A Reason to Run (The Camdyn Series Book 1)

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A Reason to Run (The Camdyn Series Book 1) Page 18

by Christina Coryell


  “Love it,” I told her as she pulled a plastic container from the refrigerator, as well as a head of lettuce, and grabbed a couple plates from inside a cabinet near the stove.

  “Usually I have Charlotte on Tuesday mornings,” Liz said as she continued to prepare lunch. “Rachel leaves her here while she runs to town to do her shopping, but this morning she said she didn’t feel like going anywhere. So, I was just cleaning away.”

  “Charlotte is such a sweet girl,” I replied, leaning back against the cabinet behind me. “So smart, too.”

  “Yes, she is a smart one, and just like Rachel when she was little,” Liz said as she pulled silverware from a drawer. “But then Cole was always smart too.”

  “Speaking of Cole,” I started, looking down at the floor, “I wanted to apologize to you about the other day.”

  “Don’t you do that,” she ordered, grabbing me by the elbow and gently guiding me toward the table. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I hope Cole apologized to you, too.”

  “Yes, ma’am, he did,” I stated as she set a plate in front of me and sat down across the table.

  “I’m not ma’am, just plain Liz,” she chuckled, “and I’m glad to hear it. He got an earful from me after you left, I guarantee that!”

  We began eating our lunch, and she asked me what I thought after looking at her Bible. I told her everything I knew so far about Willa, and how certain things were still frustratingly mysterious. I also talked to her about the three babies who passed away, and she had to flip the Bible open to see for herself again. After I had exhausted all my information, we debated theories on what drove Willa to Tennessee. Although we shared a few laughs, nothing we came up with really seemed too plausible.

  After lunch, Liz and I sat outside on the front porch and she began asking me questions about the books I had written, and where I had done my research. I was so accustomed to being secretive about everything that it honestly felt wonderful to be able to talk openly about those aspects of my life. She seemed especially interested when I told her how much I moved around, asking me about my family, and my friends, and what I did in my spare time. She finally told me that I must have a terribly lonely life, to which I replied that being alone wasn’t bad all the time. It definitely had its ups and downs, but it had served me okay to this point, and I wouldn’t complain.

  We sat down long enough that Liz felt she needed to stretch her legs, and we slowly began walking around her yard, inspecting her flowerbeds and bushes while she pointed out places where Cole and Rachel had done things as kids. There was a tree Rachel fell out of and broke her arm, a spot in the yard where Cole was practicing baseball when he broke a window, and a place behind the house where Cole had his first kiss as a little boy. I certainly ended up laughing much more than I could have anticipated. I had already been there for several hours when Rachel pulled into the driveway. She looked a little frazzled, but she met me with a hug, and then little Charlotte asked if I would swing her again. The four of us headed to the back of the house, and I lifted her up and pushed her out into the air. I couldn’t help but overhear Rachel tell her mom that it had been one of those days, and she just felt like she needed a break.

  “You know, Rachel,” I interjected, “I was thinking about going into Memphis tomorrow, doing a little shopping. I don’t suppose you would want to go with me?”

  “Are you kidding me?” she asked with a sigh. “That sounds like heaven. Mama?”

  “Of course I will watch Charlotte, you don’t even have to ask,” Liz told her. “You girls go and have fun.”

  “Yay!” Rachel said, perking up a little. “I can’t even tell you how long it’s been since I’ve had a girls’ day. Won’t Cole be jealous of me, spending the whole day with you!” I couldn’t help but laugh out loud when she added that last bit.

  “I highly doubt that,” I told her, still giggling.

  “How are you and Cole, if you don’t mind my asking?” Rachel wanted to know. I pondered an answer for a moment before I said anything stupid in front of Liz.

  “Cole is practically perfect, and I am definitely not, and I better leave it at that,” I finally said.

  “Practically perfect, are you crazy?!” Rachel exclaimed. “This coming from a girl who gets proposed to by every guy she runs into!”

  “Rachel!” Liz hissed, giving her daughter a warning glance.

