A Quick Note From AJ:
Hi Friends! I wrote this in November 2023 as part of NaNoWriMo. It’s been largely untouched since then and is unpolished, especially compared to “Love Letters to LaCera”, which I was querying to publishers. Please keep that in mind as you read on. Once I get caught up on some other projects I’m working on personally and professionally, I would like to revisit this and rework it, but I still think it’s a nice story, if a bit rushed (I was struggling to keep pace with NaNoWriMo, to be perfectly honest). As always, thanks for reading, thanks for being here, and thanks for being kind! <3 -AJ
I awoke early one cold November morning to the sound of absolute stillness. It was barely 6 in the morning. I crept out of bed carefully, trying not to wake Virgil. I cast a look over my shoulder at my husband. Tall, long legged and broad shouldered, with a solid reassuring center that was perfect for wrapping my arms around. He was 59 now, and the salt and pepper hair he had when we met had given away to mostly gray. His laugh lines were deeper and more numerous, but he was still handsome, with warm twinkling brown eyes and a large sharp nose that I loved to kiss. I felt a rush of affection for him as I watched him sleeping,curled into where I had been laying.
On tiptoe, I moved across to the window at the far end of the bedroom. It was barely light out, and the morning had a white-gray tinge to it. As I peered out the window, I could see the thick blanket of freshly fallen snow covering the trees and the yard around our house. Even in the winter, the mornings were usually full of birdsong but this morning the snow muffled everything. The only sound was the ticking of the grandfather clock downstairs. I sat there, watching the snow continue to fall until the chill of the morning drove me back to bed.
“Ella?” Virgil murmured sleepily.
“I’m here,” I whispered, climbing back under the blankets.
“Good morning,” he said softly, putting his arms around me and enveloping me in the warmth of his body. “Christ, you’re freezing.” he said, pulling me closer.
“It snowed,” I said quietly.
“Ugh,” he muttered, kissing the back of my neck, gently brushing my long dark hair out of the way. “Then I probably don’t have much time.”
“Much time for what?” I asked innocently.
He rolled on top of me, kissing me and sliding his hand up the old t-shirt I slept in.
“Mr. Baker!” I said with a mock gasp as I felt his erection poke my thigh. “I hope you have a permit for that thing.”
He chuckled, grinding his hardness against my as he fondled my breast, gently teasing my nipples.
“I’m afraid I don’t,” he replied, kissing my neck and collar bone. “But I promise if you let slide, just this once, I’ll make it worth your while.” He started to pull my shirt over my head.
“Very well, but this is most irregular,” I teased.
“Shh, or I’ll give you something to do with that mouth.”
“I might like it,” I whispered as he kissed down my chest.
He pulled my underwear down between my legs as we went. He was about to lower himself between my thighs when I heard his phone ring from the nightstand.
“Right on cue,” he muttered.
“Go on, answer it,” I said with a smile as I pulled the blanket over me. “I can wait.”
He sighed and answered the phone.
“Baker’s Towing.”
He pulled the pad and paper he kept next to the bed and jotted down information as the operator spoke. I could tell by the cadence of the call that it was AAA. He listened, jotting down their PO number on his pad and then he sighed.
“I’ll be along in about an hour, I’m down in LaCera,” he said. He looked at the clock on the bedside table and then hung up. He looked at me, his big brown eyes full of apology.
“To be continued?”
“You’d better,” I said with a smile as I pulled my t-shirt back on. He kissed me softly, and then heaved himself off the bed, going to the closet to get dressed. He came back out a few minutes later, buckling his overalls over top of his pants, thermal shirt and flannels. His boots and coat were downstairs in the mudroom. He kissed me one more time.
“I love you,” he said softly.
“I love you too.”
He started to leave, but then stopped at the door.
“Baby Girl’s not home until tomorrow, right?”
Baby Girl was our 10 year old daughter, Michelle. She was spending a long weekend off from school with her best friend Riley.
“Tomorrow afternoon,” I confirmed.
“Good,” he said, eye twinkling. “Then,” he went on, as he gestured to me in the bed. “To be continued.”
He headed out the door, but then I heard him stop and come back. He poked his head back into the room.
“Love you,” he said again.
“Love you too,” I called after him, chuckling. I heard him getting his boots on and then talking in a low voice, followed by the sound of cat food being dumped into the food dish. I smiled at that. Then the front door shut and the house was still and quiet again.
