Addie's Adventurer

by Amelia C. Adams

  “But you weren’t seeing them both at the same time,” Mo pointed out. “It’s not like you were playing them off each other or anything.”

  “True, but it still feels like cheating somehow.”

  “Listen.” Mo reached over and touched Addie’s shoulder. “You were in love with Jason. I think that means a corner of your heart will always belong to him. And then you met the other guy—what’s his name?”

  “Asher.”

  “You loved Asher with a different part of your heart, and that part will always belong to him. What happened to him, anyway? Did I know about him?”

  “No—he left Quinn Valley right before you moved here, and I decided never to bring him up again because he was a lying, two-faced piece of pond scum.”

  Mo nodded. “And a part of your heart will always belong to pond scum. That’s a depressing thought.”

  “It’s very depressing, but I think you’re right—we did have some good times together, and I can’t begrudge that. I mean, I do begrudge it because it was all a lie . . . but . . .” She sighed. “I need professional help, don’t I?”

  “I think you just need to talk it all out with a caring friend. Oh, look—here I am. Problem solved.” Mo settled into the couch more comfortably. “Let’s forget about Asher. He doesn’t deserve head space anymore. Remind me why we don’t like Jason.”

  “We do like Jason! We just . . . we’re ticked off at him.”

  “Maybe you do need professional help. Walk me through this.”

  Addie picked up a throw pillow and held it on her lap. “So, we were together for about two years, and we got along great. We liked the same movies and the same music, but we liked them for different reasons, so we could sit and debate their merits or their shortcomings for hours. And you know how I like to debate.”

  “I had figured that out, yes.”

  Addie ignored that and went on. “Everything fit, you know? And then he landed a job writing articles for a travel magazine, and we both thought this was going to be the greatest thing ever. He’d go on assignments and then he’d come back, and we’d be together when he wasn’t working. It was the dream, right? Except he started being gone longer and longer, and I needed something to do while he was gone, and I decided I wanted to buy and run a little shop.”

  “And I’m so glad you did because hello! What would Quinn Valley be without you?” Mo asked.

  “I know, right? But he thought I was selling myself short.”

  “What do you mean? What’s wrong with running a shop?”

  “I’d been talking about going into advertising, and he thought I should push until I landed some fancy gig at a New York agency or something. He didn’t understand that I have no desire to live in New York. Visiting there is fun, but I’m more of a quiet town sort of girl. But that should have been obvious—he met me in Idaho. Why is it weird that I’d want to stay in Idaho?”

  “He wanted to leave, so he thought everyone should?” Mo asked.

  “Probably. I think he saw it as a stopping point along the trail. Which is funny, now that I think about it, because it was a stopping point along the Oregon Trail.” Addie laughed at her own joke.

  Mo just shook her head. “Have you been drinking?”

  “Nope. You know me—just water.”

  “Can you get drunk on water?”

  “Not like you can with alcohol, but you shouldn’t drink too much too fast. I Googled it one day. I was curious.” Addie played with the fringe on her pillow. “So, we’re getting off track here. The point of this meeting is, how should I deal with Jason being in town?”

  “I’m glad you clarified that. I was starting to wonder if the point was to discuss how to get Jason back.”

  “What?” Addie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “No! I don’t want him back. What makes you think that?”

  “Maybe the fact that you said you wanted to throw yourself at him and kiss him.”

  “I didn’t mean that literally. Okay, maybe I did, but I wasn’t going to actually do it. That would be dumb. It would be opening myself up to a whole lotta hurt all over again, and I’m not up for that. I’m ready for a happily ever after, riding off into the sunset sort of thing.”

  “We’d all like that, but that’s not what we all get,” Mo reminded her. “Sometimes there’s a lot of pain in the mix.”

  “But we fix the pain. We don’t have to live with it, right?”

  “I haven’t had enough pizza for such a deep conversation. Let’s work with what we have. Jason, who is now even better looking and very kissable, has come to Quinn Valley. What should Addie do about it?”

