4. Chapter Four
Chapter Four
N estled in the forest of blue spruces sits Julia’s log cabin. It’s the spitting image of those rustic mountain magazine advertisements, complete with rocking chairs on a wraparound porch. Even in the darkness, the serene mountain landscape is illuminated in the soft glow of starlight.
“This place is gorgeous,” I gush, climbing out of the car.
“I was blessed it came available when it did and at such an affordable rental price. It’s in the ritzy neighborhood. Apparently, there’s like a rich side and poor side of town and neither likes the other in their territory.”
For a moment, I wonder which side Des lives on. With that fancy motorcycle, I’m guessing by Julia somewhere.
My eyes widen when she walks into her cabin without unlocking the door. She catches my expression and laughs.
“Perks of the small-town life. You so much as sneeze funny and everyone knows. Don’t even think of breaking into someone’s house. There is an old lady brigade in charge of the town watch. They are scarier than the sheriff.”
“Noted.” I laugh along with her.
Julia pulls me inside, weaving us around stacks of boxes. “I haven’t had time to unpack, so there are still a bazillion boxes everywhere. Every time I think about tackling this, I get overwhelmed and scroll on social media instead. Which I saw your book account is doing well. You’re almost famous.”
With my love of books, it only makes sense for me to want to share about it on social media. It’s the best decision I’ve ever made. I’ve connected with like-minded readers and even some of my favorite authors. It’s not a big following, but enough that people tune in for my weekly reviews and newest bookmail.
“Five thousand followers isn’t famous, but I’m also not striving to be. It’s really just about meeting other readers who love the same books as me. I also started sharing which kids’ books go over well during Wednesday’s storytime. For my next post, I’ll share about my junkyard school bus turned bookmobile. Everyone has been asking for updates since Rafe put the carpet in.”
She drops her purse and groceries on the counter. “If you are looking for views, we could always bring up the popular debate of which Pride and Prejudice movie is the best. That always gets your followers fired up.”
“Because they all know the new one is the best...” I say, watching Julia’s jaw clench.
“Well, then they would be wrong. Colin Firth is the only Mr. Darcy that should exist.”
“I see this is still the only subject we’ll never agree on.” I shake my head at her in mock disappointment.
She glares at me for a second before it dissolves into a smirk. “I miss these moments.”
“Me too.”
After a quick tour of more empty rooms, we plate the takeout lasagna and curl up on the sofa. Stacks of boxes form a wall around us, labeled with important things like pots and pans. But I see she already unpacked all her books and placed them topsy-turvy on her shelf.
“I know you want to reorganize them,” she says, blowing on a steaming bite of noodles.
“What makes you say that?”
I tear my gaze away from the beautiful hardbacks shoved willy-nilly on the shelf. Personally, I keep mine color-coded so that my background pops when I do my social media lives. Readers comment on it all the time. I might not have much in my small apartment in Golden, but I went all out on my bookcase aesthetic.
“Your eyebrow is twitching.” She points at me with her fork.
“You know me too well.”
“True. You’ll be happy to know that your visit has motivated me to start unpacking.”
“About time. You know I can help while I’m here.”
“Since you’re the one who motivated me, you’re automatically assigned as lead of the project. We can start tomorrow because first, I want to hear every word exchanged with the elusive Desmond Brooks who you so nonchalantly call ‘Des.’ Seriously, half the women in town fantasize about riding on the back of his motorcycle... it may have even been my wish at one time.” Lost in thought, Julia sighs dreamily.
My eyes fly wide. “You and Des... were a thing?”
“No, no, no.” She shakes her fork at me like a weapon. “It was definitely a one-sided crush. He doesn’t really talk much to anyone unless he has to. Even when he’s at Cliffys with friends, they just sit there watching the game.”
“Wait? Who’s Cliffy?”
“Oh, Cliffhangers. They call it Cliffys for short. It’s where you’re meeting Reese tomorrow.”
I glance down at my phone, remembering Reese’s friendly message out of the blue. If this would have happened in Golden or Denver, I would have definitely been a little weirded out, but here it’s part of the small-town charm.
“Do you know Reese?” I ask.
“I’ve run into her in passing, and she’s always been nice. Plus she knows everyone around town, so she’s a good friend to have to help you find volunteers for the library overhaul. Now, I’m your gal if you need to meet the teachers and school staff for your liaison project.”
