It was over. Lucy was not surprised.
Maybe she should have been. Surprised, that was; shocked. Blindsided. After all, she had spent almost a year with Chris Sanford. Ten months, to be specific, and she had called herself his girlfriend for eight of those. She hadn't been looking for much when they went on their first date, seeking neither a fling nor a life partner when they initially crossed paths. The best way to describe her intentions at the time was that she had been looking for something easy. Something comfortable, and without question, Chris had managed to give her that. He was fun, friendly, and kind as well… but there was no denying that an element had been missing from their relationship from the very start. So when, with only a week until Christmas, he asked her flatly whether she wanted to be there anymore, Lucy could not find it in herself to give a "yes" she was unsure of. It was over like it had started; suddenly, and without much fanfare. The only absence their breakup left in her life was a gaping hole in her social calendar, right before the holidays.
It was pure coincidence (or maybe blind luck) that Wesley Evers was present in the break room while Lucy lamented to Jackson about her canceled holiday plans. She had already taken five consecutive days off work, intending to accompany Chris to San Francisco to visit his brother, and was loath to waste the time off by being stuck at home. Normally she'd try to insert herself into her parents' activities for the day, but they were in China visiting her elderly grandmother. Jackson expressed his condolences, but couldn't offer her much else; he was going to Georgia with his family for the week, and he offered her another apology before departing with his coffee, leaving her alone to think. While she sat contemplating, Wesley suddenly tossed a set of keys in her direction. A green plastic tag and a single silver key on its ring landed with a jingle beside her half-empty paper cup.
"It sounds like you could use a vacation, Officer Chen," he said with a grin.
"You were listening?" she asked
"In my defense, you were talking pretty loud." Wesley adjusted his tie as he took the seat across from her and began to explain. He and Angela had been given a cabin in the mountains; an wedding present, he claimed, purchased by Patrice on a rather exorbitant whim. Since buying it, however, the cabin rarely saw use. "My mother has it cleaned every once in a while by one of the folks in town, but otherwise, it just sits there empty. Angela has only agreed to go twice because… what did she tell me? Oh yeah, she 'hates what the mountain air does to her hair.'"
Lucy, her curiosity piqued, picked up the keys; the green tag read If found, take me back to Little Green in faded gold cursive letters. "What exactly are you offering, Wesley? Don't get me wrong, a cabin in the mountains at Christmas sounds amazing, but… why?"
He shrugged. "Think of it as doing me a favor. Make sure the place is still standing, doesn't need any repairs, and for the rest of the time, you can enjoy yourself. Sounds nice, right?"
Yes, she thought, it did sound nice. Too nice, if she were totally honest, and for a moment, Lucy wondered privately if there was some unspoken catch to the arrangement. She soon agreed, however, her hesitation edged out by her pragmatism; seriously, when would she get a chance like this again without having to spend a good chunk of her hard-earned money to make it so? The night before she was due to leave, Wesley texted her directions to the cabin. The Little Green Lookout -Little Green as it was more commonly known- was a one-bedroom home on the edge of Julian, a small, quaint town in the Cuyamaca mountains. After a single web search, Lucy learned the town hit its peak during the gold rush. Now, Julian was significantly smaller and depended on tourist interest in its historic sites. Lucy wasn't a history buff by any stretch, but there were trails to hike and cute stores to shop at, and the website contained more than one proud reference to Julian's beloved apple pies. Even if she only ventured out of the cabin a few times during her stay, it was all but assured that she would not be bored.
She left LA shortly after noon on December 23rd. Although Wesley had promised her the drive was three hours max, neither of them accounted for the holiday traffic clogging the freeway. By the fourth hour, Lucy had grown tired of her driving playlist. Without music to keep her thoughts occupied, her mind wandered.
