Sometimes It Happens Here Read online

  I’m about to move on to the bathroom with my toiletries when the doorbell rings.

  “Are you expecting someone?” I ask Fizz, dropping the toothpaste and deodorant back into the bag I only just retrieved them from a second earlier. “What do you normally do when this happens?”

  Fizz stares at me.

  “Yeah, about what I figured.” I scratch briefly behind her ear as I move past her and make my way to the front door. I could do with another person to talk to, might curb my enthusiasm where making small talk with Hannah’s cat is concerned.

  The bell rings a second time before I reach the door, and now I’m a little less pleased with having unexpected company. I don’t appreciate the impatience, or the pressure to rush to the door.

  Nevertheless, I open it.

  “Teran?”

  “What’s up, big bro?” He comes at me, arms wide to give me a hug. “Surprised?”

  “To see my little brother standing in front of me in Blueshadow when I’m pretty sure he’s meant to be in L.A.? Housesitting? My house? Yeah, a little surprised.”

  He squeezes extra tight then pats my shoulder several times upon release. “Your house is fine. You don’t even have plants to water. What do I need to be there for?”

  “You asked to stay there,” I remind him.

  “That was when I thought you were going to be on some set in Canada. Not hanging here.” He shrugs, grabbing the handle to his suitcase and rolling it inside.

  “Blueshadow?”

  “Hannah’s.”

  Of course.

  I close the door and follow him as he wanders aimlessly around her house acting like he owns the place. “You do know that’s never going to happen.”

  “Christmas miracles, bro. It’s going to be the game changer this go around.”

  I could argue, but really, what would be the point? The man is counting on Christmas miracles to get the girl. Clearly, he’s not interested in seeing reason. Or reality.

  CHAPTER TWO

  LILAN

  The marketplace should be busy this morning. Even in the cold, the customers have been coming out in droves. With the holidays just around the corner, everyone’s looking for those one of kind gifts and last-minute party pleasers.

  “Lilan!” I look up to find my table neighbor, Marion, waving at me in a panic from behind a pile of crates stacked up to her chin. “Help!”

  I’m already headed her way. “What did you bring good today?” I ask, peering into the top crate.

  “Acorn squash. Acorn squash for days,” she says, a slight whine in her voice. “I’ve been eating for weeks. I’ll be so glad to see the last of it go.”

  “Wow, you had quite the harvest this year,” I point out, helping her hoist the first crate from the stack and over to the front of her table.

  “I told George, I wanted Butternut squash. Did I get any? Nope. Sure didn’t.” She shakes her head. Her husband is notorious for his half listening, half guessing efforts. It’s makes for rather comical stories. Provided you’re not in them.

  “Acorn is good, too,” I offer, only to regret it when she glares at me. “Not the point though.”

  “No, not the point.” Together we pick up the next crate.

  Before long, her entire table is surrounded in acorn squash and covered in ready-made packets of freshly roasted and ready to heat and eat acorns. I get her frustration. Butternut would have offered her greater variety in products, and thus easier sales.

  “Set a couple of those aside for me, would you?” I ask, pointing at the garlic roasted packs near the middle. “I can make them up with dinner tonight. Mama will love it.”

  “You got it. But you’ll have to trade me. I can smell that apple cinnamon loaf all the way over here.”

  “Done!”

  Some days I wonder how any of us make any money. Most of the vendors all end up bartering away half their merchandise before actual customers ever make it to the table. We always have more than enough of what we need by the time we go home though. Plenty of fresh fruits and vegetables, farm fresh eggs and dairy. Not to mention the handcrafted home goods that make every house not just functional but homey. I love the marketplace; love the family I’ve found here.

  With the rush of setup subsiding, the next wave of work begins as customers begin to trickle in. Come nine a.m. the foot traffic is so thick I can hardly see the booths across from me.

  “Brought you something,” I hear a familiar voice say.

