Monday

The next morning was Monday, and that meant that it was back to business as usual for the town. Virgil had to go to work in the garage, but he made eggs for breakfast and gave me a passionate kiss before walking me back to the inn. I slipped inside, avoiding Perky Gladys and her curious gaze as I went up to my room. After I showered and changed into fresh clothes, I went out to the general store. I took a deep breath before going inside. I needed to know more about this Bowman family but I knew I wasn’t going to get away without some prying about Virgil… and I didn’t know how I should answer questions about us… if you could really call it “us”. What do you call a few days and one really incredible night?

“Well, well, well… if it isn’t Virgil’s girl,” Ms. Fiona said with a conspiratorial wink when I came through the door.

“I dunno about all that,” I said carefully. I didn’t want to give the rumor mill more fuel if I could help it… but I also didn’t want to be rude. “I wanted to ask you about the Bowman family, if I could.”

Ms. Fiona’s smile hardened a fraction.

“Oh, them,” she waved a wrinkled hand dismissively. “They don’t live here anymore, ain’t lived here properly in, oh… maybe 40 years? But they got lots of land. Used to be a farm back in the twenties, but they split it up and split it up and split it up, because everyone who owns land got rights, according to the town charter, right?” She paused, taking a sip from her coffee mug. “So each generation split the land among the kids, and so… now there’s probably 20 or 30 little hunting parcels, and they all butt up against Peabody’s Meadow. So they want Old Mr. Peabody to sell his land -the wildflower land- to the Ranfer Company, that’s them developers that want to put a ski lodge up there in the foothills. It would make the Bowmans quite rich.”

“Mr. Peabody… Does he live in town?” I wanted to ask how old Mr. Peabody must be if someone in their nineties was calling him “old” but I decided to let that go.

“No, he moved down to Bell City about 25 years ago, but I think he’s in New Mexico… New Jersey… somewhere… with his daughter now.” She gave a frustrated sigh. “You know, he always said he was going to donate the land to the town, but I think that daughter of his is greedy. It’s only been in the last couple of years he’s been talking about selling.”

“I heard that there will be a vote after the Wildflower Festival, but not everyone wants to buy the land?”

“Everyone who isn’t a Bowman wants to buy the land,” Ms. Fiona said. “The Bowmans are the only ones who will profit if the meadow is sold. A lot of us think it’ll mean a death knell for LaCera if we can’t buy the land.”

I grimaced.

“They argue the ski lodge would bring in more opportunities. People’s kids don’t stay here any more, there’s no opportunity for them. They think it would help keep families together, but I don’t rightly know about that… I think it’s important to preserve LaCera and her history. I told you that first day I met you, we got more than just wildflowers here. Did you know this was a safe haven for runaway slaves before the Civil War? And did you know that during World War II, the Ladies of LaCera used to sew silk parachutes for the air force?”

“No, I didn’t,” I admitted. I wondered if Mel included that in his research.  There was so much, I couldn’t get through all of it without feeling overwhelmed.

“LaCera has a lot of history, and a lot of these families go back to the 1700s, including mine. I got the mountain in my blood, Ella. I hope I never see the meadow destroyed in my lifetime.” She sighed. “But I’m an old head, and the town’s just as like to die if we don’t get new blood here, too. It’s like I said… When the kids grow up, they leave. Few come back and start new families… so the life blood dries up.” She looked sad. “The Bowmans are a big, wealthy family, and I think they stand a good chance of getting their way. I dunno what the right thing to do is, but I wanna leave something beautiful behind for Devola and her kids.”

I wasn’t sure what else to say, so I thanked her for those details. She kept me there talking to her for another 10 minutes or so, long enough for a few customers to drift in and out of the store. One man brushed past me, and turned back to look over his shoulder at me. He was tall with dark hair and scowl lines etched deep into his face. He gave me a look that made me nervous. 

“You all right honey?” Ms. Fiona asked, looking over her glasses at me.

