An Afternoon in Clear Springs

“It’s a hell of a case they’ve got me on,” Jackson said gruffly into his phone. “Missing kid from the city, few reports that he’s been seen up towards Wilmington.”

“Uh-huh,” the voice of his fiancée, Sarah, came through, sounding distant from the receiver. “When did you say you’re getting back?”

“Are you even listening? A child...” he barked. “Forget it. I’ll be back Thursday. Gotta go.”

“Alright, have fun with-”

He clicked his phone off and sighed. Sarah had been getting more and more distant since they got engaged. He was starting to regret the whole thing. But she had a lot on her plate, so he was quick to forgive the little things.

Off the side of the road he saw a brown hand-painted welcome sign for a town. ‘Welcome to Quiet Springs, pop. 246.’ Below the welcome, written in slightly newer font were the words ‘You’re already welcome here!’

I don’t remember seeing a town on the map, he thought to himself. And what a weird slogan.

Shrugging all his thoughts off he pulled his creaky old truck into a gas station and parked at the sole pump. An attendant wearing large khaki overalls and leaning against the side of the building waved excitedly, smiling warmly at Jackson.

“Welcome to Quiet Springs! What’ll it be, friend?” the man shouted as he walked up. “Just a fill today?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Jackson said, slightly absentmindedly.

He nodded, wiping his hands on his overalls before beginning the fill. “Just stopping through? What’s your name?”

“Jackson. And yeah, I’m just on my way to investigate a case,” Jackson replied.

“Got ya pretty down in the dumps there Mr. Jackson. Why don’t you rest a spell? Barbara the barber’s in her shop today and my wife Nancy down at the cafe has a fresh pot and some of the best sandwiches this side of the mountains,” the man said cheerfully.

Jackson began to shake his head. “I’ve gotta get...” Then paused. “You know what? That sounds nice. I could do for getting my mind off things.”

“Oh, problems with the misses huh?” the man tsked.

“How did you know I...” Jackson stared at him, mouth slightly agape.

“You’ve been messing with your ring since you stepped out your truck,” he smiled reassuringly. “The body betrays the mind, you know.”

‘Wise old man, I guess. Could do for keeping his nose in his business though,’ Jackson thought. Out loud he cleared his throat, holding his voice steady and emotionless. “Oh yeah, it’s nothing. Just not used to being away from home for more than a few days is all.”

He nodded knowingly as he hooked the gas pump back into its slot. “You take a rest up in town, Mr. Jackson. Settle up with Nancy, I let her handle the finances if I can help it. Name’s Earl, by the way, if you didn’t guess by the sign.”

He looked up at the top of the gas station, and sure enough it said Earl’s Station as plain as day. How’d I miss that? He wondered briefly.

“Yeah, people seem to miss the sign all the time,” Earl laughed. “Tried out some different colors but still. Oh well. If’n ya need anything come let me know alright?”

Did he...no, Jackson shook away his thoughts and started up his truck. “Thanks a lot. I’ll get up with Nancy shortly.”

As Jackson drove off he looked back through is rear-view mirror to see Earl at the edge of the road waving goodbye, a wide, jolly smile on his face. The dark oil streaks on his overalls were a very unsettling contrast, however, and had he not known exactly what it was he might have been concerned at the imagery.

As he rounded a bend the main town came into view, seeming to have carved its own way out of the forest to greet him. It looked like a cutout straight out of an old magazine, but from what time he couldn’t place. The buildings were small and colorful with wide paned windows all turned towards the main road, giving each a face that seemed to greet him just as warmly as Earl did.

Maybe that weird slogan wasn’t so far off, Jackson thought as he peered across the various businesses.

There was a central diner at the start of the main road that seemed to be in its full lunch hour. People were coming and going, all talking to each other excitedly about something or another. What was strange was whenever anyone would cross someone else’s path, no matter the size of either group, they seemed to exchange a brief conversation with looks of vast interest in what the other was saying.

Jackson had never seen such a universal friendliness in his life.

He grew up in New York City where you had to be gruff with everyone else just to get through your day, and even in his current home of Richmond he learned to mostly keep to himself. Smiling at a random person on the street was a coin toss between getting propositioned by a hooker, held up by a mugger, or getting into a conversation with an evangelical. He wasn’t sure which was worse.

But here it seemed like everyone had something to say to one another. The expressions on their faces were genuine, the smiles in complete earnest. Everyone actually liked each other.

