Snowstorm at Cedar Creek

by J. L. Jarvis

  “It’s a nice thought, but Connor has always struck me as being more like his mother’s side of the family.” She could see from the look on Regi’s face that she didn’t understand. How could she? Annie barely understood it herself. She couldn’t blame Connor for being nothing like Finn. The world was full of wonderful people who weren’t like Finn. And Georgina was not without her positive qualities. She was always stylishly dressed. She was always more pulled together than Annie. And Georgina could adroitly maneuver her way through the most difficult social situation. Annie envied her that. But the qualities Annie valued most in people— things like kindness and selflessness, which Finn possessed—seemed to be lacking in Georgina. At least Annie had never observed them in her.

  She glanced up and discovered Regi staring with narrowing eyes. “Okay, so quick recap—those two nutty kids announced they’re getting married. Then you and Finn talked. Then what happened?”

  Annie shrugged it off. “That’s it. We talked about our children and marriage—their marriage.” She completely left out their evening together and their pact to spend the holiday season together. Why had she done that?

  Regi raised an eyebrow.

  Annie inwardly cringed. This was coming out wrong.

  “And the divorce?”

  Annie didn’t expect that question. “You know about that?”

  Regi lifted her shoulders in a gesture that looked a little smug. “I own a hair salon. It's like part town crier and part priest’s confessional.”

  “Wow! I didn’t find out till he told me yesterday morning!”

  Regi’s eyes lit with self-satisfaction, but it changed to surprise. “Wait! You talked to him yesterday morning? I thought you only were together at that family meeting the night before last.” Her mouth turned up in one corner. “Or did that evening talk last into the morning?”

  “No!” That had come out too emphatically, so she tried to soften the effect with a smirk and an eye roll. “It’s not what you’re thinking.” She proceeded to tell the elopement story in detail but left out the subsequent talk in the woods and their evening together. She told herself there was nothing to tell, but the truth was, she didn’t want to share it.

  Regi said simply, “He likes you.”

  “I like him too. Because we’re friends. Friends like each other, and that’s all we are. I have no desire to relive junior high—or high school, for that matter.” She muttered under her breath, “Or college.” My twenties weren’t all that great either.

  Regi gave her a half smile and raised her eyebrows. Annie couldn’t blame her. After years of listening to Annie pine away over Finn, she had that and more coming. Beneath it all, Regi wanted her friend to be happy. Annie wanted to be happy too. Regrettably, that meant letting go of Finn, even if her heart still skipped a beat every time he looked at her. Now that they’d weathered the Ella-and-Connor elopement, Annie was determined to find contentment in being single.

  Regi looked away with a glint in her eye. “Well, since you and Finn are just friends, you know that big Victorian house on the outskirts of town—the stunning one that’s been on the market for months because no one here can afford it?”

  “My dream home? Yeah, I know the one.”

  “Well, someone bought it. He’s from Albany. I think he does something in state government.”

  “Palm greasing and bribery?”

  Regi nodded. “Well, whatever it is, he makes money. He came into the shop for a trim. Gorgeous thick black hair, graying temples, works out.”

  “His hair?”

  “Ha. Very funny. He’s got muscles, okay? Not too much, just the lean, sinewy kind.”

  “Got it. Muscles.”

  Regi shrugged and said in a sing-song voice, “He is perfect for you. You should meet him. Just be thankful I’m in a relationship, or I’d be all over him like clippings on a barber-shop floor.”

  Annie winced. “Sounds itchy.”

  Regi raised an eyebrow. “He’d be the guy to scratch it.”

  Annie held up her palms. “Let me stop you right there.”

  “But I was just getting to the good part!”

  “I know. But this is the part where I shatter your dreams. Ella’s off living her life, so I’m resetting mine—on my own. I’m content with my life. Why would I let some guy ruin it now?”

  “Because he’s got deep-set eyes you could drown in.”

  “But then I’d be dead.”

