"Man, Southerners are weird," I said under my breath with an amused snort, the warmth from the coffee seeping into my hands. I turned to walk back to the parking lot, my boots hitting the familiar sidewalk. The scent of my coffee mingled with the crisp mountain air, and the subtle aroma of fresh bread wafting from the bakery a few blocks down Main Street.
I passed the elementary school, its playground quiet, its swings hanging still, waiting for the afternoon rush of children. Beyond it, the dense, wooded surroundings pressed in from the edges of town. A dark green promise of hiking trails and untouched wilderness.
This small mountain town, where everyone seemed to know everyone, moved at a slow, steady rhythm, and I could feel myself settling into its pace. But it seemed that Stock Creek, despite its quiet predictability, had a few surprises left for me after all.
Chapter 14
Erin
I pushed openthe back door with my hip, arms laden with bags from my shopping trip. The door swung inward, creaking on its hinges as I maneuvered through. One by one, I set the bags on the kitchen counter, the contents spilling out slightly as I released them from my grasp. There was a rhythm to unloading groceries that felt both mundane and comforting. Jar by jar, box by box, I transferred my purchases to their rightful places.
After several trips back and forth, everything found its home in the pantry or the fridge, and I wiped my brow with the back of my hand. It was one of those small victories. Stepping back, I took a moment to appreciate the orderliness before remembering the final touch for today's errands.
I had picked up a new flower for the front window box, a vibrant purple bloom that had caught my eye at thegrocery store. It would add a splash of color to the porch which, up until now, had been a little bare. The porch stretched across the front of the Inn, wide and inviting, already home to two sturdy wooden rocking chairs that begged for long, lazy afternoons. And, hopefully, draw a smile from any passerby or guest. I sat for a few minutes, enjoying the warmth of the sun and the quiet hum of the town, watching the light shift, letting the peace soak into me. Then, eager to nestle the plant into its new home, I finally rose. Grabbing my gardening gloves and trowel from the shed, I headed toward the front of the house.
The sharp scent of soil and greenery filled the air as I rounded the corner, but the sight that greeted me on the front porch stole my attention. There, nestled among the weathered wood planks, was a teddy bear. Its fur was matted, and as I set the flowers down to pick it up, the head lolled backward alarmingly, hanging by a mere thread.
"Oh, no." I turned the bear over in my hands. The tear was worse than I'd initially thought; stuffing peeked through the gash like tufts of cloud through a torn sky. This little bear had seen better days, and it tugged at something maternal inside me. For a second, I wondered, whose could it be? How did it end up here, so battered and alone on my porch?
A chill skittered down my spine as I cradled the broken teddy bear. For a heartbeat, that ugly encounter flashedin my mind's eye. The man Ashton had killed, his face twisted in anger and threat. The torn fabric in my hands felt like a message, a warning.
"Get a grip," I said to myself. His chapter was closed, ended by his own dark dealings. It couldn't be him. He was dead. This was over.
Reassurance settled over me, pushing the memory away. "Aw, poor teddy," I said softly, looking down at the sad little toy in my arms. It was just a toy, after all, not a harbinger of doom.
I left the flowers on the porch and went inside, heading straight for the sewing kit nestled in the top drawer of the hallway table. The teddy bear needed mending, and I was going to piece it back together, stitch by careful stitch.
I was threading the needle when I heard the hurried thump of feet on the stairs. By the time Ashton descended the stairs, I had several stitches in the little bear's neck.
"Are you okay?" he asked, scanning me for any sign of distress.
"Fine," I said, giving him a funny look as I put in a few more stitches. "Just found this bear on the porch. It's seen better days." I held up the teddy, its head still pretty wobbly.
"Looks like it's been through a lot," Ashton said, his worry shifting to curiosity as he leaned closer to inspect my handiwork.
"Seems that way," I chuckled dryly, my fingers deftly working on the frayed seam. "I have a family staying in room 2 right now, their little boy must have dropped it. He probably misses it already."
"Are they here?" he asked, glancing toward the window.
"No, their car's gone. They're probably out exploring Stock Creek." With one last tug, I secured the last stitch and tied off, then snipped the thread. "There."
"Good as new," Ashton said with a nod of approval.
"Almost," I said, smoothing down the bear's fur. "I'll just leave it here for them to find when they get back." I placed the mended teddy bear on the coffee table, ensuring it was visible from the entrance. Any returning eyes would catch sight of it immediately, a lost friend waiting patiently for its owner.
Tucking the sewing kit under my arm, I turned to Ashton.
"Is there anything you need?" His voice was tinged with an earnest concern that made his eyes seem larger, more attentive.
I smiled and shook my head, the corners of my mouth tugging up further at the genuine offer. "No, I'm okay,thanks." A giggle escaped my lips, soft and light, as I thought about the irony of it all.
"Ah," he said, his shoulders lifting in a casual shrug. "I've been feeling a bit out of sorts myself, to be honest. I'm a little bored. I'm not used to having so much free time on my hands. When I lived here before, I had a routine, you know? Since I've been back, I haven't quite figured out how to fill my days."
His confession caught me off guard, reminding me that there was still so much I didn't know about him. "I feel silly for not asking before, but what is it that you do?"
He half-smiled, a sort of sheepishness crossing his features. "I'm a veterinarian," he said, and something akin to pride resonated in his tone.
"A vet?" Interest piqued, I found myself genuinely intrigued. "That's really wonderful."
