by Denise Daisy
“How close is the nearest town?” She asked, “Maybe we could…”
“One hundred thirty three miles,” Marcus said, cutting her off. “And it’s not any bigger than this one.”
“I guess it’s ridiculous to ask if Moonshine has an airport,” Trent said sarcastically.
“Let’s face it, troupe. We’re stranded.”
“More like screwed,” Bronwyn said pushing her plate away from her. “I for one have no desire in staying here for more than one night, let alone ten days! I want out of here. I find this place a little disturbing!”
“Bronwyn, lower your voice!” Bethany said. “People can hear you!”
“I don’t care!” she shouted louder than before.
“Well, you bloody well better!” Trent shot back. “They’re going to be your neighbors for a while.”
Bronwyn decided now might be the best time to inform Marcus of her suspicions. “Something’s not right about this place! I don’t think we’re safe here!”
Her words surprised him.
“And why don’t you feel safe? Everyone I’ve met so far has been quite accommodating and friendly.”
Leaning toward him, she lowered her voice. “Someone was stalking Walt and me last night while we were looking for help, and then I saw them again, while we were walking here.”
Marcus turned to Lillian as if to validate Bronwyn’s story. “Did you see someone following you?”
Lillian shook her head. “I looked, but I didn’t see anyone.”
“I think it was some kind of wild animal.” Bethany volunteered her insight on the matter. Her supposed authority on the subject dismissed the issue and annoyed Bronwyn.
“Just because you didn’t see anything Bethany, doesn’t mean someone wasn’t there. I know what I saw last night. Someone in a hooded robe wielding a knife followed us last night and was stalking us on the way into town a few minutes ago.”
She could tell by everyone’s expression that they thought she might be losing her grasp on reality. She sighed, frustrated. “Call it premonition, whatever, I don’t feel safe here. I think we are being detained here for some reason and I think we should do what we can to leave.”
Karley broke the humiliating silence. “We’re stuck here because the bus engine has been neglected and couldn’t take these mountain roads. And that, my dear, is Hogg’s fault, not the work of a crazy serial killer hiding on the side of an un-traveled highway wielding a knife or a sawed off shotgun.”
“I wish I did have a gun!” Wilbur barked. “I’d aim it right at you!”
“You damn near wouldn’t!” Karley yelled back “Unless you wanted it rammed where the sun don’t shine!”
“Guys!” Marcus’ usually calm countenance was disintegrating into agitation. “Let’s try and keep our cool. As Bethany pointed out, people are watching us.”
Bronwyn looked around the patio, and although she knew none of her group agreed with her, she sensed there was something odd about the place, however picturesque it may appear. Marcus was right in the fact that the inhabitants of the town did seem friendly enough, like a large group of Southern people lost deep in the mountains, living in their own small world, seemingly untouched by the latest technologies and modern conveniences. So what if they didn’t have cell phones or internet? The world had managed to survive for years before their invention. Most of the people looked youthful, happy, healthy, and stress free, despite the fact that she had heard somewhere that the higher the elevation, the faster the aging process. In light of their Norman Rockwell appearances, something wasn't right.
She continued to scan the patio, glancing at the many smiling faces, intrigued by the goings on at her table, when her eyes stopped abruptly upon a face of a man, sitting alone in the far corner. He leaned back in his chair with one leg thrown across his table, a cigarette hung from his lower lip. He appeared unshaven, with long black hair that hung in his face. His eyes hid behind a pair of dark sunglasses. He seemed to be looking her way, however, it was hard to tell for sure until he flashed an impish grin. Terror gripped her, and another disturbing feeling came upon her at the sight of his wicked smile. Now she was convinced all the more that something sinister was at play here in Moonshine. She looked away, not wanting the man to see the fear in her face, and returned her attention back to the table.
“I think,” Marcus was saying diplomatically, “we should look at the positive side of our situation. We can be thankful that the bus decided to give out within a few miles of a nice comfortable inn.”
“The Bates Motel,” she mumbled under her breath.
