It turned out that Miranda’s worries were largely unfounded. She dropped resumes at every Diner in the city and ended up on the breakfast shift four days a week at the first place that called her back, a greasy spoon just off the highway called Bree’s Inn. Her clinetelle were a mixture of elderly couples and gruff truck drivers just stopping in for a hot meal on their way through. She liked the work. She liked the customers. And it paid enough to cover her basic expenses, albeit without much left over. But then again, there wasn’t much to do in her spare time other than taking long walks in the forest and reading her way through her granddad’s home library so she didn’t mind.
For the most part her days fell into a steady rhythm and she into that rhythm far more easily than she ever would have imagined. The weight she had been carrying all the way from Vancouver … if it did not lift, then at least had more room to expand around her instead of always crushing around her. She found it easier to breathe out here. And in spite of her best efforts, she began to make friends.
Oh it started out innocently enough. At first she only came into the Diner the occasional Tuesday with a male friend; a cute redhead with a freckled smile named Becky. Through what she hoped were a series of casual conversations, she learned that the male she came in with, Adam, was not her lover but a close childhood friend and they were roomates in an apartment building by the grocery store. She spoke with that perfect country charm but was whip smart and knew more dirty jokes than any truck driver.
Miranda wanted her and she had never not gotten something she wanted. But the attentions of men were always easier to capture than the attentions of women so she turned every trick she knew towards Adam. She smiled at him, laughed at his jokes, and while she did not harbour any sexual or romantic interest in him, she was surprised to find that she enjoyed his company as much as Becky’s. He had a grade ten education, but he was clever, and entirely lacking in the usual bluster of the small-town men of Truite.
Soon Adam and Becky could be found hanging out at the Diner almost every morning, and though her intentions may not have been entirely pure, tthe three of them became fast friends. Miranda had strung along Adam for long enough that he had given up trying to seduce her, and Becky and strung along Miranda long enough that she had given up on the idea of anything happening between them and they, like the rest of her life here, fell into a comforting rhythm. Mornings in the diner, and long slow summer days. Most night Adam and Becky came over and they all cooked together in the antiquated kitchen. Some evenings they drove all the way to the top of the hill and watched the sun set over Truite, bathing Storm Mountain in gold.
“Why’s it called Storm Mountain?” Miranda asked on one of these warm nights.
Becky and Adam glanced at each other and laughed uncomfortably.
“What?”
It was Adam who answered. “Strange stuff happens out over that mountain,” he told her slowly. “Sometimes you see flashes out there, like lightening, and all of these black clouds over the peak … even on sunny days. People say it’s haunted.”
“It’s just an Old Wives Tale,” Becky inerceded.
“I’m telling you, there’s something weird about that mountain.” Adam almost looked agitated.
Becky laughed and teased him. “You sound like a superstitious hick right now.”
“Think about it! Have you ever been out to Storm Mountain?” Adam demanded. “Do you know anyone who has? I’m just saying, it’s creepy.”
“It’s just a big pile of rocks.” Becky stood and brushed grass off her trousers, turning on her heel to walk back to the car effectively bringing the conversation to a close. But Miranda learned not to ask any more questions about Storm Mountain.
Adam was the one who informed Miranda that the bright purple and pink flowers blooming in her garden were hollyhocks.
“It’s strange though,” he said, frowning, “they don’t usually come up on their own like that. You don’t garden?”
“My thumb’s as black as coal,” Miranda assured him.
He shrugged. “I guess they just like your yard.”
Peaceful days and small dramas, wine drunk in the arms of friends, night following day until one morning she woke up and realized she been in Truite a month. And that she was late for work.
“Fuck!” She checked the alarm clock on her bedside table and realized that, though she was usually meticulous, she had somehow neglected to set it the night before. Hence, it had not rung. “Fuck!” She threw back the covers and rushed through the process of getting dressed and out the door.
She was not exactly paying close attention to the road as she rattled down the hill and went to speed through the intersection where it met up with the road. Still, it could hardly be argued she was at fault when a rusty pickup truck pistol whipped around the corner and through the crossroads without so much as tapping on the breaks. Startled, she slammed on the breaks and her car stalled. “What the Hell!” she exclaimed, as if the inhabitants of the truck could hear her. She couldn’t see the driver but lifted her middle finger to the man in the passenger seat with narrow features and long hair tucked under a baseball cap. He laughed and shrugged at her, and then they were gone.
“Bastards.” She tried to restart her engine but to her dismay it offered her a mere clicking sound and refused to turn over. “Mother fucker!” Three expletives in a row. No point stopping now, the way this day was shaping up. Nothing to do but walk so she stomped out onto the shoulder of the road and slammed her door shut. “Asshole! Bitch! Cunt! Balls!” she punctuated each one with a middle finger. “What!?” she snapped at a pair of wide-eyed boys watching her from their front lawn. They jumped and scampered off.
She power walked to the diner and was hot and dusty by the time she arrived to a line of grumpy looking patrons who had turned up for their usual breakfast time and arrived to find a locked door. She pushed through them, issuing apologies in her wake. “Sorry, I know folks, car broke down, two seconds …”
Becky and Adam were standing closest to the door wearing twin expressions of concern. “Are you alright?” Becky asked.
