*****
Oktoberfest is one month away, and Breckenridge already looks prepared to host the biggest staple of Colorado. Kids’ skiing team have begun their practices to deliver a grand welcome to the celebrations with their performances and stunts. The Martins are excited about participating in a 5k trail run and are seen every morning hunting the beautiful Aspen forest. Mr. Jefferson bands with the boys and is seen practicing Oompah tunes in his backyard every evening. Katie, Nancy and Amelia keep the tailor busy stitching their “Miesbacher tracht” which they have to wear to the Polka dance. Excitement can be seen in new teens that have turned twenty-one this year and are eligible to have their steins and beer tokens. Everyone in the town seems overwhelmed with the coming Oktoberfest, and I’m so worried about my shop.
Every morning, Mr. Murphy along with Buffy, his icky “khugsa” dog, returning from Carter Park would stop by my shop for beverages and breakfast. Mr. Murphy was a fat bellied mug-faced man who was in his late fifties. Every morning my day started with his nags on my rusting shop. Sometimes remarks from his giggly face were bitter enough to make me think that I should burn down my place. But somehow, I calm myself to overcome such self-harming emotions. His generous daily jabs motivated me to take the step and reinvent my shop. I asked Mr. Murphy if he knows any good carpenter who can help me in renovating. “You can find one at Primrose Path,” he said. “He is a new settler in Breckenridge so you can hire him for cheap.” Being somewhat thrifty I gave a thought to his suggestion. But to make sure about the quality of work, I asked Mr. Murphy about the carpenter’s crafts.
“I see him every morning working with his tool, lady, so I know what I am talking about,” Mr. Murphy said agitatedly furrowing his brows. “But for some reason, Buffy doesn’t seem to admire the gentleman’s work.” Sometimes it is hard to figure out the wit in his words.
I asked Mr. Murphy to take me along with him to the carpenter's place. He nodded his head. “Tomorrow at 6 am, I will fetch you from here, be ready”. The next morning Mr. Murphy, Buffy and I reached Primrose Path. It was a quarter-mile walk from my shop located on Ridge Street crossing the Blue River. As we stepped inside his gate, Buffy resisted going inside and barked. Mr. Murphy glanced at me and giggled. “As I said earlier, for some reason Buffy doesn’t admire the carpenter’s work.” I smiled back at him. Mr. Murphy tied Buffy at the gate, and then we stepped inside the barn. We wandered around the barn and found the carpenter chopping wood in his backyard. A tall white brawny man with the chiseled body was playing with his axe. It wasn’t hard for me to guess that he was in his early thirties. He was half-naked, and his bare barrel white chest and round shoulders were glistening with droplets of sweat. His thighs were muscle-bound. For a while, my eyes were stuck on this henchman. It was pleasing for me looking at him swaying his hand in the air and twirling the axe just above his head and striking at the piece of wood, splitting it neatly in two pieces. When he stretches his arm above his head, his face grew strains which made his face look tough and more attractive. He was busy at his chopping without noticing us, and I was admiring him. Mr. Murphy broke our focus with his cough. He stuck his axe on the base log and turned toward us. He quickly passed his glances from Mr. Murphy to me and grabbed his shirt.
“Well, hello how can I help you,” he said. His voice was dark but smooth.
“This young lady has some business with you Mr…,” Mr. Murphy answered.
“Mason, Mason Taylor,” he raised his hand to shake with Mr. Murphy.
“I am Murphy Benson, and she is Avery Woods,” Mr. Murphy introduced us. “Hello,” I stretched my hands, and he grabbed, I felt his clutch firm and rough on my palm. “Hello! Why don’t you come inside,” he greeted and invited. He led us across the yard and made us sit out on the porch while he went inside the house. I noticed Buffy was restlessly pulling her lease to loosen itself. After a while, Mason came out with mugs of beer. A skinny white girl with curly hair followed behind. She was wearing weird outdated clothes. “She is my younger sister, Evelyn.” Mason introduced her. She looked a bit hesitant and shy from her body language. Mason gave the beers to us and sat in front of me. Grasping the beer, Mr. Murphy wheezed, “We are already warming up for the Oktoberfest.” Mason and I smiled.
