After another pitcher of beer, Brian and Mitch went to the pool table leaving Caroline and Abby alone.
“So what do you think?” asked Caroline.
“About what?”
“About Mitch, I know he likes you.”
“Maybe so,” Abby did not want to give in to Caroline’s line of questioning.
“I am sure of it,” Caroline stated in an exaggerated voice.
“He is a nice guy and all but --,”
Caroline cut her off “—But what?”
‘But what,’ what indeed, the sentiment echoed in Abby’s head. That was a question Abby had not asked herself and maybe because she had enjoyed the beer or maybe the warmth in the room or maybe she had just been in denial because right now she realized that she did in fact like Mitch. Not just like, she was also attracted to him. Up until now there had been no question as to ‘but what’, the question had been moot.
“Caroline,” a non-answer suggesting that Caroline was joking. Caroline’s face went falsely serious. Abby added, “He lives here and I live in the city.”
They shared a giggle, which made light of the conversation and took a bit of the tension away that was building up in Abby’s mind. Caroline was obvious in her intentions to set Abby and Mitch up and that did not bother Abby that much. Caroline thought well of Mitch and Abby both and that Caroline proposed a match was a compliment to either of them. What did bother Abby was that she herself was considering Mitch at all. The last thing she needed would be to get involved with someone. Abby was beginning to feel elated and overwhelmed. She gazed over to the pool table where Mitch was leaning over to shoot. The light above the table shown amber on Mitch, shadowing his contours, he was a handsome man.
Abby winked at Caroline, “He is kinda cute.” They both smiled.
After the pool game Brian returned to the table, “Well I’m out. Who’s next?”
Caroline spoke first, “Abby wants to play.”
Abby matched eyes with Mitch, already racking the balls for the next contender, smiled and stood from her chair taking the cue stick from Brian in the same motion then walked directly to the pool table, grabbed the chalk from the edge, and chalked her cue.
“You’ve done this before,” said Mitch.
“Once or twice,” replied Abby coyly.
Mitch finished racking the balls and slid the rack into the slot at the end of the table.
“Lady breaks,” said Mitch.
Abby leaned toward the table, moved the cue ball to the right of center, and then aligned herself for the shot. She pulled her arm back and then in a single motion thrust forward. A white streak struck the balls at the other end of the table. The pool balls initially made a loud crackling sound as they clacked together and then spread across the table dropping three balls into three pockets.
“Let’s see,” said Mitch, “A three, five, and an eleven, two solids and a stripe, ladies choice. You have done this before.”
The four was lined up with the pocket and Abby bent to take a sure shot. Shooting too quickly at the ball, Abby failed to hit the ball square and rolled the four across the table away from the pocket.
“There goes beginners luck,” said Abby.
“It’s alright. I thought they sent over a ringer.”
“Far from it, I haven’t played in forever.”
Taking his turn, Mitch shot at the fifteen and put the ball in the corner pocket. He then lined up for the twelve.
“Sounds like your project up at the Johansson house is really coming along,” said Abby.
“You should stop by and see it tomorrow, if it’s on your way.”
Before making his shot, Mitch raised his head and their eyes met, only for a second. The acoustic duo was singing an old folk harmony. Abby was sure she felt a spark and so did Mitch. Mitch’s eyes returned to the green field of the table and fixed upon the twelve. He pocketed the ball with a quick blow from the cue. Abby complimented the obligatory, “Nice shot.” This sounded flirtatious to Mitch, and though not necessarily intentional, encouraging. He then shot the cue ball down the length of the table toward the thirteen sinking the thirteen and the fourteen.
Abby decided a little banter might be necessary and was coming up short. “Tomorrow? I suppose I could swing by. Maybe around lunch?”
Mitch lifted his eyes from the table, “Yea, lunch would be great. You know how to get there right?”
“I know,” said Abby.
Mitch missed his next shot giving Abby a chance to redeem her game.