“I’m fine,” I assured her. I thanked her again, and then went on my way.

“Are you headed to Virgil’s?” Ms. Fiona asked knowingly. I paused at the door. 

“No, I’m going to make myself a nuisance to some other folks, though.” I said with a smile. Devola appeared from the backroom with a wide, friendly smile, so then we chatted for a few more minutes. When I finally turned to leave, she followed me out.

“I think it’s nice you and Virgil are friendly,” as she fell into step beside me. “I used to have a crush on him when I was a teenager. He was so kind to me.” She giggled. “He’s a good man,” she told me earnestly. 

“He seems to be so, yeah,” I said, pressing my lips together. Devola didn’t miss my expression.

“Look, I’m not my grandmother. I’m not trying to get into your business,” she said, and her tone was warm and friendly. “But I share her DNA so I can’t help myself. I just… Virgil’s had some real hard luck, and it’s made him close up real tight, but he’s … Just please be careful with him.”

“The last thing I would ever want to do is hurt him,” I replied honestly.

“Good,” she said softly. “Take care Ella.” She gave my arm a friendly pat and went back inside the store.

I felt a pang of something that wasn’t quite guilt, but close enough to call it a cousin. Virgil was almost old enough to be Devola’s father, so I didn’t think I was interfering with any potential romance between the two of them, but it was clear she was nurturing more than just a crush on him. I didn’t want to be seen at the garage again, so I wandered down to the post office, where postmistress Ms. Lucille Shockley was pleased to impart her extensive knowledge of LaCera on me. She also told me how to get up to the overlooks that would allow me to take the shots I wanted of the meadow with the town in the background.

“There’s another trail about a quarter mile north of the main trail. We don’t advertise or mark it because it butts up against private property, and the owners of said property don’t take kindly to people on their land, but if you stay on the trail and pay attention to the sign markers, you’ll be fine,” she explained kindly. I thanked her and decided that I would stop by the diner and get lunch. Maybe I would pick up something for Virgil while I was there. 

As I walked, my phone rang. Zaira. 

“When are you coming home? I’m so bored,” she complained when I answered.

“Soon, I promise. Listen, something happened and I want to talk to you about it,” I told her as I walked. I ducked behind the post office and took a seat on a bench in the space between the Post Office and the Bank.

“Something happened in LaCera?” She was incredulous.

“I think I met someone,” I hedged.

“In LaCera?.”

“Yeah… I can’t explain it,” I said. “But I think I really like him.”

“Are you serious?” Her tone bordered on incredulity.

“Yes,” I said, feeling the urge to stick my tongue out at her. I picked at a bit of dried skin along the edge of my fingernail.

“You like him?” She repeated softly.

“He’s very sweet. He’s very kind. We found a kitten and he took it in.” I said, feeling the corners of my mouth turn up into a smile.

“You’ve been bamboozled by a kitten. As soon as you leave he’s probably going to throw the cat back outside,” she said. She was laughing, but her words had a hard edge to them. 

“You’re being really mean,” I said.

“I’m just trying to look at things realistically. When did you meet him?”

“Thursday.”

“It’s Monday.”

“I know what day of the week it is.”

“Then you know that it’s been four days.” 

I sighed, trying to put the feeling into words. I couldn’t understand how I was perfectly articulate about almost anything else, but when it came to Virgil, I suddenly felt tongue tied.

“It has,” I hedged. “But I can’t explain it, I feel…” What did I feel, apart from butterflies? How could I put the sensation I felt when he kissed me -those slow, burning kisses that built to a crescendo, sending every cell in my body into overdrive?

“You fucked him,” she gasped.

“Yeah, I did,” I replied. “And it was some of the best sex I’ve ever had.” Well, the sex itself was too brief to really gauge, but everything else… That was worth writing several novels about. I detailed to Zaira how much time he spent warming me up.

“Okay, so the sex was good, but Ella-”

“I know, Zaira. I know. I’m driving myself nuts thinking about it. It’s not rational, but I feel so… I don’t know. I just know that when I’m with him, I don’t feel sad and empty.”