“So what business brings you guys here? I couldn’t be of much help, I’m new to the town, and I don’t think, people know much about me,” Mason asked with a curious face and subtle smile.
“I was searching for someone who can help me in renovating my wine shop before Oktoberfest, and Mr. Murphy told me you are a good worker,” I explained.
“But how do you know that I am a woodworker? As I told you I’m new here and hardly anyone knows about me.” Mason showed a gentle smile while reasoning me. On this, Mr. Murphy stepped in and explained to Mason how he had seen him daily working in his barn.
While Mr. Murphy and Mason were talking, I glanced at Evelyn. She was standing at the door, holding the knob with one hand. I noticed she was staring at Buffy as she had never seen a dog before. Suddenly she moved her face from Buffy to me and caught me seeing her. I smiled at her and brought myself back to the conversation.
“…. I will visit your shop in the evening, and if it looks like I can do it, I will be happy to help you,” Mason said to me gazing in my eyes.
“Take my business card,” I said. Flipping the card I pointed out, “Here’s the directions to my shop. If you have any concerns, you can call me at my number printed here.”
“Thanks, I think I visited your shop last week to buy some wine but anyway I’ll keep it,” he said and smiled gently. His smile was very soft and gentle, like cheese deliberately melting on a loaf of bread and settling down. We gazed into each other for a while as if our eyes were unwillingly stuck on each other. I swiftly broke eye contact and glanced at Mr. Murphy who was seriously enjoying his beer. Mason tried to engage me. “I have handcrafted a chair. I finished it yesterday. Why don’t you come and have a look at it. In a way, you will get an idea of my crafts.”
“Splendid, yes, of course, please let us see.” Before I could speak, Mr. Murphy agreed with his giggly voice.
Mason asked Evelyn to fetch the empty mugs and led us inside the warehouse at the backyard. It was a small, dark and dusty room. Mason stepped forward and switched on the light. The room was filled with chopped logs and Mason’s carpentry work. Mason pulled out the chair he wanted to show. I must say it was a nicely carved armchair. I moved my hand on the arm of the chair. It was as smooth as silk. The end of the arm was fisted. The back rest was carved in the curvy shape of a woman’s body. The front legs were cut in a bow-shape protruding outside.
“The chair looks like a damn beautiful girl sitting on a chair,” Mr. Murphy jibed with his usual giggle.
“Yes, it is,” Mason replied.
I realized Mason had noticed me admiring the chair, so I took a chance to ask him if he is willing to sell the chair. But he said it’s not for sale. “It’s okay but your work is impressive, and I am certain now that I won’t regret having you hired,” I chuckled.
Mason led us out of his warehouse toward the gate. Arriving at the gate, we found Buffy was missing from there. His collar was laying on the ground. Mr. Murphy got little worried, but he knew that Buffy was familiar to the town roads so he might have run home. I asked Mason to ask Evelyn that if she had seen Buffy. He called Evelyn and asked her, but Evelyn said no.
“It’s an everyday track for Buffy. He can make himself home. Though it's bit awkward as he never does like this, he would have surely run home.” Mr. Murphy looked assuring himself about Buffy again and again. I greeted Mason and asked him to be at the shop in the morning. Mr. Murphy and I rushed home.
*****
I woke early in the morning, made my coffee and went to the dining room to find my father waiting for his breakfast.
“Good morning Dad! You already dressed, do you have a date or what, so early in the morning?”
“I am too young to date old wines o
f Breckenridge,” he jested. “I got a call early this morning from ski training school. Someone was hurt skiing.”
My father is an orthopedic doctor and a respectable member of society. My mom died when I was thirteen, and since then my father has been taking care of me. More than a guardian he had been my friend. He took care of my every need.
“Did you find any good carpenter?” Dad asked.
“Yes, he will be on his way to be here,” I replied serving him breakfast. We had our breakfast and Father grabbed his medicine bag, and I followed him downstairs to the door to wave him bye.
“Will I be seeing you later in the evening at the ski center?” he asked. “Maybe,” I pouted and kissed him bye.
