The weather is perfect for this day. It is rainy and wonderfully dreary. There is a thick fog rising with the morning sun. I brush my teeth with extra care. Silly, I know, but I have always been told I have a breathtaking smile. My caramel hair is styled in a messy fishtail braid, lying slightly across my left shoulder.
Wearing my favorite red plaid flannel, over a white tank top, I lean down and tie my Chuck Taylors one last time. I look over my apartment, making sure to leave it nice and tidy, with no evidence of anything being out of place. The latest celebrity gossip magazines lay strewn across the coffee table. I have to laugh when I see ‘Lady Gaga’s latest costume made of meat.
Locking my door, I tuck my key into the pocket of my cut offs. The bus is late. I have discovered that it is always five minutes behind schedule. I am eager to stick to my plan.
There is a quaint diner in the middle of town, Nelly’s Kitchen, the local townie hangout.
It’s only Seven a.m. and the place is crowded. There is a group of elderly men seated in the first booth ranting about the latest town hall meeting, while drinking their coffee and reading their newspapers.
Taking a seat at the counter, the stool still swivels. I always loved twisting on it as a young girl. I haven’t been here since before the accident. I used to come here all the time after school; they have always had the best milkshakes.
I inhale the scent of coffee and grease while I wait for the waitress to notice me. Looking around the dining room, I notice the walls are still lined in pictures of the locals, fishing, having parades, along with various sports team photos. It has a real ‘Leave It to Beaver’ atmosphere.
I notice something that hasn’t always been here. A picture of Harlan. Well more like a shrine. It is his senior portrait. There are signatures signed on a board beside of it. Unable to stay away, I walk over to the picture. I run my fingers across his handsome face. A lonely tears slides down my cheek.
A tingling sensation courses through my body, forcing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand. That feeling of someone staring at me makes itself known. I turn around to see everyone in the diner staring at me. No one is even chewing their food or drinking their coffee. They are probably waiting for me to freak out. I wipe the tear from my cheek and take the marker attached to the side of the board.
I write:
My love, we will be together again.
Calmly, I walk back to the counter and wait to place my order. Everyone eventually returns to their own business. I have gotten used to the stares. Every time I go to the grocery store people whisper, point, and stare. I keep telling myself just a little longer, I can get through it to be with him again.
Harlan is waiting for me.
I just know it.
Swiveling around on the stool and glancing to the left I notice that yes, I am being studied again. I am what you would consider attractive. My hair is a caramel shade of brown and hangs just below my shoulders, my face is round, but it isn’t chubby. My eyes are a dull hazel green. I’m not too tall or too short. I have an average build for an eighteen-year-old girl I suppose. My breasts aren’t huge, but they aren’t mosquito bites either. I have a good handful at the most; Harlan always said they were perfect.
This guy on the other hand I can’t tell much about him, he is hiding under the curtain of his powder blue hoodie. Snorting to myself, I turn back towards the waitress and place my order.
What does one order for their final supper, or in my case final breakfast? I decide to order a grand feast, steak and eggs it is. I sip my soda while waiting for my order and some jackass rudely elbows my ribs causing me in turn to spit my drink all over the counter.
“Excuse me. I am terribly sorry about that. Tell ya what, breakfast is on me,” he apologizes.
“That really won’t be necessary,” I mutter as I take a handful of napkins from the dispenser.
We both go to wipe the counter at the same time, he brushes his hand over mine in a not so subtle attempt to flirt. I remove my hand from his and he leans in close.
“You must be new in town I haven’t seen you around? Where are my manners? Name is Hurley Owens, you are?” He attempts to woo me with his southern boy charm.
He sticks his hand out for me to shake. I take another sip of my drink and take him in. He is good looking enough, but what is the point, I will never see him again, or anyone for that matter. Nevertheless, I am polite, well polite for me.
“Bella. And I am a local.” I extend my hand in return. “Your manners are fine. I think it’s your flirting that is a bit rusty.” This guy is something else.
