That evening

Gretchen was no strangers to parties like this, having accompanied Dawson to countless parties on both coasts. She never understood the spectacle of it all. It seemed to her like some of these people would attend the opening of an envelope if there was free food and wine. The people who paid for the food and wine, she mused, paid for it for no other reason than to be known to have paid for it.

The food did look good, and she made herself a small plate. Her boyfriend, no, fiancé (she'd have to get used to that term) was effortlessly networking as always, a beer in his hand. She was proud of her sister-in-law, and the news of her own engagement was already old news. Joey's pregnancy was contained only to their immediate family. Everyone who knew was a Potter, Witter, or Leery, or married to one, Gretchen mused. Joey would never want her reproductive news to overshadow her literary success.

Gretchen had never built much of a career for herself. That's not to say she was a kept woman, despite the size of the rock on her finger. She thought again of those chocolates and flowers Dawson would buy her when she was 13. They meant more to her than this rock did. She didn't even dare speculate on the cost. Whatever it was, it was probably pocket change to Dawson. Their entire lifestyle had changed after the box office success of his horror movie. The gifts he bought her 18 years ago, though, he spent every penny he had on them.

She never hurt for money, always finding odd jobs, temporary assignments, and freelance opportunities. She enjoyed the work, and she currently had a semi-stable job writing for a digital media site. She just didn't think of herself as a career woman, and she knew when she and Dawson started having children she'd want to put her career aside to be a fulltime mother.

Someone approached the podium. If there was ever a person she'd describe as a "kindly old man," it would be this man. He patiently waited for the noise to calm down and for people to sit or stand still before he started talking. Dawson meanwhile came to stand next to her.

"I would like to thank you all for coming today. When Joey started working for me, she had just completed her Master of Fine Arts at Worthington, and she came highly recommended by Professor Hetson over there," he gestured to a haughty-looking man in his 40s, who was standing with a pretty woman half his age, whom Gretchen hoped was his daughter. "Anyone who knows Joey knows that she's not exactly the type of woman who ever keeps her opinion to herself."

The crowd laughed, many of them knowing firsthand the veracity of that statement.

"I had her edit prospective novels we might publish. She was supposed to review them for technical correctness, consistency, those kinds of things. She was, of course, excellent at that, but she'd never hesitate to tell me just how bad some of those books were. I had no choice but to promote her and give her more, well, editorial control, as it were."

The crowd laughed again at his joke.

"After she was nominated for a screenwriting Oscar, I called the man who introduced her into my life. I wanted to know just how much of that screenplay was her doing. She was ever the humble editor, but the entire screenplay was infused with her style, her tone, even hints of language from her earlier work. I asked her to write a book for me. A fairy tale she wanted to write. We are a serious publishing outlet. We don't publish children's books. She insisted this was a fairy tale for adults. It would be accessible to children, but adults were her target audience, adults who never quite learned to grow up.

"This current book, though, she said it was a book about growing up. It would appeal to young adults who were ready to grow up, who would learn from her life lessons. It would also appeal to those same adults who never learned to grow up. It would teach them to grow up. I knew how painful it must have been for her to share her mistakes with the world in such detail, but she was insistent. She's worked for me for five years now. I've lost count of the number of arguments we've had, but I can tell you exactly how many of those arguments I've won. Zero."

The crowd burst into their deepest laughter yet, especially those who had the same record against her when it came to winning arguments.

"You are too kind to show such deference to my attempts at humor, but I'm sure you've grown tired of hearing me droll on. With no further ado, I'll hand things over to a man who needs no introduction, Joey's mentor, David Wilder."

The audience applauded as a man that Gretchen found very handsome took Mr. Donovan's place at the podium. He was a little younger than Professor Hetson, but the haughtiness was replaced with charm, and this man looked like he was constantly hiding some mischievous secret. He actually reminded Gretchen of Dawson quite a bit.

"It's good to be back at the Creek. When I first wrote The Girl from the Creek, I had never actually seen this creek. It would have been a short train ride from Boston, but I didn't want to know. I wasn't writing a biography; I was writing a novel. Joey Potter was merely the inspiration, my muse. I wrote a book about an extraordinary girl, who didn't know how extraordinary she was.

"Everything about her was extraordinary when I first met her. Her writing had so much untapped potential. It was only her confidence that was lacking. She calls me her mentor. I taught her almost nothing about writing. That was a gift she had herself, the kind that can't be taught. I taught her the mechanics, sure, how to separate what matters from what doesn't, but it was through our relationship that she found her confidence and I found out how to live again. She taught me far more about life than I taught her about writing."

Gretchen was hung up on the word relationship. Did Joey and David date? If so, that would have been new information. She made a mental note to ask Dawson about it later.

"See, I had this image of Joey as this 19th Century heroine, as surely as if she were a Louisa May Alcott character."

There were a few muffled snickers at the joke.

"I guess that makes me Amy," Gretchen whispered sarcastically to Dawson.

"Jen's daughter?" Dawson didn't seem to get her joke.

