When Raindrops Fall – Chapter 1

Hi, Everyone. Welcome to my very first blog post!

Since my third novel, “When Raindrops Fall,” releases on May 3, 2021, and since today is a rainy and dreary day, I thought, “What better day to share Chapter 1 with you.”

I hope you enjoy!

CHAPTER One

He didn’t know where he was going or what he would do when he got there.  He was going and that was all he knew. 

His bangs, dark brown with a hint of red when the sun hit it just right, blew across his forehead as warm air blasted from the vents. The soft sounds of classical music floated in the background, and the tranquil sight of trees flying past lulled him into intense fatigue.

He cut his eyes to the clock on the dashboard and realized it was almost one o’clock in the afternoon. His legs were numb from sitting for so long and rumbles of hunger rolled in his stomach.

The next exit brought him into the small town of Raindrop, New Hampshire. The name of the town caused an unconscious smile to spread across his face. One would have to work hard to be unhappy in a town called Raindrop, he thought. He turned left off the ramp and drove slowly down a nondescript street. He passed several small businesses, slowing when he found what he was looking for. Another smile spread across his face as he pulled to a stop in front of Puddle’s Café.

“I’m in a city called Raindrop that has a café called Puddle’s. Someone in this town gets an A+ for creativity.”  He tossed his sunglasses onto the passenger seat and hefted himself out of the car. The weather outside was amazing, and he sucked in several deep breaths of cool air. There was a quality to the air he couldn’t quite place, but he found it invigorating. Or maybe you’ve been in the big city for too long and have forgotten how fresh air smells. 

He strolled down the street to stretch his legs. As he walked, he peered through the windows of quaint mom-and-pop stores. Though tired from hours of sitting, his stomach was on the verge of winning the argument with his legs. He made it halfway down the sidewalk before turning and making his way back toward Puddle’s Café.

Inside, the first thing to greet him was the heavy smell of fried foods.

“Just have a seat anywhere,” a voice bellowed from the far side of the diner.    

He glanced around the restaurant in search of the perfect spot to sit.

“I suggest one of those tables in front of the windows since you’ve never been here.” A sandy-haired server, probably in his mid-twenties, nodded toward the front of the restaurant.  “You can enjoy the view of the town as you have lunch.”

“Thanks.” He fought the urge to laugh as he took the few steps toward the table the young man recommended. The view? The only view was the other side of what he presumed to be the town’s main street, but the town was charming enough to intrigue him.

“Name’s Colton.” The server plopped a menu in front of him. “First time in Raindrop?” He asked, though it sounded more like an observation than a question.

“You saying I don’t look like I belong here?”

Colton’s eyes scrunched in concentration, taking in the stranger’s appearance. “I don’t know, you have a—” he rolled his eyes upward in search of the correct word, “—a city-boy vibe about you. Even if I didn’t know everyone in town, I would know you weren’t a local. How about something to drink while you look over the menu?”

“You got sweet tea?”

“Have we got sweet—” Colton couldn’t believe someone would ask such a thing. “Well, does a duck waddle when it walks?”

He looked down at the menu, wondering if the waiter expected an answer to the odd question. Bumfuzzled, he said, “I have—I have no idea.”

“Then you’re definitely a city boy.  The answer is yes, a duck waddles when it walks.”

What in the world does a duck have to do with sweet tea?  “So, that would be a yes on the sweet tea then?”

“Yes, that’s a yes.”  Colton made a notation on a pad he removed from his back pocket.  “We’re practically famous for our sweet tea.  It’s what almost everyone from these parts drinks.  What’s your name, bub?”

The waiter really wanted to know his name?  In all his years of eating out, he didn’t recall a waitperson ever asking his name. Assuming it was small-town etiquette, he answered the question. “Ash.”

“Ash? As in, I just cleaned out the fireplace and now have a bucket full of ash?”

“Um, yeah, sure.  Whatever.” The man seemed nice enough, but Ash couldn’t decide if he was trying to be a wise guy or if Raindrop was just this weird.

“Take your time and look over the menu, bub. I’ll be back with your drink in three shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

Within twenty minutes, Ash polished off a bacon cheeseburger and onion rings. During his lunch, he gazed out the window, deep in thought, barely noticing the cars that drove through town.  His attention was torn away from his thoughts when the waiter sat in the chair across the table from him, drinking a soda.

I thought you said everyone in town drinks the world-famous tea. Oh, never mind. “Sorry, I may have been daydreaming. Did you say something?” Ash looked curiously at the guy, wondering why he sat at his table.

