Jordyn's Army, page 14
5
Two Months Later
I have gotten in the habit of visiting the small coffee shop down the street from our house each morning around six a.m. They have small bistro tables out front, which helps with my inspiration as I watch the passing cars and people who are out for their morning walk.
This morning, though, words aren’t coming to me. I have writer’s block, so I’ve spent more time staring out into the street than I have at my laptop screen.
Rather than trying to refocus on my words, I spot a man who appears out of place, walking down the sidewalk toward this coffee shop. I know I’ve been away from the United States for over a year, but I can easily spot an American from a mile away.
It took me almost four months to adapt to the style change. I didn’t realize there was a difference until Suzette offered to take me on a shopping trip. Once she pointed out that I needed a few changes to look more British, I began to recognize the differences.
For example, this man is wearing a North Face fleece, which is predominantly an American company. His workboots also don’t match the London style, nor do his boot cut jeans.
The man walks into the coffee shop and leaves only five minutes later. I expected him to continue on after picking up his to-go cup, but instead, he takes a seat at the table next to me to study his phone.
After another minute or so, his phone rings, and he answers the call. “Hey man, yeah I arrived safely,” he says, laughing. “Thanks for checking on me, bro. I’ll give you a call when I know more. Peace out.”
He is definitely American.
I twist my head to look at the man. He’s very good-looking with his freshly cut hair, and short dirty-blonde spikes in the front and fade in the back. His is cleanly shaved and has a plaid button-up shirt poking through the neckline of his fleece. “What part of the states are you from?” I ask.
He seems startled by my question. “You’re American too,” he says.
“Sure am,” I answer.
“I’m from Eastern Connecticut,” he says.
“No, you’re not,” I tease. “I’m from Eastern Connecticut.”
Across the ocean in a foreign place, and two people from one of the smallest states in America are sitting side-by-side at a tiny coffee shop in a low-populated village of London. I’m curious about the odds or likelihood of such an occurrence.
“Wow, small world,” he says, laughing softly. “Are there are a lot of Americans in this area?”
I shake my head. “No, hardly any at all, really.”
“Interesting,” he says. “I came here looking for a woman who moved away from Connecticut.”
I narrow my eyes, confused, and wondering how much smaller these odds will get before something makes sense to me. “What’s her name?” My hands are trembling beneath my table.
“I don’t know her last name, or I’m not sure of it, I should say, but her first name is Rose.”
Rose. How many American women in this small little village could have the name, Rose? “Oh,” I gasp a bit and press my hand to my chest. “My name is Rose.”
“Was, or is your last name, Cameron?”
This is becoming less ironic and more pointed, but I have never seen this man in my life. “Yes, it is still Cameron,” I say, which has been my typical response anytime I’m forced to focus on the fact that I have not changed my last name back to my maiden name yet.
“Really?” The man seems shocked, whereas I was sure he knew me or knew who he had sat down next to, but now it seems more like a planned coincidence—if there is such a thing.
“Yes, that’s me, Rose Cameron. Do I know you?”
The man closes his eyes as if to put together his thoughts. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t planning to run into you in a coffee shop of all places. However, I did come here to find you.”
I just spoke to my parents last night, so I know they’re okay, which is the only real reason I would worry about someone from the states traveling over here to find me. Even still, we have phones and plenty of forms of communication, so I’m back to being confused as to why anyone in the world would travel across seas to find me.
“I’m Colton Bryer,” he says, reaching his hand out for me to shake.
I reach between our two tables and reciprocate the handshake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Also, I’m in love with your words.”
My breath becomes short. I’m startled, numb, and my chest has millions of little flutters tickling me from the inside. “My words? You’re a fan of my blog?” Should I be concerned about this? Never, in my wildest dreams did I ever consider having a fan for my blog, of all things. I know I have active viewers each day, but hardly any comments.
“I didn’t know you had a blog,” he says, staring at me as if he knows me. He’s smiling like I just said something he’s been waiting to hear, and I’m utterly confused.
“Well, pardon my confusion, but how do you know me?”
Colton reaches into his zipped-up fleece and pulls out a stack of envelopes. “I know this is inappropriate and out of line, but the envelopes were not made out to anyone in particular. They only had my address on the front, so I opened each letter, finding your words inside—finding your pain, and grief.”
Again, the need to gasp is strong, but for a moment, I feel humiliated that someone else received my letters. “Wait, do you know Frankie?”
Colton nods his head. “I mean, I met him for a few seconds when he gave me a tour of his house. He sold his house, and I bought it.”
I wouldn’t know that because I didn’t read much of Frankie’s emails. “Oh, I used to live there,” I tell him.
“I know,” he says. “I figured it all out—well most of it. The part I haven’t figured out is if Frankie was just dumb, or if he was blind and dumb.”
My cheeks are becoming warm, hot even. I’m blushing. I haven’t blushed in years. “He wasn’t blind, but he was dumb,” I counter.
“I’d say so, but I don’t mean this rudely—if I had a wife that looked like you, I wouldn’t be looking elsewhere.”