“Oh, that reminds me. She made a strange comment about the assistant principal. Do you know anything about that?”
Julia scrunches up her nose, swallowing her bite. “Oh, Adam? He’s pretty full of himself. His family is one of the founding families, and they act like they’re royalty around here. I haven’t dealt with him too much, so you’re only getting what I’ve seen in staff meetings. Maybe he’s completely different outside of school.” She shrugs.
Suddenly my phone buzzes in rapid fire and starts to tap-dance across the coffee table.
“What on earth? Is there a state of emergency?” I say as I pick up the vibrating device.
Texts are pouring in from family members, demanding to know if I’m okay. Apparently, Michelle told Carlos’s sister who found out from Renaldo that I was in an accident in the mountains. The more I scroll, the longer the chain of who said what to whom. It’s like an old-school game of telephone as I trace everything back to the original source: Marco. He messaged Rafe about my engine failure and how he had to tow my bus off the mountain for me.
And he posted in the family group text.
“Holy guacamole,” I say, stealing Julia’s phrase.
My phone rings the special ringtone I set up for my Mamá so I don’t miss it. Julia recognizes it immediately and gestures for me to answer.
“Hello?”
A high-pitched frenzy of words tumbles at me in a mix of English and Spanish. My brain overheats trying to switch between the two. She’s so fast that I’m only catching a phrase here and there.
“Mami, slow down.”
“Slow? You expect me to speak rationally when I find out mi hija was in an accident?” She speeds up again, her words almost one long string without a breath. A mixture of worry, anger, and just plain gibberish. “Why didn’t you call me right away? We almost sent José to come look for you.”
“Mami,” I say, covering my forehead with my hand. “Please do not send Tío José or anyone else. I am fine.”
“Well, how would I know that if you don’t call and tell me? Imagine my surprise when I had to hear it from your tía Rita first!”
“I didn’t tell anyone because it was already handled. I caught a ride back to town?—?”
“With who?”
“A friend . He’s a teacher here in Rocosa.” It’s only a teeny-tiny lie, because if she knew the truth, I’d be guaranteed a lecture on the perils of hopping on a stranger’s bike.
She makes a clicking noise, somewhat pacified.
“I’m here with Julia, completely safe. You have to diffuse this. I’m still getting texts. If there was something wrong, you know I would have called and let you know. It was the mechanic who called Marco, not me.”
Her last harrumph is softer, and my muscles relax. Mamá is like a hot kettle. Once her steam has been released, she settles down.
“You know we worry about you not living in Denver anymore. And now you’re even further away. I don’t like it, mija.”
“It’s just a work trip. I’m driving back this weekend for your birthday.”
“?Ay! Are you sure you can’t come sooner? I’ll make you some tamales. Hmm?” But she doesn’t stop with the tamales. She pulls out all the stops, rattling off a long list of dishes.
“She’s bribing me with food for a visit,” I whisper to Julia, who smiles.
“Tell her I said hola,” Julia says with her northern accent, making her sound as American as apple pie.
“I will, when she gives me a second to?—?”
“Maya, are you listening?” Mamá cuts in.
“Yes. Julia was just telling me to say hi for her.”
“Aww, that sweet girl. Bring her with you when you visit next so she can have one of my home-cooked meals. She was too skinny the last time I saw her.”
“Mami,” I admonish. It doesn’t matter how many times I remind her how taboo it is to comment on someone’s weight, she still can’t help herself.
“My words only come from love.”
I shake my head at her despite the fact she can’t see it.
“I know. Now that you know I’m alive and well, please call off the familia phone tree. I have to be at the school early and can’t have them buzzing me all night long.”
“Yes, I’ll do that now.”
“Gracias, Mami. I’ll see you soon.”
“Te amo, mija.”
“I love you too, Mami,” I say and hang up. I lean into the couch cushions and wait for my phone to stop vibrating.
Julia places her plate on the coffee table and squeezes in close to me, resting her head on my shoulder.
“You seem stressed. Want to organize my books? I know it calms you for some reason,” she suggests.
“Maybe.” I stare at the ceiling and wonder how far I’d have to move away to escape my family’s suffocation. Alaska? The moon?
