by Jan Thorn
not,” She turned and eyed the reader in the back, “Anyway, it’s for sale now. If you’re interested in seein’ it, go up Townsend Road to the end…you really can’t miss it.”
I paid for my coffee and headed out. As I peddled up Townsend Road I grew more and more freaked out. December 13th was the date of my Christmas party last year AND the year prior.
I stopped peddling at the top of the road when the Inn came into view. The drawing on the matchbox didn’t do this place any justice. The estate was breathtakingly beautiful despite being really weathered. Even with the overgrown bushes, lackluster paint and tired shutters it was simple to see how truly beautiful it once had been. TLC that’s what she needed and I was sure whoever invests in her will restore her beauty. I walked around for a while poking here and there then went down to the beach to relax before riding back. By the time I passed through town again the coffee shop had closed and there was much more foot traffic on Main Street, people enjoying homemade ice cream and browsing the shops.
I arrived back to the house late in the afternoon and was a little surprised, maybe even a little taken aback, that no one even mentioned my outburst this morning or the fact that I had all but disappeared for most of the afternoon. I guess I should be grateful, that’s the beautiful thing about good friends, they could overlook bat-shit crazy misbehaviors and still leave well enough alone like nothing ever happened.
After a quick shower we prepared dinner, shared two bottles of wine, enjoyed a late night stroll along the beach and headed to bed. Eventually, with some coaxing, mostly from the wine, I shared my findings in Townsend. I even shared the story about Captain Bill and Meredith and the beautiful old estate by the shore. Of course, I conveniently omitted my ‘chance’ meeting with the Captain last December on the pier in New York City from the story line. I understand from experience that some things are just better left unsaid.
Katie and I would leave the next morning for New York if I kept my stories to myself I might still escape unscathed.
I heard the dog barking again in the middle of the night but opted not to get involved, probably also with some coaxing mostly from the wine. Presumably the result would be the same anyway .
December 12
Saturday morning, tomorrow would be the 13th, Bill and Meredith Townsend’s wedding anniversary, the second anniversary of the Captain’s death, tonight was my annual Christmas party. It had been a year of transformation for me, but as good as I am feeling in my new skin, I’m still dreading the obligatory hob-knobbing. I call Katie to confirm the time that I will be picking her up. I’m the designated driver this year, it’s a two-man rotation and she drove last year. I still have several hours to ready myself and get to her so I throw on my overcoat and head toward my car. Now is as good a time as any to pick up my dry cleaning for tonight.
On the way out to my car I feel a lump in the pocket of my coat and I pull out the box of matches from my encounter last year on the pier. How strange, I thought to myself, had I not worn this coat since December 13th of last year? The matchbox, it was tattered, like its namesake, but it was in my hand. The Merry Weather Inn, Townsend, Massachusetts, I could barely make out the image of the Inn, “the heart of Cape Cod” was the logo under the Inn’s name.
Four and a half hours later I have just passed the closed coffee shop and am pulling onto Townsend Road. I don’t know why but somehow when I looked at that matchbox in my hand I knew I had to come here.
Today.
When I arrive I am surprised to see the bushes are neatly manicured and there are lights on inside the house. There is a car parked out in front with Massachusetts license plates. The estate has been sold and just as I assumed over the summer, it is receiving the TLC it deserves. Without hesitation, and I hope without detection, I start to turn the car in the dead end. As I start back down the road, something runs in front of my car, I slam on the brakes and the car slides on a patch of ice. The car stops with a loud bang, and I have just enough time to shout, “Damn it!” before my head slams into the steering wheel.
Out of the corner of my eye I can see a man run out the front door, he clears the porch in one leap, the three steps leading up to it in another. He is down the drive before I can focus my visual of him. Before I even know what happened he’s at my window. Although I had trouble focusing as he dashed out to my car it was very clear that he is tall, well dressed and very good-looking once he is perched at my window.
“Are you all right?”
