A Walk Through Endurance

by Olivia Gaines

  “I do. You don’t see me leaving the house in my pajamas and pink bunny slippers to go get coffee, but here we are together,” he said, arching one eyebrow.

  “You and I are no more in a relationship than those two people,” she countered.

  Abel bit into the remainder of the cookie, eyeing her with interest. Julie intrigued him, and he wanted to know more about her. He also found himself interested in her perspective on relationships.

  “Not yet,” he said, watching her expression change as she tried to understand what he was inferring.

  “The couple is not yet in a relationship,” she repeated, trying to find clarification.

  “Sure, if that’s what you thought you heard,” he said, raising his hand to Sherron for another cookie. This also drew Doc Winter’s attention away from the store owner, prepared to challenge whoever dared to draw her focus away from him.

  “Oh hey, Julie,” Dr. Winter said to her, spotting Abel. “Hey there Abel. I see you met your tenant.”

  Julie arched her eyebrows in response, which crinkled her forehead. He was the owner of the cottage she rented, as well as the golf course. Abel Burney was shielding loads of information from her, and she prayed the good doctor would feel the need to hold back a few tidbits of information about their first encounter as well. He didn’t.

  “I’m glad to see you out and about Julie,” he said. “I was concerned when I found you splayed out like that on your front porch. Ma Hildie asked about you as well when I returned the shopping cart. She said she didn’t think you were going to make it up that incline. They were placing bets that you would pass out before you made it to the driveway of the cottage.”

  Julie sighed as Abel’s fist went to his mouth to stifle his laughter.

  “I thought doctors were supposed to be tight lipped keepers of the HIPAA Act and Hippocratic oath,” Julie said.

  “You are not my patient,” Dr. Winter replied. “Besides, it is fairly common with the thin air to have that sort of reaction.”

  “Welcome to End...dd...u...rance,” Sherron the shopkeeper said as she placed another cookie on a cute paper plate in front of Abel.

  “Hi, I’m Julie Kraztner, from Sports Complicated Magazine,” she offered.

  “You know...Chad...wick...? I mean...Dr. Winter,” Sherron asked with one eyebrow raised.

  “Yes, we met yesterday,” Julie said. “How long have you two been dating?”

  Both Dr. Winter and Sherron began to stutter as she wiped her hands on her apron and disappeared behind the counter. More people came into the shop, pulling the cupcake maker away, taking her attentions from Dr. Winter’s skillful flirting, leaving him to take a seat without being offered one.

  “Sherron and I are not dating,” he whispered.

  “Yeah, but you want to date her,” Julie said, leaning closer and whispering back.

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because you talked to her about the most mundane things to get her to engage with you,” Julie said. “The moment her attention was drawn to someone else, you reacted as if Abel’s request for another cookie was a threat. You’ve got it bad doc.”

  “Julie, you’re new in town,” Dr. Winter said to her with all sincerity, “you can’t just go about making assessments of people and sharing what you think, which may or may not be correct.”

  “Now you know how I feel,” she said to him.

  Abel and Dr. Winter leaned back in the chair in unison, folding their arms across their chest as they took in Julie Kraztner. The corner of Dr. Winter’s mouth twitched while Abel Burney squinted his eyes. He liked her. He liked her a lot.

  “Julie, Endurance is not only the place where people come to test their mettle against nature, but it’s also a community of single fathers,” Abel said.

  “Are you a single father as well?” She asked Abel.

  “Yes and no,” he said. “My son is completing college at the university this year.”

  She turned her attention to Chadwick, “And you Dr. Winter?”

  “I have a three-year-old named James,” he said.

  “Interesting,” Julie said looking at both men.

  They waited for her questions about their lives, but they didn’t come. Instead, she watched the public interactions with Sherron. Each man that approached the counter made Dr. Winter tense up like he was doing interval training on love muscle failure. The man was sucking all the air out of the shop. Julie needed to get her day moving, unpack, and learn how to breathe in the thin air of Endurance.

