Chapter 8 #2
"Well, if you’re staying for a while, I think the hot springs would actually do you a world of good.
The mineral water is genuinely therapeutic for soft tissue injuries.
I know it sounds like a spa day, but it's actual medicine. Gibb’s grandfather would tell you the same thing if he were still here.
" She looks at Gibb. "I know you don’t like spending too much time in town, but she shouldn't be navigating the stone steps on that ankle without someone there. "
Gibb says nothing. But I feel his attention shift in a very specific way. I don’t know why I feel so attuned to him, but it feels like I’ve been around him forever.
"There are hot springs here?" I ask.
"Ingrid runs them properly. It’s a real therapeutic soak, not a tourist trap." Dr. Brennan scribbles on a prescription pad and hands me a slip. "The pharmacy's two doors down. Crutches?" She checks out the pair Gibb brought in. "Those are good ones. Where'd you get them?”
"Medical supply in Durango," Gibb says. "I keep them on hand."
Dr. Brennan gives him a look that manages to be both affectionate and slightly exasperated. "Of course you do."
Gibb helps me walk out into the surprising warm spring sunshine, and we stand for a moment on the sidewalk while I lean on the crutches as the town goes about its business around us. A man tips his hat at me as he passes. I get back in the Land Rover and wait for Gibb to slide behind the wheel.
It’s a short trip back to Main Street and Gibb cruises slowly until he finds a spot that isn’t too far from the pharmacy.
A woman coming out of The Switchback next door does a small double-take but has the grace to simply smile and keep walking.
“Does everyone in town know who you are?” I ask.
“The ones who’ve been here a while know me.
Many of them knew my grandfather.” He glances down at me.
“The people here were never in my business, or my parents for that matter. Fame isn’t something that gets you far here and the people who watched my dad grow up, and me and my sister aren’t interested in what happens outside of Hollow Peak.
After my parents died and Gramps and Grandma took us in, most of the people here were very protective over our privacy. It’s one of the reasons I came back.”
I think about that. A town that closes around its people like water, filling in the spaces, no questions asked. I can’t imagine a life like that.
“I need to pick up a few things,” he says. “Pharmacy first, then I want to stop at The Switchback because you keep eyeing it before we head back. Unless you’re too tired.”
I shake my head. “I wish I could explore the whole town.” My voice sounds wistful, even to my ears.
“When your ankle is healed, we’ll come back.”
That sounds an awful lot like future planning, but I don’t want to read into it. I can’t.
We go to the pharmacy, where a teenager who cannot be older than seventeen fills the prescription without blinking and asks Gibb if he’s still got the spotted Nubian. They talk goats for a few minutes, Gibb keeping a watchful eye on me to make sure I’m not putting any weight on my ankle.
When we step back out onto the sidewalk, Gibb tucks the small paper bag into his pocket. “I could carry you,” he offers as we walk the short distance to the café.
“Through town?” I shake my head. “No thank you. I’d like to sit at one of those cute tables for a few minutes, though if you don’t mind?”
He holds the door open for me, wafting cinnamon, vanilla and coffee into the crisp air. “I don’t mind at all.”
The place is busy but the line-up I’d seen earlier is gone. Gibb helps me into a seat at a little round café table.
“Gibson Hart.” An older lady with grey corkscrew curls bustles towards us, engulfing Gibb in a hug. “You need to come down off that mountain more often. You’re getting skinny.”
“Mae, it’s good to see you.” Gibb wraps his arms around the woman. “I just need some of your famous cinnamon rolls and I’ll be all set.”
“Didn’t you see that line-up about an hour ago? Where do you think I’m going to find you a dozen fresh cinnamon rolls?”
“I called ahead,” he replies with a grin.
Mae throws her head back and laughs. “Ah, you’re the mysterious customer Malcolm mentioned.” The woman turns to me. “And who do we have here, Gibby?”
My eyebrows go up. “Gibby?” I mouth in his direction.