  “You’d die happy.” Regi lifted an eyebrow. She launched into a familiar refrain. “You’ve been alone for the past twenty-one years. How much me time does one woman need?”

  Annie smiled. “This amount.”

  With a sigh, Regi said, “Poor Alex Laghari. He’ll be so disappointed.”

  Annie felt a pang of dread. “Regi, what have you done?”

  Regi hastened to answer. “Nothing—except jot down his number from his appointment info, just in case.” She leaned forward. “He’s achingly attractive.”

  Annie sighed patiently. “He sounds like a real heartbreaker, but I already married one of those. I’m looking for something different—no drama. I don’t want to date and feel scrutinized against some stranger’s unknown expectations or have to sit through an evening with someone I wouldn’t have spent five minutes chatting up at a cocktail party.”

  “Oh, come on. When’s the last time you even went to a cocktail party?”

  Annie leveled a look at her friend. “My point is: he sounds perfect. He’s just not—”

  “Finn?”

  “I was going to say not perfect for me.” Annie inwardly groaned. No, not pity. Please don’t look like that.

  Regi’s voice rose in pitch. “Okay, I’ll leave it alone. As long as you’re happy. The thing is, I’m just having trouble believing you’re happy.”

  Annie knew she meant well. Maybe she’d do the same for Regi if the tables were turned. But at the moment, Regi’s friendly advice felt like unwelcome medicine. “I’m fine.”

  Regi peered over her glasses. “I can see that.”

  Annie smiled. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “Caring.” The server put the check on the edge of the table. Annie grabbed it. “My treat.”

  “Okay, but it’s my turn next time.”

  As they left the diner, they paused on the sidewalk. Regi said, “He really is attractive—by which I mean gorgeous.”

  Annie feigned ignorance. “Who?” She let go of the smirk she’d been holding back.

  “Fine! It was worth a try, wasn’t it?” Laughing, Regi shooed her away and headed toward her car.

  Annie drove home with Regi’s words echoing in her mind. Maybe she was right. It was time to move on. She was starting a new chapter in her life. She was content with her life as it was, but maybe she needed to be more open to change. It wasn’t as though her mind was entirely closed to the possibility of meeting someone. But if something like that were meant to happen, it just seemed to Annie that it would happen organically, not by being set up by a friend or by using some sort of app like her daughter’s friends used.

  Annie walked inside and went straight to the refrigerator. “Mr. Willoughby, are you hungry?” She dished out some food and set it down for her cat. By this time, she would have heard the light padding of cat feet and felt Willoughby’s fur on her ankles. “Mr. Willoughby?” She searched for him in all the usual places—his afternoon spot on the sun-drenched windowsill, the cozy tent in the corner— then all through the house. “Mr. Willoughby!” Panic set in. He must have slipped out when she left for lunch. That meant he’d been outside for hours in a woodsy area full of predators. She went outside and, calling his name, made her way around the cottage, searched behind shrubs and in the trees near the house. Her stomach sank as she went to the road and looked up and down the narrow country lane.

  A screen door swung shut behind her. “Annie!”

  She turned to find Finn holding her cat with his paws resting comfortably over Finn’s
arms. Before she could ask, he said, “Look who stopped by for a visit while you were out.”

  Annie was riddled with guilt. “I didn’t know he’d gotten out.” She took the cat from Finn. “Mr. Willoughby, don’t scare me like that.”

  Finn shrugged. “He’s fine. Will and I—”

  “Will?”

  His mouth quirked at the corner. “Yeah, we’re bros now. Anyway, we both had some tuna for lunch and a nice walk down to the creek, then we hung out and watched ESPN. He loved it! But I had to draw the line at painting his face in team colors. He took it hard, but he got over it.”

  Annie didn’t quite disapprove, but she wasn’t onboard with it either. “Mr. Willoughby’s more of a costume drama sort of guy.”

  Finn shook his head. “He said you’d say that.” He leaned closer. “He’s not.”

