Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 31042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 155(@200wpm)___ 124(@250wpm)___ 103(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 155(@200wpm)___ 124(@250wpm)___ 103(@300wpm)
When I stop talking, she shares all of the town’s best gossip. She’s acting as if I’m a regular, and we’re catching up together. It fills me with unexpected warmth. Maybe I did make the right decision by coming here.
After I’ve filled my cart with groceries for the week and a jug of apple cider that Emma May insists is the best in the county, I watch her ring up my purchases.
“Maybe we could get together for coffee later this week,” she says. “See how your cozy cabin is working out for you.”
“Text me, and we’ll do that,” I tell her, amazed to find myself a little bit excited about possibly making a friend here. I’m not much of a people person. I tend to prefer my own company, but there’s something about Emma May and her grandmotherly ways.
The drive up the mountain takes me a little over an hour. The scenic view of the winding roads canopied by red and orange trees has me stopping to take pictures more than once. I can’t wait to be running through this forest tomorrow.
If I thought I had enough daylight left, I’d go for a run as soon as I settled into the cabin, but it’s too late in the afternoon for that. Tomorrow, I promise myself as I pull up the long, winding drive for the cabin I’ve rented.
My breath catches in my throat the moment I see it. I thought the place was beautiful online, but the pictures didn’t do the rustic log cabin justice. Three wooden steps lead up to a wrap around porch that needs pumpkins and fairy lights, maybe even a gargoyle statue placed artfully near the drive.
For the first time in a year, peace flows over me. This feels like a place where I can belong, and it’s all mine. At least, it is for the next month. Maybe I’ll talk to the owner about extending my short-term rental lease.
He seemed friendly enough in our email exchange. I never spoke with him on the phone or video chat, but I looked at the lease carefully. Everything was right, and he even sent me a nice welcome packet, explaining that I could stop at Emma May’s grocery store.
Mom insisted I print out all of it and carry it in my bag, muttering about not being able to trust GPS these days. Her work on a zombie apocalypse show has made her paranoid about people becoming too reliant on technology.
Reaching for my phone, I’m relieved to see it still has a few bars even here high in the mountains.
My mom answers on the first ring, her voice filled with the breathless panic that happens after you thought that your only daughter was going to be remembered as a tragic mention in a documentary.
“Are you filming?” I ask the question automatically. She used to get so engrossed in her work that nothing could break her concentration. She’d have her phone on silent.
Back then, I was right there with her. I’d be just out of view of the camera lens, ready to step on the set at a moment’s notice to spray black gunk on a zombie’s face or add just a touch more yellow to their rotting teeth.
“Nothing that can’t wait,” she reassures me quickly. A little too quickly.
My stomach tightens. Sometimes, I forget. I forget that I wasn’t the only one who still lives with the scars and the what-ifs and the endless terror. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, the way I learned to in therapy. I need to get out there. Need to feel some dirt beneath my running shoes.
“I’m here. I arrived safe at the cabin. It’s even more beautiful in person. I’ll send you pictures later tonight.”
“OK, love you, baby,” she says, and I swear that I hear her sniff before she hangs up. She stood so strong in the aftermath, a tower I could run to when I needed strength. That’s what moms do. They’re the strong ones when the rest of your world falls apart.
With the call over and my mind whirling, I grab my groceries and walk into the cabin. The owner insisted the place would be open. When I’d asked him about that over email, he explained that the town is a safe little place where residents rarely lock their doors.
As I step inside the cozy living room with its oak flooring, I pause to take a deep inhale. There’s the aroma of cinnamon and nutmeg in the air. The place smells earthy and warm, a small crackling fire already started in the fireplace.
I can’t wait to stretch out on that big, oversized couch in front of the window overlooking a stunning mountain view. I’ll burrow underneath a fuzzy blanket and stream old B-movies until I fall asleep.