  “Don’t wait too long to make your move doc,” she offered standing up. “A woman like that is catching many eyes and loads of attention. This cupcake alone is enough to make me want to ask her out, and I don’t like women.”

  Abel sputtered the rest of his cookie at the frankness of her words. He got to his feet collecting his cup of decaf tea, hurrying to catch up with the woman. Abel wanted to spend more time with Julie. She had something very few women were able to get from him, his undivided attention.

  Chapter 3 – The Art of Persistence

  Abel sat behind his desk staring absently out the window, trying to determine how the wreck of a woman named Julie had penetrated his defenses. Julie Kraztner was nothing like any of women he’d ever dated nor had any interest in. If you would have asked him five years ago, well even ten, he would not have given her a second look. After only two days, the hot mess of a writer was all over his radar, blurring the screen with her constant blips of adorable annoyance.

  Even now, he wanted to call her to see if she was free tomorrow night to attend a gala opening at the Endurance Museum with him. The curator, Amelie Bishop, had a new display coming in on African art, and it would be followed up in the spring with an exhibit on Mayan artifacts. The gala, a catered affair with tiny finger sandwiches and seafood on skewers, had quickly become a winter seasonal favorite by the art lovers in the town. If he wasn’t mistaken, Amelie had also hired genuine African dancers, and authentic cooks to cater the food for the opening. He loved the gala opening because it meant guests would come to his golf course for an afternoon or early morning tee offs on the links.

  He needed to be persistent with Julie if he wanted her to know he was interested in more than a helpful way of marrying her to her coffee, or rescuing her from herself. Maybe he would call on her for lunch under the guise of getting her out of the house to explore more of the town. The good folks in Endurance had embraced him when he was at his lowest, after his divorce and ceremonial emptying of his pockets. Hell, he was almost homeless as well.

  The divorce had left him a mess of man. Coming to Endurance for a race had changed his life. He loved the community so much that he bought the two-bedroom cottage Julie now rented for his home. Once his son Ralph came for a visit over the summer, he too fell in love with Endurance and wanted to stay, much to his wife’s disapproval. However, Abel didn’t have the seven-figure job he once had, and child support payments dropped to almost nothing. In his approximation, her fight over Ralph centered on the monthly child-support checks. When those dropped to less than two hundred dollars a month, she lost the willingness to fight with him on where and how he could spend time with Ralph. She also stopped fighting when his son returned home after weekend visits. When she stopped calling, he reduced his timelines in returning their offspring back to Sacramento on Sunday nights, until one day he didn’t take him back at all. Oh, he still sent the check each month, but his son stayed with him. It was one of the best decisions Abel ever made.

  Abel, having lost most of his money in legal fees fighting his wife, found himself in the precarious position of starting over. His luck held out as he won several of the races in Endurance, netting a nice profit which enabled him to purchase a good bit of land and build his golf course. Initially, it was nothing more than a putting green, then he added nine holes. The number of people who came each year to play the course increased, along with the frequent Endurance racers that requested memberships. In less than two year
s, his income rose to the earnings of his old salary, and he added the last nine holes to the course along with a free-standing restaurant and bar. The 19th Hole had become a second home for him and the boy, as well as an office in which he conducted business. Ten years later, Ralph was a senior at UC Endurance, completing his engineering degree.

  On occasion, he would teach a class or three at the university, but most of his time was spent piddling about Endurance, looking for ways to improve the small town, and the quality of the artistic events available for the annual race goers to participate. After all, the town may have been small, but they did have some culture. Tomorrow, he planned to take in some of that culture with an attractive young lady on his arm. What magazine did she say she worked for again? Ah yes, Sports Complicated. He turned in his chair and looked it up online.

  Locating the webpage, he found Julie’s staff photo. Underneath the picture was an email address. He clicked the blue link which opened an email window. Typing a quick message, he asked her to call because he had tickets to the gala opening at the museum. Checking the message twice, he read over it a third time to ensure there were no innuendos hidden in the text, and clicked send.

  “Shit, I forgot to include my phone number,” he mumbled, recalling the message, correcting it, and sending it again.

