Chapter 17
“Hey, Jonah, come here,” one of the guests from the writers group called as he passed the pavilion on a chilly October day.
“We need your opinion.”
He’d been heading home to study, but he wasn’t opposed to a little procrastination. The romance writers had remained mostly
in their cabins by day, presumably working, then brainstorming—boisterously and with lots of laughter—by night.
He approached the group of seven women, ranging in age from twentysomething to midsixties. “What can I do for you ladies?”
“Help a writer out,” Donna, the oldest of the group, said. “Cara’s working on a romance featuring a rugged type of guy who’s
attracted to a woman who’s a type A personality.”
“And since you’re a rugged type...,” one of the women said.
“Am I now?” he teased.
The women giggled.
“Sit down, sit down,” Donna said. “We need a little testosterone in the group.”
“We don’t bite.”
Not so sure about that. He quirked a brow at them, which only provoked more laughter. Over the past few days he’d overheard a conversation or two
that would’ve made a sailor blush.
Cara, the twentysomething brunette, made room for him on the bench, so he took a seat beside her.
“She wants to know what would attract you to that type of woman.”
Cara’s cheeks bloomed with color as she gazed at him expectantly. “What about that type of woman might appeal to a man like
you?”
“Type A, huh?”
“She’s very rule oriented but also a real go-getter. She’s trying to make partner in her law firm.”
“Well, they say opposites attract,” he said.
“No doubt,” Donna said. “But Cara’s looking for specifics.”
“Hmm, specifics.” It didn’t escape his notice that Lauren was just the type of woman they were talking about. “Well, I would
admire her work ethic. She’d also be confident and independent, which are appealing traits.”
“So you like confidence in a woman?” Cara asked.
“Sure, there’s something attractive about someone who knows her place in the world and is comfortable in her own skin.”
Cara jotted some notes. “That’s good. What else?”
He thought back to the early days with Lauren. She had not been easy! He chuckled. “She’d probably be a bit of a challenge
too.”
“Is that a good thing?” Cara asked jokingly.
The women laughed.
“Most guys appreciate a little challenge. But like most anything, it can be overdone.” Lately gaining Lauren’s trust had proven
to be an insurmountable challenge. Though she’d been perfectly amicable the past couple weeks, she was resistant to the idea
of anything more. “A woman like that would know her own mind too. And she might even be a little guarded.”
“Guarded,” Donna said. “I like that.”
Cara nudged him with her shoulder. “Hey, you’re really good at this.”
He gave a wry laugh. If he was good at it, it was only because he’d lived it. Was still living it.
“So what kinds of things might get on his nerves?” Donna asked. “Being that they’re opposite and all.”
That was easy. “He’d admire her independence, but a man also likes to feel useful. So she might make him feel unnecessary
sometimes.”
“Oooh, good one.” Cara jotted that down.
“She’d probably be someone who thought out all the steps before she made a move, and he might be more impetuous.”
“That would create some nice conflict,” Donna said.
“Also, since she’s ambitious, her work might take her in a different direction than he’d prefer.” Boy, could he relate. It
had been hard putting his heart on the line when Lauren was so determined to make her life in Boston. Especially after the
way Monica ditched him.
“Like, to another state?” someone asked.
“Or another planet.”
Cara shared a smile with him. “Mai writes romantic fantasy, in case you couldn’t guess.”
He gave Mai a nod. “Or another planet. Also your character would like to win, so she’d probably be competitive. You could
have the hero and heroine shooting for the same goal—and only one of them could win. Sparks would definitely be flying then.”
“Ooh,” Cara said. “You are so good at this.”
“Do me next!” Donna said.
***
Lauren took a bite of her grilled cheese sandwich as she sorted through the barn binder in her cabin. In the past two and a half weeks, work on the barn had begun. The mortar on the stones had been fixed and the paint job was already underway. The roof was scheduled for next week.
It was coming along. Her time here at Pinehaven would finish nicely—only two and a half months left. None of her memories
had returned, but that was probably for the best.
She saw Jonah often in passing or when he checked on the barn’s progress. They seemed to have found a comfortable way to coexist.
The awkwardness had faded and a tentative friendship had begun.
What had she been thinking before the accident? A serious relationship with a New Hampshirite shouldn’t have factored into
her plans. Jonah seemed rooted here at his parents’ resort, and Lauren was this close to that job at Glitter.
Truthfully, Carson, with his big-city dreams, was a more likely match since once he finished his internship, he hoped to secure
that residency in Boston. They’d talked a time or two when they’d gone out as a group. He even texted her sometimes to check
on her.
A relationship with him was probably a bad idea anyway—at least for the time being. She wouldn’t want to hurt Jonah any more
than she already had. Besides, what if they started dating and she fell for him—and then got her memory back? The thought
of that romantic quandary made her head pound.
Besides, between managing the resort and overseeing the renovation, she had plenty to keep her busy.
Lauren took her last bite, closed the binder, and checked her watch. They were doing s’mores tonight, but she’d already gathered
the supplies. She went to her bedroom, Graham on her heels, and tossed the binder into the top of the closet. The weight of
it unsettled a shoebox on the shelf, and the box dropped to the floor, falling open.
She didn’t recognize the box, and it didn’t have a pair of shoes inside as she’d assumed. Graham sniffed the contents, tail
wagging.
“What do we have here?”
She knelt and sorted through the stuff: movie ticket stubs, a rumpled map of Flume Gorge, a pine cone, some notes, a pale
pink rock shaped like a heart, and... cloth dinner napkins? Three of them in maroon, ivory, and seafoam green.
She unfolded a small piece of notebook paper.