  Annie looked down at her cat. “Maybe we could compromise and find you a nice quiet golf game to watch.” She glanced in Finn’s direction and begrudgingly added, “Or a fishing show.”

  “He likes fish.”

  Annie laughed. “I had a feeling he might.” She lifted her eyes to meet Finn’s. “Thanks for rescuing him.”

  “No problem.”

  They parted ways, but when Annie reached her front door, she stole a glance back at Finn. She didn’t expect him to look over at her, but he did, and an awkward wave followed.

  7

  Finn arrived home from a run. With hands stiff from the cold, he fumbled with the door key while his breath filled the air with a mist. Once inside, he got a fire going in the wood stove and sat down in his favorite chair that looked out at the trees lining the creek. This was what he’d come here for. So why couldn’t he feel the peace that he saw all around him? It was going to take time. He knew that, but knowing it wasn’t enough.

  His phone rang, and he winced when he saw who the caller was. He sighed then answered. “Georgina.”

  “Hi, Finn.”

  This was his cue to speak, but he just didn’t feel like it. They’d parted ways on relatively good terms—as good as terms could be when your wife leaves you for some other guy. But he’d been miserable for so long during the marriage, he surprised himself by how little he felt. After he got over the shock, he numbly moved on with his life.

  His lawyer told him he was caving too easily on the property settlement. But the last thing he wanted was to drag out this thing. So he gave her the house and nearly everything in it including the car in the garage, and what little was left they split down the middle. No doubt this was why she’d been so amiable through the whole thing. She had no right to complain.

  “Finn? Are you there?”

  “Yeah.”

  With a nervous laugh, she said, “Oh, I thought the call dropped.”

  “No, I’m here.”

  “Well, I wanted to tell you before you heard it somewhere else.”

  Finn slowly blinked and stared at the fire.

  “So… I’m getting married.”

  “To whom?”

  “To Adam!”

  He smirked. He knew who. She’d left him for Adam. He was just busting her chops. First Connor, now you. Is anyone else getting married? He bit his tongue and instead said, “Congratulations.”

  “Thanks.”

  She sounded uncomfortable. Good.

  “So, I just thought you should hear it from me.”

  “Okay. Thanks for calling. Look, I can’t talk now. I’m on my way out the door.” Sometime in the next twenty-four hours.

  “I’ll let you go then. Bye, Finn.”

  “Bye.”

  He hung up the phone and set it down on the table beside him. “I wish you all the happiness you deserve.” He smirked and stared out the window.

  The night Georgina broke the news that she was leaving him for Adam, Finn had just gotten home from working a protest in Manhattan, so his day had already been lousy. He struggled to stay awake on the hour-long commute to their home in Putnam County. Once home, he went straight to the shower. Peaceful protests weren't at all what they used to be. Now protestors threw bags of urine at cops. He supposed that was easier for them than framing a logical argument. By the end of the evening, a hot shower felt good. He’d barely finished throwing on some clothes when Georgina told him she was leaving him. That was a memorable day.

  After that, and a few more peaceful protests that wounded a dozen fellow officers, he was done. He was lucky. The broken bricks and debris hurled at him only left him with bruises and burnout. But his marriage was over, his job wasn’t what he signed up for, and his son didn’t need him anymore. He had enough years in, so he’d retired.

  Now here he was. Alone in the family vacation A-frame. Alone wasn’t bad. Everything that had made him unhappy was hours away and unable to touch him. After the pain subsided, the numbness felt good. And that seemed to be where he remained—in a state of numbness.

  His phone dinged with an incoming text. He glanced toward it and almost decided to ignore it. What if it’s Connor? He picked it up and grinned. It was a picture of Annie and him in the summer after second grade, both sporting red stains on their faces from eating cherry popsicles. He couldn’t stop smiling.

  He texted, “Life doesn’t get any better than that!”

  Sadness gripped him as he realized it was true.

