Page 19 of When The Mountains Held Us

“Hi! You’re new here.”

The female cashier standing behind the counter looks to be close in age to my twenty-six years. She’s smiling so wide that her brown eyes crinkle at the edges. Dark brown hair frames her face in loose curls that hang down past her shoulders, and a smattering of sun-darkened freckles grace the bridge of her nose. Dainty gold jewelry adorns her small wrists and neck, accentuated by small golden hoops in her ears.

She’s adorable, and her warm smile and bright eyes make me like her instantly.

I return her smile, hoping that it reaches my eyes and that I don’t look as tired as I feel. If she notices, she doesn’t let on as she begins scanning the items.

“It won’t be long before the whole town knows it, too,” I say, and I instantly regret the resentment that finds its way into the words. I’m not bothered by the fact that everyone knows I’m new here—small town living and all—but I guess I had hoped I would have a little more time to settle in before everyone began to take notice.

She continues her scanning, not missing a beat. “Oh yeah. That’s small-town life for ya. But no newcomers ever get away unscathed, so don’t feel too bad about it. Soon enough, another piece of gossip will come along, and everyone will be onto the next new thing. I’m Jessie, by the way.”

“Oakley. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Well, Oakley, welcome to North Creek. If you ever find yourself in need of a tour guide, I’m your gal.” Her bubbly personality is infectious, and my spirits lift a fraction. “Seriously. I lead group hikes for the tourists that come through town. You’re more than welcome to join if you’d like.” She finishes scanning and reads out my total, taking the card I hold out to her.

“Thanks, Jessie. That sounds great.”

The register chimes—confirmation that my card went through—and she hands me back the card. A small win, but a win nonetheless.

“No problem at all. I’ll see ya around!”

I give her a little wave and grab my bags before stepping back out into the sunshine. I load them into my back seat before making the short drive back to the motel.

Once I park, I haul the bags up my arms to make it in one trip—Dad didn’t raise a quitter—and wrestle the door open, kicking it shut behind me. I unceremoniously dump the bags on the bed and pop some ramen into the microwave before unloading the rest of the bags. I set the cleaning items to the side while my meal cooks.

I scarf down the noodles before they’ve cooled, singeing my tongue, and follow it with a gulp of water from the case I got at the store. Now that there’s something in my stomach, I start to clean. Spraying and wiping away the fine layer of dust covering the surface of the furniture, I enjoy the alternative rock music that plays from the speaker of my phone.

I lose myself in the task, enjoying the routine of cleaning and bringing a shine to something that was otherwise dull. When I finish nearly two hours later, I stop to swipe a hand across my sweaty forehead and survey my work.

The room is still outdated, but it feels more like mine. For the first time since arriving in town, the pride and accomplishment that comes with making a space my own flows through me. It might not be what I originally planned for myself, but it’s a start.

My thoughts flit back to the shadow that always seems to be looming over me, and I realize my phone hasn’t chimed once with any unwanted calls or texts since the ones I received yesterday. Maybe the spotty mountain service is a blessing in disguise.

You are okay.

You are safe.

He can’t find you here.

Through the windows, the summer sun is fading on yet another day of unknowns, sinking behind the mountains and bathing them in patches of golden sunlight. The view is partially obstructed by the buildings in town, but beyond them, the mountains stand tall and proud, beckoning me to discover the secrets they have to share. The ones that can only be found by standing at their peaks.

Maybe I will take advantage of Jessie’s offer to show me the local hiking trails. I’ve read countless stories of people who found themselves in nature. The idea always intrigued me, having never experienced something like that firsthand. Maybe I’ll find a little of myself among the trees, too.

I push a tack into the wood paneling between the window and the front door, feeling a little bad about the hole I’m creating, but I quickly brush the thought aside. I hang the rustic sign from the twine loop on the tack and take a step back to examine my work. Now, with the sign visible every time I leave the room, I’m reminded exactly why I came to this small town.

Grabbing my sweatshirt, I shrug it on and slip into my sandals before grabbing my keys and closing the door behind me.

I step out into the crisp mountain air and wonder what adventure awaits me.

Ten

Levi

Walking into the dim light of Joe’s Bar, I notice two things immediately. One, the crowd of men and women clustering around the long veneer-finish bartop. Two, Brandon waving his hands in the air frantically from a corner booth when he sees me enter through the saloon doors.

What I don’t see is Oakley. I scan my surroundings, looking for any sign of her golden hair, but come up empty. If I find out Justin bullshitted his way into getting me to come out tonight, I’m going to be more than a little pissed off.

Country music thumps through the crackling sound system, the lyrics warbled and indiscernible as the bass pounds through the blown-out speakers. There’s a small group of twenty-somethings swaying and grinding in the middle of the dance floor to the music. The liquid in their plastic cups spills over as they move, landing in little puddles on the already sticky floor.