Wherever the Dart Lands

By Clark Larsen

Taylor Olsen's life in Olympia, Washington had been nothing short of wonderful. That is until his parent's sudden divorce, followed by the devastating passing of his best friend, Colin Jacobs. Now, having left Olympia to pursue his college education in Montana, a chance encounter brings Lisa Rutherford into his life. Lisa is not only beautiful and sweet, but has an amazing zest for life. Taylor could not believe his luck. But when he discovers something shocking about Lisa, it leaves him both confused and scared. Can Taylor open his heart to Lisa, even if she becomes the next person in his life to leave him heartbroken and alone?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Clark Larsen
• Release date: Jan 26, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215775592

Clark Larsen

Clark Larsen is a lover of Italian food, a jogger, hiker and unapologetic consumer of Cherry 7Up. He also reads for pleasure and enjoys a good basketball, baseball or hockey game, regardless of who is playing. