by Siera London
In her estimation, anyone who wanted to run a race for 100 miles on the back of a horse was nuts. So was she. For one whole year, Julie would be a resident of the sleepy little town called Endurance, her new home for the race season. As a journalist for Sports Complicated, it was her year to spend in the picturesque town, stepping over horseshit and listening to men whine about the soreness of their balls from sitting for long periods of time in the saddle, or on a mountain bike.
Nuts.
When it came down to it, all of it was about nuts. Either a man wanted to prove his was bigger than the next guy, or he would lose them in the crack of a mountain bike seat at the 25k mark, coming down a rocky trail. And there were loads of trails to hike, climb, scale or get your feet wet. Looking down at the map, laying it next to the calendar, she clearly identified 11 trails; each more detailed than the last. Glancing at the schedule her boss had given her, she identified twenty separate events during the 10-month period, which included the eight signature events held by the town. It was her job to cover them all, but as a budding novelist, she also wrote romantic stories under a pen name that her boss knew nothing about.
Unbeknownst to Sports Complicated, Julie mapped out a plan to uncomplicate the year by writing a novel about a sports enthusiast who fell for a local girl, and moved to the small town of Endurance. Small towns were hot beds for romances, on and off the books, and she saw no reason why this one would not be the same. There was always a spark to be witnessed between two unlikely souls that would make great fodder for a sweet, small town romance about two mismatched bodies, finding the perfect syncopation. She only had to move in, get settled, and tell the locals she wrote for the magazine. The rest would be her little secret.
However, right now, her secret was going to be given away if the man in the next seat grabbed her hand one more time when the plane hit a pocket of turbulence. Truthfully, she didn’t mind so much since he was a good-looking, hairy knuckled sort of fellow without a wedding ring. It had been a while since a man touched anything more than her hand, and Mr. Hairy Knuckles smelled like a night of happiness, wrapped in a couple of oohs and aahs. The spark ignited by the touch of his hand sent goosebumps up her arm, down her spine, and that sweet spot she often ignored when it complained of loneliness. Maybe, if Mr. Sexy Silver Fox was heading in her direction, she might look up the spark igniter of her dead furnace.
Julie gave him a reassuring smile as she patted his hand with her free one. The blue eyes searched her face for hope that he would not die before the plane landed. Absently, she rubbed the fine hairs on the back of his hand, receiving a smile that made her heart jump in her chest. Possibilities. He was a possibility for a nice diversion on a rainy Saturday afternoon. Just because she would be stuck in the mountains didn’t necessarily mean she should be bored out of her gourd.
“Thank you,” he whispered hoarsely. “I hate flying.”
“It’s okay, we are all afraid of something,” she told him. Julie began to think she was afraid of the flight never coming to an end. However, she was enjoying holding the nice man’s hand. The tender moment came to an abrupt halt as the fasten seat belt signs lit up and the flight attendants made the final walk through the cabin.
The captain’s voice came over the intercom announcing their arrival into Sacramento, and she was grateful to soon be on the ground. Captain Combs landed the plane without a hitch, much to the pleasure of the hand holding hottie. One by one, they departed the plane, taking elevators and escalators to the bottom floor to collect luggage, or secure ground transportation. Julie too, wanted to get the party started, locating her overly packed luggage on the conveyor belt. Bending over the black rotating belt of colorful baggage, she reached for the patchwork suitcase, losing her balance, only to embarrassingly become an item of laughter as her purse became entangled with straps of the broken handle, trapping her on the belt. Her butt stuck up in the air as she rode the oversized case around the carousel, trying desperately to untangle herself. Each time she tried to free herself, the strap yanked her back down like an overzealous lover not wanting to let her off the ride of love.
“Oooh,” she wailed, trying to get free.
The man on the plane, who’d held her hand during much of the ride, needed to secure his package, get to his vehicle and head home. He was tired, his stomach gurgled, and he wanted to find the woman on the plane to offer a token of gratitude. However, he'd lost sight of the attractive young woman who allowed him comfort by caressing the back of his hand during the turbulence on the plane. Wanting to thank her for the assist, he looked high and low, but to no avail. Once the door opened, passengers flooded out like bugs running from the lights coming on in the kitchen. Hopefully, when they reached the baggage claim, he’d be able to properly thank her or at least offer her his card. Maybe she’d get a chance to see him as something more than a frightened man on a bumpy flight. His wish came true in the most unusual manner when he entered the baggage claim area to find her straddled on her luggage, impinged by the strap of her purse, bouncing up and down on the luggage like a ride at the traveling carnival.
A wide-hipped security guard, who closely resembled the mean lunch lady in every elementary school, watched Julie with a sour face, and her hands on her hips as Julie went around the carousel for the third time. Each rotation allowed more luggage to dump from the black hole being fed from the plane’s belly. The additional bags would jostle her on the belt, further securing her embarrassing seat on the luggage go- round. To her sheer delight, the hairy knuckled hand holder from the plane reached down, and lifted her and the suitcase up in one motion, up righting both onto the floor. Her body slid against his, warming her from her core. The man was solid. He barely strained as he lifted her and the loaded suitcase. Balminess hit her again as his arms brushed against her exposed skin sending signals to the dead furnace to wake up and warm the room.
“There ya go, little lady,” he said. “I was hoping to repay your kindness from the plane.”
“I appreciate it,” she mumbled, trying to get away before he offered to give her a ride, buy her coffee, or devise a workout plan, so that she would have more upper body strength. Who am I kidding? I was just assaulted by a suitcase in public.
He must have noticed the look of distaste on her face, because he opted not to hand her a business card, or ask her out for coffee, or to share a cab. Call it vanity or life experience, but Julie knew her looks garnered a more than fair share of whistles, catcalls, and unsolicited offers to spend time with lonely men. She appreciated that “no thank you” would not be her final words to him. With a tip of his hat and a parting smile, the handsome gentleman disappeared among the crowd, leaving her to wander her way to the double sliding glass door to the street.
Horns honked, tires screeched, and people yelled in different languages as they all climbed into vehicles ready to start a new adventure. The same thought came to mind as she located the rental car van and climbed aboard to be driven to the lot to pick up her $20 a week rental. A rented car, a rented house, and rented time was all she had as she loaded up the little compact, headed out toward I-80 driving towards Endurance, California.
Forty minutes later, turning down Saratoga Springs Road, the picturesque beauty of the small town, complete with a local college, a fishing pond, and so much cuteness she could hardly stand it, stole her breath away. There was even a golf course named after Abel Burney. She had no idea who that was, but in the next 10 months, she would find out all about the man, his golf course, and the good people who lived in the town of Endurance.
THE TOWN WASN’T VERY large but was nestled in a small valley surrounded by mountains, hills, and panoramic views. Her fingertips itched to get to a keyboard to tap out the descriptions of what she saw as she drove down Miller Road coming into the center of town. Pleased to see a local museum which also housed the library, she grinned to see the hospital next to it. It was squeezed in between the town hall and a bakery, which she was certain made delicious donuts, and sat
next to the police station. Making a left, she turned down Dodger Lane, passing a cute coffee shop, and located the rental home she would occupy.
It was an adorable two-bedroom cottage, fully stocked with everything she would need for the upcoming stay. Locating the door key under the flower pot on the small front porch adorned with two rockers, she let herself into the warm home filled with small touches to make anyone who entered feel welcome. On the table sat a list of places to eat, buy groceries, have a beer, or even a cup of coffee. She was delighted to find the list also included a bookstore, three local churches, and a Farmer’s Market down by Tommy’s Park. Locating her notepad, she jotted down a note to find out about Abel Burney, and another to figure out what happened to Tommy, and why he had a park named after him.