I opened the shop and waited for Mason. Meanwhile, Mr. Jefferson came to the shop with his trumpet. I served him his regular wine. We chit-chatted on his preparation for Oktoberfest. He boasted and proudly played his new tune which he had been playing at every Oktoberfest for years. But my eyes were glancing at the doors, eagerly waiting for Mason. Mr. Jefferson finished his drink, bought two bottles of wine and left. As soon as he left, I heard a thud again on the door. It was Mason.
“Morning.”
“Morning.”
“Sorry for being late, I received some visitors early this morning.”
“It’s okay, would you like to have some wine,” I offered him.
“No thanks, it’s too early for me,” he refused with his cheesy smile.
He placed his toolbox on the desk. “So, give me a tour of your shop and let’s find where to start.” I led him inside the bar and showed him the cellars at the back of the counter. He suggested a few options to rework the shop as by shifting the block from the corner to the center of the store and covering the whole of the left, right and back walls with new cellars. I readily agreed with him as I was desperate to give the store a new look. He picked a corner to start from, and I returned to the bar. After a few minutes, he came back with an unexpected question.
“By the way, did Mr. Murphy find his dog?”
“I don’t know. After returning from your house, Mr. Murphy left me here at the shop and went home alone. He is a regular here in the morning around this hour, but today he hasn’t come,” I replied with a dubious pout. He smiled on seeing me making such a face. That’s a nasty habit of mine. I unwillingly pout now and then, and this often leads me to an awkward situation.
“How old are you?” he suddenly asked, and I was stunned why this question.
“Why?” I gazed into his eyes.
“Just asking,” he melted the cheese on his lips.
“Thirty,” I replied him showing that I am uncomfortable with this question.
“Single?” he threw.
“Hmm…yes,” I huffed.
“Great,” he said. He gave me a thumb’s up and went inside, leaving me puzzled. My thoughts were roaming in my brain. Why did he smile like that? Why did he ask me such a question? Did he like me? His mysterious smile was flashing in my thoughts.
Half an hour later, Mr. Murphy came to the shop, but Buffy was not with him. I served him his regular wine and asked about Buffy. “Did you find Buffy at your home?” I asked. He said, “No he didn’t, I searched for him everywhere. I am now returning from Carter Park after searching and asking about him all the way, but I couldn’t find any sign of him,” he sobbed. The usual smile on his face was lost. I consolidated him. “Don’t worry, he will be all right. You must report it to the cops,” I suggested. “Yes, I will if I don’t find him by evening. Did Mason come?” he asked.
“Yes, he is at the back and has started repairing the cellars,” I told him.
“Good. If you don’t mind may I have a word with him,” he asked generously.
“Oh yes, of course, I’ll call him,” and I went inside to call Mason. Mason was hammering down in the cellars.
“Hey.”
“Yeah?”
“Mr. Murphy is here. He wants to talk to you.”
“Okay, I’ll be there in a minute,” he said and smiled.
God, his smile is so flirtatious that each time he smiles at me, my heart throbs. I returned to the counter and told Mr. Murphy that he would be here soon. A few minutes later, Mason came to the table and greeted Mr. Murphy.
“Mason, have you seen my dog roaming around your house?” Mr. Murphy asked.
“No, didn’t he return home?” Mason asked with doubt.
“No, he didn’t come home. I checked him everywhere he could possibly be hiding, but I didn’t find him,” Mr. Murphy grieved.
“I am sorry, but I didn’t see him,” Mason sympathized.
Mr. Murphy seemed to get more tensed while asking Mason some awkward questions.
“Mason, please don’t take offense to my words, but I figured Buffy started behaving awkwardly since you settled down at Primrose. For years I have been walking around Primrose with Buffy but since you move here, Buffy hesitated going near your house.” Mr. Murphy gulped the last sip of wine and said further, “Yesterday when Avery and I visited your home, Buffy was barking and he even refused to enter the gate to your barn.” He glanced for a second on me and then continued, “Buffy is an amiable dog, and such behavior from him is quite disturbing for me.”
“Mr. Murphy, do you trying to say that I or my house is the reason behind your dog being lost?” Mason said with a bit of rage in his voice.
“No, no, I just want to say if you know anything about Buffy, please let me know,” Mr. Murphy persuaded.