“Don’t be mad at them. Some people would kill to have a loving family like them. And when I say ‘some people,’ I mean me.”
“They would adopt you in a heartbeat. Speaking of which, do you want to drive to Denver this weekend for my Mamá’s birthday?”
“This weekend?” She sits up and opens the calendar app on her phone. “Oh, gosh, I can’t. Lisa, one of the other teachers, asked me to help her cut out some activities for her kindergarten class.”
I sigh. “I guess I’ll have to go alone. Again.”
“I mean, I could cancel . . .”
“No, no, I’m just whining. I can handle it. It’s just the usual drama. Last time, they tried to convince me to call Felipe and work through our differences. I think they missed all the Denver Dragons hockey games he snuck them into.”
She tilts her head, her eyes softening. “Do you miss him?”
“I can say with confidence that I absolutely do not. Taking time for myself to heal has been very therapeutic. I refuse to waste even another minute or teardrop on him. I just wish I didn’t hear him piped through the radio when I order a cup of coffee or get a dental cleaning.”
“I’m glad you’ve finally moved on. It gutted me knowing you were so brokenhearted over that jerk and that I couldn’t do anything to help you feel better.”
I squeeze her hand. “But you did. You called and listened to me on the hardest days. You’re a good friend.”
“Good friend? Pfft. I’m your best friend.” She winks.
“Yes, you are. And you sent a lot of new books for me to read too. You’ve really helped my yearly statistics.”
“Not that you—?” Julia sucks in a breath and blinks at me. “Put a pin in that because you just gave me the best idea.”
“Do I even want to know?” Based on the crazed look in her eye, I’m betting no.
“What if you asked Desmond to go with you this weekend? Don’t give me that face.”
I pick my jaw up off my lap. “That might be the craziest thing you’ve suggested, and you once convinced me to go cliff jumping at Devil’s Punchbowl. I might have told Mamá he was a friend, but you know the truth. I barely know the guy. Yeah... I’ll just suck it up and go alone.”
Julia leans in, eyeing me closely. “And don’t think I haven’t realized you’re avoiding telling me about what happened with Desmond on the mountain. I think I’m still in shock that he let you ride on his motorcycle. Were there any witnesses? I’m not sure if I believe you.”
“Reese said the same thing. It’s not like it meant anything to him beyond doing a good deed. He didn’t even stick around after he dropped me off.”
“Don’t take it personally. He has a loner reputation, always distracted or running off to Denver for some reason or another. I’ve seen a few teachers and even some brazen PTA moms flirt with him. He has some immunity because it just bounces off of him. You could probably throw yourself at him and he wouldn’t notice.”
“Well, that’s good because I kinda did.” Heat tingles up my neck and cheeks as I remember what he overheard me say. Ugh.
“Girl! What did you do? I need all the details.”
Between fits of giggles, I manage to get out one of the most embarrassing stories of my life. Julia flops over on her side, wheezing and laughing at the same time.
“The helmets were synchronized? Talk about making an introduction. What did he say when you left?”
“I actually didn’t get to say goodbye. He left to go park and never came back. Perhaps I scared him away?” I laugh awkwardly, but there’s some truth behind my words.
“He works with teenagers. I doubt you did anything that he hasn’t seen before.”
“Maybe? I still feel like I should do something for him as a thank-you and maybe smooth things over since I’ll be seeing him around town. What do you think? Should I buy him breakfast or something?” As soon as I say it, I want to take it back. It ridiculously sounds like I’m asking him on a date. “No, that’s a little too forward. The Santos in me thinks it should be food related? Pie? Cookies? Or is that a weird gesture of gratitude to a stranger?”
“You know they say the quickest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. And your sugar cookies are to die for. I actually still have dreams about them.”
Laughing, I stand and grab our plates to take to the kitchen.
“I’m not sure they are that good. But they are easy to whip up if you have the ingredients.”
“Maya, I will always keep the ingredients on hand for this very moment. Please make extra. Please-oh-please.” She grips my arm dramatically and sticks out her bottom lip.
“ Fine . I will make extra if you help me ice them. I never liked that part anyway.”
She throws both hands high, squealing. “Deal! What do you want me to put on them? Remember my artistic talents go as high as my third-grade teaching level.”
“You said he teaches math, right?” I say, grinning at my cheesy idea.
