One Hundred Reasons

by Kelly Collins

  Sheriff Cooper and Cannon followed closely, making sure Ben didn’t fall or hurt himself. Once the old man was in the truck, the sheriff buckled his seatbelt and shut the door. He returned where Cannon stood on the curb, facing B’s Bakery. Inside, a blonde sat at a table, shuffling through papers. The redhead was gone.

  “Someone new owns the bakery—a stranger.”

  “They’re only a stranger until you introduce yourself,” the sheriff said.

  Cannon nodded. He’d introduced himself all right, but it wasn’t in welcome. “That one is Katie.” He looked around to see the silver SUV once parked next to him was gone. “There’s a redhead named Sage somewhere around town.”

  “Two of them? Both women?” Sheriff Cooper smiled.

  “They aren’t staying. You’ll see.”

  “Let’s hope they do.” The sheriff patted Cannon on the back and walked with him to the driver’s side of the truck. “We need a little change in this town.”

  “I like things fine the way they are.”

  The sheriff leaned to the side to take a look at Cannon’s father, who was slumped against the passenger-side door. “You sure about that?”

  He wasn’t in the mood to have his life rubbed in his face. “What I’ve got wrong won’t be fixed by a couple of strangers, high-rise condos, and gift shops.”

  The sheriff rubbed thoughtfully at the whiskers emerging on his chin. “Doesn’t mean we shouldn’t welcome them. It would be the neighborly thing to do.”

  “You be neighborly. I’ve got nothing left to give.” Cannon climbed into his truck and started the engine. “See you tomorrow, Coop.” It was unlikely, but Sheriff Cooper could be right. He’d moved up from Colorado Springs a stranger, and now he was a friend.

  The stench of alcohol and body odor filled the cab of his truck. Cannon couldn’t figure out where his dad was getting his booze. He’d cut off his supply in town completely, but then again, Copper Creek wasn’t too far away. Sometimes he wished his dad would leave and never come back again, and then the guilt of those thoughts ate at him. Change might come, but in his experience it was always painful.

  Chapter Eight

  Too angry to face more, Sage took Otis on a drive up and down the streets of Aspen Cove. There were about a hundred houses lining streets with names like Hyacinth and Rose and Iris. Aspen Cove was laid out like an old-fashioned key. The town itself started on the straight edge with a few cuts here and there where side streets intersected with Main Street.

  A charming mix of homes in styles ranging from Victorian to rustic homestead cabins dotted the landscape. She made her way back to the town center and then headed toward the bed and breakfast. She followed the road until she came to the rounded end of the key that circled around the lake.

  Off to the left was 1 Lake Circle, the property Bea had left her. It was so much more than she expected, but then again, she had no idea what awaited.

  Her tires crunched on the pine needle–covered driveway. As soon as she came to a stop in front of the lodgelike cabin, Sage hopped out and rounded the SUV to free her dog. He lumbered out of the front seat and found a tree to the side of the house, where he marked his territory. “Don’t get too comfortable,” she told him. “This is temporary.” She planned to stay a day or two since she’d opened her big mouth and volunteered to clean.

  At the top of the steps, next to the front door, stood a stump of wood carved into a bear that held a welcome sign. A wooden placard with “B’s Bed and Breakfast” painted in white swung from a rusted chain in the light breeze. She halfway expected Bea to open the door and welcome her inside.

  Next door, tires kicked up dust and gravel. Like Bea’s, the house was wooden and well cared for, maybe even loved.

  Raised male voices carried on the breeze. Bits and pieces of an argument floated on the wind. She refused to be an audience to a private battle, so she turned toward the door Bea said would be unlocked.

  An unlocked door was unheard of in the city. That was as good as asking someone to come in and rob or rape or murder you. Then again, this was Aspen Cove, with a population bordering on extinction.

  Sage sucked in a big breath and gripped the door handle. Just before she turned the knob, she heard the unmistakable sound of a fist hitting flesh. She swung toward the fight taking place on the cold, pine-needled ground next door.