I knew I wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep while he was out on the road, so I picked a book up from the pile on my nightstand and started to read. It wasn’t long before I heard the muffled thuds of our black cat, CB, on the floor next to the bed.
“Well good morning Miss Thing,” I said as she greeted me with a loud Meow. “You sure do make a lot of noise for such a little kitty,” I told her.
CB, short for Cat Benetar, was a former stray cat that Virgil had taken in after I found her stuck in an old piece of lattice work in town one evening. I always remembered the night we found her in vivid detail, because Virgil had kissed me for the first time a few minutes before we found her.
I had come to LaCera for work 11 years prior. At the time, I was a photojournalist for a popular travel blog called The Globe. The Globe sent me to the tiny town of LaCera to do a story on the thing that set it apart from the dozens of other little towns tucked up in the hollows of the Amber Ridge Mountains: the LaCera Wildflowers.
Every spring, a little meadow just north of town bursts to life with hundreds of thousands of Wildflowers. It had always attracted tourists to the area, but over the years, interest in LaCera had waned, the town was dwindling, and the meadow was in danger of being purchased by a developer. My boss at the time had a soft spot for LaCera and sent me off to write an article that would attract attention for the little village… But neither of us could have imagined what wound up happening instead: I had fallen in love… with Virgil, but also with LaCera herself.
CB gave a slight “purrup” noise as she jumped up into the bed. She flopped over onto Virgil’s side of the bed, flipping her tail back and forth.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, the chosen one is not here. He had to go to work so he could support your disgusting catnip habit,” I said, ruffling her fur.
She responded by stretching her back leg out and aggressively taking a bath. I rolled my eyes. Just like our daughter Michelle, she had Virgil at her beck and call. He doted on them both, letting Michelle paint his fingernails or “style” his hair, and always giving CB “just a little taste” of whatever he was eating.
“Of course,” I agreed, as if she had spoken to me. “I should get a second job so he can stay home with you all how, how silly of me. You know, the whole reason you even have this nice comfortable home is because of me, so some gratitude wouldn’t go amiss.” I said, rolling my eyes.
Virgil had taken in the scrawny little kitten because I couldn’t bear to leave her all alone after we pulled her out of the lattice. That wasn’t the first indication that Virgil was a good man, but it was the one that really made me examine my burgeoning feelings for him.
I was unable to relax with Virgil out on the road. I hated when he went out in bad weather, but he was the only tow truck driver or mechanic this side of Bell City. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he left someone stuck in the snow and cold. The only times he ever refused a call was when I had been pregnant with Michelle, and when she was an infant.
I pushed myself back out of bed and put on some warm socks before padding down to the kitchen, leaving CB content to stretch out in our bed.
It was far too early to call Zaira, my best friend of nearly 30 years, so instead, I looked for things around the house to occupy my mind. I washed the remaining dishes from dinner the night before. Virgil had taken advantage of the kid free night and made a spicy salmon filet with grilled brussel sprouts and mashed potatoes. We had eaten in front of the fire, indulging in a couple of glasses of wine before he had taken me up to bed and made love to me until late into the night.
After I finished the dishes, I gathered up a few things from the living room that belonged in other spots; Virgil’s tablet, some of Michelle’s books, a few other odds and ends. I cleaned the kitchen counters, checked the fridge and pantry to see if there were any items needed to be added to the grocery list. I stripped the sheets on all the beds – much to CB’s displeasure- and put fresh ones on. I was starting a load of laundry when the phone rang. It was just after 9.
“Hello?”
“Mrs. Baker, it’s Julia Sweeny,”
“Good morning Ms. Sweeny, what can I do for you?” Julia Sweeny was the town treasurer. She had a no nonsense attitude and a straightforward demeanor.
“I’m sorry to bother you on the weekend, but I wanted to ask you if you were still willing to take pictures of the town decorated for Christmas for the new website.”
“Of course, when do you need them?”
“Before Thanksgiving. We got the lights up last night before it snowed, so hopefully you can find some time between now and then to take them.”
“I’m sure I can,”
“We don’t have the budget to pay you what you’re worth, I’m afraid.”
“You don’t have to pay me at all,” I said earnestly.
“After all you’ve done for LaCera, you should take something.”
“I’d argue LaCera’s done just as much for me as I’ve done for her,” I replied. I heard Virgil’s truck chugging up the driveway. “I’ll email you the pictures.”
“Excellent, thank you Mrs. Baker.”