Almost enough to send a shiver up my spine, Jackson thought cynically. He flinched subconsciously at that. Sarah was pretty frequently cynical, and it had started to rub off on him, but in the same breath she liked to berate him for doing so. Guess that’s growing on me too.

A large hand-painted coffee cup just above a neatly stylized ‘Cafe’ caught his attention. He noted the old town charm of it all, especially the fact that the ‘e’ was missing the was lacking the common acute above it that he was used to in the larger cities he frequented. Even his favorite place to get a plain black cup had a ‘Café’ sign hanging prominently in faux French script.

The rustic nature of it all was rather appealing.

He pulled in front of the cafe and saw an older woman with a cheerful smile watching him from behind the counter.

Must be Nancy, he thought as he arranged himself as he stepped out of his truck. Earl had to have called ahead.

The door of the coffee shop opened with a light pleasant jingle. The pleasant mixture of homey foods and ground and freshly brewed coffee flooded his senses and Jackson relaxed almost immediately.

“Welcome, Mr. Jackson!” Nancy beamed. “Please, have a seat! I’ll have a fresh sandwich and a cup of coffee ready for you in just a moment. Cream and sugar?”

For a brief moment Jackson stopped. When she asked about cream and sugar something about it didn’t quite sound like a question, but more of a statement of fact.

“Oh uh, yes please. Both,” he said as he took a seat in the corner.

Nancy nodded and turned back to the kitchen as Jackson studied the place. Aside from the copious amount of seating the whole shop felt like an old mother’s kitchen. Pots, pans, and utensils lined the wall, all of them neatly placed and clean, but without a speck of dust like they’re used frequently enough to not just be decoration.

The walls were a pleasant pale blue, with just a hint of green, but not quite enough to be considered aqua. The tables, chairs, and counter all had a matching sunflower motif set on a white background. It was all very cheerful and homey and inviting, and made him feel the slightest hint of nostalgia, almost like he had grown up here.

It wasn’t the case of course. His grandmother’s kitchen was a dark blue with stained oak furnishings, nothing as bright and sunny as this. Still, that hint of familiarity nestled itself into the back of his mind and stuck there.

“Here you are, dear!” Nancy said as she rounded the corner from the back, the same cheerful smile on her face as before. “Between this and your gas we can just round this to an even $20, keep it simple.”

“Oh sure,” Jackson said, surprised at the pricing. He pulled a bill from his billfold and set it on the table as she set down his lunch.

“Glad to have you stopping by, it’s always lovely to have visitors,” Nancy said as she walked back behind the counter. “As far off the trail as we are it’s pretty rare, but we enjoy it all the same.”

“Yeah I didn’t even see your town on the map,” Jackson said just before taking a bite into the sandwich.

“Well, it must have been quite the wrong turn you took heading towards Wilmington!” she chuckled.

Jackson’s eyes widened slightly, but his mouth was full so he didn’t respond.

I don’t remember ever saying where I was going, he thought. Did I? I must have let it slip to Earl and she mentioned it on the phone.

The sandwich was admittedly incredible. It just so happened to have Jackson’s favorites on it. Mustard, mayo, a hint of pepper on the tomato, and a pair of pickles. It was probably coincidental; it was all normal things on a lunch sandwich, but the lack of something as common as lettuce struck him as a little odd. Still, there were plenty of explanations for something little like that.

“Glad you seem to be enjoying it, dear,” Nancy said, smiling that wizened smile that only a grandmother has. “I need to be checking on things, but once you’re finished up Barbara’s shop is just a few doors down. Do get yourself cleaned up before taking a rest will you?”

Jackson nodded, just barely finishing his bite before she was out of sight.

Earl must be quite the talker to go through every detail of our conversation, he thought as he washed the last bits of his sandwich down with his coffee.

He left a few extra dollars on the table for her before brushing the crumbs off the table into his hand and carrying them outside. He was always sure to leave as little a mess as possible.

As he rounded out of the shop onto the main sidewalk it almost seemed like everyone he looked at happened to be giving him a welcoming smile the moment he looked at them. Every person he passed had a simple but genuine “How do you do?” or “Afternoon Mr. Jackson” as he passed by, even just the few doors over to the barber shop.

Jackson jumped back just as he reached for the door handle. The door whipped open and he found himself face to face with a smiling man brushing off a few hairs from his fresh cut. Jackson panted, completely off guard, but the man smiled warmly still.

“Didn’t mean to startle you, Mr. Jackson. My apologies,” he said as he stepped back, holding the door open for him. “Enjoy your cut! Barbara’s as good as they come.”