“Nah, just taking a break. Where you from?”

Ash nodded at the guy’s beverage. “I thought you said all the locals drink the tea.”

“All the old people, I meant.  So, where you from?  I’m definitely getting a city vibe from you.  Boston?  Nah, you don’t have that crazy Boston accent.  New York, maybe?”

“Chicago.” Ash glanced around the restaurant. He couldn’t figure out why the waiter sat at the table, talking to him.  There were only two other people except him in the dining room, so obviously the lunch rush was past.  “I was born and raised in Los Angeles.”  He wasn’t accustomed to strangers talking to him, especially waitstaff.  In the city, everyone ignored each other as much as possible and most of the time he was fine with that arrangement.

“I knew you were a city boy.” Colton triumphantly pounded the tabletop with his index finger. “Where you headed?  I can’t imagine our little town of Raindrop is your final destination.”

“I—I don’t know where I’m going.”

Colton nodded as though he completely understood. “You on vacation?”

The interrogation threw him off. Did this waiter really think Ash owed him an explanation? “I don’t know what I’m doing.  I wanted to get out of the city for a while, I guess. Ash dipped an onion ring into ketchup and took a bite, then shivered as the front door opened and cold air blasted into the room. A couple with two small children walked in.

“Gotta run. Duty calls.”  Colton jumped to his feet and made his way toward the family.

Without waiting for the waiter to seat them, they made their way toward a table on the opposite end of the diner.

“You need a refill, bro?” Colton returned a few minutes later.

“Sure, thanks.”

“Don’t forget to save room for pie.  We make the best pies in Raindrop,” he called over his shoulder.

“I’m not—” Ash’s voice trailed off. The waiter rushed away so quickly, Ash wasn’t sure he could hear him, “—into pie.” He whispered the last two words as he looked down at the nearly empty plate in front of him.

Another twenty minutes and a piece of homemade Mississippi Mud Cake later, Ash left the restaurant with a promise he would come back to the diner if he ever found himself in Raindrop again. He couldn’t imagine why he’d ever need to return to Raindrop.

Once again, he was back on the road, destination unknown.

He’d been driving for almost an hour when the unexpected urge to return to the town of Raindrop hit. It seemed irrational to drive back an hour to the podunk town, but the small town seemed intrinsically peaceful to him, and lately peace was in short supply in his life. 

He did a U-turn at the next town. An ornate sign informed that he’d just entered Heaven, Maine.  Thinking that perhaps this was a sign from above, he said aloud, “I can’t think of a better place to evaluate the tattered shreds of my life than Heaven. Maybe I’ll find answers here.”  He drove aimlessly around the small town but finally shook his head. He couldn’t explain it, but something urged him to return to Raindrop—that was the place he needed to be. He shrugged his shoulders.  Who am I to argue with Heaven?

He returned to the scenic route and an hour later pulled back into the familiar Main Street of Raindrop. He drove the length of Ocean Street twice, twice passing Puddle’s Café. There was no signage indicating a nearby hotel, and he considered heading back to the café to ask the waiter about lodging. Instead, he whipped into a small gas station to refuel his car.   

The fuel pumps were reminiscent of the 1950s old-fashioned variety and didn’t have a pay-at-the-pump feature. He hadn’t been alive in the fifties, so he didn’t have a clue what gas pumps in the fifties looked like, but they looked like they belonged in that era.

Accustomed to the modern way of paying at the pump, he didn’t know what to do. Should he go inside and pay before pumping? Or pump and then pay? He looked toward the gas station again, hoping someone would materialize to tell him what he needed to do. When no one appeared, he pulled the handle from the pump. I guess Barney Fife will come and yell at me if I’m doing it wrong.

He filled the tank, replaced the nozzle, and walked inside the very country-looking store. At the counter he stood for several seconds, but the man with grease-stained hands didn’t look up from the book he intently read.

“Excuse me,” Ash said. 

The man jumped at the sound of his voice, and the book fell to the counter with a thud. 

“Sorry.  Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Ash’s eyes flittered down to the book spine. Homer’s Iliad. A strange reading choice for a country bumpkin.

“I shouldn’t be readin’ on the job anyway,” the man apologized. He put his glasses on, frowned, removed and polished them, and put them back on.

Considering the man’s shirt was nearly as stained as his hands, Ash wondered how clean they really were. “I filled my car with fuel.” Ash watched as the man jerked the glasses off his nose, again blew on each lens until they fogged over, polished them, then put them back on, apparently finally satisfied with their state of cleanliness.

