A couple minutes later, Nate made a turn.
Right back in time.
Her head came up. Before her eyes stretched an honest-to-goodness Main Street straight out of a 1950s’ era television show. Adorable shops lined the street and each featured a colorful awning. Yellow ones, blue ones, red ones, canvas ones, striped ones. Shop windows announced summer was in full force, and flowers exploded all over the place. They filled every window, as well as the planters hanging from old-fashioned street lamps.
She’d lived in metropolitan cities around the world, visited fourteenth century villages in Europe, and her sports car had motored through back-of-nowhere towns across the United States, but nothing she’d seen had ever come close to Covington Falls’ slice of Americana preserved.
As they topped the hill a church came into view. White and sparkling, with a tall silver steeple stretching up into a cerulean sky.
“Oh…” She took in a deep breath breaking the silence. “Look at it!”
“There are three more,” Nate said, unbending enough to smile. “North, south, east and west. The one I attend is at the opposite end of Main Street.”
“Like a circle of protection.” She liked the image of a God who wrapped His arms around His people. She’d never seen The Almighty as a benevolent caregiver. She’d never pictured Him much at all, but if she did, she was more likely to conjure up the Old Testament, fire and brimstone version of God. The God of Judgment Day.
Nate’s gray eyes darkened like clouds rolling in before a thunderstorm. “We don’t enjoy protection from everything in Covington Falls.”
He didn’t offer any further explanation and since Emily was still kicking herself about the insult she’d leveled on her rescuer, she didn’t push for one. Instead they drove in silence to the end of the block until the truck rattled to a stop in front of an auto repair garage.
Fred’s Fix-Em. How quaint. Emily conjured up an image of good ole’ Fred. Nate jumped out and walked around the truck. Emily knew he was coming to open the door, but there was no way she could handle touching him again so she scrambled out.
Nate’s mouth quirked as he stopped, hand already poised to grab her door. Ignoring him, she spun around and grabbed Wordsworth’s carrier. She straightened and saw Nate had trained his eyes on his boots. So, no sneaking a look at her rainbow patches again. Maybe she wasn’t the only skittish one.
Behind her, a door swung open. A young girl about ten years old ambled out of the repair shop. She was dressed in faded overalls paired with a gray T-shirt and a ball cap out of which sprang two shoulder-length blond pigtails.
“Hey, Kara,” Nate said.
Kara’s bow-shaped lips curved up in a ready smile, and two dimples appeared in her cheeks. Emily’s mind took a trip into the future, and she determined tomboy Kara’s father would one day be beating boys off with a stick.
“Hi ya, Mr. Cooper,” Kara said. “Has Old Bertha conked out on ya? I could take a look. I’ve been practicing, and Daddy says I’ll be a pro soon.”
Nate chuckled and tugged on a braid. “No doubt, but it’s not Bertha who needs fixin’. This lady’s car is stuck out by the lake.”
Kara swiveled her head and studied the newcomer. Then her big brown eyes widened in astonishment. “Oh wow!”
Nate’s brow furrowed. “What?”
Kara punched him in the arm. “Why didn’t you tell me who she was? Holy sauerkraut!”
“This is Emily,” Nate said.
“No, it’s E.J. Sinclair!” Kara cried.
“Who?”
Kara ignored him. “You are, right? You’re her!”
Emily’s wounded pride expanded like a hot air balloon and she nodded. “I try to be.”
Kara clapped her hands together and jumped up and down like she was going for a world record pogo stick run. “Oh, this is so cool! I can’t believe you’re here. I can’t wait to tell Evie Stevens I met you. She’ll flip out! You are so cool!”
Nate glanced between the excited girl and the blushing woman. “Again… who?”
Kara jumped in with explanations before Emily could do the honors. “E.J. Sinclair. She’s like the next J.K. Rowling. Kingdom of Dreams is one of my favorite books. And Sword of the Dark was great, too. Oh! Are you on a book tour? It’s been ages since you wrote anything.”
The balloon deflated, leaving Emily’s resurrected self-esteem flattened in the dirt. “Tell me about it.”
