So after telling someone about this fic, I couldn't resist posting the first chapter. It will be a bit shorter than my others, but the story would not get out of my head. Maybe it is the hot weather, but I needed a story with snow and a mountain cabin.
Emma Swan was not sure that she had the right state let alone the right address when she turned her yellow Volkswagen off of the two lane paved road onto a dirt path. Trees and bushes lined either side of it and obscured her vision from anything that even resemble civilization. Her phone and laptop were next to her on the worn leather seat, but she doubted there was wifi out in such a location. Folding her arms on the steering wheel, she frowned up at the cloudy sky that she could see through the thick web of barren branches overhead.
"I'm going to kill her," she said, referring to her friend and editor, Mary Margaret Nolan. This was hardly the start of a vacation for the woman who had barely managed to escape from Boston before her ex came up with an excuse why he would not be able to watch their son for a few days. What did he care if she had a deadline looming? Why should he be bothered to actually do something parental for more time than it took to watch a movie or sporting event?
Pulling the phone up to her ear, she pressed the familiar speed dial and waited. Before her friend had even said hello, she was already on her tirade.
"Did you think this was a good idea? I'm not a prissy girl by any means, but seriously? Am I going to have to get water from a well and milk cows or something?"
"Hello to you too," the woman said in her usual nonplussed voice. "Where are you right now? Give me your cross streets?"
"Right now I'm between a tree and bush," Emma informed her sourly. "Seriously there is nothing here."
Through the phone there was the sound of a baby's not completely terrorizing screech and the woman's husband making some kind of cross between soothing sounds and baby talk. That was disconcerting enough, as the baby talk was coming from a 6'2" sheriff. The woman was an actual super hero sometimes, Emma had often imagined. She was a star in the publishing world and balanced her home and family life perfectly. Currently she was trying to track Emma's whereabouts on a phone app/gps and walking her through the steps to find the mountainside bed and breakfast that was going to be her home for the next two weeks.
"You should see it just ahead," the woman said cheerfully. "And before you complain about the antiques and outdated nature of the place, just know that it is quaint. I've never been there, but I know the owner. Granny Lucas owns it and another little place in Storybrooke, Maine. I think her granddaughter Ruby is actually running this one now. She's a spitfire." The woman was running through the full background on the woman as Emma half listened and struggled to pull her wheeled bag out of the narrow backseat. She needed a new car, but this one was trusty and for the most part reliable.
"It looks like it's going to snow," Emma moaned into the device. "I hate being snowed in. I can't make it down this mountain if it snows."
Impatiently Mary Margaret sighed back in response. "Emma Swan, you are a writer. Well you would be if you actually wrote. Between raising Henry and your latest break up turned make up with Walsh, you're not exactly taking the time to get this new book done. Maybe being snowed in a room with just you, a coffee maker, and your computer is what you need."
Taking a fortifying breath, Emma cringed at the rustic building in front of her. "I mean I guess it is character building. This place is kind of small though. How exactly do they stay in business?"
"Emma! Concentrate!" Mary Margaret's voice sounded harsh in her ear. "You're there to write. It looked lovely on the website. How much room do you need? Now go check in and call me when your next chapter is ready."
The click left Emma alone all over again, standing in front of a two story building that was honestly no bigger than a suburban house. Hiking her computer bag and purse over her arm, she climbed the four steps onto a wrap around porch that littered with rocking chairs and small bistro tables. When snow was not imminent it was probably a quaint place to have a cup of coffee and moon away a few hours reflecting as you stared off into the distance. The wintery blast of wind that made the wind chimes sound forebodingly severe was more than likely preventing that from being a realty.
Just as Emma was about to reach for the handle, the red door swung open and a tornado of dark hair, perfume, and long legs brushed past her with an overly energetic terrier leading the way. "On with you. Do your business!" The woman turned sharply on a pair of red heels, her equally red lips breaking into a welcoming smile. "You must be Emma."
A bit dazed and not sure exactly who this woman was or why she knew her, Emma nodded and finally realized that she should extend a hand in introduction. "Yes, Emma Swan."
The woman ignored her handshake offer and pulled her in for a hug, nearly dislodging the computer from her shoulder. "I'm Ruby Lucas," she said with an equally bright smile. "Welcome to Wolf Castle Cabins Bed and Breakfast Retreat. I know it's the longest name of a business ever. Anyway, welcome! You're the last guest joining us."
Emma drew back, readjusting the strap and grasping the handle on her suitcase even tighter. "How many are there?"
"We've got 16," the woman said with a nod. Full house. Every place is rented."
Emma looked around the porch at the not very big accommodations. "You're housing 16 here?" She was suddenly having nasty flashbacks of group homes and bunk beds from her foster child upbringing. That was not going to be good for a quiet writing retreat.