“Ouch, that stung, just a little.” He clutches his chest. “Don’t worry, sugar, I will always have a spot open on my calendar for a gal fine as you, even with your shitty attitude.”
“I bet your calendar is always open. And with lines like those it’s no wonder,” I insult him.
There, that shut him up. You can simply tell by the way that he carries himself, he is used to girls throwing themselves at him. Such a waste too, he has a handsome face, with teen dream wavy blond hair, blue eyes, tall, muscular build. Probably a football player and too much like my Harlan—cocky and fit as fuck.
My food arrives, and I escape his glare. I notice he takes a seat across from my blue hoodie mystery looker.
I cringe as I hear Brianna Jenkins cackle. I have nothing for her—she was supposed to be my friend. But like most of the other girls in this town, she had gone behind my back with Harlan. I spy her from the corner of my eye, as she joins Hurley and blue hoodie guy. I put my hand up covering the side of my face that they can see and pray she doesn’t notice my presence.
I am left alone to enjoy my meal in peace. Well, about as much peace as one can acquire in a crowded diner while being examined by the whole damn town. I take my time savoring each bite. They really have great food. I motion to the waitress, so I can pay my tab.
“Already taken care of, honey, seems like my Hurley is sweet on you.”
In this moment, I notice she shares Hurley’s blue eyes and wavy blond locks.
“Really, I would prefer to pay,” I argue.
“No, just leave me a tip and we can call it even, honey. You will be seeing my nephew around. He just moved here a few months back. He is my sister’s boy and he just happens to be single.” She winks. “It’s nice to see you, Bella, you haven’t been in here for a while...”
I place a five-dollar bill on the counter and leave to catch the bus that shuttles to Cold Creek Falls. I normally ride my bike to the falls, but today I opted for the bus because of the rain.
The bus driver takes one look at me.
“Not a very nice day for visiting the falls. Not very good shoes for the trails either.”
I wave my camera at him, “photography project.” I smile, like that should explain it all.
You see, my plan is to make my death appear as an accident. I want to make it look as if I was trying to get the perfect shot of the falls from the bridge that overlooks the lake, when tragedy strikes, and I lose my balance, taking the plunge over the edge, and into the water. The bridge is old and worn, it wouldn’t be hard to believe that I had fell through the railing so easily. The town council has been trying to raise money to repair it for years now.
The bus is getting ready to pull out when blue hoodie guy suddenly jumps on. I pretend not to notice him. I occupy myself with my camera’s memory stick as he walks past me, pausing briefly like he is expecting me to notice him or speak or something—weirdo.
Great, I hope he isn’t following me. Wouldn’t that be just my luck? I roll my eyes with indifference when he continues to walk past me. He takes a seat at the back of the bus as we descend on our ride. The bus driver must not have taken the hint that I’m not big on making small talk.
“Photography, eh? My Julie is getting married soon. You got a card or a number? You know, just in case. Say, you look familiar, aren’t you Clara’s granddaughter?”
“It’s only a hobby and yeah that’s me.”
“Well if you change your mind, this is my route six days a week,” he says with pride.
The bus was originally for senior’s trips to the falls for the elderly, but it became popular with the college kids, so now there are two buses that shuttle around town. They charge bus fare for each trip there and back. Gram said it was a great way to earn extra money for the town’s revitalization projects.
Finally, we make it to the marina. There are only the regular fisherman’s trucks and trailers in the lot. They fish far away from the falls. Thankfully, hoodie guy goes in the opposite direction from me and towards the docks.
The rain really starts coming down. I should have brought an umbrella.
What am I thinking?
In a few minutes, none of this will matter. My sneakers slide through the mud on the hike to the falls. Eww, there is mud squishing between my toes. After a ten-minute hike, I make it to the falls.