The next shot was easy as the two-ball was on the edge of the corner. The second shot that Abby needed to make was a bit more of a challenge. The four was still sitting next to the pocket and was easily her best bet since she had no obvious other shots and there was no direct way to hit the four without banking the shot. She stood at the corner of the table getting her bearing on an angle and then shifted to the other corner doing the same thing. Abby then kneeled down to see the cue balls perspective, furrowed her brow for a moment, and nodded her head.
“Not a clue, do you?” said Mitch.
“Nope,” answered Abby.
“I’ll tell you what,” said Mitch, “I will walk to the end of the table and place my finger on the edge of the table. All you have to do is aim at my finger.”
“You’ll do that?”
“Yes, I will,” said Mitch.
“Well ok then.”
Mitch walked to the end of the table. He held his arm up and pointed at the four-ball, then pointed at the side pocket, and then he hovered his finger for a moment while he gauged the cue ball before placing his finger on the edge of the bumper.
“Gently,” said Mitch.
Abby leaned across the table and pushed her cue stick toward his finger gently as he had said. The ivory ball went to the bumper and to the aubergine ball. Upon being struck the ball slowly spun around into the side pocket.
“Well how do you like them apples?” Abby asked.
“There you go,” said Mitch.
Abby saw a shot she thought would be easy. The seven-ball was at the corner of the table and a straight shot from the cue. Abby walked around the table circling Mitch at the end where he stood. “Easy shot,” said Abby as she passed him. Abby took the shot. The cue ball bounced off the bumper next to the seven, missing the ball, and raced down the other side of the table right into the eight ball. The eight ball and the cue ball went into the opposite corner pocket.
“Ouch,” said Mitch. “A little too much spin I guess.”
Abby wrinkled her nose at Mitch, “I guess.”
* * * * *
Chapter 10
Mitch and Abby went back to the table to join Caroline and Brian. Bob Jensen, owner of the Stone Tavern, was at the table. Bob was complimenting the couple on the party and goading Brian as to whether he felt any ‘worse for the wear’ at forty. After Bob stepped away, the pitchers began to pour.
The acoustic duo finished another harmonic number then announced they were taking a long break then began talking amongst themselves. Mitch excused himself and walked over to the stage. Abby could see that Mitch and the duo were friends by the ‘bro-hug handshakes’ they exchanged. She saw them scan the table then focus back on her and suspected that Mitch was requesting some sort of song.
One of the musicians walked the three steps to the back of the stage with his guitar in hand and took a violin out of a case. Caroline tapped Abby on the arm when, instead of putting the guitar down, the musician handed the instrument to Mitch.
“You’re going to love this,” said Caroline.
Mitch sat on the musician’s stool and the violinist stood to Mitch’s left while the other musician picked up his guitar and took a seat back on his respective stool.
Mitch spoke into the microphone, “I got the boys to do one more quick song.”
Mitch looped the thick black leather guitar strap over his neck. “This is to make up for winning a pool game,” said Mitch fixing his gaze at Abby.
&nbs
p; Mitch began to strum the guitar slowly. Abby felt the warmth of her cheeks flushing and was giddy in her stomach.
“We don’t have a drummer so we’ll need everyone’s help when the time comes. You’ll know when.”
The violinist serenely followed in behind Mitch. Mitch began to sing a slow, sappy, sweet verse. Abby had a sudden urge to head for the door. The verse was a simple rhyme scheme and a few lines that switched from serious to comedic.
‘If you had a chance
to meet this girl
You would know
why I feel this way.
Mary Love is the loveliest
girl in the world
now she is gone away.