  “Hey, Kaleaha.” I smile at her standing at the edge of my table, careful not to disrupt any of the customers comparing loaves. “You know you never need to come bearing gifts, just seeing you is more than enough.”

  “Uh-huh.” She grins, reaching across the table to hand me a very large travel mug. “Hot cider. From Kenny’s.” Best hot cider around.

  “You’re amazing.”

  She shrugs. “I’m a pretty average best friend, Lilan. Your standards are just remarkably low, so you don’t know the difference.”

  Not true. She’s one of the best ‘best friends’ a girl could hope for.

  “No rehearsals today?” Kaleaha runs the music department at the high school and every year they team up with the drama department to put on the biggest production of the year, all in the spirit of the holidays. That means, come the day after Halloween, every free minute is dedicated to creating the show. Including weekends.

  “I’m stalling,” she admits. “Hannah’s already there. Told her I would be late. With goodies. So, she forgave me.” She scans what’s left of my morning display. “What yummies you got today I want?”

  “This just for you and Hannah? Because I don’t think I have enough of everything to feed all the kids today.”

  “Just me and Hannah. Kids are on their own. That’s what they’ve got parents for.” Even as she says it, I know she’s bluffing. Kaleaha does more for her students than she’d ever admit, much like she does for me. It’s not in her not to be generous and nurturing, but she’s too humble to ever accept credit for it.

  “I’ve got a few extra loaves of pumpkin bread still packed up. I’ll give you those. If you slice them extra thin, you can even feed a few of the vultures.” It’s what she calls them. Highschool students - always hungry and willing to pick over just about anything.

  “Perfect.” She turns sideways, scanning the left side of the market, then twisting back around to check out the left. “Now where can I go to waste another fifteen minutes? I don’t want to show up until after Hannah does all her weird vocal warm ups with the kids. They’re just noises. Not even words. I’m telling you, I can only take so many guh guh guhs and kah kah kahs before I want to stick my head in the piano.”

  “Not the piano.” I frown, pushing out my bottom lip as I hand her the loaves of bread in one of my cotton shopping bags. I always bring extra, so I can do some shopping. And for occasions like this. “I love the piano.”

  “Fifteen minutes. Point.” Kaleaha never strays off topic the way I do. It’s what keeps our relationship in balance.

  “That way,” I stick my finger out to the left, her right. “Brand new handmade soaps chick. Go find all the best scents and text me what they are before you leave so I can grab some too.”

  She nods. “I’m on it.” She hooks the bag’s long straps over her shoulder. “You’re still coming this afternoon? To help with the set?” Been doing it since I was in high school. Never wanted to be in the show, but always loved creating the perfect backdrop for it.

  “Of course.” I do an automatic exchange of bread and cash with one of my regulars, nodding my appreciation as he smiles his thanks. “I’ll have Mona with me. She can’t wait to help out this year.” It’ll be her first time getting to be a part of the backstage team.

  “She’s going to do great, though, unlike you, I have a feeling she won’t stay backstage for long.” She winks, then departs from the table, disappearing in the sea of people shortly after.

  I sip my cider as I watch her melt into
the stream. It’s delicious and exactly what I needed to take the chill off. She’s not wrong. Mona loves the spotlight. I’m sure when her chance comes to take center stage, she’ll jump to it without any hesitation at all.

  Bodhi

  “WHAT ARE WE DOING HERE?” Teran asks, two seconds after we get out of the truck and step foot into the marketplace.

  “Experimenting,” I mumble, adjusting my baseball cap. I hate wearing them, and yet, I don’t think I’ve left the house without one on in seven years. Maybe longer.

  “Never pegged you for a science guy.” Teran smirks. “Is it a new thing? A passing phase? I’m only asking because I was hoping to see Hannah sometime this morning. Maybe surprise her with coffee and pastries or something. You know, impress her while I’m informing her of my unexpected arrival and consequent stay.”