"No, Amy March. Never mind." They stopped talking as Professor Wilder continued his speech.

"She wasn't, and she told me she wasn't, but she also knew that I wanted to end our relationship always having that image of her, and she wanted that, too, so she let me continue to think of her that way. I told her that five years from then she was going to know everything I knew and more, and that she'd just think of me as the biggest dork she ever knew. I was half right. She is twice the writer I ever was, and my work is only good because she saved my life, because she reminded me how to live. Where I was wrong, though, is the single greatest point of pride in my life. The fact that Joey Potter considers me her mentor means far more to me than any number of appearances on bestseller lists ever can. With no further ado, I introduce to you, the actual girl from the creek, Joey Potter, the girl who lived."

The audience applauded as Joey approached and hugged David very tenderly. This was not a hug between two colleagues, Gretchen realized, it was between two formers lovers who were sharing a fond memory. She wondered just how well-known their affair was. Dawson didn't seem to have the same look of shock she did. She'd definitely have to ask him later.

"I really wish people would stop saying how extraordinary I am," Joey started, wiping tears from her eyes, as the crowd laughed lightly. "It kinda misses the whole point of the book. Everything extraordinary that happened in my life, it all happened because of how ordinary my creek days were."

Dawson bristled with pride at hearing her say the name of his first feature film. Shot on "ten dollars and a dream," he would always say, it was what first put him on the map.

"The only thing extraordinary about my childhood was how ordinary it was. It just all felt extraordinary at the time, and the fact that I am good at putting feelings into words, or that I have changed the lives of people who are good at turning feelings into art, is the only reason why extraordinary things have happened in my life.

"I set out to write a book for ordinary young women and women who were young at heart, to share these lessons from my ordinary childhood. I wrote this book for every woman (and man, too), who might wonder if things they are feeling are ordinary. I wrote it so that people can learn from my mistakes. If this book changes the life of just one person, helps just one person make a decision that I was too scared to make, it will all have been worth it."

Dawson was wiping tears from his eyes, and Gretchen held his hand after he finished drying his eyes. She only released it when they joined the rest of the crowd in applause. Was it really only two years ago that she had watched Dawson on television give an equally heartwarming speech while she was drinking Champagne and eating popcorn with a small group of friends, bragging about how she had dated him for a few months in his senior year of high school?

Why did you guys break up? A friend had asked.

Because he wasn't over Joey, she had responded, and he was determined to use me to prove to himself that he was.

Look at them, he'll never be over her, another friend had offered.

I know, she had responded wistfully.

Oh, my God! You're not over him! Her friends had suddenly lost all further interest in the ceremony.

What does it matter! It's not like he'd even return my calls anymore.

Wait, so, the girl, Joey, she's marrying your brother, right? Won't Dawson Leery be at the wedding?

Yeah, he's going to be Best Man. I don't care. Can we just watch the awards?

Oh, sweetie, her friend had said as she turned off the television, we've got far more important things to worry about than some award ceremony.

Later that evening

Joey was sitting with Professor Hetson and Harley, reminiscing about old times.

"Talk to Eddie lately?" Harley asked too casually. Her father rolled his eyes.

"Not since the last time you asked me, Harley," Joey responded.

"Oh. No matter."

"Why don't just call him to say hi? I'm sure he'd love to hear from you."

"Well, if that's the case, then why hasn't he called me?"

Because that's not what Eddie does, Joey thought to herself.

"What is it with this guy!" Professor Hetson interjected. "You shared one kiss with him two years ago."

Joey and Harley looked at each other and failed at repressing a knowing smirk.

"Fine, you did whatever with him two years ago. You've had three boyfriends that I know of since then."

"There's a reason he was in my book dedication, Greg. When you love someone like Eddie, even for a moment, it's the kind of love that lasts a lifetime."

Professor Hetson sighed and got up to find his former colleague, and Joey and Harley couldn't hold back their giggles anymore. He found Professor Wilder sitting with Dawson Leery and his new fiancée. Professor Hetson reflected that she had a certain intelligent beauty to her, the kind of look where someone knew they were beautiful but didn't let it define them, the kind of face that makes you want to know more about the person behind the face.

"Oh, Greg, can I call you Greg?" Dawson asked casually.

"Sure, why not. Dawson, right?"

"Yeah, David and I were just swapping war stories, as it were."

"War stories?"

"Just about how were both once charmed by the same girl from the same creek," Professor Wilder answered cheerfully. "Gretchen here, I can already tell I'm going to love this woman, wanted to know all the details about me and Joey from Worthington."

"What is it about this woman?" Professor Hetson asked in frustration. "Okay, she's a great writer, and she's pretty, but why do men lose their collective minds the moment they share a kiss with her."

Dawson and Professor Wilder looked at each other shared a knowing look that was all too similar to the one that Joey and Harley had just shared.

"They don't lose themselves, Greg," Professor Wilder started with a mischievous grin.

"They find themselves," Dawson finished with the same grin.

