Chapter Three
Adam Woodbury
I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I like getting a reaction out of Keri.
I’ve done it a few times during our short conversation, and each time, I have to hold back a chuckle as I watch her pretty brow knit with confusion, her pale cheeks blushing with a pinkish hue.
This girl clearly doesn’t joke around much.
“Well, I’m not trying to look pretty. I’m trying to look professional,” she retorts.
She crosses her arms tightly against her chest, standing stiffly, as if bracing herself to make a point. I can’t quite tell what she’s trying to prove with the gesture.
I nod. “Yes. You definitely look like a pro in this photo. You remind me of one of those stock image models posing for photos you can buy online for a corporate website.” I set the sign down and walk toward my van, my boots crunching over the gravel.
I look over my shoulder and see Keri pause.
She glances at the sign, then hesitantly follows, carefully placing each foot as she navigates the uneven terrain in her expensive shoes.
“What should I look like? This is my work attire. I’m a professional.”
I slide open the side door of my van, set my cell phone to the side, and fetch my toolbox from under a hollow floorboard. She watches me root around inside for a hammer. My phone pings the air with a ring. Before I can turn it to silent, she looks down and reads the caller’s name.
“Roxy.”
I nod and sheepishly flip it over. “I’ll call her back.
” Clearing my throat, I continue with my earlier train of thought.
“I think you could do better with your photograph, especially in a charming small town like Heartsboro. It’s a total vibe, you know?
But your photo is a little… How should I say this? ”
“Say it,” she insists. Her mouth is pursed in an adorable pout. I think I’ve hurt her feelings.
“Calm down, Keri. This is not a diss. It’s an observation from someone who knows a thing or two about photography, okay?
” I grip the hammer and wave my free hand out in front of me for her to walk ahead toward the sign lying flat on the ground.
“All I’m saying is, you missed the mark with the overall feel of your hometown.
I mean, come on. Everybody probably knows you around here.
And for those who don’t, they might be intimidated by your professional look. ”
“Why?”
“Well, it comes across a little… stuffy.”
“Stuffy?”
“Yeah. Nothing like the locals I’ve met around here in the last week. Don’t you want your potential clients to feel the small-town vibe when they see your pretty smile and right away think to themselves, ‘Hmm. That woman looks nice. I could do business with her.’”
“Of course I do.”
We stop at the sign, and I lift it up. “Is this where you want it?”
“Yes, please.”
I smile at her politeness, even though I know I’m treading on thin ice, boldly voicing my honest observations. I pound the sign into the ground with two swift whacks of my hammer.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I grin and shove the handle of the hammer into my jeans pocket. “Look, all I’m saying is, you could do better. You know, be more in line with your demographic.”
“Really? You think I could do better?”
“Mmmhmm.” I mimic her stance, arms crossed over my chest. We’re in a stand-off of sorts.
"I don’t even know you, Adam. I don’t know why you’re here in Heartsboro or where you came from. So why should I take advice from someone I don’t even know?”
I run my index finger across my lower lip to thwart off a smile. “Because I’m a trained photographer with a good eye and a knack for feeling the vibe.”
Her blue eyes are slits staring back at me.
“Oh, the ‘vibe.’ Okay.” She tilts her chin into the air, a quirky trait I’m growing quite fond of.
“You know, Miss Jenny said she saw you in town taking pictures the other day. Is that why you’re here?
Gathering photos of small-town country life in Georgia for a magazine or a calendar or something? ”
I laugh and tell her a half-truth. “Yeah, something like that.”
She nods, defiantly pushing a blonde lock of hair back from her face, her features tense.
“And I’ll bet you’re short on cash with all this camper van living you’ve been doing, too, huh?
I’ll even take it a step further and bet you’re about to offer me a steal of a deal on a photo session. Am I right?”
I’m enjoying our banter, and I can’t help myself and reply in a teasing tone.
“I don’t want your money, Keri. But I would love to get a picture of you standing in this meadow with all this gorgeous natural light and show you what I can bring to the table.
In fact, my camera’s sitting on the front seat of my van.
I can run and get it right now.” I point toward the vehicle, and Molly barks.
Keri plants her hands on her hips and shakes her head as if I’ve insulted her.
“You are something else, Adam. I am not properly dressed for a photo shoot out here in the dirt. And I am not one of those girls who will ‘pay’ for things in other ways.” She mocks quotation marks with her fingers in the air.
“Wait a minute. Other ways?” I frown and then laugh out loud when I realize where her mind went.
“Oh, no. You’ve got me pegged all wrong.
I don’t want any kind of payment from you.
You’re a nice woman, and I just want to help you out.
Listen, I’ve got an idea. How about we schedule something for tomorrow?
Anywhere you want, as long as it’s outside.
The natural light is so much better. I promise. ”
She rolls her eyes and widens her high-heeled stance, folding her arms against her chest again. “I’m already booked. I’ll be at the Lavender Festival at Jamison Farm tomorrow, passing out flyers.”
I nod and press my lips together in a tight line. “I see. And let me guess… your flyers have that same stock photo image on them, don’t they?” I point at the sign planted into the hard-packed dirt.
She seems offended, her Southern accent amplified. “And what if they do?”
I comically throw up my hands in surrender, her heated blue eyes watching my every move. “That’s cool. If you want to come across as a city-slicker doing business in the country, to each his own.”
She growls and stomps past me, causing me to laugh again.
I don’t know what it is about this fair-haired Southern girl that has me toying with her feelings.