“You’re some kind of a children’s book author?” Nate asked.
“Uh-huh!” Kara cried. “She’s amazing!”
“Thank you,” Emily said. “That’s sweet.”
“So, are you coming out with a new book?” Kara asked.
Emily shook her head. “Nope. Just passing through.”
Kara continued to stare like she’d been hit on the head with a frying pan in a Tom and Jerry cartoon.
“Kara, Miss Sinclair needs to see about her car,” Nate said.
She grinned. “Oh, sure. Dad’s inside. I can show her.”
“Thank you. I need to get back to work.”
Emily’s heart skittered at the prospect of being left alone. She gazed at Heath… er… Nate for a moment, not knowing what to say.
Nate solved the problem. This time he held out his hand. “Good luck, Emily Sinclair. Hope you find what you’re looking for.”
Goodbye and so long. A strange heaviness settled over her chest. One she was hard pressed to explain. She reached out. Watched as his large fist swallowed up her tiny one for the last time. Tears stung her eyes.
What was wrong with her? She was becoming a basket case. She tried to pull her hand away, but Nate held on a second longer. Her chin flew up and his now-polished steel gray eyes seemed to suck her in like a whirlpool.
“Are you comin’, Miss Sinclair?” Kara called out.
Emily and Nate both jumped like they’d touched a live wire. Nate released her.
“Thank you for the ride,” Emily said.
He hooked his thumbs in his belt loop again. “No problem. Take care of yourself.”
“You too.”
He spun on his heel and headed back around to the driver’s seat. Emily watched as he pulled out of the lot, fighting the urge to chase him down. Talk about putting the icing on the cake of her crazy lady act.
“Miss Sinclair?” Kara’s voice pulled her back again. “You comin’ or not?”
Emily straightened her shoulders. “Comin’. I’m comin’.”
“I wish I’d brought my books with me!” Kara said. “You could sign ‘em…”
Emily smiled as Kara babbled on about making some other girl eat her shorts with envy. The words washed over her, but she didn’t pay any attention to them. Her mind stayed on Nate’s rust-mobile.
Which had to stop. Maybe she’d started an early midlife crisis. She was only twenty-eight, so it seemed unlikely, but something had to explain her bizarre reaction to a complete stranger.
All thoughts of Nate disappeared when she met Fred, who turned out to be a strapping, blond hunk, with shoulders like a linebacker. Emily blinked, but Fred’s image didn’t waver. Where was Covington Falls growing such fine specimen? His attire mirrored Nate’s in form and concept, except Fred had grease all over his hands instead of paint.
Kara tugged Emily further into the bowels of the repair shop. “Daddy… look!”
Daddy, with a matching amble shared by his daughter, reached them in a few steps. “What’s up, pumpkin?”
“Daddy! It’s E.J. Sinclair! The writer! Her car is stuck out by the lake. Mr. Cooper gave her a ride here. Isn’t this the coolest ever?”
He chuckled and flicked his daughter’s ball cap. “Sure is.”
“The name’s Emily,” she said when he switched his gaze to her.
“Mitch Baker,” he replied.
She paused as confusion settled over her. “I thought you were Fred?”
He flashed even white teeth. “Fred is my dad. Retired now, but he still comes in almost every d
ay to tinker around.”
She nodded. “Oh, well I do have a car stuck out by the lake. I was hoping I could get a tow truck to retrieve it.”
“We can get a truck out there, but it’ll be awhile. Gus — my driver — is out at the Russell place helping old Avery’s cow get out of a ravine.”
“You use your tow truck to rescue livestock?”
He smiled, acknowledging the odd vagaries of country life. “Around here we do. It’s my only truck and there’s no telling how long it’ll be before they manage to get Belinda unstuck.”
Her heart dropped to her feet. “What should I do until then?”
“The Old Diner is right down the street,” Mitch said. “You could get some lunch.”
Emily didn’t figure she had much choice. “Can I leave my cat here for awhile? He won’t be any trouble.”
The word cat penetrated Kara’s consciousness, and her eyes lit up. She stooped down to peer into the carrier. “Oh, he’s beautiful. I’ll watch him for you.”
