“This will do,” she said. Molly closed her eyes, listening to the sound of the creek and the breeze blowing the leaves on the trees. There were no sounds of construction or honking cars. No ringing phones at her work. Nothing but the sounds of nature to amuse her ears.
A drop of water hit her cheek. Molly opened her eyes and looked at dark gray clouds, which had covered over the once blue sky. She groaned. Of course a storm would hit on the first day of her vacation. Carla said she would have a good time, but like the meteorologists who gave the weather report, Carla could be wrong.
Chapter Two
Assembly of the tent might have only taken minutes with two people to do the work. The reviews on the online store stated building it was a simple task and claimed the user only needed to slide the tent poles into the slots, and the tent would pop into place. Molly laid the gray fabric over the gravel pad and oriented the door toward the picnic table for privacy, which also angled a side window toward the creek. Next, she snapped the poles together and slid them into the slots.
Raising the tent from the ground proved not as simple. Once one side lifted from the ground, the other fell, collapsing any progress she made. The raindrops increased in number, but they did not deter Molly. She glanced at the sky as darker clouds approached. The storm hadn’t yet gathered momentum, giving her the time she needed to prepare her camp, or at least the basics.
Grabbing large stones from around the site, she raised a pole once again, lifting the tent roof from the ground. She stacked stones against the pole to prevent it from falling over or slipping out of its anchor. Molly knew the rocks wouldn’t be enough to support the poles long-term, but it was enough to prevent the tent from collapsing before she rushed to the other side to secure the opposite end. With one pole end in place, she circled around the tent and secured the remaining poles. Minutes later, the tent was in place and upright. For the finishing touches, she slipped the fly covering in place and tied the remaining ropes to the pegs she hammered into the ground.
Taking a step back, Molly dusted pine needles from her hands and admired her work. She had erected the tent just in time as the rain and wind picked up speed. Molly ran to her car to grab her camping mat, sleeping bag, pillow and backpack full of clothes. She tossed the items onto the floor and climbed inside the tent, zipping up the flap to prevent the water from getting in.
Molly was pleased to have ordered the two-person tent instead of the single, as the interior offered more space than the single occupancy tent would provide. She wouldn’t need a single tent forever, once she was no longer a single woman. Brad would one day see his error and come crawling back on his knees to apologize. Molly sighed. She had done it again. These thoughts were the reason Carla insisted Molly get away by herself. She needed time away to close that chapter in her life. Brad wasn’t coming back, even if she wanted him to. Or did she?
“Two years wasted,” she mumbled. She gritted her teeth as she spread out her mat and pounded a curled corner with her fist. Brad swept her off her feet the day he walked into the coffee shop. One of their first regular customers, he often sat in the shop for hours on his laptop and stealing frequent glances at Molly as she worked behind the counter. After a few months, he asked her out. She found herself unable to refuse the handsome guy with the charismatic smile and great sense of humor. He also left generous tips, which was a bonus. But later, his trips to the shop were less frequent, but Molly had attributed it to his busy schedule. She would not become one of those clingy girlfriends who demanded to be in contact with her boyfriend every minute of the day. Instead, she trusted him.
Molly groaned. “You’re thinking about him again.” She needed to chastise herself since Carla wasn’t there to do it. This trip was an opportunity to get away from her previous life with Brad, but she still brought him along in her mind.
She laid her sleeping bag over the mat. Already, Molly noticed the lack of insulation and padding. Luckily, she bought that wool blanket from the online store, which she packed in the trunk of her car. She would need to get it before nightfall to stay warm. Her pillow at the head of the sleeping bag completed the space. It wasn’t perfect like the images she saw online, but it would do.
Molly’s stomach rumbled, alerting her to the time. Dinner was approaching, and it was several hours since she ate lunch. If she felt foolish enough to cook in the rain, she could unpack the camping stove from the car. From the sound of the storm outside, the rain would drench her if she attempted to raise the tarp she packed to hang over the cooking area and keep the rain off her tent.
She stuck her head outside the door and checked the clouds. The storm drifted by with no visible break in the clouds. Her stomach protested, but food would have to wait. Molly only brought a week’s worth of clothing, and she wasn’t about to soak her clothes on the first day. She planned a visit to the laundromat on the weekend, and getting wet or covered in mud would throw off her schedule.
Instead of catering to her stomach’s demands, Molly pulled a book from her backpack and settled on her sleeping bag. This would be a quiet vacation in nature, away from people. With no obligations other than to read a book and listen to the rain, she got her wish, except her wish never included a rock pushing against her sleeping mat and into her back. Molly shuffled her bed to the side, away from the offending stone, and once again made herself comfortable on her sleeping bag. Before she even read a single word on the page, the tension in her back from the drive released. Just getting away from the city and her responsibilities was enough.
She sighed as she read the first line, once… twice… three times. Her mind wandered to her job and Carla dealing with an endless line of customers. Would it really be that difficult to relax and forget about her job? Molly brought the book to be a time waster and help her de-stress from the day-to-day when she couldn’t be outside, but it wasn’t distracting her from home. She wiggled against her sleeping bag and stretched out her arms. She even held her book above her head. Holding it in the air didn’t help her focus on the words and only tired her arms, so she rolled onto her side where she found similar results.