All I know is that from the moment I saw her in the café, my knees did the wobbly thing.
And when I drove by and saw her in the front yard of this run-down property, I knew I wanted to stop and talk to her.
And when I witnessed her stumble and fall, my heart lurched in my chest as I rushed to help.
It’s been way too long since I’ve felt this way, and it’s weird because I know absolutely nothing about Keri Clayton except for her occupation.
And the way her pretty eyes dance in the sunlight when she shares a rare smile.
The curve of her legs underneath her smart skirt.
Her golden hair hanging over her shoulders, and the pulsing rhythm of her swaying hips as she marches toward her car.
But most importantly, the veil of loneliness she’s so desperately trying to hide behind her gumption.
I admit, I like this pull she has on me, even though this feeling is foreign and teetering on something forbidden.
My odd behavior must be a sign of internal conflict.
I’m not sure how to navigate these feelings, and I hate myself for pushing things too far.
I follow after her, intent on apologizing.
“Hey, wait a minute. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.” I watch her open her car door and pause, her long hair flying in the breeze around her heated, scowling face.
“Never in my life have I ever felt as ugly as I do now.”
“Keri…” Good Lord, if she only knew how beautiful she was at this moment.
“—No!” she interrupts, raising her hand in a stop position.
Her wild eyes connect with mine. “I was willing to give you the benefit of the doubt when I first saw you today. But talk about looks,” she harrumphs and boldly points right at me.
“You look like a homeless man. There! I said it. How does it make you feel?”
She doesn’t give me a chance to respond, and I stand there with my mouth gaping as I watch her get into her car and slam the door.
She revs the engine and peels out, kicking up dirt and gravel in the process, instigating a series of barks from Molly.
I wave my hand in front of my face to fend off the lingering dust she’s created in her getaway, and watch the car disappear over a hill.
Molly pants beside me, and I dig my fingers into the thick fur of her neck for stability.
“Well, that didn’t go so well, did it?” She makes a whiny sound in her throat, and I sigh, regret taking over. “Let’s go, Molly-girl.”
I mull over Keri’s words. She made a good point. I am homeless. Well, let’s just say I don’t have a typical home built on a firm foundation anymore. My camper van is my home now. Molly is my home.
I pack up and drive slowly on the dirt road, taking in the pastel colors of the trees and bushes against the backdrop of the fields where the sun is starting to sink into a lavender glow. I have nowhere to go. No place I need to be. And that’s okay.
I am thousands of miles away from my former life, where everything used to make sense.
Where my phone never stopped ringing, and my ambition and drive hopped from one thing to the next without taking a second to breathe.
Where I freely roamed on movie sets and commanded high-profile photo shoots with celebrities and supermodels.
I didn’t tell Keri anything about that part of my life. There wasn’t time. Besides, the less she knows about me, the better off she’ll be.
There are things I miss about California.
I miss the great outdoors and the mountains.
The Pacific Ocean and the glow of Los Angeles at night, like a million fallen stars below the hills.
I miss my home nestled in a grove of giant incense cedars and Douglas firs, those magnificent trees dwarfing my house away from the city.
They were mighty and stood watch over me.
Over everything that was important to me.
I loved hiking through the woods and taking in the breathtaking beauty.
The air filled with the sweet aroma of pine and earth.
I liked losing myself in the woods. But now, after two years drifting across the country, I think I miss being known.
I miss having a routine. I miss having a place where I feel like I fit in.
I admit, I’ve grown fond of Heartsboro in the last few days I’ve spent here.
It feels good when people like Miss Jenny remember how I like my biscuits with extra butter and honey, and an outdoor table for Molly and me.
Traveling on country roads that go on for miles and miles without passing another vehicle.
Friendly shop owners and tourists who strike up easy conversations.
Nothing intense, just laid-back and relaxed chats about the weather and the latest goings-on in town.
But my favorite part is undoubtedly this unexpected interest I have concerning a pretty blonde with fire in her belly. A woman who doesn’t realize she needs my help with her marketing photo.
I’ve come to a crossroads where I’m finally brave enough to admit I’m still trying to figure things out.
The journey back to myself is the longest trip I’ve ever taken, but I know I’m getting closer.
I’ve learned that self-acceptance isn’t something you achieve once and forever.
It’s something I have to choose again and again, especially when I’m brave enough to look back on my life—at who I used to be and what the past means to me.
But I also know that my life has changed drastically. I have changed.
I look over at Molly in the passenger seat, her muzzle resting on the open window ledge.
I’ve often thought how wonderful it must be to be a dog without a care in the world.
But Molly does care. She cares about me.
She’s been by my side since the day I left California.
Across every stretch of highway. Traversing every dirt road and dangerous mountain curve.
I wouldn’t have survived without my Molly.
I reach across the van’s interior and run my fingers through her golden fur, a melancholy smile on my face. “I’m craving a burger tonight. What about you, girl? You want a hamburger tonight from the Tipsy Daisy?”
She turns her head and barks in response.
I laugh out loud, the joy from this simple life I’ve created on this highway to happiness slowly pulsing through my veins again.
I’ll spoil my best girl with a burger instead of her regular dog food.
And tomorrow, I’ll find Keri at the Lavender Festival and apologize.
Who knows? Maybe I’ll even get her to agree to a complimentary photo session.
I want her to see what I see: her natural beauty and kind eyes.
Her gumption and that little bit of tease in her rare smile.
I’m pretty sure I can charm my way into a “yes.”