Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Not having her life run by a clock, Rachel didn’t need to be up any earlier than her body desired. Never a morning person, she enjoyed the opportunity to make breakfast her noontime meal, which was why she was more than a little irritated when her phone rang at nine-thirty.

“Rachel? It’s Alex, from the post office.”

At the sound of his voice, she was wide awake.

“Alex?” she tried not to sound as if he had just awakened her.

“Did I wake you?” Apparently, she hadn’t succeeded. “I’m sorry, but you have a special delivery package here that needs your signature.”

Rachel felt as if he could see her through the phone cord, and she pulled the covers over her skimpy nightie.

“Uh, ok,” she said, “I can be there in an hour.”

“That’s why I was calling. I have to take another delivery out your way and thought I’d save you the trip. I close for lunch and can be there a little after twelve, if that’s all right.”

“Yeah. Sure. That would be fine. I’ll see you then.”

Rachel hung up the phone, surprised at the way her body had reacted to the sound of Alex’s voice. She quickly made the bed and ran into the shower. It took her almost an hour to straighten up the living room and another half hour to get dressed. He was only coming over to drop off a package, she told herself, so why was she acting like a teenager on her first date? Ok, so he was attractive, in a rustic sort of way, and he did have that adorable grin that could melt snow, but he works for the post office. What the hell am I thinking?

Rachel checked her outfit in the mirror, cursed her freckles and ran a brush through her hair one more time before pouring herself a third cup of coffee. When she heard his truck pull into the driveway, she ran to her desk and pretended to be heavily involved on the computer when he came to the door.

“Just a second,” she said as she finished typing the phantom note.

Rachel opened the door and Alex handed her the package along with the yellow receipt. He took a pen out of his shirt pocket and intentionally, or by accident, Rachel wasn’t sure which, brushed his fingers against hers when he handed it to her. The gesture produced an embarrassing blush on Rachel’s face, which she hoped he hadn’t noticed, and an inviting smile, which she hoped he had.

“Got time for a cup of coffee?” She asked, hoping he’d say yes. He didn’t disappoint her.

“Sure. I don’t have to be back ‘til one,” Alex followed Rachel into the kitchen. “Working on your next best-seller?” He asked as he walked by the desk.

“Yeah, you know writers. Up at dawn, type all day, edit all night.”

“It might be a lot easier if you turned your computer on first.”

Rachel felt her face get hot. “You caught me. I was trying to impress you,” she smiled and sat on the couch, putting the coffee cup on a nearby table.

“So, I did wake you this morning. I should have known you creative types slept late.”

“Well, you know what they say about the early bird.”

“Yeah, they always get the worm.”

“Exactly my point. What does getting up early do for the worm?”

“I must admit, I never quite thought about it that way.”

Rachel opened the package, quickly scanned over the letter, and tossed the rest of the contents into a nearby garbage can.

“Another rejection?” Alex asked, his voice heavy with sympathy.

“They made me sign for it, too. Just to be sure I read the damn thing. It’s like they’re saying we’re rejecting you and we want to make really sure you know it!”

“Still, if your agent didn’t think she could sell it...”

“What does she know?” Rachel spouted. “Maybe she just enjoys  giving authors false hope so they won’t wind up spending thousands on self-publishing.”

“You never thought about going that route?”

“Yes, I thought about it for awhile. I know a few authors who have done quite well, but I guess I have a different definition of what a published author is. Like I have a different definition on what a successful attorney is, and that doesn’t include fancy cars and multi-million dollar homes. Which is why I worked in the district attorney’s office.” She smiled briefly, then, after looking at her returned package, her expression changed.

“Maybe I just don’t have what it takes. I tell you, Alex, if nothing comes of the batch I just mailed, this may be the last summer I spend holed up in the woods like a hermit.”

Alex felt his stomach tighten. Her last summer? The last time he’d ever see her and she had no idea how much he would miss her. Until she mentioned never coming back, neither did he.

“Rachel, you don’t really mean that.”

“Yes I do. The only reason I was coming up here was to concentrate on my writing career. If I don’t have a career, I don’t have a reason to keep coming here every summer. It’s a nice place to visit, but so is Paris, at least my roommate Karen tells me it is. I’ve never been. I could always go back to the D.A.’s office, or maybe I’ll start my own practice.”

“Rachel, I think you’re giving up too soon,” before I’ve even had a chance to ask you out. “I hear it can take five or six years to get a book published”

“I don’t have five or six years, Alex. I made some pretty good investments when I was getting a paycheck, but that money won’t last forever. I just feel so damn frustrated. I’ve been trying to sell this book for almost two years. Some editors wanted to add chapters, some wanted to cut scenes, some even tried to re-write it themselves, if you can believe that.”

“Isn’t that what editors are suppose to do?”

“They’re editors, their job is to edit. Correct grammar, typos and spelling, stick a comma in here and there, or question a specific line, but not change the entire text of the manuscript. One publisher re-wrote the complete opening paragraph, told me she liked her version better, but I didn’t agree and we parted company that afternoon. These are my words, Alex. I have to be true to what I write and I won’t compromise my principles for some publisher whose only interest is the bottom line. I’d burn it in the fireplace before I’d allow anyone to tamper with my work.”

Alex felt the intense determination in her tone. Even though she’d just expressed her contempt toward impersonal editors and publishers, maybe if he told her what he’d done, she might see it as the act of a friend who was trying to help. Maybe she’d be grateful; maybe she’d decide to stay, at least until the end of the summer.

“Rachel, there’s something I have to tell you...”

“You’re married, and you don’t know how to boil water.”

 “No. I’m single and I love to cook. There’s something else..”

Just then the phone rang. Alex looked at his watch and realized he wasn’t going to have time to finish his sentence.

“I’m sorry, Alex,” Rachel covered the mouthpiece with her hand. “It’s Karen calling from Italy, now. Thanks for making the special delivery.”

“You’re welcome. Sorry it wasn’t better news.”

Although he desperately wanted to leave her with a more intimate gesture, Alex waved a quick good-by and left the cabin. It had been a stupidly impulsive thing for him to rewrite her book, - especially after she expressed her feelings about people who tampered with her manuscript. He was relieved that the phone had interrupted his confession.

“Karen, Alex just left,” Rachel said into the phone, “He’s really amazing. He’s so unlike anyone I’ve ever met...Yes, he’s single. And he can cook!”