Gretchen clearly was enjoying every second of this exchange, which only served to further exasperate Professor Hetson. He had hated whenever Harley's mother had ever referenced an ex-boyfriend, so he couldn't understand why Gretchen would find so much joy in hearing about how Joey had changed David and Dawson's lives.

It made him wish that the blonde doctor he had talked to at Joey's wedding was here. She was simple. She had loved to talk, and it had been easy to listen to her. She had had a way of making everything she had said sound interesting and important, and she had been far more focused on the present and the future than on the past.

"Speaking of mutual acquaintances, Dawson, I was hoping to see your aunt here." Professor Wilder said cryptically.

Dawson looked at Professor Hetson and Gretchen. Professor Hetson seemed to remember half of a story, as if he knew he was supposed to remember it, but not what he was supposed to remember. Gretchen was entirely lost.

"My aunt? Gwen?" Dawson asked.

"Yeah, that's the one. I met her at Joey's wedding."

"Oh, right, of course, she, uh-"

"-told Dawson to take his head out of his ass and start dating me." Gretchen said with a smirk.

"Not in such colorful language, but, yes. Did you have a connection with her there or something?"

"A connection. I guess you could say that." Professor Wilder had that mischievous grin again.

"Oh, God, did you two-"

"Sorry, is that weird for you?"

"No, not at all, it's just, she never told me."

"Do you and your aunt usually talk to each other about your sex lives, Dawson?" Gretchen asked with a quizzical look.

"I mean, we don't call each other every time we get laid, but we don't really have any boundaries, either. She's the only person I can talk openly with about that kind of stuff when I need, needed, a woman's perspective."

"Sorry, I shouldn't judge. I guess it was the same with me and Doug. Besides," she started to soften her tone, "if you two weren't that close, we probably wouldn't have gotten back together. It's funny all the little things that lead to two people getting together…, and how much of your past goes into defining the person you are in the present."

Dawson grabbed her hand. Professor Hetson felt a twang of jealousy for them, seeing how happy they were together. He had never been able to find that measure of happiness with anyone.

"Sorry, David, didn't mean to cut you off," Gretchen said.

"Oh, well, it's just, when I woke up in the morning, she was gone, no note, no number, nothing."

"Sounds about right. Not like you were going to move up to Vermont with her. She lives for the moment, and she doesn't let herself get worked up about things she can't control."

"I respect that," Professor Wilder responded after a pause.

"I could give you her number if you wanted."

"No, no need. I'd rather just…remember it fondly. So, tell me, Dawson, what's your next project?"

"I don't really have anything in mind yet, unless…," Dawson trailed off as his face started to show hints of a smirk.

"Unless what?" Professor Hetson asked with a genuine interest, relieved to be talking about a topic other than ex-lovers and former flings.

"No, I just had an idea, but I couldn't, that's not me. Maybe that's the point, excuse me."

He got up quickly, leaving the rest of the table confused. He went in search of Mr. Donovan and found him sitting with the woman he assumed to be his wife and a couple of work colleagues. She was about the same age as him, and Dawson surmised that they had been happily married for longer than he and Gretchen had been alive. Dawson was about to introduce himself when Mr. Donovan suddenly stood up.

"Oh, Mr. Leery, it's so wonderful to finally meet you."

Dawson was caught off guard as Mr. Donovan shook his hand.

"Thank you, Mr. Donovan. I know Joey just loves working for you."

It was clear to Dawson that Mr. Donovan took the compliment to heart.

"She's told me so much about you, and of course the missus and I have watched every episode of The Creek." He lowered his voice, "She cried when Sam got on the boat with Petey."

"Oh, Martin!" Mrs. Donovan had clearly heard what Mr. Donovan had tried to whisper.

"Personally, I was happy for them. I guess it's just my publisher sensitivities, but I called it character development."

Dawson wasn't thrilled about having one of the worst days of his life dissected in such analytical literary terms, but he did his best to not let it affect him.

"I suppose it was," Dawson replied stoically.

"Well, it all worked out," Mr. Donovan said kindly. "For Sam and Petey, for Colby and…Gwyneth." He looked over towards Gretchen as he said the last character's name.

"Indeed it did. Anyway, Mr. Donovan, I wanted to ask you something."

"Oh, I'm being rude. Please, sit down. Do you need anything to drink?"

"No, I think I've had enough beer to last me the evening, the week probably."

They sat down.

"All right, Mr. Leery, ask away."

"Well, here goes. I was wondering if I could option Joey's book."

"This one? Seems to me like you've already accomplished that with The Creek."

"No. The fairy tale."

Mr. Donovan's eyes widened.

"That's a wonderful idea! I'm sure Joey would love that."

"So, should I have my agent call your office tomorrow or…"

Mr. Donovan seemed confused.

"Sorry," Dawson continued, "I've never done this before. I usually write my own scripts based on original material, or, in the case of Peter and Wendy, in the public domain."

"Well, Donovan Publishing doesn't retain movie rights to anything we publish. A few publishing houses still do, but that's not as common as it used to be. It's always been our policy to let our authors retain those rights."

They both looked over at Joey, and Mr. Donovan motioned for her to come join them.