New Beginnings
Avery
There is only one thing I fear more than clowns or calling customer service.
Glancing anxiously at the long line of cars behind me, I slow down to navigate the steep bend of the switchback as I drive up the tall mountain peak.
Reaching for another piece of chewing gum, I pop it in my mouth, adding to the growing wad already in there. I’ve read chewing gum helps with anxiety, and I need all the help I can get right now.
As soon as I pass the sign for a scenic overlook, I pull off to let the other cars pass. However, I am not about to get out of my car to “enjoy the view,” because I want to avoid it at all costs. Instead, I force myself to let go of the steering wheel I’ve been clutching for the last hour and take several deep breaths to calm myself.
I’ve spent weeks preparing myself for this drive by reading a ton of books on acrophobia, the irrational fear of heights. I know that my racing heart and sweaty palms are a natural response. Closing my eyes, I repeat, “I am relaxed and in control. My fear of heights does not control me.”
For an extra boost of confidence, I open my glove box and pull out the small vial of essential oils I prepared for this trip. I reapply a small amount to my wrists and the back of my neck, breathing in the scent. The earthy smell mixed with lemon helps to ground me even as I continue repeating my mantra.
With renewed confidence flowing through my veins, I start up my old metallic blue VW that I lovingly call Ladybug and continue my trek up the mountain to the small town of Crested Butte.
Being a girl from Kansas, I’ve never appreciated how frighteningly tall the Rockies are. Most of Kansas is as flat as a dinner plate. I glance back at the stack of self-help books stuffed in the backseat and smile at them with a sense of gratitude.
I believe to the core of my being that knowledge is power.
Pulling up to the old mountain lodge motel a few hours later, I let out a huge sigh of relief feeling grateful to still be alive. Despite all my preparations for the trip, my nerves are shattered after driving over the high mountain roads.
Sitting in a daze, I stare out the bug-stained windshield, blinking slowly as I watch the “Punny Peaks” motel sign swing gently in the breeze and think, What an odd name for the place.
I wasn’t prepared for the state of the old mountain lodge. It looks far more rustic than the pictures on their website. Judging by the weathered wood on the buildings, these cabins look like they were built in the 1800s.
Uncertainty grips my heart, wondering what I’ve gotten myself into. But I can’t afford to second guess this trip, so I get out of my car and take a moment to stretch my legs. Crested Butte sits in the middle of a prehistorically dug-out bowl formation, surrounded on three sides by the soaring Rocky Mountain range. Gazing up at the tall mountain peaks towering over the small town, my heart starts to race again just thinking about the perilous drive.
I pat Ladybug gratefully and mutter, “We’re sure not in Kansas anymore.”
Sucking in a deep breath to calm myself, I smile unexpectedly and then snort. The air really does smell fresh up here…
The soothing sound of trickling water filters through my brain as my anxiety lessens, drawing my attention away from the lodge and to the river flowing beside it. This river was the main reason I picked this particular establishment over the other hotels nearby.
My gaze follows the string of identical miniature log cabins following the river’s edge. I smile, wondering which one of them will be my “home away from home” for the next two weeks.
It’s crazy to think that the next fourteen days will determine my future. The only reason I made this long trek is to decide if I can handle living in a community this tiny. I have to be certain before I even think of signing the two-year-long contract I’ve been offered as a librarian in this small
town.
Glancing back up at the mountain peaks, I let out a sigh of trepidation. This is so not what I planned for my life.
I’ve always assumed I would stay in Wichita where I grew up and live close to my family. I dreamed of raising a family there and having my parents and brother be a part of my children’s everyday lives.
In a world of constant uncertainty, my family has always been my rock and the only thing that ever really mattered to me.
As I stare up at the towering mountain peak called Crested Butte, I’m overcome by how completely alone and out of my element I feel. How can it be that I’ve only just gotten here and I’m already homesick?
Hearing a soft mewing at my feet, I glance down to see a scrawny white kitten covered in a heavy dusting of red dirt. She boldly rubs her dirty cheek against my leg as if claiming me for her own.
But the moment I bend down to pet her, she hisses in fear and jumps away.
Smiling at her tenderly, I drop to one knee and hold out my hand to her, cooing in a soft voice, “It’s okay, sweetie.”