  Abel stared at the screen. He didn’t know what he expected to happen, but he waited patiently like a cat at a mousehole. The loud sound of Viognier spit out of his phone, vibrating simultaneously nearly causing him to jump out of his seat.

  The number displayed on the screen had a New York area code. He didn’t know anyone from New York and almost didn’t answer it, but he lifted the phone from the desk. It’s probably a telemarketer.

  “Abel Burney,” he said.

  “Does this gala include tiny food on buttery crackers and good wine, Mr. Burney?” the soft voice said.

  She called.

  “Yes, it does,” he said lowering the octave in his voice, “I’m almost certain it will include some form of seafood or chicken on a skewer as well.”

  “Good, then it’s a date,” she said. “Will a little black dress be appropriate?”

  “It will,” he said with a smile. “The gala is an African exhibit, and don’t ask me why, but I have a Kenta cloth tie.”

  “I have a matching head wrap,” Julie responded. “If you don’t ask any questions, I won’t either.”

  Abel laughed. “Six pm, be ready to roll,” he said softly.

  “See you then,” Julie said and hung up the phone.

  Holy crap, she had a date.

  JULIE SPENT MOST OF the next day trying her hand at riding the bike around Endurance. She made it as far as the coffee shop, and spent the rest of the afternoon trying to reorient herself to pedal the bike for the three blocks to her house. The nice girl behind the counter made her a protein smoothie packed with potassium, which helped a great deal. The bike was pushed as she made her way to the cottage, and she spent the remainder of the evening with her second boyfriend, Couchie.

  “I love you Couchie, you understand my needs,” she whispered to the green flower covered sofa with the high back and oversized pillows. He held her again as she tried to make phone calls to her family, then to her boss who spent most of the conversation laughing at her antics.

  “It takes two weeks to become acclimated Julie,” Elsie Devonshire, the publishing manager of the magazine, told her.

  “I know Elsie, but it is so pretty here, even in winter,” she replied, trying to catch her breath. “There are events here that I can’t even get to because I can’t get enough air to fuel me.”

  “You are not going to be any good to the magazine or anyone else if they find you blue on the floor from altitude sickness,” Elsie told her. “Take it slow.”

  “I’m trying,” she said.

  “Although I appreciate the art of persistence, I need you to focus on the long-term goal versus the short term. Get out, meet the locals, let them get used to you being in their world, so they can trust you,” Elsie said.

  “On that note, I’m going to a gala opening tonight at the museum. Kinda looking forward to it,” she said.

  “You met someone already?”

  Julie bit her bottom lip. She didn’t quite meet Abel Burney, but he was thrust into her life. There was no way to deny the attraction between them, and for that reason, she relished the opportunity to get dressed up to show him a different side of her. He was a good-looking man, but she couldn’t tell how old Abel was since the man was so physically fit.

  “Something like that,” she told Elsie, clicking off the line. She thought of the grey streaks at Abel’s temples, the piercing blue eyes, and the wicked smile. He was, by all means, a silver-fox, but she couldn’t tell his age since some people greyed earlier in life than others. It didn’t matter either way. He was good looking, and she was bordering on hungry for male companionship.

  “I bet he looks good in a suit,” she said, giving in to Mr. Pillow. After a quick nap, she would be back up and ready to start plotting the romance novel of a couple, mismatched in every way, but fueled by an undeniable chemistry.

  ABEL ARRIVED AT THE cottage dressed to impress in his black suit, black dress shoes, and African print tie. He rang the doorbell and tried to shield the bouquet of flowers he brought for the dining room table. Hopefully, if he were lucky, she would take pity on a bachelor by making a nice dinner and inviting him to sample the wonders of her cooking. Who was he kidding? She didn’t seem capable of boiling water. The woman couldn’t even find a pair of shoes without her first cup of coffee. How she managed to drive her car in those ridiculous bunny slippers still boggled his mind.

  “Wow,” Julie said opening the door to a large bouquet of flowers, “double wow on the flowers.”

  “Are you ready?” Abel asked, stepping across the threshold.

