Page 17 of Meeting Me, Loving You (Hearts of Maple Lake #1)
CAMERON
There’s a full gym at the high school that I could use if I wanted to; the coach is a friend and has given me full access, including a key.
It’s typically used by the juniors and seniors on the football team, but at this hour, the school is still closed to students.
I could workout there and have the place to myself.
However, I prefer to spend the first part of my morning outside of work, opting for the gym in town instead.
Sitting up, I swing my feet over the side of the bed, instantly regretting it when my bare feet hit the cold wood floor.
One thing that’s taken some getting used to in my log cabin is how cold it can be in the winter.
I appreciate the design of the hardwood floors, but the lack of carpet is sorely felt during the colder months.
I’ve added a lot of rugs throughout the house to keep in the warmth, but I blame myself for not putting one by the bed yet .
It’s Friday, just another normal school day, but from the moment I opened my eyes, the air has felt heavier.
Quieter. The temperature is colder than usual, even with the warm air flowing through the vents around the house.
I walk across the room and grab a set of gym clothes, quickly pulling on a T-shirt and sweatpants, as well as socks and a hoodie from my closet.
After spending a minute in the bathroom, I head downstairs to the kitchen to make coffee.
As I’m filling the coffee pot with tap water, I appreciate the view outside my kitchen window. It overlooks the backyard and the forest beyond. It’s snowing and everything is covered in white.
That’s what I was feeling: a blanket of snow covering the roof and surrounding trees, their exposed branches already sagging with the weight. It must have snowed all night to have this much already—there’s got to be at least nine inches. Snow brings a welcome silence to these mountains.
School is definitely cancelled.
Whipping out my phone from where I stashed it in my sweats pocket, I check my emails and the school website, both confirming that school will be closed today.
Since I have no place to go now, I relax and take my time preparing the coffee grounds. I mentally make a list of each class that will have to play catch up on Monday, as well as think through a few things I could be doing today while stuck at home.
Snow days can be both good and bad in my profession.
The kids love having a day off and, since it’s Friday, it’ll be a nice long weekend, which I’m all for.
But by the time Monday comes around, the kids will have had too much time off, becoming rowdy with pent up energy.
Add their disruptive behavior to the fact that I’ll have to catch them up on the lessons we’ve missed, and it’ll be a long day that I’m already not looking forward to.
I hit “brew” on the coffee machine. I can’t make it to the gym through the snow since the plows won’t be getting to all the roads for a while, but there’s no point in going back to bed now either. I’d just end up lying awake for hours. I might as well get some things done.
While the room begins to fill with the aroma of dark roasted coffee grounds, I walk around the half wall that separates the kitchen from the living room.
A large brown leather couch sits with its back parallel to the half wall, while the stone fireplace takes up most of the wall directly across.
The stone stretches from the floor to the ceiling, reaching nine feet.
Floating dark wood shelves frame both sides of the hearth, four on each side and laden with books, making the room inviting.
I step around the couch, the heat of the fireplace giving off a weak but warm glow as the remaining embers from last night burn. I take a few cut logs from their stack against the wall and add them to the fire, stoking the flames and watching as they grow around the newly added wood.
My thoughts float back to Jules, as they frequently have over the course of the last two weeks. It was only six days ago that we ate at the diner and walked by the lake, but I can’t stop thinking about her.
I recall my conversation with Mrs. Simons—I will never be able to call her Francine in my head—about helping Jules find joy again.
This isn’t the first time the thought has come up, and I’m struggling to find some way to help her.
What if she doesn’t want help? Or what if she sees my attention as more than it’s intended?
However, it doesn’t have to be extravagant. Actually, the more it feels like just a gesture between friends, the better. Jules doesn’t have to know that I’m on a mission to cheer her up, and the aching tug in my chest to make her smile has me diving headfirst into this assignment.
Heading back into the kitchen where the coffee machine has stopped dripping, I fill a mug and take a cautious sip. The heat of the beverage slides down my throat and through my body, and my insides are instantly warmed, almost scorching my throat in the process.
As I take a seat at the small kitchen table beside a window, the snow continues to fall steadily.
It’s not a heavy blizzard, but over a long period of time even the lightest of snowfalls can create trouble on these mountains.
It covers the roads to and from homes, occasionally pulling branches down onto electrical lines and causing power outages.
Thankfully I have the fireplace to keep my house warm if that situation were to occur, but not everyone is as lucky.
There’s a pile of mail on the table, and I thumb through it lazily.
A few bills, a weekly ad for sales at Maple Lake Market, and, beneath the stack, a flyer for the local railway.
I pull it out from under the rest of the envelopes.
The railway here isn’t really used for actual travel, but rather as a tourist attraction.
Tourists can buy tickets for the train during any season, and it will take them on a sightseeing excursion up the mountain and then back down.
Some people even ride up and stay the day at the lodge to ski or go snow tubing.
The train rides are the most popular in the fall, when visitors come to see the leaves change color.
Pennsylvania is at its most beautiful when the oaks and birch are covered in vivid oranges and striking yellows, with the stark red leaves of the maples bleeding through the vast splashes of color along the mountainside.
I’ve never experienced the train ride, but the sight of the landscape here is beautiful no matter how you experience it .
While I sip my coffee, I read through the pamphlet, looking through the landscape photos and the ticket information.