I take a few minutes to take in the scenery that surrounds me, it is the last vision I will have. The pine trees are a lustrous green. The drops of rain are cascading down the leaves of the giant maples and the pines. My one ending memory of leaves—kisses blowing in the wind.
I look across the lake to the spot that Harlan lost his life. I can hear him whispering in my ear, “My beautiful, Bella, I am waiting. I cannot wait to hold you in my arms once more.”
Taking a deep breath, I try to boost myself onto the bridge railing. My sneaker slips from the slick of the rain, causing me to scrape my knee against the concrete wall, I almost fell for real. Gazing at the rushing water below, my nerves kick in. This is the moment you have been waiting for, Bella—just do it, don’t be a chicken shit! I climb up the concrete wall and hold onto the railing. Wow. The rail is narrower than I had anticipated.
I straighten my legs as they begin to tremble slightly. Steadying my legs, I hold my palms out and close my eyes. “Breathe in and out. Then repeat,” I tell myself. I am ready now. I picture my family—my Gram, one final time, and remember the way the trees were swaying around me a few moments ago.
It’s then I hear a whisper, “Just breathe—I’m with you…”
“Harlan.” I breathe out his name. A smile spreads across my face.
He has come for me.
We are about to be reunited for real.
I knew he wouldn’t let me do this alone.
“If you jump, you’re taking me with you.”
“What?” I must not be hearing him right. His voice sounds different—husky all man-like, but all that matters is that he is here. “Of course we are doing it together, babe. I’m so glad you are here with me,” I admit.
That is when he takes my hand in his. His skin is warm, inviting and soft to the touch. I open my eyes and blue hoodie guy is on the rail standing beside of me, clutching my hand to his chest for dear life.
“What are you doing, you aren’t Harlan? Were you following me?”
I go to tug my hand away.
“Don’t let go,” he pleads. There is something in his voice that keeps me holding on. “To answer your questions. No and yes. I have seen you around every morning for the past week. Can we go somewhere and talk? I’m scared of heights,” he confesses.
“You’re scared of heights and yet you come here every morning? And not only do you climb up here beside me, but you tell me that if I jump you are going to jump with me? Are you supposed to be my guardian angel or something? I must be really seeing shit now!” I let out an exasperated breath.
Who is this frustrating stranger?
“No, I’m no angel. Your eyes are working correctly. I am going to let go of your hand now, but I need you to promise me that you will climb down with me and give me a few more minutes of your time and hear me out,” he demands.
Who does he think he is?
I take a breath as he lets go of my hand.
This is it.
Only I can’t do this.
Not with him standing here thinking he is saving my life.
The rushing of the falls sounds below.
My foot slips and I cry out, right as his hands pull me back. “Don’t let me go,” I beg.
“I won’t,” he says, softly.
We both climb down the wall and the weight of what I almost done hits me square in the gut. Blue hoodie guy catches me as I collapse.
“Hey, are you okay?” He brushes the sleeve of his hoodie across my cheek wiping the rain away as fast as it is falling.
“I don’t think it matters,” I briskly tell him as I try to stand.
“Of course it matters. That was some scary shit you were about to pull!” He clasps his hands over mine and pulls me up to where I am standing toe to toe with him.
“No, I meant the rain, we’re both soaked.” I pull away from him. Has he ever heard of personal space? I mean, who climbs onto a bridge with a stranger and offers to jump with them or wipes the rain from their face with their own clothes.
Who is that thoughtful?
“Were you really going to do it? Jump that is?” He is watching my every move with caution. He acts as if he is afraid I am going to turn around at any minute and try to jump for again. It’s not like I would do it with him watching. I wouldn’t put that on anyone, no matter how badly I want it…to jump…to put an end to it all.
“What?” I shoot him a bewildered look. “I was going to take some shots of the falls. I was just trying to get a good angle.” I play dumb waving my camera that is hanging around my neck at him. Thank goodness, it is waterproof. I try to brush his concerns aside like he is the crazy one.