“Thank you for saying that. I guess not all involved parties would agree, but it is what it is, right?” I’m putting aside the fact that this man read all my letters, likely assuming they weren’t for him after he received the first.
“Why were you reading all of those letters? I’m sure you knew they weren’t for you after the first one, right?” I don’t want to be rude to this man. He obviously has a reason for finding me—flying to a different country to find me.
“Well, my wife walked out on me for similar reasons. Supposedly, she hadn’t cheated, but worse, she fell in love with some guy at work. It broke my heart—I was just a mess, and your words—they comforted me, made me feel like I wasn’t alone in feeling as miserable as I was.”
My heart hurts for Colton because I would never wish my pain upon anyone else, no matter what the circumstance. “I’m so sorry you have been going through the same kind of pain. It’s unbearable.”
“Why did you come here?” he asks.
“I ran away, and it was the best decision I have ever made.”
“I’m sorry if this is out of the blue and weird. Honestly, I don’t know why I felt it was so important to travel out here to find you, but I kind of felt like I was running away too, and it seemed like a good idea, even if it was just temporary.”
“It’s a lonely world when your life falls to pieces,” I tell him. “I never knew I could feel so lonely and I didn’t know what to do when the man who was my best friend and my lifeline couldn’t be a part of my life anymore. I didn’t want to see anything that reminded me of him.”
“I tried to do the same. I’m originally from Michigan, but I moved to Connecticut to get away from Mel. I just had to get away.” Colton takes a moment to take in his surroundings as I’m taking in the sight right in front of me. He’s spectacular and perfect, and I should have asked him if his wife was blind and dumb too because obviously, she is. This man will fly across the world on a whim chance of meeting someone, isn’t a typical kind of man.
“This feels surreal,” I tell Colton. “In a good way.”
“I feel like I know you. Does that make you feel weird?” he asks.
“Only because I don’t know a thing about you.”
“I’ll tell you anything and everything you want to know about me because I need your friendship. I need you in my life, and I’m sorry if that scares you. I’m being totally forward, and I am never ever like this, but when all hope is gone, we jump, right?”
“Right,” I tell him, agreeing wholeheartedly. Maybe I should find this odd and a bit creepy, but it all feels kind of serendipitous. “Misery loves company.”
“It sure does. Although are you still miserable? Your letters felt therapeutic to me as if you were tossing all your pain away and dumping it onto the paper to serve back to Frankie. Do you feel that way?”
“That’s why I stopped writing the letters. I decided I had nothing left to say,” I explain.
“I feared that was the case. I had been receiving those unnamed letters every few days like clockwork. Then, they stopped. I have missed your words that completely described my feelings. I imagined myself having the ability to say the same lines to Mel, but knowing her, she’d find me and try to blame me again, and I couldn’t handle the thought of that happening.”
“Well, on the other side, Frankie didn’t exactly hunt me down, so I had to realize my letters were just falling into a void somewhere.”
“They weren’t, Rose. Those letters were helping me. They were making me wish I knew who was strong enough to write such thought-provoking statements that ripped my heart out even when I didn’t know you. You’re brilliant.”
That’s a lot of recognition to give a stranger, but I might just take it.
I am so caught up in the moment, focused on this man’s face, and wondering so many different things that I didn’t spot the rain clouds moving in. The sky has opened, and we’re sitting in two bistro chairs getting drenched with monstrous size raindrops.
“Your laptop,” he says, taking it and slipping it into his fleece. “Come on, let’s get inside.” If he didn’t point out the fact that my laptop was getting wet, I might have stayed seated under the rain, feeling the euphoria of nature and all it encompasses, such as fate.
I follow Colton to the coffee shop door. He opens the door, but I know that doesn’t mean much if a person is going to turn out to be a cheater someday. Still, I appreciate the gesture. “Thank you,” I offer, sneaking beneath his arm to step inside.
The weather isn’t warm enough to be in short sleeves and soaking wet, and the heat isn’t on full blast in the coffee shop, so I can’t help but shiver a bit as I stare aimlessly out the floor-to-ceiling window.
Colton takes my laptop out from within in his fleece and places it down on a small table. He rushes to a napkin dispenser and returns to dry off my poor machine “Oh, you don’t have to do that. I can get it.”
“You would have noticed the rain if I didn’t distract you. It’s my fault. Plus, you’re shivering.” Colton unzips his fleece, pulling one arm out at a time. I don’t say a word until he’s reaching over with it to drape over my shoulders.
“Oh, you don’t have to—”
“Please. Let me keep you warm from the rain.”
“You aren’t real, are you?” I ask him, pulling his coat a little snugger around my chest.
His fleece smells like a light cologne mixed with laundry detergent. It’s comforting. I glance down at his boots, recalling one of the first things I noticed about him when he walked into the coffee shop. “Are you in construction?”
“Yes, I am,” he says, peering down at his boots. “Very perceptive.”
“What kind of construction?” I continue, wanting to learn as much about him as I can in whatever time we have.
“Mostly, I work with housing developments. I do a lot of the framing work.” That explains his bulky upper body. It must be all muscle.
“You said you’re from Michigan?”
“Yes, but I grew up in Connecticut, then moved out to Michigan. Therefore, I was technically moving home, you could say.”