  “Oh, Mama, she knows I’m joking,” Rachel explained. “I just can’t believe that you would describe my brother as perfect. That’s hilarious, don’t you think so, Mom?” Liz smiled and refused to say anything, and I just kept pushing Charlotte.

  “What about the way he gets up at the crack of dawn to work out and cranks his stereo up so loud you can practically hear it a mile away?” Rachel asked her mom. “You know that drives you crazy.”

  “That…was always a little annoying,” Liz admitted.

  “Or the way he sings all the time, no matter what he’s doing? Sings in the shower, while he’s doing the dishes, driving his truck, folding laundry…” Rachel went on, ticking off the items on her fingers as she listed them.

  “He does sing a lot,” Liz agreed.

  “And why does he have to have a toothbrush everywhere he goes?” Rachel added, throwing her hands up in the air. “He has a toothbrush at my house. I know he has one at yours, Mom. He has one in his glove box. That is just weird.”

  “You know, now that I think of it, he always alphabetizes everything,” Liz interjected, “even the food in his pantry.”

  “Yes, weird!” Rachel stated. “And the way he pops off with movie lines all the time when you’re having a conversation – like he’s a walking movie database or something. So obnoxious!”

  By this time I was laughing, and so was Charlotte. When Rachel and Liz realized what they had done, they started laughing too.

  “Mommy and Meemaw, you are silly!” Charlotte screamed.

  “Yes, sometimes we are!” Rachel agreed, leaning back against the tree that held the swing. “Cole just finally acted like he wanted to date someone, so I had my hopes up, I guess.”

  “Why wouldn’t Cole want to date?” I asked. “I doubt there is any single girl in town who wouldn’t say yes.”

  “He hasn’t dated anyone since he had that goofy dream,” Rachel said with a sigh, prompting another warning look from her mother.

  “Rachel, Cole might not like you talking about that,” Liz warned, but then she glanced at me and must have decided it was too late. “After Cole moved back from Nashville, he was bound and determined to find the right girl. He would get set up with different girls every weekend, and every time it was the same thing. He would come home a couple hours later, I would ask him how it went, and he would say, ‘Not the one.’ He just had this image of finding a girl who was ideal, and it never happened. Then one morning he comes to me, and he says that he had a really vivid dream, that he was searching everywhere for this girl, and suddenly he was standing alone somewhere dark. In the darkness he heard a voice say, ‘When the time is right, she’ll be there.’ He was convinced then that he shouldn’t try so hard, and so he built his house, moved out, and hasn’t really dated since.”

  “Wow, that must have been a pretty intense dream to have that kind of impact on him,” I stated, looking down at Charlotte as she dragged her feet on the ground.

  “Yes, but I think it’s been good for him,” Liz said. “He’s taken a lot of time, he knows what he wants from life, and he is firmly grounded in what he believes and what he thinks. He’s become a good man, and when that girl finds him, she will be really lucky.”

  “As long as she doesn’t mind the singing,” Rachel popped in, prompting a laugh.

  “Well, on that note,” I said, “I should probably get back before long. Rosalie will be wondering whether I disappeared.”

  Liz stepped toward me and gave me a big hug, patting me on the back.

  “Camdyn, I am so glad you came over today,” she whispered. “Promise you will come again?
You can tell me anything else you discover about Wilhelmina.”

  “I promise,” I told her, and then I bent down and gave Charlotte a kiss on the cheek. “Charlotte, it has been a pleasure. Rachel, I will see you tomorrow? Say, nine o’clock? I could pick you up at your house?”

  “Yes, sounds perfect,” she stated. “Aunt Rosalie can give you directions.”

  I waved my goodbyes, returned to my car, and headed off to the bed and breakfast, feeling pretty well loved. What an incredibly awesome family, from Rachel to Liz to Rosalie. I couldn’t have asked for a better group of women to bring into my life.

  As for Cole, all their talk had done nothing but leave me even more intrigued.