“I’m sorry I don’t sound more supportive… I just don’t want to see you get hurt,” she said.

“I know,” I said.

“All right, I’m in supportive mode,” she said after a moment. “What’s he like?”

I told her, describing him in more detail than was necessary, and she listened, interjecting when appropriate.

“Thanks,” I told her as the conversation came to a close.

“Don’t thank me yet, I’m still reserving the right to say I told you so if it all goes sour.”

“That’s not very supportive.”

“It is, I said if and not when.”

“Okay, I’m hanging up now.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too,” I replied, but the urge to stick out my tongue was back. I made my way back towards the diner, lost in thought. It was day four, I reminded myself. Day four. The sex was… well the sex itself wasn’t much to tell the truth, but he admitted it was awhile… and the foreplay was so very exquisite. 

And there was something about him… It was like he said, I felt it in my chest. Something about him felt… right.

Zaira was protective of me; this was nothing new. She offered to do just about everything from make a Voodoo Doll of Kyle to running him over with her SUV when he dumped me. And she had a healthy distaste for men in general after being cheated on herself… So I tried to take her comments about my budding relationship with a grain of salt.

Aubrey greeted me and I ordered what was becoming my usual, and Virgil’s usual. Aubrey handed it to me in a to-go bag and gave me a knowing smile as she sent me on my way. I walked back down to the garage. Virgil was talking to someone and wiping his hands on a rag. I hung back until he was done. 

“Hey you,” he said, smiling at me.

“Hey you,” I echoed, feeling myself smile wide, too. “I brought lunch.” 

He scrubbed his hands in the utility sink in the corner of the garage and then we sat in his office and ate together.

“What have you been up to since we last saw each other?” He asked, picking at his chips.

“I went to talk to Ms. Fiona, then I worked for a bit, then I called my best friend.”

“Zaira, right?”

“Yes,” I said, smiling that he remembered that. I must have mentioned her during that night we stayed up talking.

“I usually finish up here around 4:30,” he said. “Do you think you might like to spend some time together this evening?”

“I would love to.” I said with another wide smile. 

After we finished eating, Virgil had to get back to work. I was amazed at how much work he had in such a small town, but he told me that there were no other mechanics north of Bell City, so everyone from all the surrounding villages came there for repairs, some folks coming from 2-3 hours away. He worked on cars, trucks and farm equipment, and sometimes, other machinery of the non-vehicle variety. 

As we said goodbye,Virgil kissed me and I set off up the trail, armed with my camera and a bottle of water. I passed the Wildflower Trail and kept walking until I came to the trailhead Ms. Lucille told me about. I hiked up it quickly. The foothills were not very steep, and the trail was even and well maintained. It came out around a wide bend and you could see the roofs of the buildings in town. I pulled my camera from my bag and looked for the best light. I moved from one end of the overlook to the other, and while I got some good shots of the meadow, I couldn’t quite get the town in the shot. I knew there was another overlook higher up, so I followed the trail higher into the hills. I didn’t find access to the other overlook, though. Instead I came to a weathered, hand painted sign that said “NO TRESPASSING”. 

I dithered for a moment remembering what Ms. Lucille said about staying on the trail and paying attention to the signs, so I turned to head back down the trail.

“This is private property.” A voice called from behind me. I nearly jumped out of my skin. 

I looked around, and finally I saw him, up towards the direction I came from, farther up the trail, beyond the sign. He appeared out of nowhere, as if he was waiting for me. Something about him made me feel very uneasy. I swallowed.

“I saw the sign,” I said. “I’m heading back, I’m sorry.”

“You ought to be careful out here alone in the woods,” he cautioned me with an unsettling grin. Then I realized it was the same man that brushed against me at the general store that morning. The one who gave me that creepy, unsettling look.

“I’ve got bear mace,” I assured him. “Thank you for your concern for my well being. I’ll head back to town now, some folks are waiting for me anyway. Have a nice day.” I said. 