Riffling through her oversized suitcase, she checked the fridge and pantry, not sure why, but out of habit. Both were empty. Going back to the list, she located a grocer, checked the local map, and found it to be within walking distance. Everything in the town was within walking distance. She didn’t want to appear as the local greenhorn, so taking the two reusable shopping bags with her that she located in the empty pantry, Julie locked the front door, added the door key to her set of car keys, and made her way to Ma Hildie’s Grocery Store and Wine Tasting Bar.
The grocery store was a quaint little place, which sold easy burning fire logs, cheese covered petrified worms, and canned possum. It also housed a deli with mouthwatering delights, that held all the basic necessities required to stock up. To her pleasure, it also held a wine store with free tastings. Since she was walking, and totally detested grocery shopping, she opted for the wine tasting first. Three samples later and feeling a bit lightheaded, it was time to shop for food. Shopping didn’t take Julie long since her cooking ability ebbed on the use of the microwave or an Instapot. Loading up on frozen meals, fruits, a can of peaches and just about everything the deli had in sealed little plastic containers, the grocery bags had become too heavy for her to carry.
“I should have brought my car,” she said to the cashier.
“You staying close by?” the young girl asked.
“Yes, I am a block over in the little blue cottage on Dodger Lane,” Julie offered. “I’m staying here all year to cover the events in Endurance.”
“Well, aren’t you just the cool cat in town!” The young woman offered. “Since you’re so close, take the shopping cart. You can unload your groceries, and then bring it back.”
“That is the best suggestion I have heard all day,” Julie answered.
Happy with her purchases, she headed out of the door, feeling a bit more lightheaded than was comfortable. A rude awakening came quickly as she understood the subtlety of the slight downgrade in the route she’d taken to get to the store. It was an uphill struggle with the shopping cart to get back to the cottage. Never one to question those who believed in physical fitness, she now questioned herself for a lack of the basic strength to push a grocery cart uphill. If the ride on the carousel was bad, this small little trip down exercise row had winded her to the point of exhaustion by the time she reached the cottage’s front porch. The energy left her as she laid back on the porch with the groceries still in the cart, her knees clamped together in an effort to hold back the massive amount of pee in her bladder. This was it. Headline news would read, Pissy woman found dead on front porch of cute blue rental cottage on Dodge Lane. Her heart exploded from pushing two bags of groceries in a cart uphill. If only she had the oxygen in her lungs to get up. The food would have to wait. She didn’t have the strength to lift the bags out to carry them inside.
Splayed out like she’d had a heart attack, several people stopped to make sure she was alive. One gentleman, a Dr. Chadwick Winter, even went as far as checking her pulse. Wide eyes looked at him with a pissed off expression, which only elicited a warm smile from the attractive, clean cut, black man.
“I’m a doctor Madam,” he offered as he touched her wrist. “The altitude is pretty high up here, and you will need to take it slow the first two weeks to become acclimated.” Dr. Winter took the keys from her hand, opened her front door, and took her groceries inside. Coming back, he helped her up off the porch as she flopped down on the couch like a torn rag doll, watching the stranger put away her groceries, as if he lived in the house.
“You can put these where you want them after you catch your breath,” he said, passing her a bottle of water. “I will take the shopping cart back to Ma Hildie’s. Here, drink some water.”
She accepted the bottle, but was unable to open it due to her strength being a permanent resident on that last bit of incline. Hopefully, later today, it would catch up with her only to find her still sitting on the couch. Julie felt like an idiot for studying all the notes on the town, but failing to factor in the high altitude. The air was thin, and she hadn’t factored in that portion either.
“If you are going to be in town for a while, it would really help for you to get out each day, and walk a little to build up your endurance. After a month or so, use the bike on the front porch to get around town, so you may get stronger and used to the thin air up here,” Dr. Winter told her.
He handed her a business card, smudged with frosting. Embarrassed, he took it back replacing it with a clean card.
