What Lies Beneath

In Touch

Dartming only welcomed them with love and warmth after their first days in town. Before that, they were given only rain, strange footprints, and the longing to be someone else, somewhere else.

However, things were beginning to feel a little bit better now. There is more life in the lake house and more pep to everyone's step. Though Spencer doesn't see it, Jordan and Daniel attribute their better mood to his talk, something that inspired both of them to get better.

About a week passes, and they're running low on drinks and snacks. That means it's time for a real run into town. With Daniel once again at the helm, they make their way into the heart of Dartming's downtown area. Perhaps needless to say, given their last experience down here, it isn't very bustling.

It feels like an old Western movie; at least, that's what Jordan things. There's dust in the streets, and she isn't exactly sure how it got there. To mock the silent roads, she hooks her thumbs into her belt loops and walks with a wide stance. "There ain't room for all three of us in this here town." She looks at her friends, the sun twinkling in her eye.

Daniel laughs. He mirrors her posture, legs spread out wider, and waddles towards her. "No, there ain't."

Spencer shakes his head, but he's grinning at the two of them. He's sure they make a real pack, catching the eyes of the very few people that are looking outside. They're living, though, and they're having fun. That's all he cares about.

There's a corner store up ahead of them, it's wrap-around porch inviting and looking cool against this summer heat. The door nearest them swings open with a low cry, thirsting for oil. Out walks a middle-aged woman, and, perched beside her, having been watching the whole time, is an elderly man, wheelchair-bound.

"Well, well, looks like you three are havin' a real good time out here in the sun," says the woman.

With red faces, Daniel and Jordan look up; it's hard to tell if they've flushed from the heat or embarrassment.

"Oh, no need to stop on account of me, sweethearts," she says. "I haven't seen your faces 'round here."

They run through the usual banter, questions of being tourists, questions of which lake house it is - though, Daniel isn't sure there is another lake house - and the like.

"Well, if y'all are stopping by, why don't you come in and get yourselves a drink, on the house."

"Really?" Spencer is surprised, though pleasantly, by the hospitality of Dartming and it's natives.

"Of course. It's nice to see new faces 'round here." She waves them in, and, only now feeling their thirst, the three huddle into the corner store.

It's spacious inside, and, unlike the storefront they visited on their first morning in town, it smells like lavender and honey, all natural and raw. There's a faint lingering smoke, and Jordan recognizes it as the muffled scent of cigars.

"You aren't from here, are you?" asks Daniel, walking up to the counter where she leads them.

Under the glass countertop, there are colorful displays of nostalgic candies, and behind her, there are mini-fridges with clear doors and a churning machine with lemonade. The cash register off to the left is old, and it looks heavy enough to shatter the glass it's sitting on.

The woman merrily laughs. "How could you tell?" There are dozens of ways, but Daniel can't put them into words in a cohesive way. She doesn't have the same dust that Dartming has. Her eyes are too different to be someone from Dartming. Her hands are steadier than the people from Dartming.

"Your accent," says Daniel. "You're from the South, I'm guessing."

"You'd have that right, sweetheart. I'm from northern Texas. I can tell you've got some keen eyes on you; now how about you use those keen eyes of yours and tell me what you'd like to drink."