The timid kitten stares at me with wide eyes, and I become completely smitten when I notice that one eye is bright blue while the other is a beautiful emerald green.
“Aren’t you the cutest thing ever?”
The little furball doesn’t react to my voice but continues to gaze at me with those stunning eyes. I hold my breath when she starts to walk back toward me.
Afraid of startling her again, I remain completely still. However, I can’t stop grinning when I feel her soft fur brush against my fingertips. After several swipes of her cheek against my hand, the kitten allows me to pet her. The moment I do, I hear the sweet sound of a loud purr erupt from her tiny body.
The little creature has no idea how much I needed this simple contact…
I’ve felt lost ever since I got the proverbial “pink slip” letting me know that my position as school librarian had been terminated. It still breaks my heart,
thinking about it.
I never imagined there would come a day when the position of school librarian ended up on the chopping block due to budget cuts. It still doesn’t seem real to me.
In the two years I’ve worked at Bently Elementary, I’ve strived to create a program to engage readers and non-readers alike. It’s my passion because I know the transformative power of books. So, I made it my personal mission to introduce every child to the magic and wonder of reading a new book. Although I appreciate that every subject the students learn in their classes is important, I also know a love of reading will impact their lives for a lifetime.
Heck, some of my best friends reside between the pages of my favorite books, and they are as real to me as the people I know!
My principal was impressed with the success of my program and praised me in front of the entire staff, which is why, when the ax fell, it came as such a shock.
My bottom lip trembles when I think about all those sweet faces smiling up at me as I read some of my favorite books to them during story time. It breaks my heart wondering what’s going to happen to my students now that they will no longer have the joy of checking out new books every week.
I swipe away the tears in my eyes. I realize how deeply I am going to miss being a part of their lives this year.
Standing up, I smile gratefully at the kitten. “At least I’ve made one friend here.”
The little fluffball suddenly turns away from me and crouches down low, looking as if she’s ready to pounce.
“I stand corrected…” I chuckle to myself when she darts off in a cloud of red dust, completely forgetting I exist as she bounds off to chase some unseen creature.
I rub off the dust on my pants and head to the motel office, determined to make the most of the two weeks ahead.
As I walk up to the door, I read a hand-painted sign hanging there:
Bear Feet Welcome
I stare at the bear paw print on the sign and shake my head, amused by the silly pun. Before I open the door, I spit out the wad of gum I’ve been chewing for hours in the metal trash can on the porch. I’m startled by the sound of an old-fashioned bell ringing loudly just above my head when I enter, and look up at it in surprise.
Talk about ancient technology…
It feels like I’m walking back in time as I glance around the small lobby at the hand-carved mid-century bench against the wall and an old grandfather clock in the corner.
From somewhere in the back, I hear a woman with a Scottish accent call out, “I’ll be with you in a minute, dearie.”
I shrug as I walk up to the front desk to wait. On the counter, I see another painted sign that reads:
Welcome to Punny Peaks,
We’re bear-y glad to see you!
I smirk, finally understanding the meaning behind the motel’s odd choice of name. The owner must be a serious admirer of terrible puns.
I turn my head when an older woman flounces out of the back and walks over to the counter. Her gray hair is done up in a braided knot and she has a tiny cluster of pink flowers tucked in it.
The room instantly fills with positive energy. I love it when I notice that her long, plaid skirt seems to dance with each step she takes. In her charming Scottish accent, she says, “You must be Miss Snow.”
Surprised to hear her call me by name, I crinkle my brows and ask, “How could you tell?”
“I’ve been looking forward to meeting our new librarian.”
I hold my hand up and politely correct her. “Nothing’s been decided yet.”
She nods, apologizing with a twinkle in her eye, “That’s right, my mistake.” Taking a key from the row of hooks behind her, she places it on the counter with a warm smile. “You will be in Cabin 12 for the duration of your
stay.”
She glances at the large reservation book on the counter. “I see you’ve reserved it for two weeks, is that correct?”
The door opens behind me and the bell rings again, announcing a new visitor. I glance back and my breath catches the moment I see a good-looking man with a trimmed beard walk into the motel lobby. I’m instantly drawn to his unusual eyes. They are crystal green and remind me of seafoam.