He gave me another unsettling smile, and turned back up the trail, disappearing into the bushes.

I took off running down the trail. I had neither bear mace nor people waiting for me, but he didn’t need to know that. I was used to creeps being creepy, that was just my lived experience as a woman, but I’ve never come face to face with a man who unsettled me like that, before or since. 

Breathless, I came to a stop where the trail met the road. I paused to steady my breathing, and once I caught my breath, I set off at a brisk pace back towards town. I was halfway around the bend in the road when I heard an engine gunning behind me. I looked over my shoulder in horror and saw an old yellow pickup truck heading right towards me. Without thinking, I leapt across the ditch, falling on my hands and knees in a bramble of briars, pine shats and mud. I heard the tires of the truck skid and it came to a stop where I was standing a moment before.

“I told you, you ought to be careful,” the man from the woods poked his head through the truck window. “Take care now, Ms. James,” the man said. 

He gave me that same unsettling grin, and then he took off up the road, towards the town. Once I was certain he was gone, I got up and ran full speed to the garage. Virgil was on the phone when I came in. He glanced up at me, but then his eyes widened.

“Francis, I’ll call you back.” 

He set the phone aside and pulld me into his arms in a split second.

“You’re shaking,” he said, hugging me close. “What happened?”

I took a few more minutes to collect myself before I spoke. Virgil listened intently, his face growing harder as I spoke. His eyes were full of anger.

“He called you by name?”

“Yes.”

“What did he look like?”

“Uh, tall… not as tall as you… maybe 6 ft? Dark hair, mean face,” I said, shaking my head. 

“Could have been one of the Bowman boys, I guess, that’s their land up there.” His tone was gruff, and he looked angry. “He told you to be careful in the woods?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think he meant from bears.”

“No, I don’t rightly think so either. Are you okay?” Virgil asked again.

“Yes.”

“I want you to stick close to town, don’t go off into the woods, not even the meadow by yourself.” Virgil said. He picked up his phone.

“Who are you calling?”

“The county sheriff.”

“No, I don’t want to stir up any trouble.”

“Ella, he threatened you. I’d say you’ve already found enough trouble.”

“I know, but…” I sighed. “I feel like that’ll just make it worse.”

“You should put it on record, if something else-”

“Okay, okay,” I said lightly. Virgil called the sheriff and spoke informally for a few minutes.

“Deputy Mason is going to stop by in a little bit, just to take a statement. Nothing else. Just so it’s on record if they try anything else.”

“Okay,” I said softly. Virgil wrapped me in his arms again.

“I’m sorry, I just… I don’t know if I’ve adequately expressed to you how much money is on the line for the Bowmans, but it’s a lot and you poking around here might be a threat to it. I’m sure word’s got back to them by now that there’s a reporter poking around asking questions. You know how this town loves to gossip.”

“Fair point. You don’t think they…” I let my voice trail off. I shivered just imagining it.

“I can’t say. Money brings out the uglies in people. I’ve heard of people doing a lot worse for a lot less.”

“Christ almighty,” I said. 

My knees locked, but Virgil caught me. He wrapped his arms around me, hugging me tightly for a few minutes. It was only then that I realized I was trembling again.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he said softly. 

Instinctively, I believed him. I could feel the muscles of his arms around me and I pitied anyone who picked a fight with him. 

“I never expected…” I paused. I didn’t expect any of this. Virgil tilted my chin up gently with the tips of his fingers. I met his eyes.

“Me either,” he said softly. He knew what I meant, without me saying it. I hugged him tightly. He kissed me tenderly, pulling me close to him. 

“I mean it though, I won’t let anything happen to you.” He whispered the promise, pressing his lips against the top of my head. Because of course he did… and I felt it in my chest, a warmth spreading out through my entire body… because of course I did.

