by Cora Davies
"No they don't. Name one couple we know who made a long distance relationship work." Rachel rolled her eyes.
"Me and Jeremy!" Molly stuck out her tongue.
"He barely even comes to visit," Rachel said. "If he really loved you, he'd be here every weekend instead of staying in the city."
"He works a lot. And hey! How did we even get on the subject of my love life from that?" Molly jabbed the window, pointing towards Jack's bar. She jumped back in surprise when she realized it was not her own reflection looking back at her.
A man stared at the women through the window. Easily in his early forties, he was wearing a sloppy suit and wavering on his feet. Obviously drunk, Molly thought he probably came straight from Jack's. He was looking at Molly, and a menacing look in his eyes frightened her.
"Hey, get Brian on the phone would you?" Molly heard the fear creep into her voice. She didn’t take her eyes off the strange man as she waited for Rachel to pull her cell phone out and call her boyfriend.
Most of the men who drank at Jack's bar were local, fishermen, married, and harmless. But Molly had never seen this man before and she did not like the way he was staring into her shop. His sweaty forehead leaned against the glass, creating a wet shiny look to the previously clean window.
"Hey there pretty ladies, why don't you open up?" he said, just audible through the glass. As he reached for the door handle, Molly's throat seemed to close up and her heart thudded violently against her rib cage. Had she locked the door after shutting it? She almost jumped over the couple of feet to the door to check the latch just as the stranger tried to turn the handle.
The brass knob jiggled back and forth making clicking sounds that were almost deafening in Molly’s fear, but thankfully the door did not budge. Molly let out a sigh of relief for small favors.
"He's not answering," Rachel said, her voice shaking. Brian was her boyfriend, a police officer, and married to another woman. “I got his voicemail twice.”
Just as Molly accepted they were on their own momentarily, both girls jumped, shrieking as Rachel's phone belted out a top forty pop hit. Rachel answered.
"Brian? Come to Molly's shop right now, or send someone if you can't come. There is a drunk guy trying to break in... No, I don't know who he is." Rachel put her phone back in her pocket. "He's at Jack's. He's coming right now."
Chapter Two
"Jack, you know you're just asking for trouble!" Brian Bishop laughed, walking into the small bar. He tapped the beer strand lights as he passed under them. In his mid-thirties, the policeman was a regular at Jack's after his shift, and it was still a surprise to Jack that the constant diet of fried food and beer did not age him faster. Brian was tall and lanky, but healthy looking for his age, with a dark buzz cut.
Jack raised his hands in surrender. "Now, I looked the brewery up, and the brand is actually made in Dickens, Ohio." Jack handed Brian a beer. A few of the men seated at the bar's counter laughed at Jack's joke. Brian took his regular seat by the register and gave Jack a quick salute.
Hopefully it's enough trouble to bring her across the street. Jack's broad shoulders, dark messy hair, green eyes, and a leftover Georgia accent was enough to bring quite a few women into the bar, but not Molly. Not once. If only he could show her he how he had changed. Ten years too late for them, but he just wanted her to know the man he had become.
Jack took a five-dollar bill from Brian and when he turned around with change, Brian waved it away. "Thanks, man."
Brian busied himself in conversation with the two men sitting next to him. Jack ran his rag across the counter looking around the room. He was proud of his business. Only open two years and Jack’s Bar was already turning a nice profit every month. He was grateful he decided to skip the fancy decorator - who was going to charge thirty thousand dollars to decorate his bar in the old seaside bar look. Instead, he had spent the months before the grand opening driving all over the state to buy items from auctions, yard sales and second-hand stores. For less than five grand he created a true and authentic old seaside bar look instead of a manufactured one.
Old helms, fishing trophies and framed photographs of tall tales and seaside heroes framed the walls. The scent of leather from the seats, the creaky wood flooring rescued from old docks and the flavorful beer - both imported and brewed by Jack - were like home. A home he was considering selling this spring to buy into a brewery upstate with an old friend. Gotta let go of her first.