“Alarm didn’t go off,” Miranda muttered, jiggling the key in the lock. It gave way with a protesting groan “Then some assholes cut me off at the bottom of my hill and my car won’t start.” She flipped down the kickstand to allow customers to trickle in and went around flipping on lights, starting the coffee pot.
The cook sidled in behind her, late and seemingly unaware that she was just opening up.
“Poor thing,” Becky said. “That sounds rough.”
“I’ll go take a look at your car,” Adam offered. “Get it started and drive it back here.”
“You might as well eat first,” Miranda said. “But thanks. That would be great. Here.” She poured them both a cup of coffee. “Sit tight while I take care of everyone else.”
She circulated the dining room, trying to take orders as efficiently as possible, apologizing profusely and offering discounts where necessary. She didn’t think the owner would mind. He was rarely in, and her hope was that if she buttered up enough people, he might never find out.
“Sorry for the wait boys, what can I get you?” she asked as she eventually made her way to the last table in the corner.
“How’s your head? You were going pretty fast, you must have hit the breaks hard.”
She glanced over and immediately recognized the man from the truck. He was broader than he had seemed from the neck up, and taller. In fact, aside from her grandfather, he was probably the tallest person she’d ever seen. He had to sit at an angle because his knees were almost taller than than the table itself.
“Now that you mention it, two dumbasses cut me off on my way over here,” she retorted cooly. “Maybe I should sue.”
The tall man laughed. “Don’t look at me, Ricky was driving.” He jerked a thumb towards his companion. Ricky was not a small man, but seemed practically dainty next to present company. He grinned cheekily. One of his teeth was missing.
“Aw, I’m awful sorry darlin’,” he said. “But in my defense, you came out of nowhere! Gotta slow down on those dirt roads, it’s impossible to see you from the highway.”
“That’s not - I hardly think -” Miranda sputtered. “You ran through a stop sign!”
“Pretty sure that was you,” the other man said. “What’s good here for a couple growing boys pulling logs off a greenchain all day? We’re in a bit of a hurry I’m afraid. You should really open at the time that’s specified on your sign.”
Miranda was fairly certain that if she opened her mouth, she could spit poison at this point but instead she just gritted her teeth. “I’m terribly sorry for the inconvenience. Kitchen’s going to need at least fifteen minutes.”
“Hmm, we’ll just take the coffees then.” The tall man threw a couple of crisp bills down on the table and drained his cup. He winked at her. “Shall we Ricky? Don’t want to be late on my first day.”
The two men stood and left her silently fuming behind them. She started to clear their cups and then finally took a look at the bills he’d paid with. “Hey!” she shouted, but the door was already swinging shut behind them.
She chased them out into the parking lot. “Hey wise guy!” she called. The gangly man turned, finally allowing her to catch up with him. He was even taller this close up. She held out his bills. “This is sixty dollars,” she told him.
“I know.”
“You bought five dollars worth of cofee.”
“Yeah. Five dollars plus tip.” He said it as though he thought she was being a bit slow about the whole thing.
She shoved the paper against his chest in disgust. “I don’t want your money.”
He caught her wrist and pushed the offending bills back towards her. “Keep it Miranda,” he said quietly. “I feel bad.” He released her wrist and turned back to climb into the truck, ending the conversation. She walked back towards the restaraunt, turned to watch as they tore out of the lot.
She met Adam as he was coming out the door, stuffing a donut in his mouth. “That tall guy,” she asked him. “Who is he?”
Adam shrugged. “Never seen him, must be a newcomer. Lots of people working at the mill during the summer.” He bumped her shoulder with his. “Gonna go rescue your car.”
“Thanks, you’re a good man Adam,” she said gratefully.
“Yeah yeah,” he muttered, pulling his hat down over his eyes.
“One of the few good ones left!” she shouted at his retreating back as he wandered off in the direction of her car.
It was only after she gotten through the hellacious breakfast rush, handed off to the lunch waitresses, and been reunited with her car did she stop to wonder how it was the tall man could have possibly known her name.
But then she supposed she was not unknown in town. Certainly anyone at the Diner could have given it to him. Still, the whole thing was a bit unsettling and wasn’t helped by the fact that no one she talked to seemed to know his name, or in fact ever seen him before in their life.
On top of everything, her day took a turn for the stranger when she got home and noticed a clump of daffodils she had certainly not planted coming up in her front garden by the hollyhocks. The dirt around it had been dug out and turned over. It even bore the smooth indentations of a garden trowel. She stared at them for several moments, willing it to make sense. Was someone coming onto her property while she was gone during the day? But for what? To garden?
Screw it. There had been too much weirdness for one day. This at least she could do something about. She stomped angrily into the house and started going through her granddad’s old boxes until she found what she was looking for; a nearly brand new garden wildlife camera. One of the only fangled tech devices he had ever taken an interest in. She set it up under the eaves of her front window so that it would be hidden from anyone passing through, but still gave her a wide view of the yard
There were fresh batteries in it, and she would pick up more on her next excursion into town. She watched the red light on the side of the black device blinking for a couple minutes then headed inside to make dinner feeling better about herself somehow. Finally, she was turning the day around.
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