  “Yes, that’s the question. What should Addie do about it?” Addie hugged the pillow closer. “Is there any way we can go back in time and keep him from coming?”

  “Remember how we just said we were going to work with what we have? We don’t have a time machine.”

  “Rats. Okay.” Addie tried to pull her thoughts together. “I believe I should wait and see what happens. Maybe I won’t see him again. He might avoid me altogether now that he’s broken the ice, and he’ll go on his way and that will be that.”

  “Is that what you want?”

  “I don’t know what I want. But that doesn’t matter because this is a two-person decision anyway, and if he doesn’t want to see me, it doesn’t matter if I want to see him because I can’t force him into doing something he doesn’t want to do. That’s not very kind, and dang it, I’m a kind person!”

  “Yes, you are!” Mo sat back and regarded her. “So, you’re going to leave this entirely in his hands? Maybe that’s taking it too far the other direction—you’re letting him have a say, but you’re not giving yourself one?”

  “But I won’t know if I want to see him again until I know if he wants to see me. If he doesn’t want to see me, why would I want to see him?”

  “I just hope you realize this all sounds very junior high to me.” Monique shook her head. “If you want the man, go get the man. That’s how we do things in the adult world.”

  “I’m not cut out for the adult world. I just decided. I’m going to build a blanket fort and live in there with a can of Pringles. That’s where I’ll be if you need me.”

  “I don’t know if it’s Pringles you need or a kick to the tushy, but you’re sure being whiny tonight.”

  “I know, and it’s very unattractive. I’ll be better tomorrow—I promise.”

  “I should hope so.” Mo glanced at her watch. “Shoot—I’ve got to go. I’ll need regular updates on this situation, all right? Don’t leave me in the dark about anything.”

  “If anything happens, I will for sure let you know.”

  Monique put a hand on her hip. “If I know you at all, I know that something’s going to happen. It always does around you.”

  Sadly, that was very much the truth.

  ***

  Jason left the trailer waiting for him at the campground and drove his truck into town. On a nice day, he would have enjoyed the walk, but the clouds looked threatening, and he wasn’t in the mood to walk in a snowstorm.

  The town of Quinn Valley looked like a combination of the old and new. The way it was nestled by the mountains reminded him a bit of towns he’d visited in Switzerland, but the architecture was definitely American. He guessed the best words he’d use to describe the place would be “quaint” and “eclectic.”

  He parked at the head of Main Street and decided to walk from there—he’d likely want to poke his nose into several of the little shops along the way. He’d spotted a grocery store and a post office, and now he was facing what looked like a long row of tourist traps. That’s where he kept getting lost when it came to this area. Why did it attract so many tourists?

  He’d looked it up online before he came here, and apparently, Quinn Valley contained a number of natural hot springs that were supposed to have curative effects. Sort of like the Fountain of Youth, maybe? Okay, that was nice, but in this modern age, were people still that
gullible? Why were they putting their trust in old wives’ tales when medicine had advanced so far over the last decade and even the last year? It didn’t make sense.

  Up ahead, he saw a building marked “community center,” and he thought that sounded like a good place to start his investigation.

  He stepped inside after knocking the snow off his boots and was greeted by an older gentleman wearing a brown cardigan sweater. “Hello there,” the man said. “How can I help you?”

  “You work here?” Jason asked. The man seemed a little too old to be working anywhere.

  “I’m just a volunteer. My name’s Benny.” He held out his hand, and Jason shook it, thinking it felt like tissue. He was glad the fellow was wearing a sweater in this cold.

  “Hello, Benny. I’m Jason.” He glanced around. “I’m just visiting for a few days, and I wondered what you could tell me about this place. Its history, some of its local lore—that sort of thing.”