Ruby let out a raucous laugh, her long dark hair tumbling down her back and her overly exposed chest in the tight red and black dress. "Oh honey, this is my house. My wife and I cook here at our house and you can have group meals with us. Or there's a kitchen in each cabin. I assure you that is quite private and comfortable."
"Oh," Emma said, looking into the distance and seeing nothing supporting this claim. "And where are these cabins?"
"Yours is at the end of Jack London Road." The brunette pointed at a gravely path that was just wide enough for a car. "Two bedrooms and a great fireplace. You'll be in heaven. We're having a few events too if you want to meet anyone. I know some people like to kind of mix it up on vacation and there are some nice looking single men and women here." She ran a hand through the tumble of hair. "Let's get you a key and checked in."
Just a little bit later Emma pulled up in front of a rustic cabin that sat nestled among the tall pines and oaks. She wasn't exactly sure what was on the lands surrounding her, but Ruby and her wife, Dorothy, assured her that the snow was supposed to hold off for a day or two. Ruby claimed to have a sixth sense about those things.
Sitting behind her wheel, she couldn't help but wonder what she should do next. The practical thing, of course, was to get out of the car, unlock the cabin, take a quick tour and then unpack her things. Maybe even make herself a cup of tea and take a hot shower. Yes, those were the practical things to do, she thought. And she sat exactly where she was, in the driver's seat and stared at the wooden structure in front of her. She was alone. Completely, totally and finally alone. It was what she needed, what she wanted, what she'd fought for with her adopted mother, Ingrid, and sometimes boyfriend, Walsh. When Mary Margaret had offered her the two week reprieve as a chance to finish the first draft of a new book, Emma had jumped at the chance. Now, she had no idea what to do with her new found freedom.
"Don't be twit, Emma," she said to herself, leaning back and taking a cleansing breath. She sat, gathering her energy, a slender woman, blonde hair pulled back in a French braid, delicate features slightly pale with fatigue, purple circles beginning to ring her stunningly green blue eyes. Eyes that were terribly expressive, showing everything she was thinking, her mother always said. Thinking of her, Emma's head began to pound. She had let them down, her mother and son, and the guilt of that weighed like a stone in her heart. She had tried to explain why she needed to do this, why she couldn't follow their well laid path for her and her life. She simply hadn't been able to clarify to them or Walsh why it had become such a strain for her, how every time she took a step on that path it took her farther and farther away from where she needed to be. She couldn't even put a finger on where it was she felt her heart was pulling her.
So after a tearful series of phone calls with her editor to explain why her latest romance novel was not going to be ready to go on schedule, it was decided. Two weeks at a rustic mountain retreat without the pressures of Walsh asking her to take the next step, her mother's gentle but overbearing desire for her to settle down, and Henry's desire for them to be a more traditional family.
They had looked at her with tolerant confusion, helped her pack and made her promise to call. They still didn't understand why she had fled and probably never would. Heaving a deep sigh, Emma climbed out of the car and headed for the covered porch of the cabin. It didn't matter, she assured herself, that her mother and Walsh didn't understand her need to find out what was keeping her from being what everyone else seemed to want her to be. She would take her time, Emma told herself as she unlocked the door, relax, enjoy her alone time, and hopefully bring herself out of the blue funk that was beginning to seep into her bones.
Opening the door of the cabin, Emma gave a delighted gasp. It was perfect, she thought. The floors and walls were a polished cherry wood, the hearth a smooth gray stone. Colorful rugs were thrown artfully around the room, the furnishings were simple with smooth lines, all soft and pastel. The kitchen to her right was open, separated only by a waist high, stone covered bar. A small, two person table sat in one corner of the rectangular room, a stove with a tall white refrigerator were on the far right of the kitchen. A long counter with a deep sink stood across from the bar, an extended window open to the woods outside. The stairs in front of her curved slightly, leading up to the second story. Exuberantly, Emma bounded up the polished stairway and to the next floor. She hugged herself as she wandered through the two large bedrooms and the charmingly old fashioned bathroom. It was so peaceful here, she thought, somehow so right. Staring through the two large windows in the master bedroom, Emma became aware of just how beautiful the mountains around her were. This was exactly where she should be, she knew; if any place in the world was conducive to her figuring out her life, this was. With a lighter step, she meandered outside to unload her vehicle.
Killian Jones watched her from the shadows of the trees beside his own rented cabin. Who was she, he wondered, why was she here? Ruby hadn't told him that anyone was renting out the usual cabin that his brother Liam and sister-in-law Elsa used after cancelling their trip at the last minute. But then, Ruby rarely told anyone important details, preferring to concentrate on the juicier details in life. He gazed at the beautiful young woman, watched her move quickly, a little nervously, pulling her luggage and a box labeled "Books" from her car and carry them into the cabin. Killian could have sworn he could smell an elusive, feminine scent carry over the crisp breeze. Gritting his teeth, he spun on his heel and began stalking back toward his own cabin. He'd be damned if he'd let anyone – especially a female – disrupt his time and his plans.
Thoughts?