Molly closed the book and tossed it to the side. She thought of what other activities she had brought with her to pass the time. There was her camera, but what memories would she capture inside her tent? She rolled up the window covering and looked through the screen that formed the window. Rain splashed against the netting, spraying her nose. If the weather cleared, she would walk beside the creek and explore the campground. The campground map highlighted more to see than the trees around the gravel pad, which Molly felt restricted to during the poor weather.
But wasn't rain part of camping? A little rain shouldn’t frighten her into her tent. So what if she had to visit the laundromat? She should forget about schedules. There weren’t any when she was a tourist in Lemon Grove.
Molly slipped on her shoes and pulled the hood of her coat over her head as she stepped outside into the rain. Rain had soaked the campsite and small puddles had formed between the gravel, while a stream of water poured over the edge of the picnic table. The sight made her happy.
Had Molly been camping with her parents, they would have ushered her inside, concerned about inconvenient trips to the laundromat or having rope strung across the site to form a clothesline. But her parents weren't here. If she wanted to be out in the rain on her camping trip and risk getting wet, it was her choice. She only needed to be mindful of how many sets of dry clothes remained in her bag, and an unsightly clothesline would fix that. Tomorrow, she would tie a rope to the trees and hang any damp clothes on the line to dry.
Molly walked over to her car and popped open the trunk. It was time to be a rebel, and rebels hung tarps in the rain. She unfolded the plastic and draped it over her tent. Tying the rope at each end, she hoisted the tarp into the trees, lifting it above her campsite, just over her head. She was thankful she didn't need to get it much higher. After standing on her toes, her arms reached around the tree as she fought agai
nst the thick, damp underbrush.
With the tarp in place, she removed her hood and ran her hand over her wet hair. The dampness always brought out her hair’s natural waves, which she had worked to straighten before she left the city. On this trip, she would either need to embrace her waves or hide them under a baseball cap, which seemed to be every woman’s go to when trying to hide a bad hair day on a camping trip.
Molly laughed to herself. How had she become so vain? She never used to care about her looks, but had become so as she tried to look the part of a professional businesswoman. Their coffee shop was in the city, and successful business executives often stopped by, so she had to look like she was at least trying. She had to try hard to look good, unlike Carla, who pulled together stylish outfits in her sleep.
The only part Molly was dressing for today was that of a camper who relaxes in nature and has access to a shower. It relieved her to be situated across from the facilities, although she didn't ask at the office if the showers were free or if there was a charge for their use. While she would like to have a hot shower in the morning, she wouldn’t if the campground staff left the stalls covered in soap scum and random hairs from previous campers. Molly had brought sandals with her just in case, but she had her limits. She would rinse herself off in the creek before she’d wash in a gross and poorly maintained shower.
She checked her watch. It was almost six o’clock. Her picnic table was still wet from the rain and after setting up her campsite there was little energy left for cooking, even if the tarp covered the cooking space. Resigned to eating a meal in town, Molly hopped in her car to search for a restaurant. If the weather was better, she would have walked from the campground to Lemon Grove, but the rain prevented that from happening. No matter. This way she could investigate the town by car and see if the campground host was correct about the distance. And she was.
Molly had driven less than a minute before she rounded the corner and found the first row of houses. Two short blocks later, she reached a small community center covered in dark wood siding. The next street over had a general store with two gas pumps outside. It boasted live bait and hard ice cream on its signage.
Across the street was a café and its open sign, which featured an illuminated steaming coffee mug. From a distance, the café looked decent enough. It, too, had dark wood siding and a simple front door. Hanging baskets brightened the otherwise gloomy exterior, while a few picnic tables invited guests to eat outside. The tables were empty in the rainy weather, and the owner had secured a For Sale sign to the siding. Maybe business was poor in this small town?
Molly parked her car and rushed to the front door as the rain pelted her. Bells on the other side rattled, and she gasped as she came inches from colliding with a man exiting with a cup of coffee. He took a step back and smiled as he held his hand to open the door. It was the man from the campground, still dressed in the light brown jacket and the same mud-covered jeans and boots.
“Allow me to get out of your way,” he said, gesturing to the interior of the shop, showing more manners than he had when he interrupted her conversation with the host at the campground office. Had this been the city, others would have cursed at her for rushing into the store with such carelessness. And no one would offer to step aside if they felt they had the right-of-way. Given how close he was to the door and that he carried a hot beverage, she should be the one waiting for him.
Molly turned sideways and slipped through the doorway. “I'm sorry. I didn't know someone was on the other side.”
“Not a problem,” he said, stepping through the door. Still not yet yelling or cursing, but appearing to chuckle. “Have a good day.”
“Good luck, Rick,” called the server from behind the counter before the door closed.