Lauren, here’s a coffee just the way you like it (sickeningly sweet and laden with heavy cream). Thought you could use it
after the late night. Some of us had to get up early for school.
XO,
Jonah
His printing was small, a little messy, but perfectly legible. She folded it carefully and opened the next.
Found this out by Otter’s Pond and thought of you.
XO,
Jonah
She wondered if the heart-shaped rock had accompanied the note. She opened the next message.
Have a great evening, sweetheart. Don’t give Dave Jones and his unwife another thought.
No idea what that meant. It was so weird to know that something had happened to her—lots of somethings—that she had no recollection
of.
More notes turned up nice little sentiments, all of them alluding to things she didn’t remember. In the age of texting it was sweet that he’d gone to the trouble of writing notes. She was starting to see that the Jonah she’d first met was perhaps not the real Jonah. Beneath that long hair and dark scowl lay a sentimental, caring man.
When she’d read them all, she tucked them back into the shoebox with a sigh, feeling a little wistful about a relationship
she couldn’t even remember. But Jonah had loved her enough to write them, and she’d cared enough to save them. That said something.
As she set the box back on the shelf, the thought weighed on her, leaving her unsettled. With the way those mementos had left
her feeling, she was glad she hadn’t given in to the temptation to read those old texts or scroll through her photos.
She glanced out the window. It was getting dark outside. Time to get the bonfire going. She grabbed the lighter from the kitchen
drawer and glanced at Graham. “You can go with me, but no begging for s’mores. Got it?”
Graham gave a happy bark.
“Good boy.” She grabbed the supplies and headed toward the firepit, opposite the pavilion. The night sounds that had seemed
so foreign at first had grown on her: the warbling call of insects, the lonely hoot of an owl, the rustling of the wind through
the trees.
And soon the sounds of chatter and laughter carried from the far end of the property. The writers group, which filled most
of the cabins, gathered for their evening plotting session. It was a friendly, easygoing group that had demanded little of
her. She’d done little beyond providing hot chocolate and apple cider for their nightly sessions.
The property lights that came on at dark guided her way. As she approached the cold firepit, she caught sight of the pavilion,
lit up with white twinkle lights and hosting the lively group.
A smile curved Lauren’s lips as she listened to their lighthearted chatter. She loved managing a property where people enjoyed themselves. Where she could have a small part in making them feel welcome, making them feel as if they belonged. As if they were part of an extended family. It fulfilled something deep inside her.
A male voice caught her off guard. Jonah. He sat in the midst of the group, quite close to the youngest writer who was about
their age, with glossy brown hair that looked as if it didn’t know the meaning of the word frizz . The group hooted at whatever Jonah had said, and the woman nudged Jonah with her shoulder.
Lauren’s smile wilted. She squatted by the logs she’d stacked earlier while Graham, ever the extrovert, charged over to the
group to solicit attention. When Jonah caught sight of the dog, he immediately scanned the area and found Lauren by the firepit.
She glanced away before they made eye contact and extended the lighter toward the newspapers she’d stuffed beneath the logs
earlier. She flicked the lighter, but it failed to produce a flame.
A moment later the crunch of leaves alerted her to Jonah’s approach. “Here, let me help.”
“I’ve got it. You should go back and hang with your friends.”
“Guests, you mean. I’ll get the supplies.”
“I already have them.” She gestured to the bag. “I thought you were going home to study.”
“I was, but the writers group needed my help with something.”
The romance writers. “I’ll just bet they did.”
He cut her a confused look. “What? They were just getting some advice.”
“I’m sure they were.” She gave a wry chuckle. “I didn’t know you were such an expert on romance.” Had that sounded catty?
Well, she was feeling a little catty. But that didn’t make any sense.
“Hey, Jonah,” Donna called. “Cara has another question.”
The young pretty woman propped her chin on her hand and smiled boldly at Jonah.
Lauren turned her gaze back to him. “Cara has another question,” she deadpanned. She stood and set off for the other lighter. What was wrong with her? Was she actually jealous ? Jonah was only a friend and that’s the way she wanted it.
Wasn’t it?
Yes, she definitely wanted it that way. She’d been over this. If this whole ordeal with the concussion had taught her anything,
it was how much she wanted that job in Boston. She’d worked hard to get where she was. And she wouldn’t give it up for any
man. She was not her mom, turning her back on what mattered for some random guy.
The thought spawned the childhood memory she’d relived a thousand times. Her mom leaving with a man Lauren hadn’t recognized.
She’d stood in the window of their trailer, waiting for Mom to turn and wave as she usually did when she left her with their
neighbor Miss Sheila. But this time her mom didn’t turn around.
This time her mom didn’t return.
Sheila kept her for a couple days, and when a woman showed up at the door, it wasn’t her mom. The adults talked in hushed
tones while Lauren enjoyed cookies in the kitchen. Then the stranger joined her at the table.
“Hi, Lauren. We need to talk, sweetheart.” Then she explained what was happening in a soft, kind voice that contradicted her
frightening message.
A while later Miss Sheila emerged from the hallway with Lauren’s bag. Lauren screamed and cried as the woman took her away.
It was the beginning of a very volatile period of her life.
Lauren pushed away the dark memory and rubbed the tattoo on her inner wrist. She was finally in charge of her own future,
and she wasn’t about to hand that control over to anyone else.
So why had that pretty woman ogling Jonah stirred up these unsettling feelings? Carson had spoken with her about the brain’s complexity. Maybe some part of her remembered the relationship she and Jonah used to have. And that part of her had reacted with jealousy.
Yes. That made sense. Giving a satisfied nod, she entered the lodge and retrieved the lighter. Now that that was settled,
she could put aside these silly feelings and join the party.