  -§-

  Later that evening, after dinner and watching some silly reality show with Rosalie, I asked if I could use her phone. She said that I could and gave me a knowing look that made me blush, which in turn made her laugh. I assured her that I was only going to thank him for the flowers, so she could forget whatever it was that she was thinking. I carried the phone with me into the bedroom, looked at Cole’s phone number programmed on my cell, and punched the numbers into Rosalie’s phone. The phone started ringing and I forced a deep breath into my lungs. I hadn’t talked to Cole on the phone before, and I was suddenly nervous. After the third ring, I heard his voice.

  “Hello,” he stated, distracted.

  Maybe I shouldn’t have called.

  “Cole?” I began hesitantly. “It’s Camdyn.”

  “Oh, crap! Hang on a second.” I could hear a funny rustling noise in the background, and him mumbling about something.

  I definitely shouldn’t have called. “Crap,” really? That’s not a good sign.

  “Sorry about that,” he finally continued. “I accidentally sprayed myself with the hose.”

  “Oh,” I said, feeling relieved. “That sounds like something I would do.”

  “Yeah, it does, doesn’t it?” he asked with a little chuckle. “I guess you’re rubbing off on me then.”

  “That can’t be good,” I joked. When he didn’t say anything, I sat down on the bed and stared over at the bouquet he delivered. “I just wanted to call and tell you thank you for the flowers. They’re beautiful. I wish you would have waited, so I could tell you thank you in person.”

  “Well, I had to go to work, and I was pretty sure you wouldn’t want to see me anyway, after what I did.”

  “About that,” I said, biting my lip, “it’s okay, really.”

  “No, it’s not okay. I called you a liar in front of my parents.”

  “They didn’t seem too worried about it…”

  “Oh, you didn’t see my mom after you left,” he retorted. “She really lit into me.”

  “Yeah, that’s what she said.”

  “What do you mean, what she said?”

  Oh, crap.

  “I took the Bible back to your mom today,” I explained. “I was over there for a few hours.”

  “That doesn’t sound good,” he said with a sigh, making me cringe.

  “Don’t worry,” I stated airily, “we mainly talked about history and things like that. I mean, she did talk about you a little bit. She showed me where you hit the baseball through the window.”

  “Oh man,” he breathed, still sounding a little strange. “What else did she tell you?”

  Many things that I can’t say. I should have kept my big mouth shut.

  “Not much, really,” I told him. “She showed me where you had your first kiss, when you were six or seven.” He laughed out loud, and something about his breathing made me think he was pacing back and forth.

  “Trust me, if you want to know who I kissed or where, my mom is not the person to ask!”

  “Got it,” I said, trying to lighten the conversation. “If I want to kiss you, don’t involve your mom.”

  Why did you say that, Camdyn? That was so stupid! Now he’s not saying anything. Say something!

  “I’m sorry,” I explained. “I was just trying to be funny. That was a stupid thing to say.”

  “Please, don’t apologize to me,” he replied quietly. “You should be angry with me. I can’t believe you’re even talking to me.”

  “I know you said you weren’t going to ask me to forgive you, but you don’t have to,” I told him. “Really, I’m not angry with you. I was more…hurt, I guess, that you thought that of me.”

  “I understand, I just couldn’t make things add up in my head, but that’s not a good excuse to be a jerk. I really am sorry.”

  “I know,” was all I could manage to say. I sat there in silence for a minute, waiting for him to say something.

  “You know,” he finally began, “I really didn’t believe you about the writing, even after you said you had a pen name. Then I looked up C.W. Oliver, and I was even more skeptical. You’re kind of a big deal. There are whole websites devoted to figuring out who you are.”

  “Yeah, and most of them think I am some guy named Ted,” I interjected.

  “Yes, Ted. I thought that was pretty funny.”

  “So…do you believe me?” I asked, part of me dreading the answer.

  “I do now. My mom sent me home with your book and told me to read it. By the time I was a few pages in, I knew it was you. Your personality was practically jumping off of every page.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, you’re a good writer, Camdyn - too good to hide behind a fake name. Why don’t you use yours?”

  Why did everyone keep asking me that lately?