  Annie sat on the floor of her attic, surrounded by forgotten treasures, whose value lay deep in her heart. She set aside the old snapshot she’d texted to Finn and put the lid on the box. Organizing those photos would be a perfect rainy-day project. She moved on to a box with her name on it. Inside, she found all the trinkets and dried flowers that had seemed so important when she was in high school. The whole point of this attic endeavor was to clear out unwanted items and organize what was left. With an empty trash bag and full boxes, she wasn’t doing very well. She had to get ruthless. She managed to throw away some dried flowers that fell apart in her hands. She reached in for more and found her old journal.

  Keeping a diary had seemed like the thing for a teenage girl to do. It was six months before she’d decided the last thing she wanted to do was leave a record of her pathetic one-way crush. She ran her fingers along the jagged remains of the ripped-out journal pages and let out a bitter laugh. Shredding hadn’t been enough. She recalled how she went into the bathroom and set the papers on fire and part of a hand towel with them. Her method of disposal may have been flawed, but she’d made the right choice. She would always remember what that journal had contained. There were no lovely sonnets or inspired passages of prose. It was just raw emotion, the echoes of which she could still feel now.

  Annie thought she heard something downstairs. Then she heard Finn’s voice yelling her name. She yelled down to him. “I’m up here in the attic. Come on up.”

  Finn rounded the top of the stairs. “I got some of your mail. It’s on the table downstairs. The regular mail carrier must be on vacation. “

  Spying the pile of photos before her, he joined her on the floor and picked up one to examine. “Who took all these?”

  “Weren’t we adorable? My mother was forever trying to chronicle every moment of our childhood existence. In the process, I think she missed out on the real-time experience. But she got some great pics, didn’t she?”

  They spent the next half hour gasping and laughing as they looked through a few dozen photos.

  When a lull settled between them, Finn asked, “So, what are you doing up here?”

  “My goal was to thin out my inventory, but everything has a memory. I have a hard time letting go. You know?”

  He seemed puzzled. “Not really.”

  It was her turn to look puzzled. Before she could ask, he said, “I guess that’s why I moved up from Mahopac full time.”

  Annie hesitated. “I wondered about that. It’s a pretty long commute.”

  “A little over an hour.” His expression clouded over as he hesitated. “I moved here to get away from everything—except Connor.” He glanced at her then went
on. “So I guess I’m the opposite of you.”

  She knew him too well to believe that. “But you came here for a reason. Maybe memories?”

  He nearly smiled, but it faded as quickly as it had appeared. “Or a free place to live.”

  “Free is good, but I know you. There’s more to it than that.”

  A long silence followed. Annie waited. Something was going on with him. She’d noticed it the day after their children’s engagement announcement. He seemed weighed down by it. Maybe that’s why he was taking the engagement so well.

  Finn said, “You’re right, as usual.”

  Annie wanted to tease him and make him repeat the sentiment, but he looked so grim that she let it go.

  “I retired.”

  “Retired? You’re only forty-three.”

  “I only needed twenty years to retire. I worked twenty-two.”

  “Wow, I’m in the wrong field.” She instantly regretted her words. “I didn’t mean that. I’m just being… stupid.”

  “For a cop, the years are like dog years. Every year on the job feels like seven.” Finn stared straight ahead with lifeless eyes. “If you’d asked me a couple years ago if I planned to retire at this age, I would’ve said no.”

  Annie wanted to say something encouraging or comforting, but she couldn’t find the words.

  Finn combed his fingers through his hair. “On the plus side, they didn’t even have to defund the police. The retirements and resignations did the job for them. And now look at the city.”

  Annie’s heart ached to see Finn like this. He’d always been the kind of guy people turned to because he was willing to lend a hand, and he brought a positive approach to any situation. The man before her had been beaten down emotionally—and probably physically too. She’d seen enough videos of riots and cities on fire to imagine what he must have been through.

  She noticed a small scar on his forehead that hadn’t been there before. Tentatively, she pointed at it. “Was that from work?”

  “Flying brick versus forehead. The brick won.” He tried to smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.