  “It’s not a new thing. I do this every town I visit,” I remind him, “I’m trying to gauge my recognizability. Assess how comfortable I can get here. Hannah said this place was like the town’s version of a shopping mall, thus it’s always adequately crowded.”

  “You ever think your head’s getting a bit big?” He stops at a booth marked Kenny’s Hot Cider. “Also, does Hannah like cider?”

  “You’re a jackass.” I stop just a few steps past him to keep out of the way of people lining up for cider.

  “But does Hannah like cider?” He points up at the sign, as if I’ve somehow missed what we’re talking about.

  I shrug. “Maybe.”

  “Maybe like you don’t know, or maybe like you know but you’re not going to tell me?”

  I take in the passersby, no one paying any particular attention to me, and I casually slide off the cap, folding it in my hands for the time being. “Maybe, like she does enjoy hot cider but only from one particular place, meaning she may like it or she may not, depending on where you get it. And before you ask, no, I don’t know the place she goes for cider.”

  Teran turns back to glance at the large banner covered in big, bold lettering. “It says it’s the best.”

  “Yeah, I can read too. Learned before you, actually.” And not just because I’m eleven months older, but because Teran hated books for the longest time and refused to even crack one open before he hit middle school and discovered Harry Potter.

  “Why won’t you help me with this?” He shakes his head and abandons his cider purchasing efforts.

  “Why won’t I help you score points with Hannah?” We start walking again, and I’m slowly starting to accept the possibility that I really could exist here as just another human being, no more or less interesting than the next. “You mean other than the fact that I think she could do so much better than you?”

  He shoots a glare in my general direction to acknowledge the dig, then moves past it. “Maybe if I was with Hannah, I would become better. Ever think of that?”

  I shrug, taking the folded cap and sliding it into my back pocket. I don’t think I’m going to be needing it here. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you don’t put that on someone else. You choose to be the person you are for yourself. If your standards are low, they’re low. If you raise them, you reach higher, you climb. Either way, the responsibility falls to you. Not someone else.” First rule of adulthood. When Teran learns that, then I’ll consider being more supportive of his efforts to win Hannah over.

  “So, you’re saying I don’t need to be an overachiever like you?” he jokes, but I’ve heard these comments often enough to recognize the snide undertone.

  “I’m saying Hannah has her shit together. She’s not bouncing around from one random gig to the next, picking up whatever looks fun in the moment. She’s pursuing her passion. Living her life with purpose and direction, and complete commitment to her dream. You want a woman like Hannah, you have to come to her on that level. Not show up and expect her to help you climb up to meet her. That’s not how it works.”

  He pushes his tongue out into his bottom lip – his standard move when he’s about to dig in his heels and be an ass. “You’re at her level. I don’t see that working in your favor any.”

  I snort. “You’re not really taking it there, right?”

  For a moment Teran seems to be undecided about his commitment to the path he’s started on, then, he sees reason and retreats. “Fine. No. I’m not going there.” He steps in too close and bumps my side before stepping out again. Neither of us even acknowledges it. Been walking like this all of our lives. “Seriously, though. I’m not like you, or Hannah. I don’t have that intense ambition streak. I just like to have a good time. And I don’t really see why that’s a problem.”

  “It’s not,” I agree, “unless you’re after a woman like Hannah.”

  He sighs, voicing his frustration. “Must be nice being the James brother who has his shit together.”

  “Yeah.” I nod, grinning.

  “You’re a dick.”

  “Also, possible,” I admit.

  We walk in silence while Teran stews, and I take in the marketplace. It’s nice to not feel on edge for a change, not worrying about paparazzi flooding my path out of nowhere or wondering how many people playing with their cellphones are really trying to take a picture of me. I’m just...blending in.

  Then, my feet slow down and I come to a complete stop. It’s entirely unplanned and I’m not even sure I did it intentionally.

  “What?” Teran has to back up several feet by the time he notices I’m no longer walking beside him.