“Go on and take Miss Sinclair’s cat up to the house,” Mitch said, “It’ll get too hot in here for him.”
Kara reached for the carrier and walked away, cooing nonsense words while Wordsworth rubbed against the crate door in apparent ecstasy.
After getting directions, Emily thanked Mitch Baker and left the shop. At the corner, she hung a right and headed back to Main Street. She found The Old Diner with no trouble and admired the vintage feel of the place with its black-and-white checkered floor, red vinyl booths and gorgeous photos of classic screen legends. She sat at the counter on a red vinyl swivel stool and ate a hamburger and fries. Washed it down with the most divine chocolate shake she’d ever tasted.
And wished the entire time she had even a fraction of her old imagination. She knew there could be a story in here. Shoot, the entire town was ripe for inspiration.
Hoping some of the magic would rub off, Emily went exploring after her meal. A dress boutique caught her eye and she came to a halt. A display of yellow sundresses had been arranged in the window. She stepped closer, gazing in feminine appreciation at the splendor.
The next shop, Marry Me, was a bridal consultant business. Emily’s skin prickled and her breath hitched. She hurried to get past the store, only to stop again when she noticed the window display. A wedding dress was draped over a chair in front of an antique vanity. She could see a pile of hairpins, a pearl necklace, and earrings piled on the vanity top. Her eyes drifted down and she paused. Clothes were strewn across the carpeted floor. First a pair of silk hose, followed by a man’s cummerbund and bow tie. The last item before the trail led off beyond the window was a tuxedo shirt.
Emily blinked in astonishment. If she wasn’t mistaken, someone had already started the honeymoon. What in the world?
Despite her newfound aversion to weddings, Emily couldn’t help but smile at the cheekiness of the frankly sensual display. She wondered who had put it together.
Her walking tour took her past a hardware store and a flower shop. Then she spotted The Bookworm across the street. She froze.
Just go right on by, Emily Sinclair. Walk away. Don’t torture yourself.
As usual, she ignored her own inner warning and stepped off the curb.
Ble-ee-eep!
She gasped and jerked back onto the sidewalk as a car breezed by. She took a few calming breaths. A normal person would have taken almost getting killed in a quest to rip open her own personal scab as a sign. Not her. The near-death experience didn’t stop her impulse to cross the street to the bookstore.
The bookseller was busy with another customer, but she waved a greeting. Emily tucked her head and fled down one of the aisles. She found the children’s section at the back. Tiny tables complemented by wooden chairs painted in vibrant colors were scattered around the space, and soft beanbag chairs lay in the corner. She had to search for her books as they were shelved among the hundreds of other offerings, unlike the wooden display to her right featuring all seven books chronicling the adventures of the boy wizard.
Once upon a time, her books had graced a similar pedestal, but she tried not to think about that.
She slipped Kingdom of Dreams from the shelf and stared down at the cover. Wondered what she would have to do to recapture the creative spark she’d once known.
“Sorry I wasn’t able to greet you when you came in,” a voice said from behind her. “Can I help you find something?”
Emily jumped and turned around. The small, rounded woman she’d seen at the front of the store hurried over.
“Sorry again,” the woman said, her smile exuding friendliness and goodwill. “Didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Lauren Nelson, the owner.”
“Nice to meet you, Lauren.”
“So, can I help you with anything?”
Emily shook her head. “I only came in to look around.”
“Do you have kids? I can recommend something.”
“No kids. I’ve just always loved the children’s section.”
Another warm smile blossomed on the shop owner’s face and she winked. “It’s my favorite, too. I assume you’ve read the Potter books?”
“Of course.”
She noticed the book in Emily’s hand. “Oh, you found E.J. Sinclair,” she said. “You’ll like her, especially this one. It was fabulous. Sword of the Dark wasn’t bad, but it lacked the passion and poetic voice of Kingdom of Dreams.”
Emily’s lips pulled back into a tight grimace. “Mmm… I remember that review.”
“Oh, you have heard of her then?”
“You might say I know her.”