Maple Lake Scenic Railway
Winter Season: November-February
90 minute round trip
Dome Car Seating
Adults: $32
Children (ages 3-12): $20
Children under 3 ride free
My eyes catch on dome car seating. I’ve heard those are the best seats to see the views.
Having been gone for so many years, it would be nice to check out all the things in town that I never got to do as a child.
My parents didn’t take me on special trips, and I didn’t have the money as a kid to spend on tourist attractions.
Maybe I should take the train up the mountain and see what all the excitement is about.
A lightbulb clicks on in my head and I set down my coffee. “That’s it,” I breathe, a smile forming on my tired face. I slap the pamphlet on the table in excitement.
I know what I want to do with Jules.
She’s been living in a tourist town, with people coming and going but hardly ever staying.
She works full time while taking care of herself and her dog.
Every free minute she has goes into her schooling.
She’s burnt out, while being constantly surrounded by families coming into Maple Lake and having the time of their lives experiencing all of the attractions this mountain town has to offer.
So that’s what I’ll do.
I’ll make her a tourist in her hometown.
I whip out my phone and start making a list of all the activities she might like to do throughout the four seasons. She’s bound to have done lots of them, maybe even all of them, but she’s never had the chance to do them with me.
It’s midday and the sun is high in the sky, beating down on my sweaty brow as I pull off my beanie.
It stopped snowing about an hour ago, and I chose that time to head out back where I’m chopping firewood.
The splitting axe hangs loosely at my side, and my leather work gloves do a poor job of warming my hands.
There’s a pile of uncut logs to my right, while the pile on the left is where I throw the ones I’ve split.
The pile has slowly grown in the last hour.
Normally, I wouldn’t be out in twelve-inch snow, chopping firewood.
In order to do so, I had to clear a large area of snow beforehand, the work having added to my now increasing exhaustion.
I also took a couple hours to shovel my driveway before this.
That alone was a challenge due to how far my driveway stretches from the road.
The plows haven’t made it to my part of the mountain yet, but I don’t like sitting still for very long.
My mind is always racing, calculating how I can excel, and my body is always itching to move and be productive.
Did I need to clear my driveway in fifteen degree weather?
No.
Do I need to chop and stack wood in the snow?
Most certainly not. I have a lean-to out back with rows of neatly stacked wood, keeping it dry and ready to burn, so I’m in no need of newly cut logs.
But I have to get my mind off of Jules, and this is as good a way as any.
I have no way to get in touch with her because, like an idiot, I didn’t get her number.
And, like a bigger idiot, I didn’t leave mine for her.
So I have no way of knowing if she’s thought at all about contacting me.
With the amount of snow, I’m afraid she might need something, and I wish that she could call on me.
Setting another log on the chopping block, I raise the maul over my head and come down with a heavy exhale.
My knees bend, and my hands slide together on the handle, as the weight of the wedge-shaped blade bears down and slides cleanly through the thick, dense wood.
Even with the low temperature and snow surrounding me on every side, I’m in my element here.
The only sounds in the quiet forest are my deep breaths and the thud of the axe hitting the wood, a rhythmic noise to my ears.
Although I wasn’t able to get to the gym, this is the next best thing in place of a workout.
Every part of my body feels the strain as I lift each split piece with one hand and toss it into the growing pile.
I reposition the remaining half of the log that hadn’t received a clean cut and prepare for another swing, axe raised.
I’m stopped by a scraping and whooshing sound, immediately recognizing it as a plow coming up the mountain.
I drop the axe on the ground and walk toward the porch, making my way through the cleared path in the snow.
The sound gets louder as I walk up the slippery steps, and I follow the porch around to the front of the house, squinting against the afternoon sun that reflects on the glistening snow.
Just as I reach the steps at the front of the cabin, I see the glint of sunshine on metal in the distance. The large red plow truck crests the top of the hill, forcing snow to the side and easily clearing a path while spreading ice melt on the ground behind it.
I give a friendly wave to the driver, although we can’t see each other clearly at this distance. It could be Jerry—he often volunteers to plow the mountain roads when he’s not manning the gas station. Or it could be one of the few guys who were hired by the town.
My body is physically spent, so I head back to cover up the chopped wood with a tarp and put away the axe. When I step through the back door near the kitchen, I kick off my boots and shrug out of my warm winter clothes, now wet from the snow.
For a moment, I stand in silence, unsure of what to do with myself.
The house is silent, except for the bubbling of Penny’s fish tank nearby and the faint scraping of the plow truck echoing over the mountain.
I lean against a kitchen chair, scratching my beard as I contemplate how I can be most productive.
I wish I could just sit down and allow my mind to clear.
I’d like to enjoy a day off work, but the thought of Jules sitting alone in her apartment gives me pause.
Even after all that hard work, my mind hasn’t wandered from her for more than five minutes. Every time I stand still, I’m thinking of her, like I am now.
I stretch my neck and exhale heavily, letting go of my need to control my inner thoughts.
I know I won’t be able to get her off my mind. So, instead of beating myself up wondering if she’s okay, I’ll go check on her. I’ll make sure she and Dax have enough food while they’re snowed in, and then I’ll come back and have a relaxing afternoon. Maybe watch my favorite movie.
Yeah, that’s it.
And before I can talk myself out of it, I run upstairs to shower.