  She turned in the black dress. It clung to all of her small curves, but the dress was unzipped. The satin black shoes worn on her dainty feet had just enough heel for her to kiss him without having to tiptoe. He felt his cheeks redden at having such a forward thought.

  “I am,” she told him grabbing her purse and keys. “Abel, would you be so kind as to zip me up?”

  For a moment, the flash of exposed skin made his mouth water, the thoughts in his brain blurred, and the desire to pepper her beautiful skin with butterfly kisses overruled his ability to operate the zipper. Instead, he moved his attention to the Kente cloth resting on the table next to her purse. Abel thought she would have wrapped her hair in the African cloth, but instead, she wore it draped about her shoulders as a wrap. The scent of her perfume made his pupils dilate as he deeply inhaled the heady aroma that filled the air with each of her movements. She passed by him smelling like a yummy snack to a man on sugar free diet. Abel found himself shocked at his very carnal, and all male reaction to Julie.

  “Stop looking at me like you want to lick me, Abel Burney,” she offered as she handed him the door keys to secure the front door. “We have seafood on a skewer to dine on tonight, along with some African art pieces that are probably on the shelves at Target.”

  “Actually, the curator had these shipped in from Côte d’Ivoirie,” he said, opening the car door for her. “I should know... I’m one of the sponsors.”

  “A rescuer of women and an art lover,” she said. “I assume you are single. At least, I hope since you brought me flowers.”

  “I am very single,” he said, checking his rear-view mirror while backing slowly out of the driveway. The scent of her perfume filled his nostrils with possibilities of a make out session later on the old lumpy couch. At 47 years old, the idea of making out with her made him feel lightheaded. “Are you?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. Men seem to flee from all of this awesomeness bundled in a small package of confusion,” she said with a wink.

  “I’m not fleeing Julie Kraztner,” he replied with a wink of his own. “I seem to be running towards the burning building, trying to
get inside.”

  She glanced at him sideways not sure on the meaning of getting inside. Twice he made comments that she misunderstood, but not tonight, she wanted to be clear on where he was going.

  “Is that your plan Abel?” she asked looking at him through the darkened car interior. “Are you trying to get inside?”

  “Not yet,” he said with a smile and another wink. The wink this time was laced with subtle innuendo that hit the seat of her underpants like a thunderbolt. Light seemed to permeate the dark fabric of the dress, illuminating a possibility that she kept in the dark for many years. Her schedule didn’t permit long-term relationships. In all honesty, it was hell on short ones. However, a year in Endurance with Mr. Sexy Grey Temples made her think differently.

  She grinned all the way to the museum, which to her surprise was lit up like a Christmas tree. College students served as valets, handing out tickets when they exchanged car keys to park vehicles. A handsome young man with startling blue eyes switched out with another valet to park Abel’s car.

  “Here is your ticket, Mr. Burney,” he said, but his eyes were on Julie.

  “Ralph, this is Julie Kratzner. She is a feature writer for Sports Complicated, and she’s renting the cottage on Dodger Lane,” he told the young man.

  Julie thought it odd to give the young man so much information about her. She didn’t know him or Abel well enough yet. There would be a conversation once they were out of earshot of the young man. For all she knew, they could be partners in a scheme against the single women in town. The hesitation showed on her face and Abel eased her fears with one sentence.

  “Julie, this is my son Ralph Burney.”

  “Pleasure to meet you,” she responded, giving the young man a warm smile and a handshake.

  “Enjoy your evening folks,” Ralph responded, giving his father the thumbs up.

  “I saw that,” she called over her shoulder to Ralph.

  She could feel Abel’s hand in the small of her back as he escorted her through the door, as African dancers came out the back room to the sound of drums, moving in rhythm. It took everything in her not to laugh as stiff white people tried to move with the dancers matching their movements. Comical would have been the appropriate word as the dancers stopped moving, but the museum patrons did not, and a tall, attractive black woman addressed the crowd. Giving thanks to the donors and supporters, she carefully avoided naming any one group of individuals as rounds of applause sounded and the exhibit opened.