  “Look.” I nod to the left of the aisle, a booth down from where we’re standing.

  “The Bread Bin?” he asks. “Hannah like bread?”

  I shake my head laughing. “Not everything is about Hannah.”

  “Not true,” he disagrees.

  “The woman,” I inform him, overriding what will likely be another lengthy Hannah monologue, “working the booth.”

  Teran takes another look. “What about her?”

  I can’t believe he’s even asking that. Everything about her. I can’t even begin to explain it, but there must be a million different things I find fascinating just watching her from where I’m standing. The way the light dances on her chocolate colored hair, making it shine red in the sunrays. The genuine care and curiosity in her eyes as she listens to her customers. The subtle curve of a smile in her full, perfect lips when she talks. The way the wind and cold left a rosy hue on everything from her cheeks to her mouth. Even if she weren’t visually stunning with her bright green eyes and heart shaped mouth, and that wave of brown locks cascading down her back, dancing when she laughs, she’d still be breathtakingly beautiful because of the grace and kindness she emanates so freely.

  “Think she likes cider?” It’s the first thing I can think to say that could possibly convey to Teran the impression she’s made on me.

  He smirks. “I don’t know.” He starts moving again. “But I like bread.”

  “Wait!” I hiss, but it’s too late. He’s at her table. Talking. Charming her, no doubt. It’s unintentional. Teran is naturally charming at all times. Minus the ones he’s interacting with me, of course.

  I back up several feet until I’m at the nearest booth on the opposite end of the aisle, hiding, but completely able to watch in silent horror as my brother chats up the woman of a lifetime. I should join him. Should march right over and talk to her. It should be that easy. Except it’s not. Because I’m Bodhi James. And nothing about my life is ever that simple.

  Time passes at an agonizing pace until, at last, he returns.

  “And?”

  He holds out a bag in my direction. “Pumpkin bread.” When I don’t move, he adds, “Consider this my one and only offer to share. It’s delicious and I’m only going to mind my manners once before I hog it all for myself.”

  I reach into the bag and tear off a piece. “Did you talk to her?” I spell out the question I thought was obvious.

  “Yeah.” He nods, reaching into the bag for more bread. “Had to. O
therwise taking the bread might have been misconstrued as stealing.”

  “Why are you doing this to me?”

  “Why are you acting like you’re twelve and like a girl for the first time?”

  “Is this because I won’t help you with Hannah?”

  He smirks. “Basically, yeah.”

  At least we’ve come full circle. “Come on.” I start back for the exit. “We’re late enough as it is.”

  He falls into step beside me. “We can work a trade, you know. I help you get the bread girl, you help me with Hannah.”

  “Thanks, but no. I think I’ll stick to managing my own love life.” I speed up a little more. We’re not really in a rush, but the sooner I get to Hannah’s, the sooner I can get some real answers around here. It’s a small town. Hannah tells me all the time. Everyone knows everyone. And there’s a certain someone I suddenly want to know.

  CHAPTER THREE

  LILAN

  “Thanks for dropping her here, Jimmy. You saved me a ton of time I didn’t have to spare,” I tell him as soon as the driver’s door to his red pickup swings open.

  “Happy to,” he says, smiling. “I’m just glad we got to spend the morning with her. And the commute just gave us more time to chat.” He climbs out and clears the path for Mona who slides across the long bench seat until she can dangle her legs over the side and jump out.

  “Did you know that I have my own horse?” she announces, eyes wide with excitement. “His name is Hawk and he’s got wavy black hair and he walks funny.”

  I do my best to return her enthusiasm though it’s not easy. “Is that right?”

  She nods, head bobbing up and down as she goes on, “He was my dad’s horse. Did you know that?”

  “I did.” I bend down to meet her at eye level. “Your daddy used to take me on rides with him. And that funny walk Hawk has, it’s about the smoothest gait you could ever hope for.”