Several locations were available when he was ready to purchase a building for the bar, but when he saw Molly Smith lived across the street from this one, he made up his mind instantly. He had not admitted even to himself that she was part of the reason he bought this place until he saw her with her boyfriend for the first time. Then that awful old pit in the stomach resurfaced, and he remembered. Molly was off limits. He realized his mistake when he saw them walk down Main Street hand in hand one sunny spring evening - Jack was chasing after a dream he could never have again.
She had barely said a word to him in the two years they lived and worked across the street from each other. Not that he tried to talk to her after he saw her with Jeremy the first time.
He poured himself a small glass of his own house brew and breathed in both the stout and sweet aromas of the blend. His recipes were his ticket out of this town. His ticket away from seeing the woman who could never love him. Not after what he had done. He took a sip and swished it around in his mouth before swallowing. "Hey, Brian, you want to name this one for me?"
He poured Brian a glass and slid it down the counter. Paul Donner whined, "How come he gets free beer?"
"Police. What can I say?" Jack laughed but then poured small glasses for the rest of the men sitting at the counter.
"Mmmm, man, you know this reminds me of? You probably don't want to hear it." Brian closed his eyes. "Christmas."
"You just got Christmas on the brain man - but I guarantee there are no plastic trees or spoiled little rich kids in there." Jack pushed his sleeves up and leaned against the back counter.
Brian sat up straight. "Well, Scrooge, what would you call it?"
"That's why I asked you." Jack would prefer to name all his blends after himself and add a number afterward to distinguish them. But his brewery partner wanted distinct names. "But no Christmas shit. Not in here."
"What about when it turns into Dickens Village out there?" Brian asked. A the few patrons quieted down to listen. They were used to Jack’s rants, and some of them argued that was the main reason they came to the bar.
"Then I hang a sign on the door that says Bah Humbug." The regulars roared with laughter. Jack tapped his fingers on the counter and wondered if he could get away with it. After all, he barely turned a profit during the past two Dickens festivals. Why not keep the Christmas crazies out?
While Brian busied himself listening to messages on his phone, Jack walked to a corner booth where the only stranger in the bar had sat all night. It was pretty normal for the place to be filled with tourists in the summer months, but in the winter, it was rare to see anyone but locals. Even during Dickens. Especially during Dickens. The man polished off two pitchers of beer over the last couple of hours, and it looked like it was hitting him. Jack set down a glass of water and watched as the man downed it.
"I'll bring you another. Can I get you something to eat?" The man shook his head laying cash on the table. He stood, shaky on his feet and Jack cringed slightly as he felt an argument coming on.
"Gotta go," he said, loosening the tie at his throat. He smelled like beer, but like something else, too. Something foul. Jack wondered when the last time the man had a shower was.
"You can't drive like this," Jack said, waiting for the awkward key retrieval. Most of the guys were good about having just a beer or two, or grabbing a ride home when they had too much. Occasionally, there was an incident when Jack had to wrestle keys away from someone who had had too much. But to Jack's relief, the man seemed to agree.
"You got tha
t right, I ain't driving nowhere." The man laughed. "Hotel nearby?"
"There's an inn about three blocks up that way. You think you can walk that far?" Jack raised his eyebrow. The man seemed to be a little steadier now. "I'm sure someone will walk you - if you want."
"Nah." He shook his head. “I got it.”
"It's a cold night. It doesn't look like you're dressed for the weather." Jack looked at Brian to see if he was paying attention to the exchange. The police officer was still deep in conversation with Paul.
"Do a man good to walk a little. Sober me up." The stranger pulled a beanie over his head and walked towards the door. "You said that way right?"
"Yeah." Jack nodded. The stranger pulled open the door and stepped out into the night.
"Who was that?" Rodger, one of Jack’s regulars, asked. Jack shrugged. There was something about the man he did not like. He did not care who he was, but hoped he was gone tomorrow.
