Page 2 of Worth the Risk
“Winnie!?” I hear Anna from behind the counter. “I thought you wouldn’t be in tonight. Aren’t you supposed to be having a nice dinner with your boyfriend?” I cringe, because although I think getting over Sam isn’t going to be an issue, I’m not looking forward to telling everyone who asks that we’ve broken up. Maybe I’ll just let it go for tonight.
“I was but something came up…” Like catching him cheating on me. “…and we had to cancel.” The entire relationship. “I thought I’d come in and get started on some of the dough for tomorrow and a couple things for the weekend. How’s it going tonight?”
“Aww, I’m sorry. I know you were looking forward to the night off.” I smile. “Everything here has been good! We sold out of most pastries by 6 but I stayed open just in case anyone wanted a coffee or one of the breads.” She looks pleased with herself and it’s nice to see her confidence growing.
“That’s great. Sounds like you had everything covered. Thanks, Anna.”
“Anytime! I’ll start sweeping soon and let me know if there’s anything else I can do.” I smile at her and walk through the swinging door to the kitchen. As soon as I’m back there I take a deep breath. Today and the many days before are catching up to me. I can feel the fatigue settling in. That's why I like to keep moving. I don’t like to dwell on negative feelings or emotions for too long.
I take a second to look around me. I love this kitchen. I may be exhausted but I’m also happy. The work and dedication I’ve put into Thistle and Sageis already paying off. I want to jump up and down but my muscles protest and cry out for rest. I feel older than I am tonight. At 30, 31 next week, I know I’m still young. Only sometimes I think my anxiety takes an extra toll.
I go long stretches where I feel more carefree, able to handle typical stresses and obstacles life throws my way, but then I’ll get the pit in my stomach again. I never know when it will rear its ugly head. The nausea and headaches, the soreness and bone deep tiredness. Anxiety is something I will have to battle the rest of my life but with the help of my friends and family, an incredibly supportive community, and a therapist to help me work through bad episodes, my anxiety has become manageableand less frequent. I tune out my inner thoughts and try to focus on the bread I’m about to bake.
I work my way around the kitchen collecting and measuring ingredients. Instead of letting my thoughts drift back to the day I’ve had, I focus on the task at hand. I've loved being in the kitchen from a very young age. Colt and I moved to Silverthorne to live with Uncle Buck, my mother’s brother, when I was 13, after losing our parents in a car accident.
I used to cook and bake with my mother every day. Whether we were preparing dinner or making something special, I spent so much of my time with her in the kitchen. I smile thinking of her, I don’t allow myself this very often. It tends to make me sad and I don’t do well with sad. Her sweet smile has faded in my mind over time. Slipping through my fingers like the flour I’m sifting. We were so young when it happened and relocated so quickly that I didn’t think to ask for pictures or many keepsakes. I feel a tightness in my chest and rub at it, trying to clear it away, but only leaving flour and dough on my apron. Today has been more than enough, I don’t need to add anything else on top of it.
I section my dough and put each one into baking tins. After I slide them into the drawer, I decide I had better start cleaning up around here. The end of summer festival is this weekend and I’m excited to be featured at a booth. This community has always been special. There’s always an outreach or festival happening at least once a month.
Ding!I hear the door chime from the back room. I look at the big mounted clock and do a double take and groan. It’s already 8:30.
“Hey, Anna! Could you please lock the door and flip the sign?” I ask. I guess she must have forgotten to lock up earlier.
I hear voices out front and I’m hoping no one is looking to order anything seeing as we sold out of most items earlier. I’m smiling as I put the last utensil away. Not a bad problem to havefor a Thursday night. I mentally pat myself on the back. It still sneaks up on me, knowing that so many people have my back and believe in me. My heart warms.
When I don’t hear the bell again, signaling someone’s exit, I decide I had better go take care of this so we can close up and I can let Anna go home. It’s only after I step through the back swinging door into the front of the shop that I see the reason she hasn’t let our customer know we’re closed.
Barrett Holloway, all 6’4”, tattooed muscle, greek god of him, is leaning against the counter, chatting politely with a very flushed and flustered Anna. He’s maybe the last person I expected to be here. I knew it was a possibility that he would be back in town, having heard about his knee injury. I just didn’t think it would be so soon. I haven’t really spoken to him in four years. In fact, I’ve tried to avoid any one-on-one interaction with him at all costs since I went to one of his hockey games to confess how much I missed him and wanted to be with him. Instead of giving the ‘it’s always been you’ speech and him taking me in his arms and sealing our love with a kiss, I found out he had a girlfriend.
Yes, that was mortifying, and I try not to think about it too often. I say try because when I lay down in bed at night and wade through the sea of embarrassing memories (past, present, and future) that particularly painful memory never fails to float to the surface. It’s because of those dark anxiety ridden moments, that I have thought about how a conversation between us would go after all this time. There are actually multiple variations of how I have pictured this in my head.
So, why in my moment of need couldn’t any of those one sided conversations make their way to the forefront of my brain? If I had to guess the reason, it would be that in all of my delusional scenarios, my poor brain did an abysmal job at remembering him correctly. God, he’s breathtaking.
Then he turns his full sparkling gaze on me, I forget to catch the swinging door–
“Shit!”I hear his deep voice in sync with my own.
Well, this was definitely not one of the scenarios I was prepared for.
Iswipe the steam from the mirror over the sink in the hotel bathroom. I take a good look at myself then blow out a breath. I look awful. My eyes are bloodshot and I have dark circles under them. The drive from Seattle to Silverthorne was brutal. Nineteen hours, 1300 miles in a truck by yourself gives you plenty of time to think about all the choices you’ve made and second guess them, but standing in that arena earlier today with my new team solidified that I was in the right place. I’ve thought about what leaving behind my life in the city will be like and how excited I am to be back in Colorado. To be back in my hometown with my family and friends is what I need in my life right now.
I’m almost out of the hotel before I completely know what I’m doing. I told myself that I just needed to go for a walk before bed but if I’m being honest, there’s only one place I’ll be walking to. I know she opened her own bakery a few months back. Colt mentioned it in passing when he called to ask about my injury. Ihave tried not to think about her over the years but the way we ended never sat right with me.
My mom calls as I’m pulling on my jacket. It may be August but when the sun goes down you’ll be sorry you don’t have an extra layer handy.
“Hey, mom.”
“You got in today didn’t you?” She asks without so much as a ‘hey’.
“I did. Just this morning. I took a nap after I met with the team and had a shower. Sorry I forgot to call.”
“Oh, that’s fine. Your sister called me to let me know you checked in.” Then why did she ask? “I’m still not sure why you’re staying there when you know we have plenty of rooms here at the ranch.”
“Yeah mom, I know I’m welcome to stay with you and dad until I can move into the house, but I’m fine staying at the hotel for now.” I’ve already bought a house and had the inspection. I’m only waiting to sign the papers next week.
“Okay, well it’s an open invite, dear.” I can’t help the way my lips tip upward, knowing this won’t be the last time she offers.
“Thank you, mom. I’ll keep it in mind. I’ll see you tomorrow for lunch.”
