2. Lavender
TWO
lavender
Boots on, backpack secured, I close the door behind me as I take in two full lungs’ worth of crisp mountain air.
The view from this chalet is absolutely amazing, and I can see why they charge as much as they do for it.
It does still feel like it’s a bit much for a single twenty-one-year-old woman who just wanted to get away from nature for a bit, but my parents were offended when I suggested I just rent a room in someone’s house in Evergreen Valley for a while. Then I suggested a local motel, then a hotel, then a more typical cabin on a camping ground.
None of those were appropriate for a Van Schneider apparently. Van Schneiders needed to always express their wealth and affluence, and their prized daughter could never be seen slumming it in a Motel 6.
Perish the thought, if someone saw one of us doing anything less than wasting money; the very world as we know it would erupt into flames!
So I had to be properly posh. I had to overspend. I mean, I guess I shouldn’t complain. There are people who would never be able to afford such a nice place. Poor little rich girl can’t rough it and pretend to live among the normal people.
I head into the forest. Tabitha has told me so much about the woods up here, and how they are filled with such amazing things. That’s how she found where to get married, and mentioned there are countless other cool spots. She didn’t tell me where they were, insisting I go look for myself and that I’d appreciate it more if I found them on my own.
So I head in. I’m well-equipped. Even have one of those fancy satellite phones to use if I get lost, being warned about how poor the typical mobile phone service is deep in the Evergreen woods.
I really just wanted to get far, far away from it all. I never liked how everything was going. I didn’t feel like I had any control in my life. I graduated high school not too long ago, and I immediately took advantage of that trend of gap years, where kids put off college just to explore themselves and discover what they want out of life.
I guess that’s exactly what I’m doing, sort of. I don’t know what I want, but my parents know exactly what my future holds. They’ve decided it for me: I’m going to go to a prestigious business school, take all the business classes they decide I need to take, and if I don’t excel at them, my mother will express very loudly how disappointed she is in me. And she will continue to do this until my grades improve.
I head through the woods, taking my time. I’d gotten into Scouts as a little girl, so not all of this outdoorsmanship is completely foreign to me.
I have to make the best of it. Sure, I can’t go live around real people instead of just rich sycophants, but I can get close to a small town that’s beloved by my friends. And as an actual adult, I can go get a part-time job. I don’t need the money, but baking has always been a bit of a passion of mine. They got me that kiddy oven when I was eight, and I’ve wanted more of the real thing ever since.
Even when they laughed at me when I told them I wanted to be a baker when I grew up.
A sweet tooth is the first part of it, and the second is I saw how much my mother’s face lit up when I presented her with that basic cookie recipe. I want more of that in my life. The clear, visible joy I can bring people.
I don’t think I’d ever get that as the CEO of Van Schneider Enterprises, LLC.
My progress through the forest continues, and I’m trying to keep note of where I am on my GPS. Its connection is spotty, but it’s enough for me not to lose my place. I find a creek and start to find my way along it. There are quite a lot of beautiful sights. The way the sun breaks through the treetops shines a light on so many wonderful things. Big, ancient evergreen trees alongside newly growing sproutlings. These so-called sproutlings are probably older than I am, and the big evergreens might damn well be a thousand years old.
It puts life into perspective.
The creek continues onward, and I’m hiking up a rocky hill. I’m a bit out of breath and sweaty, as it’s been a long time since I’ve done any real exercise that wasn’t just cardio on some machine. I can take it. I take a big chug of water and keep on running up that hill.
There’s a clearing in the distance. I’m getting awfully close to the mountains that partially make Evergreen Valley, well, a valley.
Is that music?
I raise an eyebrow. And I’m not talking about bird music either. This is stuff from a big speaker. People music. It’s some classic rock, I think. I’m too young to really put a name to the band, but it’s something from the late ’70s, early ’80s, if I had to make a guess. Who would be living out this deep in the woods, I wonder?
I try to stay stealthy, hoping there aren’t any particularly loud twigs waiting to announce my presence.
A thick, thudding sound is underneath the music, which switches to a sort of country song. It’s a bit on the heavier side, and the singer doesn’t immediately start crooning about how much he misses his tractor. I can’t say I hate it, which is more than I can say about most country music.
I peer out from behind a tree, and gasp at who I see.
Hawk.
He’s standing there, shirtless, wearing nothing but some shorts. He brings down his big wood-cutting axe on a log, splitting it neatly in two. Another log, another perfect split. He’s an expert with the thing, and it’s kind of beautiful watching him work. Seeing every little muscle flex with his movements is quite the sight, and for a time, I just sit there, watching the serenity that is him going to work.
I never doubted how rustic he was. He lives in a well-built little cabin. There are piles of firewood stacked up nearby, and with so much, I wonder if he sells them for extra money? I would think commercial firewood was done by a machine at this point, but maybe there’s a market for manually axe-cut wood up here in Evergreen Valley?
God, I feel like such a space alien at times. Everyone around is so sweet in this town, and they’re so welcoming, but I hate when I screw up and show how out of touch I really am.
How am I supposed to know five dollars is too much for a loaf of bread here? That’s how much it is in the fancy organic store I always went to!
Anyway, I keep watching Hawk. I’m silent and still, and don’t want to brin ing attention to myself. Would it be weird if I walked up and said hello to him?
Just some rich girl walking out of the forest to greet him. Yeah, that wouldn’t be weird at all.
It wouldn’t make me appear as some weirdo stalker or anything like that. Absolutely wouldn’t.
I just look at this gorgeous sight for a while longer. Then, I’ll sneak away, and forget all about this.
God, he’s so fucking hot too. I’d been thinking about him a lot in my fantasies since our choice encounter during Tabitha’s wedding. All those muscles, earned through hard work and wood cutting. Not a single one of them for glamor: all form, no fashion.
If I wasn’t wearing so much heavy hiking gear, I’d be tempted to, uh. explore a bit. Like a more forestry-version of some cheesy porno setup.
Instead, I do the exact thing I was trying my damndest to not do.
And step on a very, very loud twig.
Hawk ceases chopping firewood. He lifts his head and looks right at me.
And I freeze like a deer in headlights.
“Lavender?” he states, confused and surprised in equal parts.
My eyes go wide as I look back at him. I raise my right hand meekly, in what must be the most pathetic hello gesture ever performed.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, confused.
I stagger back.
Fight or flight kicks in, and since I’m nowhere near dumb enough to challenge Hawk with the former, I go with flight.
Which is me rushing away from him, down the hill.
I’m surprised I don’t slip on anything, knowing how nasty a spill out here could turn for me. I must be running for a good five minutes before I’m back at my chalet, heaving long, deep breaths, my adrenaline from the previous moment finally fading.
Rationality creeps back into my mind.
And reminds me of what a massive creep I’ve made of myself in front of Hawk, for the second time.
If I’m going to act like this every time I meet a man I’m attracted to, I’m never going to get married.
Even if Hawk doesn’t seem like just any other man.
My phone goes off: an alarm I set earlier.
Hannah was going to set up a stall at the farmers’ market today and wanted me to take over for her, so she could get to a doctor’s appointment. The alarm was to let me know I should start heading back to the chalet so I wouldn’t be late.
Luckily, I’m a bit ahead of schedule.
I need a nice cold shower first, though, for the sweat.
And for the other feelings I have, too, I suppose.