Chapter 8: Familiar Roads
The heat hit Jess, the moment she stepped out of the airport as she made her way to the parking lot where the rental was parked.
It had been a hectic month for her with adding finishing touches to her latest book, signing the movie contract, meeting the cast and crew involved, ensuring the cast identified to the characters in her book, and tying up the loose end to free her schedule for the summer. A few odds and ends were still left but they were in the capable hands of her editor, David. She had complete faith in him.
Yet for the past month, she hadn't been able to look him in the eye because of the guilt that ate her inside. Though they were never romantically involved, but she being aware of his feelings for her, felt as if she had betrayed him. Many a times, she tried to come clean but she always held back because she was afraid of losing him as a friend. So she took the coward's way out and tried to avoid him in general.
She was rudely awakened from her musings by the blast of a car horn. The light had turned green and she was blocking the road. She detoured to the right, leaving the highway behind as she took the road that led to Roseville.
As the town came into view, this time Jess drove straight through the heart of it. The town stood timeless in all its beauty and elegance, every nook and corner holding memories of a lifetime ago when this little town in this corner of the world was a place she called Home.
Tudor wattle and daub cheek by jowl with Georgian town houses lined both sides of the narrow street. The town square was crowded with its share of shoppers and pedestrians. To one side of the square stood the church and running parallel to it, the Town's library. At right angle to it, stood the Majestic Town's Hall boasting of a tower clock that chimes the hour since ages gone by.
The other two sides of the square were filled with a jumble of odd buildings, confectionery stores, parlours, departmental stores, grocer's stores, food market and the likes. But the most eye catching display was the ornamental fountain at the heart of the square.
As young girls, they used to cycle along the square on their way home from school. Many a pennies were lost in the fountain in the hopes of having a wish granted. During market days, they sat side by side beneath the tress on the bench donated by past worthy citizens enjoying a cone of ice cream and giggling over boys. They had attended regular church services, spent hours poring over paperbacks found in the storeroom at the back of the main library, enjoyed treats and delicacies from Gladys Bakery....With each landmark so many memories surfaced.
Without lingering further she drove past the square, past the school building, on and on until the view before her wavered as tears filled her eyes. She put her foot down on the brakes and slowed the car to a halt. Her eyes landed on the all too familiar baseball court at the other end of the street. She got out and without warning her steps led her to it.
A couple of kids were in the middle of a game. The batter at the base was patiently waiting for the ball to be thrown his way as the umpire settled behind. The pitcher's face was hidden beneath his pulled down cap. Just then the umpire signalled as the ball sliced through the air.
"Strike one" the umpire announced.
"Is that all you've got. You throw like a girl. Its not even worth my time" the batter taunted.
"Says the smart mouth who fails to score" the pitcher yelled back calmly lifting the cap to wipe off the sweat running down his forehead. Jess saw her then. The pitcher was a girl.
The scene before her wavered as a similar scenario from years gone by came into focus.
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