10. Indiana
I t’s been three days since I talked with Knox and Hazel down by the lake.
One week of life at the lake house. I’ve tried my best to keep to myself, but I can’t help the pull I’m feeling.
I slept so hard last night, only getting up once in the night to guzzle a glass of water before stumbling back to bed.
I had planned on reading more last night, but instead, I called Han while I went through a box, and after that, I felt so tired I just wanted to sleep.
I make myself a tea and a piece of toast, thankful to see that there was already a toaster here.
Walking around the small kitchen, I see the various pots and pans, cooking utensils, and even a waffle maker.
I’m not really big on cooking meals, but I know how to make a few things.
Grilled cheese. Macaroni and cheese. Cheese quesadilla. Okay, so I know that I like cheese.
I’ve been itching to run and have learned over the years that I have to fuel myself if I want to feel good about it afterward.
I look out my windows while sipping the rest of my tea.
The birds call to one another, and the trees sway in the breeze.
I hear the delicate windchime on the porch and see dragonflies flitting about the edge of the lake over the tops of colorful wildflowers.
Getting dressed, I check my weather app.
It hasn’t warmed up yet today, so a sweatshirt over my sports bra is necessary.
I pull on some bike shorts, socks, and running shoes, making sure to lace them fairly tight.
This will be a little different terrain than I’m used to, but I’ve been doing a lot of research on trail running, and I think we’re going to get along just fine.
My hair is causing problems for me. It’s so short, and my little side quest with the scissors leaves strands falling into my face as soon as I secure my hair tie.
I need some clips. While looking for my stash of bobby pins, I see a ball cap hanging on a coat rack by the front door.
It’s a faded blue and has Canyonlands National Park embroidered in orange on the front.
I pull it on and tighten the back, so it fits snugly. Hair contained.
I still have a few boxes to sift through, but the one I went through last night had all my notebooks and pens in it.
It gave me an idea, so I grab the hot-pink sticky note after making my bed and throwing my discarded clothes into the basket by the washing machine.
By the front door, I grab my running pack.
I started carrying mace and a taser on my runs.
My keychain has a rape whistle and a compass combo thing on it as well.
I do my best to stay safe while continuing to live my life.
Stepping out onto the front porch, I start stretching.
The sun is just coming up, lighting up the tops of the evergreen trees in the distance.
The little, white house sits in the shadow of the mountain behind me causing the morning chill to still hang in the air around me.
I take deep breaths, trying to acclimate to it.
I remind myself that although I’ve been running for six years, completed two half marathons and one full, running at this elevation could prove a challenge.
Feeling limber enough to start, I jog over to Knox’s house. Instead of knocking on his door and disrupting his life again, I stick my scribbled note asking about the water heater to his door. Three days of cold showers has to come to an end.
After clearing his front steps, I click the side of my watch that’s connected to my phone app to track my run and vitals throughout it.
I slide my phone into its zip pocket on the side of my shorts and take off at a light jog.
Thinking it’s better to warm up and see how I feel after the first ten minutes before I pick up my pace.
We’ll see how these mountains decide to push me today.
It turns out the mountains did want to push me.
I’m a sweating mess when I get back to the property.
Knox’s truck is gone when I make it back to the main drive.
A quick glance at my watch tells me that I’ve run five miles.
It felt more like twelve. The view from up higher on the hiking trail was breathtaking—and that’s not just because I was out of breath after trekking over two miles straight up to the lookout.
I’ll have to hike back up there with my camera another day.
A picture from there will make another good postcard.
Admiring the big lake house as I pass by, I note the flower boxes under the front windows overflowing with color. It’s odd, Knox doesn’t strike me as the plant-pretty-flowers type of man. Then a thought occurs to me. An absolutely horrifying thought .
Is Knox with someone?
Oh my god. He is. I slap a hand over my forehead.
Why had I not assumed this? Neither Winnie nor Rhett mentioned a wife, but I hadn’t exactly asked about a girlfriend.
Seeing him naked yesterday now has my face flaming for another reason entirely.
He’s told her! Of course he told her! Now she’ll hate me—whoever she is.
How will I come back from this? Do I need to apologize to her? I don’t want to move just yet.
While I’m walking to cool down from my run—and my racing thoughts—I pass by the dock.
I am allowed on it now, so I decide to take advantage.
Once on the wooden dock, I feel the sun warming me further.
The temperature has risen, so I shrug off my sweatshirt, tying it around my waist while walking out.
I hear a noise behind me and spin around to see Sally.
“Hey, Sally. What are you up to today, girl?” I ask as she trots out onto the dock after me.
Crouching down, Sally runs at me, almost knocking me backward.
“Such a sweet girl,” I tell her, sitting back as she nuzzles further into me.
I stay there only a few minutes, knowing I need to clean up and get dressed.
I’m heading into work for a few hours to shadow Anna in the front of the bakery.
“I’ll be back later, and maybe you can come on a hike with me.
” Sally gives me a small bark as an answer, and I smile while walking back to my house.
She goes the opposite direction, back toward her place, wagging her tail as she goes.
I’ve never had a dog. We always lived in an apartment, and that doesn’t necessarily mean you can’t have a pet, but my parents weren’t interested in having one.
They also were not swayed by mine or my sister's attempts to convince them it would be a good idea.
I’m still thinking about the cat we stole from one of our neighbors in the building when I notice a neon-yellow sticky note on the front door. Wiping my forehead with the back of my arm, I hop up the steps.
Hot water is fixed.
That’s all it says. The handwriting is masculine and clear.
Reaching out, I peel it from the door, looking at the big lake house down the road as I do.
He must have come while I was out running.
I’m thankful, seeing as a hot shower is needed before I head into work.
One can only wash her hair in the sink for so long, and boiling some water for a bath had been so time-consuming.
But I am a little disappointed I didn’t get to see him.
Opening the door I hang my borrowed ball cap back on the hook I found it on, and I untie my sweatshirt from my waist, tossing it into the laundry basket on my way to the bathroom.
The bathroom is small, but everything in it is beautiful.
There’s a white clawfoot tub that sits underneath a big skylight in the ceiling.
A wrought iron, curved curtain rod that a white shower curtain hangs from wraps around the outside of the tub.
The faucet, and shower head that’s detachable, are an antique gold.
The sink is free-standing white porcelain with the same style faucets, and the floor is a stunning jade stone tile.
I check the water to see it’s warming up, feeling my whole body relax, knowing I'll be getting a hot shower soon.
Taking my phone out of my pocket, I set it on a wooden stool in the corner of the bathroom, then peel my sweaty clothes off, tossing them into the laundry with the rest of my clothes.
I look at my reflection. Hair a mess and face still flushed, my neck is splotchy.
I stop at the mark on my shoulder, quickly turning and stepping into the shower, rushing through my routine so I can make it to the bakery on time.
On my way out, I’m not sure if I should—but I can’t stop myself. I grab another neon-pink sticky note and scribble a thank you on it, sticking it to my landlord's door as I pass by.