When I meet his even gaze, I momentarily go mute and my heart skips a beat.
“Is that a yes, Miss Snow?” the lady asks.
“No…” I blurt, then laugh at myself and turn back to her. “I’m sorry. I meant to say yes. I’ll be here for two full weeks.”
“Excellent. Would you like me to use the credit card on file?”
I simply nod, a bundle of nervous excitement knowing there is a hunk of a man standing beside me.
The woman at the counter smiles at me and introduces herself. “I’m Clara, by the way.”
Before I have a chance to reply, my stomach lets out an embarrassingly loud growl. I clutch my torso, trying desperately to silence it, but the sound grows louder and is impossible to ignore.
Mortified, I stand there wishing the ground would open up and swallow me whole.
Without missing a beat, Clara winks at me. “I have a gut feeling you’re hungry, Miss Snow.”
As if on cue, my stomach growls again. Rather than ignore it, I embrace the ridiculousness of the moment with a laugh. Following her lead, I respond, “My gut tells me you’re right.”
Placing the key in my palm, she squeezes my hand warmly. “Let’s skip introductions for now so you can get yourself something to eat after the long trip. Lucky for you, there’s a diner just up the road. Be sure to tell Bram I sent you.”
Clara then turns to
the man with the sexy beard. “Would you please escort Miss Snow to her cabin?”
He glances at me, immediately winning me over with his charming grin. “Of course, Granny.”
Suddenly realizing the two are related, I find it adorable that he addresses her as “granny”.
When he proceeds to walk to the door and open it for me, I almost swoon inside.
Determined to play it cool, I thank him as I head out into the parking lot, but as I pass next to him, my stomach growls again.
I catch the slightest smile on his lips, and a blush suddenly colors my cheeks.
Clara calls out from the counter, “Trust me, Miss Snow. You are going to love it here in Crested Butte.”
The moment I hear her words, I feel a fluttering in my stomach that has nothing to do with hunger pains or the handsome man beside me. It’s the type of feeling I get when something resonates in my soul.
I stop and look back at Clara, pausing for a moment. I get the distinct impression that this vivacious woman is privy to something I’m not.
I continue out the door, wondering what the next two weeks have in store for me.
Destiny Calls
Lance
After shutting the office door, and turning to our new guest, I keep my smile to myself as I look at the shapely lass with the crown of strawberry blonde curls. Not only does Miss Snow have the most enticing pale blue eyes I’ve ever seen, but her pert little nose is covered in a sprinkling of freckles.
Freckles happen to be a weakness of mine…
“Follow me,” I direct her, leading Miss Snow down the row of cabins. She may not be aware of it, but the entire town has been waiting for her to visit. Crested Butte has been without a full-time librarian for far too long.
The town was hit hard when our longtime librarian, Effie Morris, passed away unexpectedly. Her death left a hole in the community we have yet to fill. Unfortunately, due to the small size and isolated nature of Crested Butte, the board has so far been unable to contract a qualified candidate willing to take her place.
Miss Snow is not the first candidate to show interest, but the town remains hopeful she’ll be the last.
As we walk past the long line of miniature cabins, I hear the amusement in her voice as Miss Snow reads the name of each sign on the door. “Canoe Believe It? Lazy Daze…Bear Necessities…” She snickers softly when she reads, “The S’more the Merrier.”
When my granny took over the lodge, she had way too much fun adding her unique brand of humor to the property by naming all of the cabins. I know my gran will be tickled when I tell her about Miss Snow’s response.
I take her to the very last cabin at the end, which is my grandmother’s personal favorite. “Cabin Number 12, Miss Snow.”
She laughs when she reads the name out loud: “The Last Resort.” She looks up at me with a delighted expression. “What a perfect name!”
Charmed by her nerdy enthusiasm, I’m about to reply when our eyes meet and I find myself momentarily speechless, suddenly lost in those
beautiful eyes.
She suddenly thrusts out her hand and says with a shy smile, “You can call me Avery.”
The moment I take her hand, I’m startled by the natural chemistry that flows between us. Normally a smooth talker, I struggle to find my voice when I answer her, “I’m Lance.”
Humorously, her stomach growls again—for an incredibly long time. ...
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