“Do you? How—” She broke off and stared at Emily for a second. Then she reached for Sword of the Dark. Flipped it over to the back cover photo. “Oh no.”
“E.J. Sinclair. Nice to meet you,” she said before the other woman could sputter an apology.
Color leached from the woman’s cheeks. “Did I just insult you?”
“Believe me I’ve heard worse reviews of my sophomore release.” She gazed around. “You have a beautiful store.”
Lauren’s hands clasped together much like Kara’s had earlier. Emily wondered if the woman would start jumping up and down, too.
“Thank you,” Lauren said. “I can’t believe you’re standing in it. What in the world are you doing in Covington Falls?”
“Car trouble. I’m waiting for the tow truck to get through pulling Belinda out of a ditch.”
Her brow crinkled. “A who out of a what?”
“Long story, long wait for a tow. I’m exploring.”
“Oh, you’re stranded for a couple hours. It’s too bad you’re not staying longer. I’d love for you to come speak to the kids. You have a lot of fans here, and I know they’d love it.”
“Sorry, but I doubt I’ll be sticking around long.”
Lauren’s shoulders drooped. “Of course, you probably have someplace to be.”
Emily nodded. “I should get back to the repair shop. I’m sure the tow truck must have returned by now.”
Emily headed for the exit and escape.
“Hey, when is your new book coming out?” Lauren called out as Emily reached for the handle.
Emily paused but didn’t turn her head. “Good question.”
Back out on the sidewalk, Emily heaved a bone-deep sigh. Tears stung her eyes and she blinked, trying to stop the flow before a deluge began. She wondered if she’d ever recapture the passion she’d once had. The wonder of the ah-ha moment when an entire book came together in her mind like a jigsaw puzzle. So far the only thing she’d conjured up was a jumbled mess of pieces that didn’t fit together.
She headed back toward the repair shop. The white church she’d seen earlier came into view. The tall steeple glistened in the sun, seeming to reach right up into the heavens. She’d visited the world’s most beautiful cathedrals — St. Peter’s, St. Paul’s, Notre Dame — but for some reason the simple, country church called to her more than those architectural masterpieces. Called
to her and made her nervous in some way. Like she’d been missing something all her life and was only now realizing it.
Which was ridiculous. She wasn’t missing anything in her life. Other than her imagination. She hadn’t seen God take any steps to fix her problems. Any suggestions would have been helpful. A sign. A clue. A big, red arrow pointing, This Way Emily!
Holding back a sigh, she scanned the street once more. A flash of red caught her eye.
Help Wanted
The sign even had an arrow.
Her pulse kicked up. “No way.”
She glanced at the name of the store. Jessie’s Treats. A bakery? Not the kind of missive she had imagined receiving from On High.
Emily stared through the window and contemplated. She’d baked before. A few times anyway. Then she winced as a memory surfaced of a kitchen coated in white. But how could she have known breaking the sack open would result in a volcano explosion of self-rising flour? Her parents’ cook had banned Emily from the kitchen afterward.
Emily slammed the door on the thought. Well, so what? She’d only been ten at the time. She could handle cookies and cakes now.
It wasn’t like she had anywhere else to be, despite what she’d let the bookshop owner believe. She couldn’t ignore a sign from God, either, though it was quite a stretch to think the big guy upstairs had arranged for a Help Wanted sign to be hanging there. Besides, something deep inside her screamed Covington Falls held the key to sparking the fires of her long-dormant brain matter.
She stared in the window once more.
Then without another thought, she walked into the bakery.
Chapter Three
“Mom, I made some cookies,” Nate said, as he carried the plate into the living room. “Chocolate chip.”
Nate’s mother glanced up from her easy chair and smiled. Afternoon sunlight poured in from the window beside her, highlighting the wispy tufts of hair sticking up on her otherwise bald scalp. Rachel Cooper would be fifty in a couple of months, yet illness had taken its toll. Her cheekbones seemed to have sunk into her skull in the last few days, and her skin was paper-thin. Her gray eyes still sparkled though, even if there was pain she would never admit to hidden in their depths.
Imagine That Page 2