Deputy Mason was about 30 or 35, with black hair and bright blue eyes. He wasn’t bad looking, and if I wasn’t so shaken up recounting my story to him, I might have tried to get his number for Zaira, he was just her type. I shook my head to clear the absurd notion and finished telling the story of what transpired on the roadside.

“Thank you for your statement Ms James, but I’m afraid there’s not much I can do with it.”

“That’s fine, we really just wanted it on record,” I said. Virgil nodded. We spoke to the deputy for a few more minutes and then he went on his way. I sat in the chair in Virgil’s office, chewing on the inside of my cheek.

Virgil leaned in the door frame.

“How are you doing?” He asked softly, his arms crossed over his chest.

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “Scared. Confused. I just came here to take pictures of the flowers.” I said a little tearfully. “I didn’t mean to get mixed up in the town’s business.”

Virgil crossed the room and took me in his arms again. It was easy to let those feelings melt away when he put his arms around me.

“I told you, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I believe you.” I said with a small smile. “But the truth is, now I don’t know how I can help the town.”

Virgil nodded, scratching his chin. “I don’t think anyone really expected you to be the town savior. Not really, we all know what LaCera’s up against.”

“Hmm,” I said. 

“Something else?”

“I’m thinking about when you get the parts for my car tomorrow,” I said.

“Me, too.” There was a sad edge to his voice. “Thinking about what’ll happen when you leave.”

I sighed. 

“Three hours isn’t so bad,” he said softly.

“It is, when there will be months when I’m traveling,” I said. “Virgil, I-”

“Don’t,” he said softly, but forcefully. “Don’t brush it off, don’t push me away. Look, I know we met five minutes ago, but I’ve never –never– felt the way I feel when I’m with you. And I think it’s the same for you.” He took my hand. “I’m an old man, it’s not like we’re teenagers running high on hormones. We’re adults, and I think you know what this is, this thing between you and me, it doesn’t come along often.”

I bit my lip. I didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t wrong, I wasn’t a girl, I was looking 40 in the face. And I never felt anything like what I felt when I was with him. But how could it work? Someone was going to get hurt. Both of us, probably.

“We’ll take it one day at a time,” he said. “I can handle it, if you can.”

But I wasn’t sure I could. I would want to be with him, to be in his arms. I would miss him. But I loved my job, and I didn’t want to give that up.

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what I could say. I was too cynical to believe in love at first sight, and too jaded to think that this storybook love could progress far beyond a few months of booty calls before it inevitably fizzled out.

Virgil took my silence for rejection. He gently let go of me, and moved back to the door frame. We sat there in silence for a long time.

“Can I walk you back to the inn?” He asked after a long stretch.

“Oh… sure.” I was surprised. 

“It’s nothing personal, I just…” He looked uncomfortable. “I feel your hesitation, and I’m not trying to push you into anything you’re not ready for. I get it, it’s fast,” he repeated. 

“It is.” I agreed. “Okay,” I relented. “I’ll see you in the morning, I should do some work anyway.”

We walked back in silence. We said good night and I headed into the inn.

Once in my room, I showered, got ready for bed even though it was still light out, and then sat in front of my laptop for a bit. I felt more than a bit sad if I was being honest with myself. I took a deep breath, and I sat down at my laptop and started to type:

Tucked into the foothills of the Amber Ridge Mountains is a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it village known as LaCera. Boasting just 573 residents, LaCera is barely a town, but I bet you’ve heard of her. LaCera has graced The New York Times, Time Magazine, and other travel publications beyond count. Nearly 20,000 people visit LaCera every spring to view the spectacular meadow of wildflowers that come to bloom each May. Local lore cites the unique geography of the little valley, the nutrient rich water that flows down from the mountains, and the diligent work of the people of LaCera herself for the splendor of the flowers.

Having seen the meadow – which is well over a 100 acres – for myself, I can attest that no pictures will do it justice, it is simply a sight one must see for themselves. Nothing can compare to the peace and serenity felt watching thousands of bees and butterflies drift through the meadow, nor the sheer resplendence of the colorful flowers, woven into a tapestry stretching as far as the eye can see.