“With a nice family, eager to take care of our needs,” he continued, ignoring her sarcastic remark. “We have every comfort right here. We could have had the misfortune of breaking down a hundred miles from Moonshine. Now that, my friends, would have been a disaster! Since there is nothing we can do about our situation, my advice to all of you would be to make the most of it.”
“I, for one, do not think any of you should use this little detour in the schedule as vacation time,” Wilbur grumbled. “Since we’re all still on the payroll, I suggest every one of you use this time for self-improvement!”
“Every one of us?” Karley shouted her words. “What about you, Hogg? I think you should include yourself in that statement.”
Marcus nodded. “It wouldn’t hurt to set aside a few rehearsals. Our past few performances haven’t been our best.”
Wilbur jumped on the opportunity to criticize. “You’re not kidding about that, the audience keeps laughing and the funny thing is, we’re not performing a comedy.”
Bronwyn decided to ignore Wilbur’s barrage of insults and look across the patio, curious to see if the roguish man was still looking her way. She casually glanced around; her eyes fell on two girls who were openly flirting with Trent and Daniel. The guys, who were also ignoring Wilbur, were engaged and returning the flirtatious antics. However, the man’s table was empty and cleared as if he had never been there. She searched the patio and the sidewalk out front. There was no sign of him. Another shiver tickled her skin.
She sighed and unwillingly turned her attention back to the table and Wilbur’s bombardment of insults. “Trent, you need to hone up on your acting skills. Your performances of late have been extremely shallow. Good looks will get you only so far.”
Anna immediately intervened before Trent could toss a glass of cold water on Wilbur. “As Marcus said before, a few extra rehearsals could do us all a world of good. Don’t you agree, Marcus?” Anna made sure that Wilbur heard her emphasis.
“Have my performances been that horrid?” Trent asked.
Marcus took a swallow of his tea and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Horrid? No. They have however, been somewhat empty of the charisma that I know exudes from you. Tell me, Trent, what do you think is causing your performances to fall flat?”
The troupe eyed Trent awaiting his response. They all knew most of the fault sat within the poor writing of the last script. This meant Bronwyn. The group adored her. She had produced stellar scripts in times past, yet because of her recent heartbreak, her stories lost some of their passion and depth. No one wanted to hurt her any further by bashing her latest work.
Trent caught Lillian’s eye and through her facial expression, she encouraged him to speak the truth.
“No offense to Bronwyn, but it’s extremely hard to portray a three-dimensional character when the material we have to work with is one-dimensional, boring, and quite predictable.”
The remark brought Bronwyn’s full attention back to the table. Before she could offer a word of defense, Wilbur jumped upon the insult. “I couldn’t agree more! My eight-year-old niece could have written a better script than that.”
She pushed herself away from the table to leave.
“Bronwyn, please,” Bethany begged. “Don’t take this personally. Sit down and let’s plod through this.”
“I don’t want to plod through anything!” She bit back, walking away. She stomped acros
s the patio angrily, feeling the stares of everyone as they watched her leave. She avoided their glares, keeping her eyes fixed ahead, and left the café, venturing on down the street.
Marcus sighed, “Bethany, do you think you should go after her?”
“No, I think its best we just give her some time. She’s been through a lot, and I know for a fact, she still hurts over Ryan.”
“Good God! It’s been six months. How long is she going to brood?”
“I know this is hard for you to understand, Hogg,” Karley said sarcastically, “considering most people get over you in six seconds flat.”
“Ah, the progression of a shattered heart.” Trent felt the desire to wax eloquently. “Stage one: extreme sadness, mingled with torrents of tears, and the consuming desire to please and convince the person who dumped you that you can change and be who they want you to be. When those sincere efforts go unrewarded, stage two begins: the bitter and angry stage. The person who you once loved, you now hate vigorously. You burn all tokens of affection you once treasured and held dear. You long for a casual encounter with the person, just so you can act out your revenge, proving how intently you despise them. Soon stage two gives way to stage three, the rebellious stage, which in my opinion, is the most dangerous of all.”
“Why is it dangerous?” Lillian asked; her eyes wide, absorbing all Trent was saying.
