To Stay Forever
By
Luna Carrol

Emily Hertford shook her head. She’d been staring at the computer screen for at least ten minutes. How rude! All she did was ask about a few names. She didn’t demand his blood type, or anything like that.

The email message stated, in a clear and simple way, “Not interested in participating in your little hobby. My family line is long and distinguished. It is not to be riffled through to satisfy the curiosity of some American who couldn’t possibly be related to me. Good day.”

Well, that settles that. She would have to talk with him again. She knew for a fact that plenty of people in the world had the name Cross. This uppity man was Derek Crosse.  The spelling came too close for there not to be a connection. There were numerous people on her website requesting information on the Cross name. They claimed to be English descendents and she was determined to investigate all avenues, even the Welsh version.

“I look forward to meeting you. Sincerely, Emily Hertford.” She smiled and hit the send the button before she could rethink her email. She knew what she would end up doing if she didn’t send it immediately, she’d chicken out.

“Em, I’m going home. Will you be leaving soon?”

Emily looked up at her newest co-worker, Clayton Paul. He was about her age, a little on the plump side, but handsome enough with his blond hair and rosy cheeks. He was the town of Bowen’s historian and journalist, which mostly meant he kept up with small matters, printed a very small paper, and made sure nothing got destroyed for the sake of progress in this quickly changing world. Their small office barely made any money at all.

“Yes. I’ll be leaving shortly. I just needed to send an email.” She stood and grabbed her coat off the nearby rack.

“Would you care to get a drink with me?”

He looked a little nervous asking her. The way he gripped the edge of his pockets on his overcoat and shifted from foot to foot made Emily want to smile. He really was sweet, but just not her type.

“I mean, I was just asking because you can’t possibly know many people here yet and I could introduce you to some.”

She could tell he knew she was going to say no. Something in the way he avoided her gaze told her that he expected her rejection. With his British accent and charming demeanor it would be difficult to say no.

“I suppose one drink wouldn’t hurt.” His face lit up a little with her answer. “I’m not much for drinking, mind you, so I’ll only stay for one.”

“Very well, then, just a pint.” He offered her his arm as they left but she smiled and shook her head no.

Okay, I can’t let things get complicated. This is nothing more than two co-workers sharing a drink after work. She watched as he walked to the passenger side door on his small British car. Sure, just two co-workers. It just so happens that one liked the other more than he should.

Emily smiled and climbed into the car. Just as he closed the door she noticed a fine mist starting to fall on the windshield. Nothing new there, it had rained nearly every day since her arrival in England.

“We’re about to get a splash or two, I think,” Clayton climbed in and started the car.

It wasn’t like riding in an American car. It looked smaller and less plush on the inside. Still, it got from one place to another and with the narrow roads she wasn’t sure she could drive a large American car down the road safely.

Emily managed to purchase a vehicle but she thought it best to leave her car at the office and ride with Clayton. She was staying just a couple of blocks away from their office and knew the pub couldn’t be too far away; after all, nothing happened in this small town, so she could walk back if needed.

“The pub isn’t far. Just a simple place really, but you can get something hot to eat if you like.”

The weather was turning colder. Any day could bring snow and ice. When she thought about it, the ice would be worse.

“That sounds good. Maybe something thick, like a stew.” She thought for a moment. “Oh, but nothing with sheep innards or blood.”

Clayton laughed. “Nothing but beef, I understand.”

Emily smiled as she remembered her first introduction to black pudding. It had been a rather difficult experience to overcome. Clayton had been the one to suggest it, and thought it very funny when she curled her nose at the smell.

“I don’t know if I can trust you…again.” She pulled her coat tighter against the chill creeping in.

Clayton laughed once more. “Oh now, you wouldn’t begrudge me a little initiation would you?”

Emily tried to look severe, but smiled at the last moment. “No, I suppose not.”

“Here we are.” True to his word, the pub was a simple, but old-looking place. It had the classic swinging sign out front, but the name was long since worn away. The walls were made of a small brown brick and the roof appeared to be thatch. It really was. A thatch roof! The town of Bowen, England, seemed to have forgotten what year it was.

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