“Mr. Murphy, there are new people in the town. So it might be one reason for Buffy’s behavior. Dogs can get outraged about strangers. It's normal,” I interrupted defending Mason.
Mr. Murphy left the store without saying another word. I turned to Mason and said, “Please don’t be annoyed. Mr. Murphy is a good man, but he is just obsessed with his lost dog.”
“I can understand,” he said and went to work.
At noon, I cooked chicken and took it to Mason. I called him to have lunch with me. We sat at the table facing each other. I poured some wine into our glasses, and we started to have our meal. “Delicious,” he appreciated. “I haven't eaten such a delicious chicken in years.”
“And I haven’t heard such appreciations from anyone in years,” I bantered.
“Seriously it's fabulous,” he smirked. “One day you can teach me how to cook.”
“Okay.” For a while, silence hovered at the table, and we ate our chicken. I noticed he was really enjoying the food. He was looking adorable while eating. “Why don’t you and Evelyn join us for dinner tonight,” I asked him deliberately.
“It’s not possible tonight, I have already promised Evelyn to take her skiing.”
“Oh well then it will be fine, pass through here, and we could go together.”
“So you are also going skiing this evening?”
“Yup! I often go there. My father is an orthopedic doctor at the skiing training school. I will introduce you to him”.
“Of course I will be honored,” he beamed and gazed restlessly into my eyes. I sighed and grabbed my glass of wine.
*****
Mason left the shop around 5 pm and said he would be back by 7 pm with Evelyn. I took a bath and changed my clothes. I put on a pair of jeans and t-shirt. I got down to the road around 7 pm and waited for Mason and Evelyn. A few minutes later, I caught glimpses of Mason and Evelyn approaching Ridge Street. Mason was wearing black pants and a black jacket with a feathery collar. His walk was so masculine, and his shadow cast on the street looked like a big wolf gradually approaching. Evelyn wore a polka dot dress. I really don't like her sense of style. However, we greeted each other and set out for the skiing center. On our way, we had a little chit chat about the town. I acquainted them of the city area we were passing by. I tried to have a conversation with Evelyn, but I found she was too shy to talk. So I kept my conversation confined to Mason, who was often glancing at me with admiring eyes which made me shy. In a few minutes, we reached our destination
. Teens were enjoying ice skating, especially the love birds. I led Mason and Evelyn to my father’s cabin and found Mr. Murphy was having a conversation with my dad. No sooner did we entered the cabin that Mr. Murphy left. I was shocked he didn’t even look at me. Nevertheless, my father greeted us all and offered us to sit.
“Hope you are enjoying the beauty of Breckenridge,” Dad asked Mason.
“Yes, sir. Breckenridge is a very pleasing town. Evelyn and I are becoming fond of the beauty of the city,” Mason glanced at me while answering. I imperceptibly smiled on his glance.
“Where did you live before you discovered Breckenridge as being an idle place to dwell?” Dad asked.
“Denver,” Mason replied.
“So you did your wood work there, too?”
“Yes.”
“Did something go wrong over there that made you decided to leave Denver?”
“No, nothing. Business was good,” Mason replied and looked at me. I realized my father is not asking the question in a friendly way. Mr. Murphy must have said something to my dad about Buffy, and he has put things in such a way that Mason has become a questionable man in my father’s eyes. I interrupted him, “Dad! We can continue this conversation over dinner. Now I’m taking them skiing.” I asked Evelyn and Mason to follow me to the skiing area. Evelyn looked at the ice skating area near the skiing starting point, and she asked if we could go skating rather than skiing. We agreed and went to the skating rink.
“Evelyn hasn’t skated before. You will need to give her a helping hand,” Mason requested
“And what about you?” I gave him a playful smile.
“You will find out soon.” He smiled and prodded toward Evelyn.
He sat outside the rink, and I started skating with Evelyn. I noticed Evelyn learned easily how to skate and in no time she was skating on her own. Confirming that she can slide comfortably on her own, I returned to Mason. “Wow, that’s something amazing about Evelyn. It took me a week and several falls for me to skate alone,” I pouted, and he smiled again.
Inextinguishable Love: Firefighter and Interracial Romance Page 32