To celebrate, the town of LaCera hosts the annual LaCera WildFlower Festival every spring, with town Socials every weekend from May to Mid June. During the socials, there’s live music, carnival games, and a bake off that anyone can enter. You can purchase local wildflower honey, beeswax candles, handmade soaps, dried wildflowers and other keepsakes made by the people of LaCera. 

You can treat yourself to a meal at Joe and Aubrey’s diner, or sample one of the dozens of food trucks in town during the festival. If hotels aren’t your thing, you can stay at the quaint Ivy Inn, run by Ms. Gladys Shepherd, who will give you the warmest of welcomes. If you stop into LaCera’s general store, Ms. Fiona Chance will treat you to friendly conversation while you shop. And while I hope you have no need of his services, should you find yourself in vehicular distress, Virgil Baker’s garage will see to your needs.

 I paused here, feeling a queasy feeling in my stomach. It seemed so pitifully inaccurate of a description, but I could hardly talk about his rugged good looks, his muscular arms, or his perfect cock, I thought. I shook my head and typed on.

 The kindness of the people of LaCera should not go overlooked. The people of LaCera are warm and welcoming, ready to share the splendor of their town with you, ready to treat you like a long lost cousin who has returned from time away. I have never felt such a welcome like I did in LaCera.

LaCera and the surrounding area also boast hundreds of miles of hiking trails, fishing, bird watching, camping, and other outdoor activities year round.

Despite her renown, LaCera is in trouble. Peabody’s Meadow- the land the wild flowers grow on- has been placed for sale and the town, small as she is, has struggled to raise the required funds for the land. If they are not able to raise the necessary money by August 1st, the land will be sold to a developer, who reportedly will raze the meadow to build a ski lodge.

Some folks in LaCera believe this will revitalize the town and bring it into the 21st Century. Others believe that it will destroy the town’s dwindling economy, and the natural wonder of the area beyond the wildflowers.

What the outcome of that would be, I cannot speculate, but I will say this: The developer in question, the Ranfer Company, has a long and public history of scandal, including but not limited to EPA violations, labor disputes, discrimination and wrongful death lawsuits. That information is publicly available at the links cited below.

The LaCera Wildflower Social runs every Saturday and Sunday from May 1st to June 15th, but the meadow is available for viewing 7 days a week. Information about the town is available on their website, LaCeraWildflowers.org

I attached my photos and sent everything off to Mel with an email:

Mel, 

The parts for my car are delayed and I will be staying here through the week. I will also be taking some of my accrued vacation time, which means I will be unavailable for assignment next week. Please let me know your thoughts on the attached. I’m not sure what more can be done for the town, but I hope this helps.

You were right, I do like it here.

Ella

I pressed send and then sat back on the bed. I stared out the window, watching the light slip away as afternoon turned to twilight, and twilight turned to evening. I was lost in thought. I felt a very strong connection with Virgil, but I couldn’t shake the notion that the long distance, plus the frequent traveling for my job was too big of an obstacle to pursue anything with him… and yet…

Frustrated, I pulled on my shoes and took off downstairs and out the front door of the inn. I found myself at Virgil’s front door. The lights were on, so I knocked.

He opened the door a few moments later. He was shirtless, wearing just jeans. His hair was damp as if he just showered. He looked surprised. 

“Ella, come in.” 

Cat Benetar was sprawled out across his couch as if it were hers. She looked at me with sleepy narrowed eyes. There was faint music playing from a speaker in the corner of the living room.

We stood there, not speaking for a few moments. 

“I’m sorry, it’s getting late,” I said.

“It’s fine,” he said softly. “Are you okay?”

“No,” I said honestly. “I’m scared to death.”

“What happened?” He looked alarmed.

“Nothing, I mean… I’m scared of this?” I said. “Of you and me.”

“Oh.”