Ash wondered if the man had ever been in a hurry in his entire life. He held his hand out, offering the debit card to the cashier. He hadn’t thought of it before now, but as rustic as the place was, he hoped the man could accept payment with a debit card.

The man took the card and swiped it in a machine on the counter. 

I guess this town isn’t as antiquated as it seems. “Can you tell me how far it is to a hotel?”

“We have a small motel about ten minutes from here. The Haystack Motel. You probably passed it on the way in. It’s right on the interstate.”

“Does it have nice accommodations? I didn’t come in from the interstate, so I didn’t see it.” He didn’t want to say it to this guy, but the last thing he wanted was a fleabag motel.

“It’s clean, but it isn’t the Ritz,” the old man said. “We also have a bed-and-breakfast about two minutes from here. It’s more expensive than the motel, but worth the stay if that’s more to your liking.”

Neither option sounded all that great to him. He just needed a nice place to stop for the night. Apparently, the man noticed his reluctance.

“I don’t know what your idea of nice is, but the closest chain hotels are about thirty-five minutes away in Salem.” He handed the debit card back to Ash and pushed a receipt across the counter.

Ash scrawled his signature and shoved it back.  “I’ve been on the road all day. I don’t feel like another half-hour drive. Tell me about the bed-and-breakfast.”

“It’s called The Sassafras Inn. Mamie Wallace owns it. It’s nice, but not exactly fancy.  The wife and I don’t go away on vacations much since we’ve gotten older, so we go there and stay a few days every so often to get away from the house. We enjoy it, but young people like you might think it’s too old-fashioned.”

“I’m so tired, I’d settle for old-fashioned as long as it’s not a dump,” Ash said bluntly.  “Do you think she has any vacancies?”

The attendant held up his finger, removed the handset from an old-fashioned rotary phone, and dialed a number from memory.

“Good heavens, I haven’t seen a phone like that since I used to visit my grandmother’s house as a kid.” Ash watched with intrigue as the clerk turned the dial with his finger.

“You kids don’t know how good life used to be before all this new-fangled technology came and hijacked the world. Just messed everything up if you ask me. Back in my day—“ he cut his eyes up at Ash. 

“Mamie, hi, it’s Jim.” He returned his attention to the rotary phone. “I have a young—”

“I said it’s Jim!” he repeated, louder this time. “She’s hard of hearing,” Jim whispered with a wink. “I have a—”

“Oh, she’s doing just fine, thanks for asking.  But listen, I’ve got a—”

He looked at Ash apologetically. “Yes, we need to come visit you.  How about I have Alice call you tomorrow and make some plans?”

Jim stopped to listen and laughed. “Fine, fine.  I’ll do that.  But hey, listen. I’ve got a young man here that’s traveling and needs a room for the night. I don’t suppose you have a room?”

He shook his head. “No, I don’t need to borrow a broom.  I said I have a young man here that needs a room. Do you have a vacancy?” He nearly yelled the words into the handset.

Ash covered his mouth to stifle a laugh. 

“Great, thanks, Mamie.  I’ll send him right on over.” Before he could get caught up in another rabbit-trail conversation with Mamie, he thumped the phone back down.

“Mamie has vacancies and is waiting for you.”

“Excellent. Thank you for calling her for me. I appreciate it.”

“Mamie’ll take good care of you, that’s for sure.  She’s probably already celebrating by puttin’ a roast in the oven as we speak.”

“I hope she doesn’t go through that much trouble. I’d rather find a restaurant.”

“Over Mamie’s dead body, you will.  She cooks breakfast, lunch, and dinner for her tenants. There is a steady supply of food and you won’t lack for nourishment.”

“I’d rather find a restaurant.”

“Well, I reckon you’d better scoot right along then. Most places in town close by seven o’clock. ‘Cept the Catholic church, that is. I hear those Catholics need to get into the church twenty-four hours a day to light candles to the saints, or some such nonsense.  Bunch of gobbledygook, if you ask me.”

Ash looked at his watch and almost smiled. It was only a little after three o’clock. People in this town probably have their dinner completed by 4:30 every night.

“But be ready,” Jim warned.   “Mamie can be very persuasive. She always gets what she wants. When you pull out of the driveway, turn right.  The Sassafras is a couple miles down the road. Turn on Water Lily Lane. It’ll be on the right side of the road. There are three large Victorian houses in the cul-de-sac. The Sassafras is the middle one and has a big wooden sign in the front yard.”

“When Raindrops Fall,” coming May 3, 2021