“Because, my love, when a person rebels, they will do anything. They display desperate attempts for attention, go against all they have ever believed in, justify an affair… the list goes on. It’s a dark world, then.”
Trent leaned back in his chair, balancing on the back legs, as he winked at the girls flirting with him from across the patio. He smiled smugly believing he had enlightened everyone at the table with his profound thoughts.
Bethany rolled her eyes and shook her head, “Bronwyn’s a smart girl. She’s not desperate or dangerous. She simply has a broken heart and needs time. She was planning her wedding, for crying out loud. This wasn’t a high school crush.”
“Denying it doesn’t make it any less true,” Trent said with extreme confidence. “As I see it, she’s in the second stage. Hate and bitterness. If you care for her Beth, don’t let her get to stage three.”
Bethany’s anger toward Trent grew. “You’re the one who started this by blaming her for your poor acting.”
Trent chewed on the straw hanging from his lips. “I’ll ignore that remark, love, but I think you have noticed quite a bit of hatred and bitterness growing in Bronwyn, whether you admit it or not.”
“Maybe I have,” she answered him, “but I don’t appreciate you pointing it out to everyone and making predictions about her life. She’s my best friend and I think I know her much better than anyone else at this table. I’m certain that time is all she needs and soon she will be her old self again, laughing, teasing, and ready for our next adventure. Who knows? Maybe she’ll fall in love all over again.”
“I hope you’re right Beth,” Trent said. “But right now she seems like she might need a bit of intervention. All I’m saying, is since you are the closest to her, you need to look out for her. Sugar coating things doesn’t help. Tell her the truth about herself so she can deal with her issues and get past them. We all love her and I for one will help you with this, if you trust me. After all I do have my degree in counseling, you know.”
Bethany ran her finger across the condensation on her tea glass. Trent could be right; she had noticed an unpleasant change in Bronwyn’s personality, not to mention the sheer shock of her latest disclosure, believing they were in some kind of danger.
The troupe finished lunch and decided to take a relaxing tour of Moonshine. Nell informed them of an enormous lake and scenic waterfalls. She recommended the many nature trails that wound deep into the woods, and mentioned several stables where they could go horseback riding. She also informed them of the bakery and sweet shop, and an old-fashioned soda fountain that made the most amazing malts and shakes. She told them about the library and a small museum of Appalachian history. With all this information, the troupe decided to kill a few hours in town before heading back to the inn. Marcus’ plan was to meet back at Larry’s garage at six. They would retrieve more of their belongings from the bus before heading back to the inn.
With the agenda decided, the troupe headed into town. Trent and Daniel were escorted by two giggling girls.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Canoe Rental.”
Bronwyn read the sign posted in the window of the general store. It seemed to offer the perfect tranquil escape - just what she needed.
It had been months since she experienced solitude. Just two weeks after she and Ryan split, she rejoined the troupe on their tour. Although she hated going back to her humble beginnings, she’d do anything to get away and take her mind off Ryan’s betrayal. It had been extremely close quarters the past six months, traveling from venue to venue. Whenever they stopped at hotels, they were always doubling up. Even now, at the inn, there were three to a room. She was in desperate need of some alone time, even if only for a couple of hours.
The tiny silver bells above the door jingled as she entered the store. The cool breeze from the much-overworked air conditioner pushed against her face. She hadn’t noticed the intense heat and humidity of the day until now. Walking through the market, she glanced around looking for what could be a rental station for the canoes. The market was quite large. A produce section filled with fresh fruit and vegetables took up over half of the store, appearing much like the farmers markets she would frequent back home. A very small meat counter stood on the other side of the store. The selection was quite limited, consisting mostly of fresh fish, obviously caught in the local lake.
She noticed Carla Jo, accompanied by a couple of young girls, ogling over the latest movie magazine. Not wanting the girls to see her, she chose an alternate aisle. She was in no mood to make small talk with Carla Jo, or anyone else. She’d already power-walked the entire way from the café to the market, while dishing out forced smiles to all the people extending her a greeting. She felt somewhat guilty for her rudeness, however, she justified her behavior today as self-preservation. It was not her intent to make new friendships right now. Her stay here in Moonshine would be brief. What life-long friendships could she possibly develop in eight short days?