But she left with Mark,
John, Paul, and Rob
so with them I wish she’d stay’
The bar filled with laughter and the violinist changed to a quicker rhythm that, with the accompaniment of the guitar, created an upbeat jig. Two couples near the dance floor got up and began to dance and Mitch repeated the verse in time with the music and went into new facetious verses. Abby had thought Mitch’s demeanor calm and cool. Contrarily his exuberance had the whole room clapping in time. The bow of the violin melodically sped across the strings with a melancholy cry that fit the song well. The song was a comedic dreadful story of a man abused by a lover, named Mary Love, which he could not escape. No matter how many times she would cheat and leave, she would always come back. The man attempted to hide everywhere, yet to no avail, which came out in the chorus:
‘You can try to hide in the valley below,
You can try in the mountain above, but,
You cannot hide,
You cannot hide,
You cannot hide from Love.’
Mitch and the guitarist had both stood up by this point and were tapping to the rhythm. Another couple was dancing and the air had turned electric. The music of the last verse slowed then rose to a crescendo for the last chorus then stopped abruptly to everyone’s applause.
“Thank you everybody,” said Mitch. He winked at Abby and then shook the duos hands before returning to the table.
“Told you you’d love that,” said Caroline.
“Who wouldn’t,” said Abby.
The three at the table clapped again as Mitch approached to sit down and Brian picked up the pitcher and topped off Mitch’s beer.
“Aren’t you talented,” said Abby.
“That’s the only song I know,” said Mitch.
“I doubt that.”
“Well maybe a couple more,” said Mitch.
“I bet you do,” said Abby.
“He does, don’t buy the modesty act,” said Caroline. “Let’s see if he’s talented enough to read a menu. I’m famished.”
“Ha, ha, ha,” said Mitch in a mock laugh as he took the menu Caroline offered him.
Instead of reading at what was on the menu, Mitch was peering over the top at Abby. Her cheeks were full and she was glowing after all of the laughter. Mitch realized he had stared too long into the light and had to avert his eyes when Abby began to lift her head from the menu. Abby had not noticed. When Abby lifted her head, she saw Mitch intently studying his menu.
“Do you know what you’re having?” asked Abby.
“So many choices I’m not sure. It all looks good,” said Mitch.
“You should try the child’s menu,” said Caroline.
Mitch mockingly laughed again, “Ha, Ha. You are full of them tonight.”
“Maybe if you looked at the menu a bit more instead of Abby you would find something,” said Caroline. She had noticed Mitch’s prolonged gaze in Abby’s direction.
“Probably a burger,” said Mitch. “Yes, a burger and sweet potato fries.”
* * * * *
Chapter 11
Will pulled his truck up to the Stone Tavern and parked in the space at the end of the snowmobile pack. He stepped out and looked across the road to see if the liquor store was still open. The fluorescent light that hung low in the store was on however that did not necessarily mean anything since they left the lights on all night over there. The watch Will kept on the dashboard of his truck had not worked in five years or been worn in fifteen, even then only on occasion. Walking across the road, he leaned his neck forward to see any signs of movement a bit sooner. The face of the wall clock read ten minutes to the hour. Will took this as a good sign. When Will opened the door a little bell signaled the counter that someone had just arrived in case they were stocking shelves, in the back, or with a customer.
The Willow Lake liquor store was just that and nothing else. This was the only place to buy liquor for twenty miles. The store interior did not need to be upscale or wood trimmed. The wine section did not need the ends of giant casks on the wall. The advertisements were even at a minimum because they were not really needed. The liquor store had been set up by the liquor control commission and was as basic as a store could get.
Inside of the liquor store aisle after aisle of alcohol, the vodka, the whiskey, the brandy, and gin were lined up on the shelves with full cases behind them, in more of a storage facility fashion than a display. Along the side and back walls, from floor to ceiling, were all of the varietals of wines, the Cabernets, the Chardonnays, the Pinots, and the Chablis from wineries from around the world. The variety of wine labels to choose from represented a vast collection of wineries, corporate and boutique, with catchy names like ‘Red Juice’, ‘Farmers Dream’, and ‘Devil Dog’.
