Rather than talking to him, I kept moving, heading down the creek a bit to a place where I could cross to the other side with a hop. A large, flat rock was there, one that I had often used to sit and draw or come up with story ideas when I was young. Granted, most of my stories were about a plucky young chef and most of my drawings were of food, so I guess I had things figured out a lot earlier than I thought I did.
I set the bag down on the rock and opened it up. Inside was a blanket I always brought with me, especially for colder weather. Sometimes, I liked to wrap myself in it and watch as the sun would dip over the mountains, but other times, like then, I would roll it up and use it as a pillow to sunbathe or just relax.
Slipping my sunglasses back down over my eyes from where they rested on the top of my head, I lay back and contemplated putting in my earbuds to listen to some music or a podcast. But the man was still there, and as much as I wanted to believe Ashford was a safe place, I didn’t want to keep myself from hearing him either. If he snuck up on me, I wanted to be ready for it.
So, I lay back and closed my eyes. I could hear him from where he was, light music wafting through the air from a phone and a screwcap being put on his drink. I didn’t like sharing my space, but I didn’t want to be intrusive either. Part of me wanted to stay annoyed at him, but I realized he was just doing what I was doing. Looking for a space to sit down and relax and enjoy nature.
I sighed and waited, and eventually, he started cleaning up. As much as I knew I shouldn’t want him to go just so I could have my space to myself, it was a losing battle. I was selfish. I wanted to be alone. When he shut the lunch pail, making a small metallic sound as it locked, he stood up and I rolled my head over toward him.
As he left, he shot me a jaunty little salute, a friendly smile on his lips, and wandered away, presumably back to whatever worksite he was on. I could vaguely hear saws in the distance, buzzing away. I just hoped they didn’t take away my spot by the creek. As long as I had that, I didn’t mind a little buzzing.
Once he was out of sight, I sat up and pulled out my water bottle to take a deep sip.
I curled my knees into my chest and wrapped my arms around them, listening for the sound of him coming back or someone else coming along. After a few minutes, when no sound other than nature and the distant echo of logging equipment came, I relaxed. My mind slowly opened, and I let myself focus.
Life here was going to be different, maybe even more than I thought when I first moved back. There was going to be a ton to do at the diner and taking care of Dad was emotionally taxing as much as it was physically so. Mom being at the diner gave me a break occasionally from there, but it meant I had to be the one to take care of Dad.
That was harder. Much harder. At least in Chicago, when I finally clocked out and went home, that was the end of it. I could crash out in the bed and sleep to my heart’s content and not have to worry about anything else. But that wasn’t really true. Even in Chicago, I would worry about him.
Maybe I should just go back. Maybe then I could just come home when I wanted to visit, and I could hire someone to take care of the diner. Someone I would trust to not ruin it for Dad. Then Mom could take care of him, I could be where I was supposed to be, the diner would be safe, and I wouldn’t run into any more insanely attractive mountain men by the creek I spent my childhood relaxing by.
7
EVERETT
Running into the new manager of Dina’s Diner was not exactly what I had been looking for when I went looking for a nice, peaceful place in the woods to eat. One of the problems with seeing her specifically was that she had been showing up in my dreams in intrusive ways that made me feel conflicted when I saw her in person.
This time was no different, and the way she treated me when she saw me made me think she knew somehow. Like I had broadcast my dreams to her, and she avoided me because I creeped her out.