Chapter Thirty One

If someone had told Elise a week ago that she would be unemployed, homeless and achingly sad, she would have laughed in his or her face.

And yet, here she was, having walked away from the best thing that had ever happened to her with no plan in mind for the future.

She wondered over and over if she had made the right decision, if her conscience and need to be straight edged had led her astray, if she should return to Timberline and beg Tucker to take her back.

But her pride kept her right where she was.

Which wasn’t actually that far away.

She and Jed had driven around for a while after she had fled Timberline, Elise crying in the backseat and unable to catch her breath and Jed saying the occasional soothing word, but mostly leaving her to her own devices until she was able to finally pull herself together.

When she finally did, he had gently asked her where she would like to go, and even invited her home to his own house to stay for a few days, but she didn’t feel right putting him in that position, knowing he still was loyal to Tucker, as he should be.

Instead, she had asked him to recommend an affordable motel somewhere near the water – if such a thing existed – for a few days until she could formulate a better battle plan.

Jed had recommended the Eagle River Inn, right on the beach in Eagle River, a motel Elise remembered seeing during her visits to Eagle River with Betsy and Tucker. She had readily agreed and, armed with Jed’s cell phone number and a runny nose, she had bid him farewell and gone inside to request a room – the cheapest available, if possible.

For the first twenty four hours, she mostly sat on the balcony of her small room, looking out at the water – which was churning with the approach of a storm, based on the angry looking gray clouds on the horizon, a perfect fit to the mood Elise found herself in.

Mostly, she cried.

Occasionally, she slept.

Sometimes, she nibbled on something to eat despite having little appetite.

After a day, though, she was overcome by the urge to move around and, now that the storm had blown through (and kicking up spectacular waves in its wake), took to the beach for a long walk, heading down the beach towards a small river that cut through the sand, then beyond, further and further away until the motel was but a speck in the distance over her shoulder.

She almost wished she could walk away from her life as easily, from her emotions.

But alas, they were right with her for every step of her walk.

Few people were on the beach today – a few dog owners exercising their pets, a few dedicated “beach walkers”, and a few casual beach combers, bending over to pick up the occasional smooth stone or worn beach glass and popping them into their pockets.

Elise just walked.

And brooded.

She finally turned back towards Eagle River and slowly made her way back, feeling a bit unsteady on her feet and in her head.

It took her several minutes for her to diagnose herself as more than just overcome by sadness, but then she did: it felt like the precursor to a migraine.

Not the scary, blind-inducing kind she’d had at Timberline, but a migraine that was going to flare in her brain and press into her skull with a pain that was impossible to describe to someone else.

She needed to get back to her meds, and her bed, and quickly.

She picked up her pace, noting a man near the water, also walking swiftly, as though out for exercise rather than as a tourist or casual observer of the waves.

She paid him no mind, though, until he was suddenly beside her, taking her arm gently.

“Miss? Are you alright?”

She looked up blearily, realizing she had been clutching her head to stop the jarring of her steps on the painful nerve endings in her skull, exacerbated by the headache. The man beside her was probably in his late thirties or early forties, with windwswept salt and pepper blond hair, a tanned and weather-worn face, and a gentle smile that formed crinkles at the corners of his bright blue eyes.

“I’m…”

“You’re staying at the Inn, right?” He asked, falling into slow step beside her. “Room… one twenty three, right?”

She nodded, and then winced at the movement. “Yes, I’m in one twenty three. I’m Elise Blake. I’m sorry, you are… have we met?”

“Right, right… my sister checked you in – Rachel. I’m Daniel. Dan. My sister and I own the Inn. Didn’t want you to think I was some strange dude just picking you up on the beach but you looked like you were… struggling. Are you okay?” he repeated, his eyes filled with concern as he looked at her, noting the obvious pain on her face.

“Hi, Dan,” she replied politely. “I’m… I’m so sorry, I’m probably not good company right now. I’m… I think I’m about to kick off a rather epic migraine, so I was just heading back to my room before I was completely incapacitated.”

“Then let us take the shorter way back,” he said, offering her his arm, which she took gratefully and let him tow her up the beach to the road, then walking swiftly along the asphalt to the front door of the Inn, not saying a word to distract her, for which she was grateful. “Is there anything I can get you to help? My cousin suffers from migraines, and she always wants caffeine.”

“I think it’s too late for that,” Elise murmured, digging out her room key. “I’m just going to go to bed, I think.”

Dan nodded, helping her up the steps gently. “I’m the night manager tonight, so just ring the front desk if you want me to bring you a drink or something to eat or something. There’s hardly anyone staying with us this evening, so I’ll be bored out of my gourd, so just call.”

Elise gave him a grateful smile. “I will. Thanks so much – it was nice meeting you.”

“You too,” he said sincerely. “Feel better!”

Elise barely remembered stumbling to her room and kicking off her shoes before collapsing on the bed and sleeping for the next eight hours.

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