“This is not the escape I needed,” she thought glumly to herself.
The Oregon Coast had always been a refuge, or if not a refuge, at least a good hiding place. Somewhere to lick wounds and regroup.
She put the car in park and sat with both hands on the wheel. The car idled as she watched the frantic windshield wipers sweep back and forth, offering only momentary glimpses of the hotel parking lot. After a few moments of irresolution, she turned off the car, opened the door, and ran into the lobby, jacket held over her head. Why hadn’t she checked the weather before coming all the way to the coast?
The front desk attendant looked up with a start as she rushed through the door. “Good evening, miss,” he said. “Can I help you with something?”
“A room, please. Ocean view, if you have one. It’s probably too much to hope for the suite with the jetted tub and the fireplace?”
He chuckled, “It’s available, miss. January is already pretty quiet around here, but not many people come out when there’s an atmospheric river. How many nights?”
She felt her cheeks warm. “Perfect. Two nights, please.”
He typed the information into the hotel computer, and she handed him her driver’s license and credit card. “Thank you, Ms. Marston. We have you on the third floor, room #359, for two nights, checking out on Thursday. Here is your key. The stairs are outside to your right. Enjoy your stay!”
She held the key against her chest and turned to face the torrential storm once more.
The room was lovely, and the amenities were superb. The rain on the sliding glass door, paired with the crashing of the waves on the beach below, made for a harshly melodic symphony. She had hung her coat over a chair by the fireplace, and she watched as the dripping fabric began to leave a circular wet spot on the carpet. The fire cast dancing shadows across the scene. In the dark bathroom, she could see the chrome of the elegant faucet and the gleam of the jets along the sides of the massive tub.
“I don’t want to leave this room until Thursday,” she thought to herself. “Thank goodness for in-room dining.”
She picked up the receiver on the bedside phone and dialed the room service button. A familiar voice picked up “Front desk?”
“Oh, excuse me. I thought I’d dialed for in-room dining.”
“Unfortunately, miss, we do not currently offer in-room dining. We took advantage of the off-season to do some renovations in our restaurant. There are some great local places nearby, however.”
“Ok. Thank you.”
She placed the receiver firmly back into its cradle and tried not to give in to her frustration. “There’s a protein bar in my bag. I’ll sort out food tomorrow.”
Her bag sat unopened on the luggage rack in the closet. She began riffling through and putting things away. This did little to put her in a better mood. There was no protein bar. No phone charger. No Kindle. No laptop. No toothbrush. An alarmingly short supply of warm clothes. The absences were damning evidence of her hurry to leave town that morning.
There was nothing for it. She had to go back out. She vaguely remembered a market not far away that she’d passed by coming in. She tried to look it up on her phone, but the battery symbol in the corner blinked from 3% to 2%, and the screen went dark.
Jane Marston heaved a sigh, slung on her wet coat, and went out in search of provisions.
Heavy rain at night in an unfamiliar town makes for terrible conditions for navigation. Jane drove around in silence, leaning close to the wheel and squinting out into the darkness. The rain was relentless. She wasn’t sure if it was the weather, the season, or just a usual occurrence, but at 8:07 pm, everything seemed closed.
She started to wonder if she could even find her way back to the hotel when she saw a large fluorescent sign with blocky letters:
Carl’s Cafe and Beach Books
Famous Chowder – New & Used Books – Open Late
At this point, what did she have to lose? She pulled into the parking lot and into a space as close to the entrance as she could muster. She made a dash for the door, a small bell tinkling to announce her arrival.
Jane was met with the smell of hot food and old books, a combination she had never thought about before. When it hit her, it felt like the most natural thing in the world, wrapping around her with startling familiarity.
She examined her surroundings. To call the place eclectic would not do enough to describe the haphazard and whimsical nature of this shop. Jane had expected a bookstore with a separate dining area, but was met with books on shelves, books in boxes, and books in tall stacks. Scattered among this organized chaos were bistro tables and chairs, tucked into cozy corners, in front of windows, and between bookshelves. It was enchanting.
“Well, hello!”
Jane startled and turned. An old man had come out of a back room, drying a coffee cup on his apron. His fluffy white hair matched a bushy mustache. He smiled broadly, his green eyes sparkling. “Doesn’t this beat all! I just told Deb that we’d be on our own tonight, and she said, ‘No, Carl, there’s always someone who needs a bite on a night like this,’ and I was certain she’d be wrong. I said, ‘I’ll bet you it’s only us! $5!’ and she took me up on it. My Deb will always take a bet, but she’s usually right, so it’s good business for her.”
“You must be Carl,” said Jane.
“Yes, that’s me. Carl Williamson.” He gestured dramatically, “Book Baron. Paperback Prince. And I do a bit of cooking, too.”
He set his cup on a table and motioned to her. “Pick a spot. Take a load off. Do you want a menu? Most people do.”
“Actually, your sign said chowder, and it definitely feels like soup weather. Do you have any ready?”
“Of course! Of course!” Carl called back to her over his shoulder as he disappeared into the other room, which held the kitchen.
Jane couldn’t help but smile at the strangeness of this place and her host. She picked a table in a small alcove, scooting a small stack of books to one side.
“Here you are,” said Carl, placing the steaming bowl in front of her. Out of his apron pocket, he brought salt and pepper grinders and a bottle of hot sauce. “Not that you need these, but if you like them, I’ve got them.”
“Carl! The bread!” called a woman’s voice.
“I know! I only have the two hands! One sec!” yelled Carl. “Sorry about that. I’ll be right back.”
He scurried back into the kitchen and returned with a tiny loaf of sourdough and a large pat of butter. “This comes with it. Enjoy. Feel free to browse the books. Let me know if you need anything.”
Carl gave a smile and an encouraging nod before returning to the other room. Jane was charmed. Maybe this trip wasn’t doomed. She savored the chowder slowly and relished the savory sweetness of her bread and butter. As she ate, she began to read the book titles in front of her.
The Absent Treatment of Disease, With Particular Reference to Telepathy
Does the Earth Rotate? No!
An Irishman’s Difficulties with the Dutch Language
Pigs: How to Make Them Pay
Extreme Ironing 101
Curses and Blessings for All Occasions
This last book, she decided to pick up. As she opened the cover, a piece of paper fell out onto her lap. It was a postcard with a very faded photo of Cannon Beach. It was probably 50 years old. It had never been sent, but the following had been written in a beautiful cursive script:
May you weather every storm
with courage in your heart and hope at your back.
May the winds shape you, not break you,
and may calmer seas always find you again.
Jane stared at the words and felt the pinprick of tears behind her eyes.
Carl cleared his throat in embarrassment, and she looked up. He placed a glass of water in front of her. “The things you find in old books,” he said sheepishly. “It’s a funny thing. I’ve always felt that most books are timeless, but sometimes they offer you little gifts. It almost feels like having a pen pal in a different time. There’s something that feels so intimate about an old book.”
He turned red. “But don’t listen to an old fool. Would you like anything else?”
“No, thank you,” said Jane, but she paused. “Actually, on second thought, I’d like to buy this book, too.”
Carl smiled, nodded, and went to get her check.
Jane paid, gave Carl’s Cafe and Beach Books a parting glance, and tucked her new book into her coat.
She went out again into the storm, with courage in her heart and hope at her back.
Things That Start With J 