“Hey you,” Virgil called from the mudroom. He shut the door behind him and started pulling off his boots.
“Hey you,” I replied. He shimmied out of his overalls and then scrubbed his hands in the utility sink by the back door. “How was it?” I asked.
“Cold. A couple of dumbass kids up in Verona slid into the ditch on Fischer’s Pond Road, but everyone was all right.”
“You want a cup of coffee?”
“Please, I’m chilled to the bone.”
“Julia Sweeny just called, they want me to take pictures of the Christmas decorations in town for the website.”
“Well of course they would, you’re an award winning photojournalist,” he said, sitting at the kitchen island. “They should be begging you.”
“I don’t mind doing favors for LaCera,” I said, setting a mug down gently in front of him.
“I know.” He grinned at me. His smile was one of his favorite things about him. It had taken me a few days to coax one out of him when we met, but once I did, I never wanted to stop. It was beautiful, the way it spread across his tanned, slightly weather beaten face. It softened all his hard, rugged edges and turned him into someone you wished you knew.
He sat there while I made breakfast for us. Virgil was a far better cook than I was, but I could handle a meal here and there.
“What do you want to do tonight?” I asked him as I worked.
“I’d like to turn my phone off and get a good night’s sleep,” he grumbled.
“But you won’t,” I teased.
“No, you’re probably right about that,” he agreed.
We ate breakfast, and then took a long hot shower together as our hands explored one another. He gently caressed my nipples with just the barest touch before sliding his fingers down between my thighs.
“Time to move to dry land,” he whispered huskily. We barely took the time to dry off before he was on his knees at the edge of the bed, gently pushing apart my knees and finding his way to where my thighs met. The air was cold on my skin, but Virgil quickly remedied that, coaxing me to orgasm with his tongue before sliding inside of me. I felt the heat rising across my skin as he made love to me. He rolled slightly, pulling me on top of him. His breathing quickened and he leaned upwards, kissing me as he finished. Afterwards, we lay together, our breaths coming in panting gasps.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of that,” I said, stretching in his arms.
“Good, because I would like to do it again, and again, and again.” He reached over and stroked the side of my face.
“Are you sure you can keep up, old man?” Virgil was not quite 10 years my senior, but I often teased him about our “age gap”.
“That’s why I went off and got me a young wife,” he chuckled. “To keep me fit.”
I smiled ruefully.
“I’m not so young any more.”
“Don’t you start that.” He leaned down and kissed me again. “Are you feeling some big feelings about your birthday?”
“Maybe,” I admitted. “Fifty is a big one.” I was trying desperately not to think about the fact that it was happening in a few weeks.
“Well, you look the same as the day we met, except for that tinsel in your hair.” He kissed my forehead. “But I like it.”
CB Jumped into bed with us, purring loudly as she plopped down against Virgil. He absently petted her head, gazing off into space.
“What’s on your mind?” I asked after a long silence passed between us.
“Sometimes I just wish we’d met when we were younger. The years have gone by so fast; I just wish we’d had more of them.”
I felt my brows knit together.
“However long we have, I’ve loved every second of it,” I told him honestly.
“Me, too.” Another long silence fell between us and the only sound to be heard was CB’s purrs.
“Do you want to walk into town later, and have dinner at the diner?” I asked after a while. “I could take some pictures of the Christmas lights against the snow,” I said.
“Yeah, we can stop by the store and see if Devola got those granola bars you like in, too.”
He rolled slightly toward me; the motion offended CB and she scurried out of the room. He pulled me close and kissed me again. I wondered if there would ever be a time where that didn’t fill me with a surge of desire, but I suppose after 11 years it was still doing it, it would probably always be that way. I put my arms around his neck, and we lay there for a long while, kissing and cuddling under our blankets. We lay there for the better part of the day as the snow continued to fall outside.
After dark, we bundled up and headed into town. It was a short walk; everything in LaCera was a short walk. LaCera has grown over the last decade, but she’s lost none of the charm that had made me fall in love with her when I first came here. I fiddled with my camera settings as we walked, Virgil keeping a slower pace for my sake. The snow crunched under our boots as we went, and as we came around the bend to the main road, my breath caught in my throat a little bit.
The snow created the perfect backdrop; white string lights crisscrossing overhead and adorning the storefronts on main street. Real evergreen wreaths hung on the doors, and the porch railings of each shop had lights and garland looped around the railing. It was a picturesque little scene and Virgil waited patiently while I wandered here and there taking pictures.