  The man from downtown straddled an older man who struggled, wiggled, and bucked, but the younger man pinned him to the unrelenting ground.

  Sage marched over to where the two men fought for dominance.

  “You’re an asshole, Cannon!” The old man screamed. A spray of spittle rushed from his mouth with each word.

  Sage had to agree, the man he called Cannon was an asshole. He’d barely met her and snapped judgment. Now he was beating on a frail old man.

  “Get off him.” Hands on her hips, she stomped to the edge of the porch of the cabin next door.

  “You’re a waste of space, Dad.” Cannon pushed off the ground and swiped at the blood running from his nose. “I don’t know why I still care.”

  The old man rolled onto his stomach and struggled to get to his feet.

  Sage rushed to his aid.

  “Don’t touch him,” Cannon yelled. “Leave him alone.”

  “I will not. He needs help.” She laid a hand on the old man’s shoulder to help him up. He spun around and punched her in the nose.

  Pain splintered through her skull and branched out like an explosion inside her head. She fell to the ground. “Holy hell.” She covered her nose, but the blood poured through her fingers and dribbled onto her T-shirt.

  Cannon rushed from his truck and waved a white towel in front of her like a flag of surrender. “Let me help you.” He knelt in front of her and pressed the cloth toward her nose. “Give the bridge a good pinch. The bleeding will slow down soon.”

  Sitting on the cold ground didn’t make Sage feel cooperative. She snapped the towel from his hand. “I know how to stop a bloody nose, you oaf.” She pressed it to her injury. “Just leave me alone. I don’t want your help.”

  Cannon backed away. “Fine.” He looked to his father, who was on his feet, stumbling toward the house. “Your best bet is to stay away from him. He’s bad news.”

  “And you’re not?” Sage tried to stand but fell back to the ground. She pulled the cloth back to her nose to stanch the ongoing flow of blood.

  Cannon dabbed a towel at his bloody nose before hopping inside his truck and driving away.

  The old man stopped at the front door of his cabin and ran a hand through his silver hair, leaving tufts of it pointing skyward. “You got in the way.” He disappeared inside, leaving Sage sitting alone on the cold, hard ground.

  Otis lumbered over, laid down next to Sage, and put his head in her lap. “Where were you when I needed a wingman?”

  Between the cabins, the view of a calm lake gave the impression that Aspen Cove was a quiet, pleasant community, but Sage knew better. By tomorrow, she’d have a black eye or two to confirm its unpleasantness.

  Aspen Cove wasn’t Mayberry R.F.D. In fact, she’d liken the town to a nightmare where at any minute a killer would rush out of Cove Lake and chase her out of town.

  She rose to her feet and walked Otis back to the car. The bed and breakfast would wait for its introduction, but her nose couldn’t. She looked into the rearview mirror and gasped. It had already swelled, and a shadow of purple bloomed below her eyes. Perfect. Just perfect.

  Sage put her car into reverse and headed back to town, in hopes the flashing red sign that read “The Doctor Is In” wasn’t a lie.

  Cannon drove to the Aspen Cove cemetery that sat on a quiet plateau overlooking the town. It was the one place he could go to be alone with his thoughts. At least no one there had advice or an opinion to give. And if the residents did talk to him, it was through fond memories he kept tucked deep inside.

  He walked past the graves of people he never met until he reached his mother’s tombston
e. It read “Carly Bishop, Loving Wife and Mother.”

  He could almost hear her tell him she missed him. “I miss you, too, Mom.”

  He plucked at the weeds that sprouted around her plot. Spring was here, and with it came the only kind of change he liked. Soon, Mom’s favorite flowers—tulips he’d planted years ago—would break through the ground and bring new life to the barren landscape. The yellow flowers were there to remind him she had lived.

  Cannon sat at the silent grave and told his mother about his father. Ben Bishop hadn’t been a drunk or an asshole when she was alive. He’d been wonderful.