Molly stared at the space where the man once stood. This time she had gotten a better look at him, including the sharpness of his stubble-covered jaw and the dimple in his chin. His eyebrows framed his eyes in a way that highlighted their deep shade of brown. Not that she was really looking at them. Well, maybe she was looking, but only just a little. How could she not? His features stood out and he was practically in her face when she almost slammed into him in the doorway. She also couldn’t help but notice he had an outdoorsy, woodsy scent to him that contrasted with the smells of the café. She would never have run into a man like him in the city.
Molly gave her head a shake and came to her senses, which meant noticing the familiar smell of coffee and fresh-baked goods. She turned toward the counter and glanced up at the menu.
The shop owner had decorated the chalkboard with a floral border and had drawn a loaf of bread in one corner below the list of soups and sandwiches. There was a good assortment. She would find something to eat here.
“I told my husband we should install a window on that door,” the server said as she wiped her hands on her apron. She was older, which Molly guessed was around late-fifties, and had cut her gray hair into an elongated bob. The woman’s eyes sparkled with a friendly warmth that drew Molly toward her. “A window would let in some light and keep people from running into each other.”
“Does it happen often?” Molly asked, taking a moment to check out the dessert display in the glass cooler beside the register before standing in front of the counter.
“Almost daily. I expect the person who buys this place will put one in.”
“I noticed the sign out front. You’re selling?”
“I hope to sell one day,” she said. “I would have sold it by now if I didn’t care so much about who bought it.” She leaned onto the counter and pointed to the menu above her. “What can I get for you?”
“I’m considering the roast beef sandwich and your vegetable soup.”
“Considering or ordering?” The woman winked and tapped a pad of paper.
“Ordering,” Molly said with a laugh. “That’s one of the fastest decisions I’ve made after looking at a menu.”
The woman joined her in laughing. She had a boisterous laugh. “I guess we’re lucky the menu isn’t any longer than it is. We could have been here all night.”
“When do you close?”
The woman scribbled the order onto a piece of paper and slid it through an open window to the kitchen. “We stop taking orders around seven o’clock. We’ll kick people out around eight if they are still in here, gabbing. They are welcome to sit at a table outside until they’re done, so long as they toss their garbage in the bin and don’t leave it out for the bears. Where are you from?”
“I'm from Millwood,” Molly said. She handed her debit card to the server and took her receipt. “I am spending a couple of weeks here.”
“So you’re from the city. Are you camping with family?”
Molly braced herself for judgment. “No. By myself.”
“Yourself?” The woman glanced over her shoulder and then leaned once more against the counter. “Aren't you a brave one? Most women I know wouldn't go camping alone. At least they don’t choose to. They stay in a hotel where they can get their hair done at the salon or get a massage at the spa.” Her laugh drowned out the refrigerated display beside her. “I guess some folks just need their alone time.”
“That's me.” Molly tried to laugh, although it was harder when she felt her private life being questioned by a stranger. “I needed to get away from things for a while.”
“Would that include getting away from a man?” She leaned back and grabbed a cloth from under the counter, giving the surface a quick wipe. “You don’t have to tell me, but I’ve seen it all before. Men are nothing but trouble, especially the one you almost ran over at the door. That one does nothing but frustrate the women around here.”
Molly recalled his features and the woodsy smell. He was handsome: no doubt she wasn’t the only one who noticed. She cleared her throat. “How does he frustrate them?”
“Did you get a look at him?” She gestured toward the door. “Rick is a nice-looking man, yet he’s single. He says he likes the peace he fi
nds by living on his own and bringing someone else into it would disturb all that. The nerve of him. Imagine a man like him refusing to marry. It is a travesty, if you ask me.” Once again, she wiped the countertop and sighed.
“Where I come from, the girls have already scooped up all the nice guys. There are none left for the rest of us.”
The server paused from her wiping and nodded. “They’re taken or they are like Rick and are too hurt to date again. There isn’t a woman in this town that doesn’t want him, and he's refused every single one of 'em. Someone will catch him one of these days. I’d try to catch him myself if I was twenty years younger.”
A bell rang from the kitchen, signaling that Molly’s order was in the window. With her meal in her hands, she thanked the server and took a seat at a table by the window where she could stare out at what she could see of the quiet town. As she took a bite of her sandwich, she chuckled to herself and imagined a town full of women lining up to get a date with Lemon Grove’s most eligible bachelor. To think, the most sought after man was one wearing mud-covered jeans.
Chapter Three
Rick climbed into his pickup truck and dabbed wet coffee from his shirt with a napkin. He had hidden the coffee spill well enough with his arm when he held the door open. Had he not spotted the brunette beauty as she passed by the café window, he would have been less prepared for her to crash through the door, upsetting his coffee.
Patsy needed to install a window at the entrance to keep accidents from happening. She had talked about it enough but still hadn’t taken action. This time, it was him who wore his coffee, leaving a poor cute girl embarrassed by their collision.
Rick swore he had seen her before but struggled to recall where. If she were a local, he would have recognized her. Rick knew everyone in Lemon Grove, so he brushed off the feelings of familiarity to either having bumped into her previously, or her resembling an acquaintance.
Mountain Getaway Page 2