T he next morning comes sooner than we both expect, and we chug our caffeinated beverages as we head out the door. Last night was full of catching up and reminiscing about old times, but today we are regretting going to bed well past midnight.
“Goodness, I don’t think I’ve been up this early in a long time,” I mumble over a stifled yawn.
“Teacher life isn’t for the weak. You might need more than that chai latte to make it through the day.”
Julia woke two hours before I rolled out of bed. Ever the morning person, she went for her daily run and stopped by the local coffee shop to grab muffins and hot drinks. She is nothing but smiles, and I’m guzzling my boiling cup of tea to catch up.
Soft streaks of sunlight bloom into the dark sky as we drive through the empty streets of town. It’s a relief to see my bookmobile parked on Main Street by the auto shop, and I make a mental note to grab my suitcase from the back when the shop opens. Borrowing Julia’s dress and cosmetics may be fun for one day, but I miss all my things.
Despite it being six in the morning, the tiny parking lot is packed. Whereas the town may be asleep, the schoolhouse is alive and bustling with teachers and staff unloading their vehicles. My heart lurches at a familiar motorcycle parked in the teacher’s section, and I do my best not to search for him in the crowd—and fail.
I tighten my hold on the Tupperware of cookies and follow Julia up the path to the one-story schoolhouse.
As soon as I walk through the main door, a nostalgic scent of crayons and glue sticks slams into me, yet visually, it’s as if I stepped into a museum from Little House on the Prairie . Wooden pews line half of the room, each one adorned with gold-plated markers of families of the first students to attend Hester Monroe. A vintage-style slate board hangs on the back wall, scribbled with cheerful, modern handwriting that welcomes the students back to school. Clear cabinets line either side of the walls, displaying relics from past generations from the 1900s to the present.
“Is this a mock-up of the original school?”
“Even better, it’s the original schoolhouse that was built 121 years ago. Crazy, right? Unless it’s a code violation, the Rocosa Historical Society refuses any alterations to the original building structure. Instead, they added a wing on each end to accommodate the growing population. The east wing and west wing are more modern and what we use on a daily basis.”
So much history lives within these walls. It reminds me of first-edition books and their journey of whose shelves they’ve lined and who has lovingly read each yellowed page by the time they end up in my hands.
“To the right is the elementary wing. In case you need me, I’m the ocean-blue door covered in surfboards halfway down the hall. Off to the left is for the middle and high school students and staff.” Julia points to the open double doors filling with staff. “We don’t have a library, but there’s a lounge that has some donated books. It’s more like a ‘take one, leave one’ policy.”
I’m barely listening, my eyes catching a familiar leather jacket.
“There he is,” I say, pointing to Des’s back as he enters one of the last classrooms like he’s on autopilot. A jolt of excitement fills me at the thought of talking to him again, and I rush to catch him, weaving between a cluster of staff. Just as I jog up to his door, it swings toward me, slamming closed inches from my nose.
“Oh.”
My excitement fizzles away like air deflating out of a balloon. A few teachers turn to look at me clutching my stupid Tupperware. Their pitying stares have me questioning my goodwill gesture.
I turn away as the same ripples of rejection flow through me as they had months ago with Felipe... a feeling I didn’t miss.
Why did I allow myself to get so worked up over Des? I go on one bike ride, and I make him cookies like we’re dating. Maya, what on earth are you thinking? This is exactly why I made a resolution to remain single. I get too caught up in a moment and overthink it.
“Hey,” Julia calls out, rushing to my side. “Don’t take it personally. He obviously didn’t see you. What I’ve seen of Desmond, he’d never purposely be cruel to someone. Perhaps he had a meeting or last-minute preparations before his students arrive.”
“Yeah,” I mumble and slowly back away from the door.
“How about I introduce you to some of my friends and then you can try to deliver these again before homeroom starts?”
I smile and nod, thankful to have her support.
“Trust me, once he has one of your delicious sugar cookies, he’s going to kick himself that he didn’t get to eat them sooner.” She throws an arm of solidarity around my shoulder and squeezes.
“Thanks, Julia. What would I do without you?”
“Probably fail chemistry.” She winks, and we walk back to the east wing.
With a frown, I realize how quickly my feelings toward Des shifted without me noticing. I’ll have to watch it with this guy. Even the sweet ones could break my heart.