Page 52 of Dreaming of Dawson

“I need to take a shower,” I say.

“I’m sure you do, but you can have some breakfast first, can’t you?”

“I’ll see how much time I’ve got afterwards.”

She frowns. “Time? Why? Are you going somewhere?”

“Yes. I’m going to work.”

“In this?” She nods toward the kitchen window, where the snow is piled on the ledge outside.

“Of course. The roads are passable now, so I’ll be able to walk to the orchard, and then on into town once I’ve finished there. I’ll collect the car from the auto repair shop, and once I’ve finished work at the bar, I’ll drive back home.”

“Are you sure? Everyone would understand if you couldn’t make it.”

“But I can make it. It might just take a little longer, that’s all.”

“What will you do if it snows some more tonight and you can’t get home again?”

“I’ll stay at Dawson’s place again, I guess.” I’m not sure how I feel about that. Part of me is excited by the thought, and part of me – the part that operates the voice in my head – is telling me it’s probably the worst idea I’ve ever had.

“You’ll text me, though, won’t you? Even if it’s late?”

“Of course. You’ll be asleep by the time I do, but at least you’ll know where I am.”

She smiles and I lean in and kiss her cheek.

“You’d better go grab that shower. I’ll fix some pancakes so you can eat before you leave.”

“Thanks, Aunty.”

I could head straight for the bathroom, but instead I go into my bedroom and find my thick-soled boots at the bottom of the closet. Despite everything I’ve just said to Aunt Bernie, I’m going to need them for the walk to the orchard. The roads mightbe better than they were, but it’s icy and, as she said, we don’t know for sure that we’ve seen the last of the snow.

The shower is lovely, and just what I need, although I don’t have time to linger, and once I’ve washed, and shampooed my hair, I step out, wrapping myself in a thick, fluffy towel, before I make my way back to my bedroom. Because I have to collect the car, I won’t be coming back here between going to the orchard and my shift in the bar tonight. That’s unusual. Normally, I come back, have something to eat and drink – if I haven’t already had lunch with Peony – and then change into lighter clothes, that are more suitable for working behind a bar. I won’t get that chance today, but there’s no way I can walk around in nothing more than a thin blouse all day. It seems wise to wear a sweater, but I put a t-shirt on underneath it, so I can remove a layer when I get to Dawson’s place this evening.

I’ll also need to take some makeup with me, and a few hair ties, so I can make myself look presentable between my first job and my second.

With all my things gathered together, I dry my hair before I join Aunt Bernie in the kitchen again. The table is laid for two, with a pot of coffee in the middle, alongside a jug of maple syrup, and as I sit, she brings over a plate of pancakes which have been warming in the oven.

“What are you doing today?” I ask her as I help us both to pancakes, and she pours the coffee.

“I’ve had two cancelations already this morning and I fully expect the other two to go the same way,” she says. “So I thought I’d bake some cakes. It feels like one of those days when you just wanna stay inside and keep warm.”

I can’t disagree, even if that’s not an option for me. I’d like to, though, especially if Aunt Bernie’s gonna be baking.

She drizzles a little maple syrup over her pancakes, and I copy her before we both start eating. They’re as light and fluffyas ever, and I take a moment to savor them, then have a sip of coffee, looking up to find Aunt Bernie staring at me.

“I haven’t really talked to you since you started working at the bar,” she says. “How are you getting along?”

“Okay, I think. There haven’t been any complaints.” I focus on the job itself, rather than the man I’m working for, because I don’t really know how I’m getting along with him.

“You’re not too tired, are you? Working two jobs?”

“Not at all.”

“And you’re getting along okay with Dawson? I know he’s not the most talkative person in the world.”

I’d have to disagree, based on this morning’s conversation… and even last night’s, before he got too drunk to talk. That said, even as he was trying to climb the stairs with me, I can remember how funny he was, and I can’t help smiling.

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