  “You’ve certainly come to the right place. Come on over here and have a seat.” Benny motioned to two worn chairs in the corner of the lobby, and they both sat. “Well, for starters, the town is named after the Quinn family, who established the area. Their descendants own several of the businesses around here, and it’s said that you can’t spit without hitting a Quinn.” He laughed heartily, and Jason smiled. “And I’m sure you’ve heard about our natural hot springs.”

  “I have indeed. I’m not sure what to make of them, though. I’m guessing you’ve tried them out?”

  “Of course. I go soak a couple times a week. It’s about the only thing that keeps me up and moving around these days. I’m not as young as I used to be.”

  “But why the springs? What makes them more special than, say, a hot tub?”

  “It’s the combination of the minerals in the waters. You know how people put Epsom salts in their bath? Well, this is kind of the same thing, only a lot better.”

  “I see.” Jason nodded, even though he now had six more questions. Just what were those minerals? Could he get his hands on some sort of chemical analysis report?

  “I also get my feet zoned pretty regularly, and that’s definitely helpful.”

  “I’m sorry—what?”

  Benny laughed. “You’ve never heard of any of this stuff before, have you?”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  Benny reached over to the table near his elbow and grabbed a sheet of paper. “Here’s a list of all the services and practitioners in the area. We have a lot of alternative doctors, but we do have some great medical services as well.” He grabbed another sheet. “And here’s a calendar of all our upcoming doings. How long did you say you’ll be in town?”

  “I’m not positive, actually. I’m writing an article for Traveling Well magazine, and I’ll be here until I’ve completed my story.”

  “You’re a journalist? Well, I’ll be.” Benny gave a pleased nod. “Glad to know you. You might want to stick around until Valentine’s Day—there’s a whole lotta fun planned for that. A whole festival, actually. We’re holding a bachelor auction, a bake-off, a dance—well, it’s all there on the calendar. You can look it over yourself and see if anything catches your fancy. I’m most excited about the masquerade ball.”

  Jason plastered on a smile. It all sounded absolutely terrible. Like . . . pink frosting terrible. “I’ll check it out,” he replied. That was nice and noncommittal, wasn’t it? With any luck, he’d be outta there long before any of that started.

  He asked Benny for some advice on where he should go for dinner—no surprise that the place was called Quinn’s—and then headed out, shaking his head. Bachelor auctions? Was this some sort of real-life episode of the Gilmore Girls or something?

  As he walked down the street, he took note of how many people were also traveling this same sidewalk, peering in the same windows. There were probably twenty people between him and the next intersection, which he found interesting considering that the temperature was dropping and it wasn’t the best day for window shopping.

  “Excuse me, ladies,” he said, stopping two women who appeared to be mother and daughter. “I’m a writer for Traveling Well. I’m writing an article about Quinn Valley. May I ask you a few questions?”

  They looked at each other and giggled. “Are you Jason Miller?” the mother asked.

  “Yes, I am.”

  “We watched that YouTube video you posted—the one where you went bungee jumping in Peru,” she continued. “We were absolutely terrified for you—we’re so glad you didn’t die.”

  “Thank you. I was rather pleased about that myself.” He cleared his throat. “So, where are the two of you from?”

  “San Diego,” the daughter answered.

  “San Diego? Why are you here, surrounded by all this snow, when San Diego is like heaven on earth?”

  “Because we don’t have an April Lynn in San Diego,” the mother replied. “We come up here every three months to get checked. She’s amazing.”

  “Get checked for what?” It sort of sounded like getting checked for fleas, and that made him nervous.

  “Nutrition, of course. Did you just get here?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Well, you need to go see April Lynn. She’s amazing.”

  He asked them a few more questions and took down their names and addresses in case he wanted to use any of their quotes in the article, and then he continued down the street. Everyone he spoke with, unless they were locals, and indeed, some locals too, seemed intent on singing the praises of foot zoning or crystals or who knows what—it all started to blend together, and he was pretty convinced by now that he’d wandered into some kind of hippie commune where everyone sat around, smoked pot, and rocked back and forth talking about peace and love.