  Cannon knew his mother would be disappointed if she could see her husband now. Even if he had been a drunk back then, she wouldn’t have given up on him. She would have done what was right. That was why Cannon stayed in Aspen Cove. Not because it was what he wanted, but because it was the right thing to do. He didn’t do it for Ben. He didn’t do it for his brother Bowie, who had left to join the army. He did it because his mother would have wanted someone to care for his father. He did it because there was no one but him to step up to take responsibility. Cannon’s shoulders sagged under the weight of that burden.

  About a hundred yards to his right, a backhoe dug into the thawing ground. Tomorrow, he’d stand there and say goodbye to Bea.

  In the whisper on the breeze, he could hear her voice telling him life was a give-and-take. That a heart once emptied could be filled. That a life hollowed out by despair could be renewed, given a thread of hope.

  Years ago, when he arrived back in Aspen Cove after the two deaths that had rocked this community, she comforted his loss of his mother, despite her own grief over the horrible loss of her daughter. She told him there were a hundred reasons he belonged here, but today it was hard to come up with a single one.

  He thought about Sage and why she was at Bea’s. Was she a recipient of Bea’s love, or an opportunist? The woman was probably still sitting in his front yard, bleeding. Guilt ate at him for leaving her alone and not fighting harder to help her. He should have offered her more than a towel.

  Chapter Nine

  The bell above the door rang as Sage entered the tiny pharmacy. Despite the swelling in her nose, she smelled rubbing alcohol and burned coffee.

  Florescent lights bathed the stocked shelves. She’d been wrong. Not only did the store have all the necessary cures for the common cold, athlete’s foot, and normal aches and pains, there was a candy selection that could rival her favorite Target at Halloween.

  “Can I help you?” The voice arrived before the man, who looked like he’d just stepped out of a scene from Back to the Future. With white hair and eyebrows that looked ready for flight, Sage half expected to see a white fluffy dog named Einstein sitting behind him.

  He set a cup of coffee on the counter, leaned in to inspect her nose, then squinted. After a shake of his head, he said, “I’m Doc Parker. Come on back.” Seconds later, he led her past a swinging door and down a hallway to an examination room that could rival the hospital where she had worked. He patted the table covered in butcher paper. “Hop on up, and let me take a look at that.”

  Sage balanced herself on the edge of the table. The doc pulled out tape and cotton rolls and a plastic basin he filled with water. He washed his hands and donned a pair of gloves. While he cleaned up the wound, Sage spoke.

  “I took a direct hit to my nasal bridge. I think it’s broken. My septum is extremely sore, and my sinuses are swollen.” She scooted to the center of the table and swung her legs back and forth like a kid. It had been a long time since she’d been the patient. “I’m pretty sure I’m going to need a rhinoplasty.”

  Doc chuckled. “Most people in town would say they broke their nose, and you sit here and tell me you need a rhinoplasty. Who are you? What are you?”

  “I’m Sage Nichols, and I’m a registered nurse.”

  He pressed his gloved thumbs to each side of her nose. “Take a deep breath, I’m about to give you a nose job.” Before she could inhale, he popped the cartilage into place.

  “Holy hell!” Sage cried out. “That was worse than the break.”

  Doc shoved two cotton rolls up her nostrils. “Breathe through your mouth.”

  His image blurred behind her tears. Breathe through her mouth, he said. Like she had a choice. “How long do I have to leave these in my nose?” Her words came out lispy and muted.

  The old man smiled. “A month or two should do,” he teased. “Give them an hour or so to stop the residual bleeding.”

  When Sage opened her mouth, the man popped a Life Saver from its wrapper straight into it. The cherry flavor coated her tongue. She wasn’t sure if it was supposed to ease the pain or shut her up. It did both.

  “I hope you like the color purple, because you will have a doozy of a shiner.” He stabilized her nose with strips of tape. “You want to tell me how you came about it?”

  Sage thought a moment about her answer. “I walked into something.” It wasn’t a lie. She had walked into the old man’s fist.

  He pulled off his gloves and washed his hands. “You’re the girl who took care of Bea in Denver.”

  “Yep, that’s me.”

  Doc looked her over like she was a specimen on a glass slide. “I visited her a few times. You took fine care of her.”

