arms. “I mean, I would expect someone who doesn’t want to participate in society, to be rude, or at least obtuse.”
“Oh, no. Jack is neither of those things. I would call him a complete gentleman, and he’s actually pretty funny too.” She looked at me. “Emma, are you single?”
Whoa, this conversation had just gone sideways. “No,” I blurted out. I needed her to be a source, not a matchmaker.
“It’s too bad. You would like him,” she said and handed me my books.
I smiled at nodded at her while the words ‘highly unlikely’ ran through my mind.
“I’ll be sure to give him your card dear. Good luck with your story.”
“Thank you, Marion.” I walked out of the library. The snow was falling more heavily now and my hat was covered in a thick crown of white by the time I reached my house. I stepped onto the covered porch and shook the snow from my jacket and knocked off my boots on the doorjamb before stepping inside.
I texted Sadie, telling her that the service in town was terrible, and not to worry if she didn’t hear from me very often. Just as I pressed send, my cell phone rang – I didn’t recognize the number.
<
br /> “Hello,” I answered.
“Emma?” a voice whispered on the other end so lightly I could barely hear it.
“Yes...”
“It’s Marion – from the library... He’s here.”
Chapter 6– Chase
“MARION,” I SAID AS I stepped into the library. “I have a bone to pick with you.”
“Oh, dear. Is everything alright?” She folded her hands on the counter as I approached. I slid my backpack off my shoulders and set it on the counter.
“Someone else’s book found their way into my stack,” I pulled out the highlander romance and held the corner with two fingers like a dirty rag.
Marion grinned at me and took it from my hands, “It’s not going to burn you,” she laughed and turned to put it on the shelf behind her but paused and looked at me sideways. “Did you like it?” She pumped her eyebrows once.
I leaned forward on the counter. I wasn’t going to admit that I had read the damn thing, but Marion and I, we had a special bond. “Actually, I felt like the battle scenes overshadowed the relationship between the highlander and his lady.”
“Really? That’s interesting.” She patted my hand and then reached under the counter. “The apiary book you requested came in.” She scanned the thick hardback book and then slid it across the counter. “Is this everything for today?”
“I’m going to look up a few things on the internet while I’m here and I might check out a few more books.”
She set the apiary book to the side. “I’ll keep this here for you then.”
“Thank you,” I replied but as I turned to head into the computer room, Marion interrupted me. “Do you consider what you’re doing ‘living off the grid’? she used air quotes.
“Yeah, I guess so,” I replied. “Why?”
“Would you consider being interviewed for a big newspaper story?”
My first instinct was to say, “Hell no,” but this was Marion, the kindest lady in the universe. I took a deep breath, and chose my words carefully, “I think that there are people who would give a much better interview than me.”