“Hi” I was horrified and started rambling as only I can, “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you. When I drove up the road I just assumed, like a fool, that no one would be here -- still. Congratulations on your new home. It’s beautiful.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Again, I’m sorry, I’ll be out of your way.” Inside I hope I don’t sound as nervous as I feel.
“Take a deep breath. You’re not in my way,” he responded kindly.
“But,” I gestured toward the house.
“Relax. Breathe,” he coached, calmly. “You’re not going anywhere right now anyway. You banged your head.”
“What?” I was genuinely confused. How could this fine specimen of man possibly Know that I had just banged my head?” I toyed with my hair just right where my head hit the wheel, “How do you –” I started to ask.
“You’ve already got a bump there,” he leaned in and gestured making circular motions, like a crooked halo, toward my forehead.
“You’re safe,” his voice was very reassuring, “please relax.”
I followed his directions, his voice was caring, his tone was very persuasive.
“Thank you. You’re very sweet,” I responded. Somewhat lost in confusion and an awkward lust for this stranger.
“Thank you.”
“Thank me?” I crashed outside your house.
“Yes.” We sat awkwardly for a moment looking at each other, wordlessly. “Won’t you come in,” he offered breaking the silence.
“Oh, I couldn’t.”
“Of course you can, I asked.”
“But –“
“But nothing, you must be exhausted. You’ve had a long trip,” he was so self-assured.
“Me?” I paused, “How do you know that?”
At that moment he looked me square in the eye, pausing for a moment before answering, “I couldn’t begin to explain, right now. I just know.”
“I guess I just have to accept that answer although it sounds a little hokey.”
“Okay. I’ll see if I can do better.” he looked out toward the beach and then gazed up to the sky. I can’t say that I have seen many people gaze out into a dark sky and a dark sea for answers, but I did find it incredulous that I was experiencing the same event exactly a year to the date apart.
When he looked back into my eyes he had a knowing look. Somehow when he looked out and up or looked out or up I don’t know where the darkness offered his answer. “Let’s call it an educated guess based on a number of valid and logical points. For starters I can hear your New York accent when you speak.” I had to nod my acknowledgement, “easy point.”
“Secondly, I can see the license plate on your car says New York.”
“Another easy point.”
“I have never seen you here before –“
“And you know everyone here,” I interrupted.
“I do not, but I would certainly remember a pretty face like yours,” he smiled and his left eyebrow went up ever so slightly.
“Ah, flattery. I didn’t see that coming. Do you have any other tricks up your sleeve?” I chided.
“Perhaps weaving?” he offered.
“Weaving? A lost art for sure, now I’m listening.”
“Well, allow me to weave this all together for you. New York accent, New York plates, an unrecognized face and a dash of magic; I’d say you’ve had at least a three-hour drive,” he was obviously proud of his prowess.
“I have to say, I’m impressed. Hi. My name
is Janie.” I extended my hand to shake his.
“Well, that’s very nice to know,” he sounded genuinely happy.
“Excuse me?“
“Hello Janie. I’m Bill. Bill Townsend.”
“Bill Townsend? So you did not just buy this house?”
“That’s correct. Now won’t you please join me -- inside?”
“Are you sure your wife won’t mind?” I asked.
“I’m sure,” he responded quickly.
“Maybe you should check with her, it is Saturday night.”
“May I get in with you and ride up to the door? I’m only in house-shoes” he raised his feet to show me.
I looked down, “of course. Oh my goodness, you must be freezing!”
“I suppose it could be worse,” he suggested as he climbed into the passenger side.
We rode up to the door and I parked near his car in the massive drive.
“I saw something run in front of my car back there, that’s how I lost control.” I offered.
“I was afraid something like that might happen someday .. especially with all of the ice build-up at the end of the road,” he muttered the last part more to himself than to me.
“Excuse me?” I was so confused. I had a terrible revelation, “Oh my goodness,” I brought my hand up to my mouth, “do you have a dog?”
“We do,” he smiled broadly, this seemed to please him immensely.
“You’re not worried –“
He chuckled as he opened the passenger door, “I’m certain the dog is fine. Let’s go inside and we can check on her together.”
I don’t know what came over me, the