It was Chris she thought of first, once more mulling over their last conversation. That final argument hadn't been a fight as much as it was a confession on her part. Chris had opened the conversation by asking when was the last time Lucy had missed him, and she had not been able to say. Probably, she realized, because she never had. Lucy liked his presence well enough. She enjoyed the companionship he brought to her life, but whenever he was absent, she didn't crave his return. She never woke up thinking about him, never went to bed longing for him
Truthfully, there was only one person she could think of that she had ever longed for, and she winced slightly recalling his face while simultaneously refusing to think his name. He always looked wounded whenever she remembered him, his expression a blend of sadness, confusion, and anger.
It was his presence that had hovered over her life, hanging close like a specter lurking in Lucy's periphery. Whether she had done it consciously or not, every romantic prospect since December of 2019 had been compared against the impossible metric that was her former training officer. He had not been her TO for nearly two years, and it was almost that long since the last time she'd seen him. That particular -and very necessary- distance had been of her own design. A flame had sparked in the hospital the morning she awoke to find him at her bedside, and from that flame, feelings developed, fanned into something she could not ignore in the weeks after he had pulled her out of the ground. Although Lucy attempted to reason away most of them with psychological explanations and applications, she could not deny that some of what she felt for him had no rationale. Gratitude alone would not be enough to make her heart ache when his eyes met hers, and it was not gratefulness that had made her wake from fevered dreams, her skin still warm from where she'd imagined his lips trailing across it. She was too timid at the time to examine the feelings closely, fearful that with any attention paid, they would grow into something she could not control.
They had grown anyway, despite her best efforts, but Lucy had better success denying them now, after years of practice. Just as she had done with the man himself, she pushed the memory of his face away by force.
Lucy arrived in Julian just before five in the evening. Only a little daylight remained, and she smiled to herself, seeing the main road of town lit up with twinkling Christmas lights in anticipation of the coming nightfall. She was famished from the journey and pulled into a parking spot in front of the first restaurant she saw. A place called Miner's Diner and Soda Fountain, Lucy recognized it from the town's website as one of a handful of restaurants in town. Entering was like walking into the fifties. The floors were covered in black and white tile, and round, red vinyl stools stood at the bar. Mining memorabilia and tools were mounted on the walls, and the smell of bacon and fresh coffee was in the air, despite it being well-past breakfast. It felt old-fashioned but not kitschy, like some themed diners Lucy had seen before. Rather, this one seemed authentic, like the place looked that way because it had always been that way, and not something aesthetically curated in the hopes of evoking nostalgia for some long ago era. There was no hostess, but a waitress greeted her at the door and told Lucy to sit anywhere she liked. She chose a seat at the bar, and a moment after sitting, the man that worked the soda fountain handed her a menu. He wore a name tag that read "Art", and although he looked to be in his fifties, he spoke with a soft voice that sounded years younger and did not match his weathered features.
"What brings you into Julian?" Art asked as he began to pour a soda for Lucy. She'd requested a root beer float (it was a soda fountain, after all), and he filled a tall glass to the brim before topping it with a dollop of vanilla ice cream and a red-and-white striped straw.
"Just a little Christmas vacation." Lucy paused to take a sip of her soda. "Well, and sort of a favor for a friend. He asked me to check on his cabin."
A look of understanding crossed over Art's face. "You wouldn't happen to mean Little Green, would you?" When she nodded, he chuckled. "Well, it's nice to meet you. My wife Darlene went into a tizzy when she heard we had people coming. Patrice even had her stock the kitchen. I think she's eager to see it used since her son doesn't make it out here much. When is the rest of your group joining you?"
"The rest?" Confused, Lucy shook her head slowly. "It's just me this time, Art… probably a bad idea to announce I will be by myself, right?"
He was quick to reassure her. "I think you'll find no one will bother you, Miss-"
"-Lucy."
"No one will bother you, Miss Lucy." Through a frown, he mumbled, "Thought for sure there was more than just you, though. Darlene shopped for more than one, at any rate, but that might just be a habit. I mean, look at me." He laughed heartily, then playfully slapped a palm against his round, plaid-clad gut. "Clearly, I eat," Art joked as he turned away to submit her dinner order.