"Probably another overindulgent drunk artist." Brian said seeming to satisfy everyone's curiosity. The beauty of the mountains and ocean, along with the seclusion of the town, brought the artists out occasionally during offseason. Last winter there was a guy staying at the inn who was writing the Great American Novel. Barely twenty-one, Jack remembered he ended up just drinking in the bar most nights instead of writing.
"How are things going with Bianca and Rachel?" Jack wanted to change the subject off the stranger and settled in across the counter from Brian.
Most of the town knew about Brian's affair with Rachel. Hell, Bianca probably did. Jack did not approve of what Brian was doing, but he did feel sorry for the man in a way. Brian was torn between the woman he fell in love with in high school and the woman he loved now. Jack also knew it was why Brian was in the bar several evenings a week while his wife thought he was working. The girlfriend, Rachel, worked across the street at Molly's. Brian often picked her up after her shift. Brian's home was a town away, so he did not worry much about being caught.
"I'm not talking to you about it. I don't need the guilt trip tonight," Brian grumbled. "Why don't you tell me how things are going with you and Molly?"
"Things are not going for Molly and me, and I don't know why people think they are." Jack's good mood instantly darkened.
"She lives across the street,” Brian said before draining his glass.
"We haven't been together for ten years." Jack fumed as he thought about prom night. Molly witnessed something he never thought he was capable of and walked out on him. He spent the last two months of senior year begging for forgiveness, but she refused to speak to him. His heart sunk just thinking about that night, and as always, he pushed the depression away. No use feeling sorry for himself.
The worst had been when he ran into her at the gas station a few months after she graduated from college. She was dating Eli at the time, and Jack could barely look at her after he saw Eli's arm around her. When he realized all those old feelings were back, or had maybe never gone away in the first place, he finally took his uncle up on his offer to work on his boat in Alaska. Jack never looked back until a few years ago when his father died. He had been able to push the thoughts of missing Molly away. Too bad he could not do that when his father died and Jack had to come back to this town.
"You gonna get that?" Jack asked, pulled from his thoughts at the sound of Brian's phone playing Jingle Bells in a low woman's voice.
"It's Rachel. That's her singing too," Brian said, chuckling. "So, where did you just go?"
"Huh?"
"I say Molly's name and you completely zone out for two minutes," Brian said, spinning his phone between his fingers.
"No, I didn't," Jack said. Then as Brian's phone began to ring again, "Answer your fucking phone. And change your damn ring tone."
Jack turned his back to Brian to visit his other patrons and see who needed a refill. He looked over just in time to see an angry Brian shove his phone in his pocket and run out the door without his hat or keys. Jack grabbed them off the counter and followed Brian into the cold winter night.
Chapter Three
"I think he's coming," Molly said, concentrating over the stranger's shoulder across the street. Light from the bar spilled on the freshly fallen snow, disappeared, then reappeared again. Molly saw Brian's distinct tall frame and thought she saw another man walking behind him. She could not tell who followed Brian because suddenly the stranger pressed his body against the glass taking up most of the window frame. She backed away from the door, knowing a piece of glass was not going to keep them safe.
"Good evening, sir." Molly heard Brian's voice muffled through the door. Molly vowed to exchange the too thin glass with a thicker piece as soon as possible. Molly reached under the counter for her winter jacket she stashed there this afternoon.
"What are you doing, Mols?" Rachel squeaked. "You aren't going out there are you?"
"Yes. Yes, I am. What if I want to press charges?" Molly said, digging around in the sea of scarves and hats for two that looked extra warm.
"You can't press charges on someone for smudging your window and looking creepy. Brian’s just going to scare him off.” But Rachel was wrapping herself up in her own scarf even as the words left her mouth. The two women approached the door, and after confirming the stranger was a few feet away with Brian, Molly pushed the door open. The icy blast stung her still bare hands as she worked the red mittens over her fingers.
