Chapter 4 #2
“I hope everyone got a chance to turn off their writing minds for a few hours, and that alone helps rejuvenate your juices—for writing, of course.” My face scrunches at her odd choice of wording and wonder where she is taking us direction wise.
“You should have a long night.” All of our heads tilt in surprise at Gloria’s boldness.
“I mean, a long night of sleep and rest.” Right, sure, totally, that’s what she meant.
“Anyhow, I’m sure everyone will get back to the hotel safely.
We can share a few taxis, or you are free to explore town.
The walk isn’t too far either. Just remember the first session tomorrow is 8am. ”
The lady seems a little pale from embarrassment, but I’ll just add this to the memory bank of retreat good times.
Everyone shuffles around the table, and a few of us decide that walking around Main Street sounds like the best way to round off the night.
Even though the center of Lake Spark is small, Catch 22 is a bit more out in the surroundings, creating a little distance, but we can follow the sidewalk along the shore.
And that’s when it happens.
Harlow gravitates back to me as the others walk up ahead of us. I believe on purpose, we trail behind.
“So we meet again,” she greets me.
“It’s not a coincidence,” I confirm.
She shakes her head. “I think not.”
“I have no complaints.”
“I guess neither do I.”
We stroll slowly along the sidewalk, side by side, with my hands in my pocket as my eyes map out the steps we take forward. I try not to count how many it takes until I get to touch her.
“Is this what you do on your evenings in Lake Spark? Walk around?” Harlow tries to make conversation.
“Not so much. My friend who handles the day-to-day running of the Dizzy Duck, we often meet for drinks. Nonetheless, we tend to drink at the bar there. When my brother is in town, then the schedule kind of revolves around my niece, so we hang at their house.”
“Still sounds tranquil. Where I live in Florida, there are great art expos and cafés, but I sometimes feel it’s missing that community coziness or charm.”
“But at least you have the warm weather.”
She scoffs a laugh. “A writer would tell you that a cold winter is all the more reason to be stuck in a cabin together.”
I laugh. “Sounds about right. Let me guess, he’s a billionaire or brother’s best friend?”
Harlow swats my arm, and I pretend to be hurt. “I’m pegging you as a secret lover of the genre. You have nailed down every cliché.”
“It’s kind of easy to figure out. Anyway, ready for your last day tomorrow?”
She hums a sound. “I’ll be out of the clutches of Gloria’s stern eyes. However, I will miss the fact that I can get away without thinking about much right now.”
“Just admit it, I’ve been the key to turning your work retreat into a delightful vacation.” I bring a hand to my heart.
“Oh yes, Stone. The true highlight.” She’s being sarcastic.
The banter between us has been an instant click from moment one. I’ll miss it.
I get a glimpse of Harlow at my side, and she’s wrapping her hair around her hand and sweeping her locks to one side.
“May I ask what you were writing about in your journal? It’s a classic journal, and the pages have a sort of crinkle that gives the book a mature artistic flare. But it’s your eyes focused on your fancy pen while writing that has me interested,” she notes.
“Hmm, so you’ve been watching me.” It’s all I heard, ignoring the fact that the contents of my pages are for my eyes only.
“Don’t do that. We both know we’ve been observing each other when we think nobody is looking.” She’s going the honesty route, not sugarcoating a damn thing.
My head dips down, but I peer up to focus on her angelic face. “Why, whatever will I do when you leave? I’ll have nothing to stare at except for maybe a deer eating an apple.”
She nudges my arm with her own, enjoying my humor. “You’ll be fine. You said it yourself that you keep busy with your family.”
We resume our slow walk, ignoring the rest of the group way up ahead as the pavement curves through the gazebo square at the start of Main Street. “That is true.”
“Do you want a family one day?”
My eyes bug out. “Wow, we took a serious turn in our investigation of one another.” She chuckles, and the sound seeps into my body and floods my veins. “I think one day. It’s not really on my radar, to be honest.”
“Same. I’m indifferent.”
I’m trying to stay calm, but Harlow makes me anxious in the best possible way.
The group ahead looks back at us. “We’re going to head back to the inn, will you two be all right?” Frank asks.
“I’m a local, remember? We’re fine,” I call out.
They’re already heading off when Harlow throws a frown at me. “Deciding our agenda for the night? Speaking on my behalf?”
I growl under my breath at all the ways our night could go. “Just doing what I do best… leading.”
That bashful flush hits her cheeks again. It’s kind of unexpected. I just assumed her sexual confidence would be above average considering what she writes. However, all indications have been that she’s shy, yet interested in how I could worship her.
My eyes stay transfixed on her, and I wish I could kiss the breath out of her. Every time her lashes flutter, I’m digging myself further into a hole of need. Yet, I’m not sure why, but something tells me not to push.
We continue to walk and take in the night. It’s quiet except for a few people. All the store windows have picturesque displays, which brings a special ambience to every evening in Lake Spark.
“I’ve heard when they head into the winter decorative light season, they have horse-drawn carriages.”
She looks at me strangely. “Is this place like a fairytale or something? Will I wake from a dream?”
I chuckle before we grow quiet for a beat. “It’s a great night for a stroll.”
“Yeah. It’s been a while since I’ve done this,” Harlow explains. I notice how she’s absorbing this evening with what feels like a fresh view. Her breaths are deep and relaxed.
“I should do it more often, I guess.”
A short laugh escapes her. “Before your arctic Illinois winter, why yes, you should.”
“Sure beats hurrica—”
Without warning, a noise catches us off guard, as I don’t see the teenager until I partially turn to see him coming out from the alley behind us with a trash bag for the curb. He must work at the general store.
But it doesn’t matter.
Harlow’s gripping my arm tightly, and her gasp could cut the air. Her body tenses, and her immediate change in demeanor is noticeable.
“You okay? It’s just a kid. It’s Lake Spark, we only worry about pissed-off raccoons.”
My words seem to fall on deaf ears. Examining Harlow, she’s in near shock, and her breathing turns heaving.
Her arm wraps tighter around mine, and her breath only gets heavier. Is she having a panic attack?
“Can we just get out of here?” She sounds terrified, with an urgency in her voice.
My inclination tells me not to question or even try to comfort her. Still, I’m kind of taken by surprise. “Yeah, sure.” I have to ignore my thoughts and just follow her cues.
We say nothing on our entire walk to the inn, with her arm bound to mine. I just detect how Harlow is agitated, with her eyes frozen.
The moment we arrive at the Dizzy Duck, she’s through the front door so fast that I’m nearly struggling to keep up.
But I don’t let her out of my sight and follow her up the stairs until she’s at her room door, fumbling with her keys because the hotel uses traditional keys.
A puzzle piece hits me.
I gently touch her arm and ease the key out of her fingers as she stares blankly at the door.
“Let me do that for you,” I offer softly.
I jiggle the key into the hole, and when the door is slightly ajar, she doesn’t take a step.
I patiently wait for a clue what I should do. “Harlow… are you okay?”
She takes a deep breath, and her eyes slide to meet mine. While my eyes are trapped in observation, hers are pooling with tears.
“Congratulations, you discovered my secret,” she says before she disappears into her room, closing the door, with thoughts stirring inside me that cause my chest to still.
The puzzle piece was a discovery.
The reason she writes.
Because sometimes we write to conquer our fears of past events.
Inside I crack for her. It’s sympathy for sure, anger at whoever did something to her, and the overpowering need to not walk away.
I may have discovered her secret, the one she probably wouldn’t want me to know.
So I’ll offer her my own.
A secret for a secret.