Her meal arrived quickly. She'd ordered the fried chicken with a side of mashed potatoes and roasted Brussels sprouts. After finishing, Art talked her into a slice of apple pie for dessert. "Apple pie is a big deal around here," he said as he slid the plate in front of her. "On the house."
Although dinner had left her feeling full, Lucy managed to eat every bit of the pie and grabbed a second slice to-go before asking for the check. While ringing her up at the register beside the soda glasses, Art offered her a few notes on getting to the cabin. "Your best bet is to take the main street out front here all the way up. The road up to the lookout is to the left of the red barn at the end of the lane." He handed Lucy her receipt, then asked, "Is your car in good shape? The drive is a little steep."
She thought of her orange Datsun parked just outside. The car was in decent shape for a vehicle its age, but she knew the brake pads were right at the edge of meeting safety standards; they'd squealed every time she pressed on the brake pedal while driving up. "How steep?"
"Fairly steep, ma'am," he repeated, "and not much room up there to turn around, either. It's a gravel road, too, and there are gullies on either side. Personally, I wouldn't drive it without four-wheel drive."
"How do I get up there, then?"
"There's parking inside of the barn I mentioned. You're welcome to any of the free spots. It's about a half-mile walk after that. In fact," Art paused to laugh, "I think that might be why we haven't seen Patrice's son back. His missus was none-too-fond of the hike."
She snickered, too, imagining Lopez making the trek. While Angela was by no means fragile, she also had a taste for finer things, and scaling a mountainside was probably well outside of her idea of relaxation (it was no wonder Wesley had only managed to bring her to Julian twice). Lucy thanked Art for the help and the meal, then left with her extra pie slice in hand. She stuck to the main road, per his instructions, and before long, arrived at the old red barn. The structure had been converted into a sort of parking garage, with white lines painted on the pavement inside, and she parked beside a rusted green tractor, the only other vehicle inside the barn. Lucy was glad of two things as she turned off the ignition and withdrew her keys; firstly, she'd worn sensible shoes for driving, and she'd made a choice to pack light. She only had one rolling suitcase, and she dragged it behind her as she walked toward the bottom of the hill. As Art had warned, it was a bit steep, but she hadn't anticipated how poorly lit the hike would be, with the lights from town only providing enough to see up about thirty feet. Her phone's flashlight provided a little assistance, but she stepped cautiously, gravel crunching beneath her shoes the entire way. It was a precarious walk with drops a few feet deep on either side. At least if she fell, she wouldn't go far; even so, she very much did not want to fall. Treading carefully, the walk took fifteen minutes, and Lucy was beginning to tire when she finally spotted the clearing in the distance.
Little Green was lit for her arrival, the glow of the porch light greeting her from the gravel path. An evergreen wreath hung from the front door, and electric candles flickered in the windows that faced the road. The structure was perched on the hillside, half built into the earth and half held level by stilts that supported the section that hung over the slope. The narrow driveway was paved, and she stomped on the concrete to shake the dust from the gravel off of her feet before taking her first step onto the deck.
She smiled, looking the cabin over. It was clear that Little Green had been so named because the entire cabin had been painted a Kelly green shade. The siding, the roof, and the deck were all the same color. Although it could have easily looked a little overkill, Lucy decided to regard it as charming. For a moment, she regretted having arrived at dark, certain the view from the deck was lovely during the light of day. As there was nothing to be done about that now, she fished the key to the cabin out of her purse, unlocked the door, and stepped inside.
The cabin's interior was dark, but it only took a moment to locate a switch beside the door that flooded the room with enough light that she could easily see the whole house. The cabin was tidy and well-kept. Cedar hardwood floors ran throughout, and a large picture window looked over the summit with no drapes blocking the view. Through the trees, Lucy could see the twinkle of Christmas lights shining from Julian's main street.