“It’s nothing you did, it’s my own stupid brain. And I’m scared, but I also want it. I want it so badly. I want to be with you. I want to not care about how it’s going to work, and just enjoy it but I can’t help it. I can’t-” He pulled me into a hug, stroking my hair. “I can’t get out of my own way.” I whispered. 

The faint music was the only sound to be heard. He rocked me gently, still stroking my hair. He smelled good, fresh and clean but masculine, that smell that was just uniquely him. I breathed in deep.

“We’ve got plenty of time to figure it out,” he said softly. 

I knew he was right, but I still couldn’t stop spiraling, thinking about how we were both going to wind up hurt; it was just a question of when.

He went on holding me as the minutes ticked by. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have barged in on you,” I said.

“I think we’re well past that,” he said, letting go of me. “Come on in.” 

He led me deeper inside the house, over to the couch. We sat together. The song changed, a song I didn’t know, but it was soft and comforting. Everything about Virgil was comforting.

“You said you felt like I was always pulling away from you.” I said. “You’re right. I am.” I sighed. “As much as I complain about it, I love my job. I love traveling. I love seeing the world, and meeting people.” I paused, searching for words. I’m a goddamn writer, why is this so hard?

“Is this where you tell me you have a Virgil in every port?” He joked mildly when I didn’t go on.

“No,” I gave him a rueful smile. “Quite the opposite… I usually avoid… Men. In general. I’ve had those condoms in my purse so long I should probably check the expiration date. I don’t want to be this way.”

“It’s hard when you’ve been hurt,” he surmised.

“I figured you could understand.”

“I’m long past mine,” he said. “But I get it.”

I thought about the wedding ring in his toiletry bag. 

“Are you though?” I asked. He looked pensive.

“In most ways.”

“But not all?”

“I think there are certain types of pain… grief in particular, that you don’t really get past. You just grow around it,” he said after a moment. “But I don’t mourn that life anymore.”

I wanted to ask about the ring, but I was afraid of the answer. I didn’t want to give myself more ammo to shoot down the dream of us. But at the same time, I didn’t want to get hurt. Bracing myself, I went for it.

“Then why do you still have your wedding ring?”

He looked surprised.

“Cat Benetar knocked your stuff in the bathroom over,” I explained. “I wasn’t snooping, but I found it when I was cleaning it up.”

“I see,” he said. “I can’t explain why I still have it. But I don’t miss my ex wife, not that way.” He assured me. “Would it make you feel better if I got rid of it?”

“No, don’t do that, not for me,” I insisted.

“I’d do anything for you,” he said. “Tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it.”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t answer. I didn’t know what the right thing to say was. Sell your garage and move to New Oxford? And do what? Work at Jiffy Lube? The minutes ticked by and I couldn’t respond. After a long while, I could feel the energy in the room change. Virgil pulled his arm from around me and sat up.

“Ella,” he said. His voice was tired, and sad. “I don’t know what else to say.”

“Me either.” I replied. Cat Benetar climbed up onto the couch with us, purring loudly as she nestled herself in Virgil’s lap. We again sat there in silence for a very long time. Finally, he said:

“I’ll fix your car in the morning, then I guess it’s up to you.” He said it with such finality, I could cry.

“Virgil-” but I didn’t have any words.

“Ella.”

“I don’t…” 

Why were the words so hard to find? Why couldn’t I tell him what I felt? Why didn’t I know myself? I hated every man who broke my trust and made it impossible for me to just let myself fall in love. 

“I’m going to go,” I said. 

I stood. He slid Cat Benatar off his lap, and caught me at the door. 

He pulled me in for one last kiss. Somehow, I knew it was the last one, and my heart was breaking.

I walked back to the inn, not bothering to wipe the tears falling down my cheeks. I cried myself to sleep that night. I cried my eyes dry, wishing I wasn’t so fucking afraid. If I had to hurt now, or hurt later, I would take now, I decided. It would be better this way, I told myself. But I didn’t feel like it would. 

Not at all.