Successfully eluding Carla Jo and her clan, Bronwyn approached the deli counter. A man wearing a white apron and a huge grin greeted her. He offered no ‘hello,’ and no ‘how are you?’ His only greeting was an amusing antidote, not particularly humorous to Bronwyn. She feigned a slight courteous laugh.
“I saw a sign that said you rent canoes?”
“Sure do!” Gil responded enthusiastically. “You sure picked a great day to go out on the lake. Tell you what,” he tore a yellow ticket from a pad. “No charge today. This canoe ride is on the house as a welcome to Moonshine.”
Bronwyn’s stone stature melted a bit. “That’s not necessary, I can pay.”
“I won’t hear of it.” His cheery voice rang out. “Save all your money for the festival.”
He pointed to a large sign hanging on the back wall. Her eyes shifted to the beautifully painted banner.
Midsummer Night’s Cream
Moonshine’s Annual Ice Cream Festival
Saturday, August 16th
“Best ice cream in the whole world. All of it made right here by the amazing people of Moonshine. It’s a fun night of dancing, games, and prizes. You and your friends will have the time of your lives.”
Bronwyn took the yellow ticket from Gil. “Thank you, I’m sure we will,” she offered a half smile, realizing they would still be in town for the event.
“You head on down to the lake hon,” Gil said. “And I’ll send Kevin on ahead to pull you out a canoe.”
Bronwyn placed the ticket in her back pocket and turned to leave, nearly tripping over Carla Jo and her friends. All three were bouncing up and down, as if the whole floor were a tra
mpoline.
“This is the lady who knows him!” Carla Jo squealed.
Bronwyn looked down at the magazine in Carla Jo’s hand. Ryan’s face spread across the cover. She grabbed the magazine and the headline,
“RYAN REESE… The Hero the World’s been Waiting For!”
She groaned. How stupid and naïve can people be? Did anyone realize he is not the hero he portrays in movies? Anyone could be a hero, if they quoted amazing lines that were written for them, had a stunt double to jump in and do all the dangerous work, and whose enemies were very nice people playing a role. Had the whole world gone mad?
“Tell us all about him, please!” one of the girls pleaded.
“For starters,” Bronwyn said, “he’s nothing like the characters he portrays in the movies. He’s a coward and a big pompous jerk. Besides, I wouldn’t get your hopes up girls. He’s actually gay.” Handing the magazine back to the sad eyed girls, she left the store.
The lake proved much more delightful than she had imagined. Just as Gil had said, she met Kevin, a shy young store clerk, who blushed the entire time he spoke with her, down by the water’s edge. He’d already floated her canoe into the water. He pointed out a small peninsula of trees jutting out across the water, telling her to paddle that way and make the turn. “You’ll be delighted with what you see,” he said.
He was right. The lake opened up before her like a vast mirror reflecting the cloudless sky. Lofty trees and colossal mountains stood vigil, protecting this serene setting. Cedars, Spruce, and Fir trees of all kinds grew on the hillsides, releasing their sacred smell. Two hawks flew overhead, flapping their enormous wings before diving into effortless glides and skimming across the water. Both hawks seized protesting but defenseless fish, and climbed back into the sky, disappearing across the hillside. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, once again inhaling the invigorating aroma of the mountain and the warmth of the midday sun. She reveled in the quiet peacefulness of the place. There was no noise, save for the chatter of insects in the trees, an occasional splash from a jumping fish, and the chirping of birds. There was no traffic, no loud roar of the bus engine, no car alarms sounding off without an intruder, no annoying cell phone ring tones, and no loud obnoxious conversations. Bronwyn realized she had not received a call in over twenty-four hours. She usually felt a strong irritation when she could not get a signal for her phone. Now, in this setting, she was quite thrilled that no one would be able to interrupt her solitude - especially Ryan and his annoying, blood thirsty attorneys. Positioning her paddle in the canoe, she lay back into the boat, enjoying the tranquility of the moment.