“Sorry about that. I have a major sweet tooth and spend way too much time at The Cupcakery. You should head there tomorrow. On Tuesdays, the owner bakes red velvet and key lime cupcakes. My favorite is the banana pudding. They have real pudding in the middle,” he offered with a smile.
Returning her keys, he waved in farewell, and left Julie alone on the couch with her thoughts. Her limp hands fumbled with the business card as her eyes tried to focus on the words. Try as she might to zoom in on the small print, her vision blurred, her lungs constricted, and she swore Tweety flew by her right ear.
“Just flipping great,” she said, leaning over on the couch in defeat.
Her rescuer had been a pediatrician. Tomorrow, she would follow the doctor’s order and visit The Cupcakery to try out the local flavor. One thing was certain, until she acclimated as he so fervently recommended, Julie would be driving her vehicle.
Chapter 2 – Winter & Intervals of Love
The couch was evil incarnate as far as Julie was concerned. It held her hostage for the remainder of the day. And when the night rolled in and the moon rose high, peeking through the ugly curtains hanging precariously at the windows, she felt violated by its intrusion. She’d been in Endurance for less than twelve hours and already three people knew she had no stamina and could not breathe in the thin mountain air. The nosey moon who constantly peeped into the living room window, the clerk at Ma Hildie’s, who didn’t see her return the cart, and of course, the handsome pediatrician Dr. Chadwick Winter. Well, it would be four people if you counted Couchie, her new best friend.
Since she’d spent so much time with the couch in such a short period of time, Julie felt it needed a name. Normally, she didn’t sleep with anyone on a first date, but Couchie was her new lover, and best friend. In her hours of need, he’d cradled her in his embrace, soothed her wounded pride, and comforted her lungs. The organs likely swore she’d taken up a nasty habit of inhaling shallow breaths, incapable of sustaining oxygen to her brain. A brain which felt addled this morning and in dire need of coffee.
Groaning as her muscles protested a night of unencumbered romance with Couchie, she tried to stand, but her legs resembled wet noodles after dropping in a pot of hot water. Slowly rubbing her stiff back, she made it to the small kitchen pantry, locating the bag of coffee she’d purchased. Unfortunately, she’d forgotten to buy coffee filters.
“Great,” she mumbled, looking for an alternative to filter the grounds. The only thing she had were paper towels. “This will work too.”
Ripping off a smaller version of the multi-sized sheets, she folded it with care into the hopper. Locating a spoon, she ladled in two heaping teaspoons full, adding the small bottle of water to the
reservoir, and pressing the little orange button to start the drip of morning refreshment. The light didn’t come on.
She pressed it again.
Still no light.
She stared at the pot with utter contempt, angered at its refusal to be her friend. Five minutes passed and there was no steamy hiss, no steady drip, no water flowing through the pot. She wanted to scream. This was too much. Rifling through the cabinets, she hoped and prayed that there was at least an old-fashion percolator under the cabinets, but to no avail.
“This is unacceptable,” she grumbled, searching for her keys. Without checking her appearance, she headed out the front door with the local map in search of coffee. To her amazement, and the blessings from the coffee fairy, she located High Altitudes Coffee House less, than three blocks from her little rental.
Unable to form a coherent sentence, she entered the coffee shop and slapped a twenty on the counter with a growl. The vibrant young lady behind the counter stared at her for a minute, and then smiled a knowing grin.
“One grande coffee, regular, coming up,” she said with Julie watching her suspiciously. She poured the hot java into a disposable cup. “I left the lid off with room for cream, which is right over there,” she pointed.
Julie followed the direction of the finger, growling and moving like a zombie to the stand. Adding two sugars and a dollop of cream, she stirred, sipped, spooned in more sugar, stirred again, and drank. Blinking several times, she began to notice people watching her in amusement. To her absolute horror, the man from the plane who’d rescued her from the overzealous carousel also sat by the window enjoying the Julie Gets Coffee Show.
Julie raised a hand, waving at him. He waved back. Even with her thin air deprived lungs and fuzzy brain, that man was still covered in sexy.