  Sage sighed heavily. “I still lost her.”

  “Not really, we never completely lose anyone.” He tapped his fingers above his heart. “Those we love are always right here. It’s where I’ll keep Bea.”

  “You two were close?” Sage wondered if they had been a couple. His age seemed about right.

  Doc moved around the examination room, straightening up. “We’ve shared most of our lives together. She was my wife’s maid of honor. I was her husband’s best man. I delivered her daughter. We supported each other when our spouses died.”

  Sage heard everything he said, but she was glued to the mention of Bea’s daughter. “Bea has a daughter?”

  The old doctor sunk into the chair in the corner of the room. He kicked out his legs and picked a speck of lint off his white lab coat.

  “Bea had a daughter. She said you reminded her of Brandy. I don’t see the resemblance myself. You’re no taller than a fourth-grader and Brandy stood nearly five feet eight. Her hair and eyes were brown, whereas yours are . . . well . . . different. She obviously wasn’t being literal. She must have meant your personalities were similar.”

  “Where is Brandy?”

  The doc lifted his bushy brows. “She’s buried up at the cemetery, waiting for her mother to join her.”

  Sage’s hand came up to her mouth. “Oh my God, that’s awful. No mother should have to bury their child.”

  Doc lifted himself from his chair and offered her a helping hand down from the table. “No mother should, but it happens all too often.”

  “Was her daughter’s death recent?” Sage wondered if the strain could have pushed Bea’s body too hard. If the grief she experienced had affected her health. She’d heard many people gave up when they lost something or someone dear to them. Given the losses Sage had experienced, she understood how a person could want to give up.

  “No, she died almost a decade ago in a car accident. It was a bad year for Aspen Cove.”

  He walked her to the front counter, where Sage waited for him to ring her up.

  “What do I owe you?”

  The old man smiled. His ready-for-flight brows lifted to his hairline. “I’ll take it in trade. You can work a few hours at the clinic next Monday. Not everything in Aspen Cove requires money. The gift of time has more value. But you already know that, don’t you?”

  Sage pulled her wallet from her purse. “I have to pay you. I don’t plan on staying in town.”

  The way Doc shook his head reminded Sage of her father when he was disappointed. “That surprises me, since Bea was always a good judge of character. I’d never guess she’d pick a quitter.”

  “I’m not a quitter,” she said, but
it sounded more like “I’m not a quither” with her stuffed, broken nose.

  Sage snagged a few of her favorite candy bars from the vast selection. If she couldn’t drown her woes in Starbucks, she’d eat them away with lots of chocolate and corn syrup.

  Doc rang up the candies and took her money. “Anything else?”

  “No. Thank you.” she said and turned toward the door. She got about two steps before she whipped back around. “Who owns the property next to B’s Bed and Breakfast?”

  A sly smile enhanced the crinkles around his eyes. “That handsome young lad is Cannon. He’s a good man in a tough situation.”

  “He’s a man with a bad attitude who should be enrolled in anger management courses.”

  The doc’s eyes grew wide. “Did he hit you?” The look on his face was nothing short of shock. “Don’t tell me it was his fist you ran into.”

  Sage touched her nose and winced. “Is that a common thing around here? Do you get a lot of patients who meet Cannon’s knuckles, face-first?”

  “Not a one. So if you’re claiming he hit you, I’d suggest when you leave here, you march your little self down to the sheriff’s office and file a complaint. Violence is way out of character for that boy, no matter what his issues are.”

  “It wasn’t Cannon. In fact, he offered assistance.” Sage was being very generous in her description of assistance. He gave her a towel and a few choice words, but that was all she would take. She pointed to her injury. “I got this from some old man. They were fighting, and I thought I should help.”

  “Looks like you got in the way.” He walked her to the door and opened it. “That would have been Ben. He’s Cannon’s father and the town drunk. Every town has one. He’s ours.”

  She had the urge to give the doctor a hug. He’d been kind to her. Instead, she gripped her bag of candy and walked toward her car, where Otis sat at attention.

  “Sage?” Doc Parker called from the door.