As I worked, I was hit with a powerful wave of nostalgia. I had come to LaCera in the springtime, but something about the sight of the lights hanging in front of the general store made my throat feel a little tight. I wasn’t sure why now, they put the lights up every Christmas and in the spring for the wildflower festival, but on that particular evening, it hit me hard. Maybe it was because I was taking pictures of them, much like I had that first spring.
“You okay?” Virgil asked me.
“Yeah, it’s just really pretty,” I told him, clearing my throat. Virgil didn’t look convinced. “Okay, fine, I was thinking about the first time I came here.” I admitted. “The lights reminded me of the Wildflower Social.”
He nodded.
“I think about when you came to town the first time a lot,” he said, slipping his arm around my waist as we headed towards the diner. “I think I fell in love with you the first second I laid eyes on you.”
I smiled. It had taken me a little longer to sort out my feelings for Virgil, but if I was being honest, it wasn’t too long after our first meeting that I had fallen for him. He kissed my forehead, and we walked slowly through town.
As I looked at the brightly lit businesses that would soon be closing for the night, I continued to reminisce about my first trip here. The main purpose was to bring LaCera back to the front of people’s minds, and to get bodies back into the town. The secondary purpose had been to find out as much as I could about the town’s position on the developer that wanted to flatten the meadow and put up a parking lot. My boss, Mel, had a deep affection for LaCera, having proposed to his wife and spent many family vacations there when his kids were small. He wanted to help however he could.
While getting to know the town, I learned that the developer had an agreement with one particularly prolific family -The Bowmans- and they stood to make quite a bit of money if the developer bought the land. They didn’t live in town, but they did own dozens of hunting parcels in the woods and hills around the Wildflower meadow, and if the meadow was sold, their land would be part of the deal.
Most of the town wanted to raise money to buy the meadow themselves and continue with the Wildflower tradition. They worried the ski lodge would be the death knell for LaCera
I am a tenacious person by nature, and once I got my hands on that information, I put my whole heart into helping LaCera. Virgil hadn’t been speaking hyperbole, I had won many awards for my photography. I took some of the best pictures of my career at the Wildflower meadow, and wrote an article imploring those who loved the meadow to help.
The response had been unprecedented, and between donations from readers of The Globe, and a hefty sum from The Globe herself, we had raised enough money to help the town buy the meadow. But I didn’t stop there, I put the wheels in motion for LaCera to secure federal funding for jobs. The meadow was considered a protected pollinator habitat, and the woods around town had been named a wildlife refuge. It helped revitalize the town.
The developer had wound up choosing another spot a little bit farther up in the foothills to build the ski lodge, and that brought a few more jobs to LaCera as well. It all tied up into a neat little bow.
But it made enemies for me as well. A member of the Bowman family had tried to run me over and had even followed me back to New Oxford, where I was living at the time, trying to break into my apartment. Luckily, Virgil had been there to protect me and nothing bad happened to me.
Word had gotten around town about that, as juicy bits of gossip are wont to do in places where little happens, and since then, it was rare to see any of the Bowmans in town at all… but I still looked over my shoulder from time to time, even now.
We climbed up the steps to the diner, knocking snow off our boots, lest we hear Aubrey chastise us for tracking muck onto her nice clean floors, and then went inside.
“Haven’t seen you two in an opossum’s age.” Aubrey said as we came in. She was leaning on the counter, wiping off menus. “You want the usual?”
“Yes please.”
“How’s Joe?” Virgil asked. Joe was Aubrey’s husband. He had been the cook at the diner for years, but he had retired in the spring.
“Gout.” She rolled her eyes. “But he won’t stop eating those sweets.”
“Oof, I’m sorry,” I said. She nodded, and called back to her new fry cook, a sad eyed boy named Anthony that we were here. He poked his head out of the kitchen and said hello.
“Tell Joe we said hello,” Virgil said. “I might stop in and see him one day soon if it suits him.”
“You thinking about retiring, Virgil?” Aubrey asked. “You gotta be 60.”
“I’m 59, thank you very much. I don’t turn 60 for almost a whole year. I’ve got no plans to retire.”
“Oh, excuse me,” Aubrey said, hiding a smile. “But no man your age should work as hard as you do.”
“I don’t think anyone at any age should work as hard as Virgil does,” I said softly. “But he’s stubborn.”