Will chose his wines for taste and price. The Argentinian Malbec had a faux French label to appear authentic and the Shiraz had a large black turtle on the label. Both were under ten dollars and did not taste like varnish. That pretty much made them his wines. In what now had become a ritual he swiped one of each off the shelves and went up to the counter. After setting the bottles down next to the register Will stepped back three steps and picked up a half pint of ginger brandy, elixir as he called the drink, and tossed the bottle hand to hand as he stepped back to the counter. Will knew what the total would be before Dennis, the cashier, rang the bill up. Will reached into his pocket and pulled out two twenties and placed them and the ginger brandy next to the wine. Dennis bagged the bottles and slid them across the counter. Will did not wait for Dennis to ring in the twenties. Will scooped up the bag and muttered goodnight as he turned to the door.
Will’s walk back across the street was direct. His thumb punched the button to the handle of the passenger door and as the door swung open, he pulled himself inside. Will dropped the bag on the passenger side floor of the truck. Immediately he reached for the ginger brandy. He cracked the top and poured some down his throat. A jolt shot through him. He cringed. His body tightened up and then went loose as he shook off the initial bite. A numbing quiver crept up his spine. Will put the bottle to his lips and took another drink. This one went down smooth and brought him momentary euphoria.
Will slipped the brandy into his inside coat pocket, shut the door to the pickup, and then headed to the Tavern door. Stepping inside Will went right to the end of bar, waved over Jodi the bartender, and ordered a beer and a sidecar of whiskey. While waiting for his drinks Will said hello to some fellow locals at the bar, undid his coat, and proceeded in small talk with Terry Enders. The talk was automated though because all Will could really think about was getting the beer and whiskey. A beer and a shot were part of the formula that would calm his nerves and steady his hands so he could get back to work on the urns. Urns that were Bellen urns only if they were made by Bellen hands. This was all part of a ritual.
“What’s taking Jodi so long to pour a damn beer and a shot,” Will thought to himself as he continued the small talk then half-heartedly laughed at a comment he really did not hear. The world around Will was secondary and out of focus. To watch Jodi talking to someone else at the end of the bar was frustrating for him when he had not even been served yet. Will clenched his jaw. Jodi had just taken some money from another customer and was about to ring them up.
/> Terry was still going on about some hockey game and how he thought some coach had made an unfair call. Will was not paying much attention to Terry anymore. Terry realized this and tried to get Will’s attention.
“Will, what do you think?”
A pause.
Terry asked a second time, “What do you think Will?”
Terry began to ask a third time and Will snapped at him in a raised voice, “I don’t really care what call he makes Terry. I just want Jodi to get me a beer!”
“I hear ya,” said Jodi across the bar. “I’m comin’ right over.”
“That’s fine,” said Terry. “No point getting uppity.”
Everybody else on that side of the bar heard Will as well, including Abby.
Abby and Caroline looked at each other and then up at Will fidgeting at the end of the bar—tap, tap, tap with the hands. Jodi was holding a pint glass with one hand and the beer tap down with the other, as if that would make the beer pour any faster. As soon as the beer neared the top of the glass Jodi eased up the tap at a pace just slow enough to put a head on the beer yet fast enough to let Will know that he was working with a sense of urgency.
“Why thank you Jodi,” said Will when the beer was placed in front of him.
“No problem Will,” said Jodi, holding the rocks glass in one hand and pouring whiskey with the other.
Jodi set the rocks glass next to the pint.
Will raised his brow and said to Terry, “Now that wasn’t so hard was it.”
“Lay off him and go home,” said Abby. She was now standing just behind Will. “You need a drink so bad you need to be a bully?” she asked.
“Whoa, now hold on there,” said Will.
Terry turned toward the television at the other end of the bar and everyone sitting at the bar in earshot pretended not to hear. Mitch, Brian, and Caroline were a few feet away and were coming closer until Abby held out her hand for them to halt where they were.
The Potter's Daughter (Literary Series) Page 4