  “You’ve met me, Cole,” I said softly. “I’m kind of a mess.” He chuckled underneath his breath, and I could imagine his smile as though I was standing with him.

  “Yes, you are kind of a mess,” he repeated my words quietly. “A beautiful mess, though. Anyway, lately I feel like a mess, too.”

  “I really must be rubbing off on you,” I offered, the words hanging there between us. The fact that he thought he was a mess – if that was true, I knew the blame rested on me.

  “I guess I should go,” I finally said. “I don’t want to keep you from whatever you’re doing.”

  “Okay. I’m really glad you called.”

  “Me, too. Good night, Cole.”

  “Good night,” he said. As I pushed the button to end the phone call, I picked up the note Cole had left with the flowers, reading it over and over and trying to decide whether there was anything written between the lines. I hoped there was, because staying here and not seeing Cole was a little depressing, and it had only been two days.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Wednesday morning I woke earlier than usual for my jog, because I was pretty excited about having a girls’ day. I hadn’t had one of those since…well, since before Trina and Charlie were married. That seemed like a lifetime ago. It wasn’t that I didn’t have other friends I could have called for a day out – no, wait, it was. I didn’t have any friends besides Trina, not really. I had a couple of business associates through my publisher and editor that I was friendly with, but nobody that I could call just to hang out. As for friends of the opposite sex, sooner or later each of those decided to jump the shark and try to put a ring on it, so that didn’t even seem like a feasible option anymore. No, I had to face it – I was all but friendless. Not anymore, though – I was going to make sure of that.

  I only felt the faintest hint of guilt as I glanced over at my unopened laptop sitting on the dresser. My deadline was looming, and logic told me that I should be slaving away, but I was determined to wait and see what happened. Maybe it would be the death of my career, who knew, but I wasn’t going to stress about it that morning.

  When I finished my exercise and arrived back at the bed and breakfast, Rosalie was busy in her flowerbed. She said she would go inside and fix some breakfast, but I told her that I would take care of it. She seemed pleased with that idea, so I took a quick shower, put on a pair of dark wash jeans and a white v-neck t-shirt, and helped my curls along just a bit. When I was satisfied with the wa
y I looked, I went into the kitchen and started making fruit salad. It certainly wasn’t going to be the kind of breakfast Rosalie normally made, but I didn’t want to fill up when Rachel and I were going out on the town. I put some bread into the toaster while I was cutting up an apple, and somehow I must have pushed the button down too far, because before I knew it there was smoke rolling out of the top. I pulled the toast out, stinging my fingers, and waved my hand over the toaster to try to clear out the smell. Aggravated, I decided to focus on the fruit and worry about the toast when I was completely finished, so I would not become too distracted. I was separating an orange from its peel when I heard the front door open behind me.

  “I know, I know!” I exclaimed, expecting her to complain about the smoke. “I burnt the toast, that’s all, I’m not burning the house down or anything. And I know you’re going to say, ‘How can someone burn toast?’ Well, I think we both know that I am capable of destroying anything, but this fruit salad is going to make up for it, Rosalie. It’s going to be awesome.”

  I finished peeling the orange and turned around only to realize that it was Cole who slipped in the front door, not Rosalie. He was wearing a smirk on his face, and holding one red rose in his hands.

  “You’re not Rosalie,” was all I could manage to mutter as I grabbed a towel and wiped my hands.

  “No, I’m not,” he said, walking toward me and holding out the rose. I reached out slowly and took it, and then held it to my nose to inhale the scent. “I wanted to apologize in person.”

  “You don’t have to keep apologizing,” I told him, looking up to stare into his eyes. “Once was enough.”

  “It didn’t feel like enough after what I said,” he stated, shaking his head. I fought the urge to throw my arms around him by looking down at the floor.

  “You know, the other night you said that I fascinate you,” I teased him.

  “I’ve said a lot of other things, too,” he muttered.

  “Nothing that I can remember,” I told him, bringing my gaze back up to his brown eyes, which felt like they were burning a path directly to my heart.

 

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