“Family?”
“I’m an only child and my parents passed away.”
“Sorry to hear that.” He makes the meaning of the word, lonely, sound worse than how I felt.
The heavy rain slows down, and we’re both watching the droplets fall from the sky as if their grains of sand falling from the hourglass that will end our time together. Where do we go from here? We don’t know each other.
“What’s next for you?” I ask him.
He nods his head. “You know, I’m not sure, and I didn’t plan that out before coming here. I’m on a sabbatical from work, so I’m making the world my oyster.”
“You should live here. It will heal your soul.”
“I think I need to see more than a coffee shop to make that decision, but after meeting you, I’m not sure I’d be in a rush to leave.”
The rain has stopped, and spots of blue are reappearing among the clouds. I scoop up my laptop and take Colton’s hand. “Follow me,” I tell him.
“Where are we going?” he asks, laughing as if he’s suddenly free from what was holding him down.
“We’re going where you will forget about all of your problems.”
“I think I like the sound of this.”
I don’t release Colton’s hand until we reach my house. “Wait right here,” I tell him. “I need to drop my laptop off before we go any further.”
I open the door I didn’t lock and place my laptop down on the writing desk. I also remove Colton’s fleece, debating what to do with it, so I poke my head back out the door. “Do you want me to hang your fleece up to dry?”
“That would be great. Thank you,” he says.
I hang the fleece up on the coat hook, grab my keys, phone, and satchel, and lock up.
As I pull the key out of the front door, Colton is just a few feet away, admiring the hourse. “What year was this house built? It’s incredible.”
“Early 1900’s I believe,” I tell him, remembering he’s in house construction. I guess he’s passionate about his work.
“I don’t live alone, here you do?”
“No, I have a housemate. She’s also a divorcee,” I say, shaking my head. “Honestly, we could start a club.” I can’t help but laugh. It’s not funny. It’s the wrong-wiring in my head. “She’s dating someone now though; she’s on her way back to happy-land.”
Colton is still glancing around the space when I take his hand and pull him back outside. “Come on. My house is not the spot that will make you forget about all your problems. We still have a half-mile to walk.”
6
“Wow, this is beautiful,” he says, taking in the lake’s landscape beneath the weeping trees. Lilly pads and flowers envelop the grounds around the water. It’s like a little dream.
“Wait right here,” I tell him.
I stop by the little rental booth to rent one of the rowboats. I’ve taken an interest to drifting along the water while peacefully staring up into the sky, watching the clouds pass through. It’s calming and makes me realize how small I am in the world of problems.
“Come on over here,” I shout to him as I make my way over to the boats.
“I haven’t been on a boat in ages, not a rowboat, anyway. I’ll try not to tip us over,” he says, joking as he holds the boat steady for me to climb inside. “You’re spontaneous, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am. It’s the best way to forget about life. You can’t think backward or forward when you’re busy doing something, right?” I don’t know when I became all-knowing and skilled to help someone else overcome their battles, but it’s spilling out of me like I’m a heartbreak-healing guru.
“I insist on paddling at least,” Colton says.
“Well, I won’t argue.”
We’re silent for the first few minutes as we take in the area’s beauty and the peacefulness surrounding us. “I feel different,” he says, stopping in a spacious area, allowing us to float freely.
“What do you mean?”
Colton shrugs and smiles, peering up to the sky. “I never follow my gut, you know? Especially since my gut says things like ‘Go look for a random girl in London,’ but I think I need to follow my gut more often now.”
“Always follow your gut,” I tell him.
“Oh crap,” he says, “There are more rain clouds coming in. I’ll get us out of here.” I’m not worried about the rain. I like the rain, but I can’t speak for him.
Colton puts all his effort into rowing the boat as fast as he can back to the docks, but we don’t make it faster than the incoming clouds. Rain is pelting us as we pull up to the dock and Colton jumps out first to tie the boat up. “Come on. Don’t slip,” he says, grabbing my hand. He pulls me toward the overhanging tree, where we both stand, soaking wet. I laugh because life is raining on us, and it’s ironic.
However, without a fleece in the mix, we’re both cold this time. “Is it okay if I put my arms around you? You’re shaking.” The smile isn’t leaving my face as I press my body against his firm chest. Colton wraps his arms around me, and I have never felt warmer in a rainstorm and more cared for by a stranger in my life. It’s perfect. It might be crazy and wild, but it’s perfect.
“I feel like I’ve known you forever. It’s weird,” he says. “It’s like the only thing I didn’t know about you was the way you look, and I imaged caring, big eyes, and a perky smile. I had that part down.”
“The world has a weird way of teaching us lessons, huh?” I offer as an insight to why this might be happening, but it still makes little sense. The rain becomes heavier and strong enough to break through the leaf-covered branches overhead. “We’re both going to pull out of this storm, you know. We’re both going to dry off and be okay.”
Colton is staring into my eyes, and my stomach tightens. My heart pounds, and the chills are ferocious. “I need you in my life. I need your words and inspiration. I’m sorry if this is absurd and abnormal, but I need to be around you.”