  He crossed the street and entered the purple Victorian house he’d been eyeing for the last block. Who in their right mind would paint a house that color and then turn it into a business?

  “Welcome to Earth Mother,” the woman behind the counter said as he approached. “How can I help you?”

  “I’m counting on you to be the one sane person in this town,” he replied.

  She laughed. “Oh, goodness. No one’s relied on me to be sane since I moved here. Are you having a bad day?”

  “You could say that.” He leaned against the counter and looked around. Baskets of silk scarves, a display of crystals, a rack of incense sticks—just what was this place? “Tell me . . . what was your name?”

  “Ambrosia Dubois. I’m a psychic, a palm reader, a user of crystals, a dreamer of dreams, and an eater of chocolate.” She waved her arms dramatically, the scarves tied to her wrists fluttering with her movement. “What would you like to know?”

  “Is everyone in this town . . . obsessed with all this natural healing stuff? I feel like I’ve been zapped to another planet or something. I’m not even sure I’m still in Idaho.”

  “Being zapped to another planet sounds wonderful, doesn’t it? Sign me up.” She chuckled, then grew serious again. “If you were visiting Hershey, Pennsylvania, right now, you’d expect to hear people talking about chocolate, right? And wearing chocolate T-shirts and whatnot? And you’d tour the chocolate factory?”

  “Well, yeah. I mean, that’s what Hershey’s famous for.”

  “And the springs are what Quinn Valley is famous for, so yes, that’s why people come here and it’s what they talk about.”

  She had a fair point.

  She met his gaze and studied him. “Why does this have you so weirded out? No one’s tried putting a hex on you or anything, have they?”

  “No. Um, are they going to?”

  She laughed heartily. “You’re a fun one to tease. There will be no hexes, young man. Which is kind of disappointing because that might be fun. We’re just a group of people who all believe that the body and the spirit have amazing capacities to heal themselves. There are quite a few people here in town who aren’t involved with natural healing at all—we have cattle ranchers and
farmers and teachers and all sorts of things. It’s kind of like when you go to Las Vegas—you drive in and see the Strip and you think the whole place is about bright lights and parties, but there’s a whole regular community just blocks away.”

  Now it was Jason’s turn to laugh. “You’re comparing this place to Las Vegas?”

  “Only metaphorically to compare the business district with the rest of the town. So, tell me. Why are you here?”

  “I’m a writer for a travel magazine, and I’m doing an article about Quinn Valley.”

  She fixed him with a look. “No, that’s your excuse. I want to know your reason.”

  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “Everyone has a reason why they do the things they do. They’re compelled by a force they feel is greater than themselves, but actually is part of themselves. It comes from deep within them. So you may believe that you’re here to write a story, but what’s the deeper motivation?”

  “I like having a paycheck?” He thought his joke would make her smile, but instead, her scrutiny continued.

  “You use humor to deflect your emotions. That’s a very common defense mechanism. It makes me wonder what deep hurts you’re hiding. Not that I’m asking,” she added quickly, holding up a hand. “That’s entirely your business. It’s just something you might want to look at.”

  “I don’t think I’m hiding anything,” Jason replied, feeling a little uncomfortable. He wasn’t used to being put on the spot like this. “I just enjoy looking on the lighter side of things.”

  “A very admirable trait.” She nodded, then turned to a basket next to her on the counter. “I’m going to give you a gift. This is malachite.” She took a green stone from the top of the pile and handed it to him. “Carry this with you. It will help you heal from old wounds and open your heart to new possibilities.”

  “And how does it do that?”

  “It’s a part of the earth, and every part of the earth has a role to play that affects all the other parts,” she explained. “But I won’t go too far into that—you’re counting on me to be sane, and I’m really trying hard here. I should also tell you that I know who you are and why you’re here, but I didn’t get that from any sort of spirit guide—I ran into Addie earlier, and she told me.”