Parallel to the window was a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf stacked full of novels and DVDs. In the center stood a small TV. While the DVDs were sorted by genre, the books were arranged according to the color spectrum, and Lucy found herself drawn to the novels with red spines. Among them were a few holiday-centered romances, and she giggled before taking a picture of the titles and texting it to Wesley.
Interesting reading material. You never struck me as a Debbie Macomber fan before.
A minute later, she received a reply. It's Angela. I take it you arrived safely? All good so far?
So far, so good.
Wonderful. Enjoy yourself, Chen. I can't wait to hear all about it.
Lucy looked over more of the books, setting aside a couple for later before she continued exploring. Two doors stood on the far wall opposite the front entrance. One led to the only bedroom, and the other opened to the back deck. A glance outside showed a small bistro table and two chairs. Just a few feet away from the seating area was a hot tub, and no sooner had she spotted it than she began planning a soak or two. As Art had promised, she found the kitchen fully stocked with supplies. There was scarcely room for her to store her pie in the refrigerator, and in a cabinet above the fridge, she found a bottle of red wine and another containing champagne. She placed the champagne in the fridge, deciding mimosas on Christmas morning would be a nice treat, then opened the red wine and poured a generous serving into a Christmas-themed coffee mug (she'd look harder for the wine glasses later). Drink in hand, she grabbed her suitcase from beside the front door and wheeled it toward the bedroom.
The bedroom was rather small, with only enough room for two nightstands and a queen-sized bed in the center of the room. It would do nicely for one person, though, and Lucy dragged her suitcase into the small closet before checking out the ensuite bathroom. Like the bedroom, it was on the smaller end, and a good portion of the space was occupied by a deep, clawfoot bathtub. A white vinyl curtain encircled the tub entirely, and a shower attachment branched upwards from the faucet at the head of the tub. Against the wall stood a pedestal sink with a round mirror above it, and she set her wine on the sink before turning the tub's faucet on. A hot bath after a long drive sounded like the perfect way to close out the night. She wished she'd thought to bring bubble bath. A glance in the linen closet revealed freshly washed towels, and behind them, she found a half-empty bottle of bubble bath liquid that Angela must have left behind in the past. The label was pink and glittery, declaring the fragrance to be "Sugar Cookie Sparkle" in curly white letters. She found the scent too sweet for her liking when she unscrewed the top, but Lucy figured it would suffice in a pinch. Perhaps she'd look for a less overwhelming option in town tomorrow.
A few capfuls of the liquid foamed up nicely. Diluted by the water, Lucy found the fragrance less oppressive and more appealing. Once the tub was full, she undressed and rolled her hair into a bun on top of her head. She withdrew two towels from the closet. The first she placed on the floor beside the tub so she didn't drip water on the clean tile; the second, she left folded on the sink before downing the rest of her wine and stepping into the tub.
Although the bubbles were fun, it was the hot water that did the soothing. Lucy hummed in satisfaction as she leaned back and looked around the bathroom, letting her arms drape over the tub's sides. Sure, Christmas alone was not ideal, but this? This was not so bad.
"No," she sighed to herself, sinking lower into the water as her eyes slipped closed in contentment. "Not bad at all."
She was so engrossed in relaxing that she did not hear a set of keys jingling in the front door, nor did she notice footfalls as a new arrival entered the cabin. Lucy didn't realize someone had joined her in Little Green until they were standing at the threshold of the bathroom. His bag landed beside his feet with a loud thud. The sound made her jump, and she turned to see a man in the doorway.
The years had made him a stranger, but only in the emotional sense. Physically, Lucy recognized him at once. She would have known him by his rigid posture, by the angles of his body. Aside from that, she would have known him by the weary groan that left his mouth as he realized he'd happened upon her in a state of undress. How many times had she heard that same groan while he was her teacher, fussing over some error or another of hers? He'd had the decency to cover his eyes with both palms after finding her naked, and although his face was shielded from her view, even his hands were familiar to her.
"Well," Tim grumbled, voicing Lucy's exact thoughts aloud. "This is awkward."