Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 112249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
The local newspaper, named after its respective town, wrote about the antics for weeks with letters to the editor waxing poetic about traditions and privacy on one side of the fence. Mostly anonymous. The other side, well ...
How some of those letters got published was a fucking mystery.
What else did the town have to do with their time, though? It gave people something to talk about over dinner between their regular shifts of work and the nuances of a quiet valley life.
Which was what eventually prompted the town to install security cameras at the tower. Back when Gracen had still been young enough to sneak up to the lookout with a boy who had a license and a backseat, however, the cameras had not yet been on site.
She tried not to care about the wisps of nostalgia—for a time she couldn’t get back, and didn’t necessarily want to when she knew how the path would inevitably end again—while she climbed over the metal railing. Not that she was supposed to. Clear, bright signs, even in the darkness with the help of a few spotlights on the tower and its power supply system, could be seen posted every ten or so feet.
Warnings.
Bylaws, too. For the sake of telling people they would be fined for littering or dumping trash.
More glaring were the pictures of stick people falling over ledges looking back from every direction, each with a clear intention. Gracen never went more than a couple of feet from the railing even though another fifteen or so meters of rocky ledge extended beyond where she stood.
Gracen only wanted the rush of getting that same view she had the first time she stood at that very same spot. It was the ultimate prize for her successful trek up, and a beautiful visual of what she would be hiking back to shortly.
She never stayed long.
The view always looked different each time she made the hike either because of the time of day, the weather, or even the season. Her collection of photographs of the same spot over the years—she tried to make the hike once a month now, if she could—had become impressive enough that Delaney made copies and created a massive collage that now hung over their fireplace mantel.
Gracen didn’t bother with a picture tonight. She’d only brought her phone which couldn’t take a quality shot at night to save its life. Instead, she just took a few seconds to enjoy the view and half completed her accomplishment to spend time doing something she alone loved for the sake of herself.
No doubt, Delaney would be home by the time Gracen returned. A new week was on the horizon. She could finally get her days and life back on track. Managing the chaos wasn’t so hard with a bit of extra time for self-care. It was just making it all happen, of course.
Sometimes, that was the hardest part.
By the time Gracen returned to the tower and her backpack, she had to once again rifle to the bottom of yet another bag to find the usual. Her jogging lanyard holding her keys, amongst other more important things. While the sun hadn’t quite set on her way up the trail, the trek down wouldn’t be the same. The three-inch long flashlight with a keyring attachment she picked up at the gas station worked perfectly to illuminate Gracen’s path when she jogged at night.
The flash of white light from her phone caught Gracen’s attention before she had zipped the backpack closed. She took a second to chug what was left of her water while she unlocked the device, expecting a message about an appointment for the Haus, or even a text from Delaney—had she managed to stick the party out or did she cut it short?
Instead, she found two missed calls.
One right after the other. Malachi wanted something. Clearly.
The phone had been just far enough away that she hadn’t heard the ringing during her moment on the rocky ledge. He picked up on the second ring when she called his number back. Bike Boy still acted as the name for his contact in her phone, too.
She would not be changing that.
Not for anything.
“Shit, I just put my helmet back on, too,” came his gruff greeting.
Which only made Gracen laugh. “Sorry, it was only a couple of minutes since you called. Are you busy?”
It wouldn’t take the man more than ten minutes to drive from one side of town to the other, so she didn’t mind waiting for a phone call while he did it. The trail she’d take back had good cell reception the whole way, so that wasn't a problem, either.
Malachi’s silence stretched on.
Gracen didn’t miss it. “No worries, you can call me—”
“I’m at the Irving Big Stop before the Renous highway,” Malachi said. “I won’t have any service until I’m closer to the Miramichi, so I was trying to catch you before I started out.”