As soon as he could stammer a quick thanks the man was gone.

“Have a seat, Mr. Jackson!” a voice shouted from the back. Jackson squinted as his eyes adjusted to the light, and saw a large smiling woman setting down a broom against the wall before shuffling her way up to him.

He sat down in one of the two seats in the shop and Barbara quickly wrapped an apron around him.

“You’ve got quite the defined style, Mr. Jackson. This will be over in a jif!” Barbara all but shouted at him. She was loud, but her voice was filled to the brim with joy with every word. “Do you want a quick shave while you’re here? I’m sure you want to look clean and fresh for your case!”

“Oh, sure. Hang on a sec, though,” Jackson said as she began clipping away. “Everyone here seems to already know who I am. And how do you know I’m heading to a case?”

“Oh don’t you worry, we’re just a bunch of talkers here!” she said through her great smile. “Word just travels real fast y’know?”

She continued clipping away, starting to whistle lightly to herself. It took a moment, but Jackson eventually recognized the tune. It wasn’t a song he was familiar with, but it was playing on his drive into the town.

“That song-” he began, but she cut him off.

“How was your sandwich at Nancy’s? Best around. Oooh and the coffee! Would you believe that cream isn’t fresh from here? We don’t have any dairy farms around, we make trades with the town over. Fresh as it tastes you’d never know!” she said, her words nearly stringing all together.

“It was great, but I was wondering-”

“And it sure was sweet of you to leave a tip like you did! Not something people always do but it’s very kind of you. Kindness for kindness since she rounded down for your gas right?”

Jackson slid out of the chair, nearly causing Barbara to nick his skin with the scissors. “That was...barely 5 minutes ago. There’s no way Nancy even saw the tip, much less had time to talk about-”

“Mr. Jackson, sit down please, I’m almost done!” Barbara smile looked a little nervous, but she was trying hard to calm him down.

“No, no, I need...I should go,” Jackson said as he pulled the apron off and backed out of the door slowly.

As he turned out the door a woman was suddenly just a few inches from his face, her warm smile just visible in his field of view.

“Mr. Jackson, you can’t leave in the middle of a cut! Your hair isn’t finished, you’ll look such a mess!” she said.

He turned away from her as a man walking their direction smiled at him. “Afternoon Mr. Jackson! I heard about Sarah. Shame a woman would go and cheat on her fiancé like that isn’t it? I hope you’ll be alright soon.”

“What?!” Jackson shouted, his heart pounding in his throat.

“Mister mister!” A child of around 12 or 13 years of age nearby tugged on his shirt, frowning with sympathy. “Mister, you know he was there with her on the phone? Mister what kind of girl would do that! I hope I never meet somebody that cruel.”

“What are you people talking about?!” Jackson yelled out, stumbling to the ground.

“The child you’re looking for is safe, you know,” a man in the growing crowd said. “Just outside of Wilmington even.”

“You must be a great investigator, you were just on the right track!” an elderly man with a creaky smile piped up.

“It’s a shame you’ll never make it there,” a tall woman with a stern, but concerned, look said. “As a man of the law you really should set a much better example for the children. And to think you were even considering moving here to start your own family!”

“Never make it...what the hell are you saying?” Jackson screamed.

A smaller child, around 6 years of age, stepped out from behind the woman. “Mister,” she started with a slight lisp. “Didn’t you hear? You’re gonna be in a bad crash on the way to Wil...Wul...Wilmintons. Mommy says you really ought to be a more careful driver mister Jack sun.”

The endearing mispronunciation didn’t even dawn on Jackson as he scrambled up and dashed for his truck, screaming out into the warm afternoon.

The high pitched whine of police sirens cut silent into the evening as the sheriff exited his car to approached the settling chaos. Shards of glass were scattered over the road leading up to a twist of metal and rubber that at one point was surely a truck.

“Christ almighty, the hell happened here?” the sheriff said, aghast at the sight before him.

“Guy must’ve been clearing 90 around the bend, looks like his foot got stuck. M.E. cleared it as an obvious DOA, says by the expression on his face and the reddish color to what’s left of his torso there’s signs of a near heart attack,” one of the officers informed him, reading off his notes.

“Heart attack? Guy can’t be a day over 35!” the sheriff said.

“Couldn’t tell you, sir. ID says he’s an investigator, 34, name of Jackson. Must’ve seen something that scared the daylights out of him in more ways than one, I guess.”