“Mae, this is Poppy Johnson. Poppy, this is Mae Whitlock. She’s more famous than me around these parts for her amazing baking and magic lattes.”
“Nice to meet you, Poppy,” she says. “And how do you know Gibson?”
“I found her in the forest, like a fairy,” Gibb says. “Pretty sure that means I get to keep her.”
Mae’s eyebrows shoot up. “Keep her in what way, Gibby?” Mae’s eyes sparkle and I’m desperate to hear the answer, but before Gibb can reply, a tall man walks up to Gibb and claps a hand on his shoulder “Hart”.
Gibb turns. “Treyton, good to see you.”
Gibb makes another introduction, and I start to wonder if there’s something in the water here because something must be producing all these good-looking men.
This guy is tall and broad with dark hair and dark eyes and a five o-clock shadow that I suspect is visible for all but the first thirty minutes of the day after he shaves.
Treyton shakes my hand. “Nice to meet you, Poppy.”
Gibb motions to an empty seat at our table, but Treyton shakes his head, holding out a box. “I just came by for the rolls, but I’m glad I ran into you. I finished that cabinet you wanted for the library at your place.”
“Perfect. I’ll call you to set up a time for delivery if that’s okay?”
“Sure, no problem.” Treyton cocks a hip on the back of the chair. “Everything good out at your place after the storm?”
“Yeah, I’ve got to call someone about upgrading the fence at the far field, and I probably need to clear some deadfall, but generally I made out okay. What about you?
“All good on my end.” Treyton nods at me. “Well, I’d better let you get back to it, and don’t let Gibb hog all the cinnamon rolls, they’re definitely not optional.”
Mae comes back to the table with a pretty robin’s egg blue box. “Here’s your order.” Then she places two plates down. “I might have been saving a couple of rolls in case you were hungry after the clinic.”
I blink in surprise. “How—”
Gibb nudges the plate towards me. “Mae knows all.”
The woman pulls out the empty chair at our table and sits, leaning forward. “I do. Just like I know there was trouble up at your place just a few days ago.”
“It’s been resolved,” Gibb says before taking a mouthful of the fluffiest looking cinnamon roll I’ve ever seen.
She eyes me, her brown eyes serious. “You the trouble?”
“I was adjacent to the trouble,” I say. “The trouble was mostly someone else.”
Mae nods then turns her attention to Gibb. “There was a stranger around here asking about who lives up at the big farm.”
My chest tightens. Is Matt still around?
Gibb dabs the tip of his finger into a blob of cream cheese frosting. “Oh yeah?”
“I told him the owner is a crazy goat farmer who has lived here forever.” Mae pushes away from the table. “And he’s got some crazy friends, so if you need help, you let me know, okay Gibby?”
Gibb stands, reaching over to hug Mae. “Thank you.”
She turns her attention to me. “You like that roll?”
I glance down at my plate. There’s barely a crumb left. “It was a religious experience.”
Mae beams. “Oh, I like that.” She winks at Gibb. “I like her.”
“I do too,” he says.
My heart flutters. How can he sit there, so calm, and utter something so devastating while licking frosting off his finger?
“You bring her by more than once in a blue moon, you hear me?” Mae waves before towards the door to greet a family with a newborn baby.
I smile as the mom lifts the corner of the carrier so Mae can peek in at the little face nuzzled against her chest. The man, I assume her husband, holds a little girl by the hand who is fairly bouncing on her heels, ponytail flying, as she talks to Mae.
I look back at Gibson, who is watching me intently, his arms folded across his chest. “What?” I ask.
“You fit here,” he says.
I look at the mismatched wooden tables, worn with age and at the exposed brick walls.
Steam curls up from my coffee mug and through the huge windows I can see the mountain we just drove down.
Finally, I look at Gibb, the man I didn’t know a week ago, but now I don’t want to think about a day when I’m not surprised by his kiss.
I don’t want to leave Stevie and the others.
I don’t want to leave, but I don’t know how I can stay either.