“Good thing I was here to stop you.” He is staring at me intently through the sheets of rain; it’s the only thing separating us.
“Who are you?”
“Cutter Dawson. You’re Bella? I overheard you in the diner talking to that guy, you putting him in his place was quite entertaining. I am from Mason, you heard of it?”
“Yeah, I have been there before, what are you doing here, in the falls?”
“I am going to school here, I just moved into the apartments near the town center.”
“Looks like we are neighbors. You aren’t some kind of creepy stalker are you?” I shuffle my feet.
This is pretty fucking awkward.
This nice guy ruins my perfect plan, and he seems to be following me around. I take a good look at him. He isn’t much taller than me. He has gorgeous blue eyes that match his hoodie. He has medium brown hair that isn’t cut too short, but it isn’t long either. His mouth is slightly crooked, and his lips look juicy and so kissable.
I shake my head.
Kissable?
Really, Bella.
I try to stop my knees from shaking.
Cutter is gorgeous, like he should be an underwear model or something. Why in the hell is a guy this good looking here in Cold Creek? Gawd stop staring at him. I blink and force myself to stop examining him.
“Stalker? No. I recognized the sadness you try to mask with your fake smile. Now are you going to tell me what the fuck you are thinking? Nothing in this life is worth killing yourself over.”
“I wasn’t really going to go through with it.” Great. Now this guy is weighing on my conscious. I can’t do it. At least not today. “So what kind of name is Cutter?” I am doing it again—staring at him. His nose is perfectly centered with his jaw structure. Seriously this guy is breathtaking, and merely looking at him makes my heart skip a beat.
“It’s a name. And no, I won’t tell you why I’m called that. Don’t even ask. Why do you come here every morning?”
“It’s no secret. I come here to be close to Harlan.” I turn my head away from him, as a tear escapes down my cheek.
“I don’t follow, who’s Harlan?”
I don’t hold back as I stand in the pouring rain with this guy who has the most incredible blue eyes I have ever seen.
I tell him all about Harlan—how I come here every morning, to talk to him. My reasoning behind it. This is the last place we were together, and it is where he died. I feel closest to him when I am here. I don’t know why I am choosing to spill my heart out to this complete stranger, but it feels good to talk to someone who doesn’t know me and already have a preconceived notion about me.
I tell him the parts that I can bear to speak of. I tell him how I witnessed the love of my life fall to his death. And almost every day since he passed away, I can feel his presence with me. Some days I see him and other days I can hear his voice.
“So, you are pretty fucked up, but hey, I am not judging you. You want to die. I get it. I do. But have you even made a bucket list?” He steadies his hands against my rain soaked shoulders.
“A bucket list?” I shrug his hands off me. Again, with the personal space. He doesn’t know me to be putting his hands on me like that. Like he knows me. “I just tell you that I see and hear my dead boyfriend, and you want to know if I have a bucket list. You just might be as fucked up as I am. No, I don’t have a fucking bucket list.”
“I want you to write one and give me one year for us to complete your list. After we finish the list, if you still want to die, I will bring you back here, so you can jump.” He holds his hand out like he is waiting for me to shake it.
“Are you in-fucking-sane? Why would you want to do that?”
“I told you, I’m with you.” He takes my hand in his and holds it briefly before dropping it.
What’s with this dude?
“Why though?” I look at him with confusion written all over my face.
“Because I love your filthy mouth.” He laughs and gives me a wink. “Maybe I am just as fucked up as you are. So, one year, do we have a deal?” he questions again, gauging my reaction cautiously.
“And if I don’t agree.” My teeth are chattering. I am pissed, cold, and intrigued.
“If you don’t agree I will tell the local law enforcement that I caught you trying to jump. That will at least result in a 72-hour hold.”
“You sound like you know from experience,” I counter.
“Ha, nope. I just watch a lot of shitty television.” He sticks his hand out again, and I don’t know why, but something pushes me to make this insane deal with him.
This time I place my hand in his and we shake.