“Well if that isn’t the pot calling the kettle black,” he quipped, poking me in the ribs.
“Maybe,” I relented with a smile. Aubrey shook her head and went back to wiping off menus.
We ate and after we settled up with Aburey, set off back down main street toward the general store.
Devola Chance-Shockley stood behind the counter. She had taken over running the store a few years prior. She was about 10 years younger than I was, with silky blond hair and bright blue eyes. Devola was the first friend I had made in LaCera,and I liked her immensely. Her grandmother, Ms. Fiona, had sort of been the Matriarch of LaCera. The two of them hadn’t quite pushed Virgil and I into each other’s arms, but they had certainly helped: loaning me a dress for the Wildflower social, giving Virgil a bouquet of flowers to give to me. Ms. Fiona had passed the previous winter, and I missed her fiercely.
“Hello you two,” Devola said warmly as we came in.
“Hey Devola, how are things?” Virgil asked.
“Strangely busy for a snow day,” she said. “Kevin Rossiter and his kids were in here earlier, and bought all the Hershey bars.” she shrugged. “The youngest wouldn’t stop talking about S’mores, I guess they’re gonna do them in the fireplace.”
“That’s a cute idea, we should do that with Michelle some time.”
“Where is she tonight?”
“With her friend from girl scouts.” I said. “Where’s Evan?” Evan was Devola’s husband.
“He went up to Verona with the kids last night to see his sister and they decided not to drive back in the snow, they’ll be home tomorrow.” She yawned. “I’m thinking about closing up early though and enjoying having the house to myself.”
“Good plan, we’ll get out of your hair. I just wanted to see if you got those granola bars in yet.”
“No, they haven’t come in, but we’re getting a truck tomorrow, so they should be on that,” she said apologetically.
“No worries, we’ll swing by after Baby Girl gets home,” Virgil said warmly.
“Have a good night.” Devola called as we left.
We walked back home. It felt good to get out of the house and breathe the fresh air that came with the snow. The cold invigorated me, and once we had gotten out of our snow boots and jackets, I put my arms around Virgil’s neck and kissed him, then nibbled at his earlobe.
“What’s gotten into you, Mrs. Baker?”
“Hopefully, my husband’s perfect cock.” I whispered back, leading him up the stairs to our bedroom.
We wasted no time, shedding clothes and falling into bed together. Afterwards, he held me close.
“You’re happy here, right?” Virgil asked me softly, his lips moving against the ticklish spots on the back of my neck, and shivers running down my spine.
“Yes, of course,” I told him. “Why do you ask?”
“Sometimes I think maybe you’d be happier in New Oxford, where you wouldn’t have to wait for things like Granola bars,” he replied quietly.
“Virgil, there is not a granola bar on earth so good that I’d ever consider leaving LaCera. And you’d be miserable in a big city.” I rolled over to face him.
“You gave up so much for me.” His eyes were cast downward. “Sometimes I wonder if we should have gone to New Oxford.”
“Hey,” I said, pulling his face up so that our eyes met. “I don’t see it that way, and even if I did, the life you’ve given me here, the home you’ve given me here, is better than anything I ever could have imagined. I think it’s worth a couple of lousy granola bars.”
He nodded softly, then kissed my forehead.
“I mean it,” I told him. “LaCera always felt more like home than New Oxford ever did.”
He hugged my tightly
“I just want you to be happy,” he said.
“I am,” I insisted. “Really, please don’t worry about the damn granola bars.”
“It’s not just that, I know you miss traveling.”
“We agreed, together, that I would cut back for Michelle. That was a decision we made together.” I repeated. “You didn’t force it on me.”
“It just feels like I got everything I wanted and you had to make sacrifices.”
I sighed.
“I don’t know how to make you understand that I lived the way I lived because I didn’t have a reason to do it any other way.” I looked him in the eye. “You were my reason, Michelle was my reason, but you didn’t force me to give up anything. I have a very satisfying life. If I miss traveling, I know you won’t object to me taking an assignment. It would be different if you objected to it, but you don’t. You support everything I do.” I reminded him. “You’ve never asked me to stop. I stopped because I wanted to watch my daughter grow up.”
He nodded.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I guess I get in my head sometimes.”
“You? Never.” I teased. Now he smiled a little.
“I love you Ella” he said, reaching up and putting his large hand against the side of my head, his fingers entwining in my hair.
“I love you, too.”