"Brian! Thank you for coming so fast and for bringing-" She looked at the other man, freezing when she realized it was Jack. Standing there like he belonged there. On her side of the street.
She studied his frame while no one was paying attention. His jeans were tighter than she remembered him wearing when they were young. The years had filled his once small frame into a muscular one, and her eyes trailed across his profiled butt. He was dressed like any townie fisherman in his brown beanie that his dark messy hair peeked out from the bottom edges. He was clean shaven, and she realized she missed the goatee he kept in high school. His white t-shirt had the words Jack's Bar across the front with a ship’s wheel underneath. It was the same design she had seen him wear every time she saw him since he bought the bar. He pulled his long sleeved green flannel tight against his abs and chest as he buttoned it. An image flashed by Molly's mind of Jack on his pull-up bar he hung above his apartment window, only shorts on. She only peeked a few times. A day.
As Molly inspected his body, slow as she thought she could get away with, she was not surprised to feel the stirring within her soul caused by being so close to him. The few times he had been that close in the past few years, the feeling had been the same. Anger because he had never forgiven her for her mistake, no matter how much the evidence had been stacked against him. The anger never lasted too long. No, anger was always pushed aside for the pure fantasy. The desire to run to him and run her hands up his strong, hard arms.
Molly felt something sharp in her side and realized Rachel was nudging her. Molly followed Rachel’s pointed look towards Jack and Brian. The men's focus on the stranger; Rachel's glare told Molly she should be paying attention. Head out of the clouds, Mols.
"Can I give you a ride somewhere, sir?" Brian asked.
"No. Just going to that Inn down there." The man pointed in the opposite direction of the only inn on Main Street and swayed, right as his left knee buckled. He toppled and Jack caught him before he hit the ground. Jack steadied the man on his feet. "Thank you. As I was saying- I was walking back to the hotel and I spotted this store. I thought what a nice place to grab the old ball and chain a gift before I leave town."
The man, now standing on his own two feet, pointed at his wedding ring. Molly relaxed, but only a little. Just because a man was married, did not make him honest. The man stared her down and she felt a strong urge to hide behind Jack, no matter how much he hated her.
"Alright, well, we're going to take you for a ride to the hotel anyway. And then tomorrow, after you've sobered up, you can come back and get what you want
to buy." Brian pulled his keys out of his pocket and tossed them to Rachel. "I'll get him in the back, you're driving."
"Um." Rachel looked around as though he were talking to someone else she could not see. "Are you sure?"
"I've had a couple beers, can't drive the cruiser." Brian put a hand on Rachel's back. "The hotel is just a couple blocks away; no one will see."
Molly wondered if Brian meant no one would see him letting someone else drive his car. Or, if he meant no one would see him with Rachel.
Rachel nodded, looking pleased with herself as if she had just won some small trophy and Molly felt sorry for her. Brian placed his hand on the stranger's back to guide him towards the cruiser. Rachel followed with an extra bounce in her step.
"I'm sorry Brian made you come out here," Molly said when it was just her and Jack. She did not take her eyes off the stranger.
"Brian didn't make me do anything," Jack said, defensively. The silence that came next was as thick as the frigid and foggy air. Molly searched for something more to say, and as she glanced across the street she remembered the Christmas beer lights.
"Did you get my Dickens flier?" Jack turned around and looked into her eyes for the first time that night, probably for the first time in years. His penetrating glare rode deep into her eyes, and she had to force herself to not look away from the emerald green.
She cursed herself as her knees turned to rubber. "The flier about what we can and can't decorate the outside of our store fronts with?"
"Yeah," he answered. Despite the freezing temperature, her body melted at the sound of his voice. Deep and raspy, he still had some of the Georgia accent he moved to town with all those years ago.
"Well, the only reason I'm asking, is because I saw the beer lights and the sign in your window and I just wasn't sure if you read it..."
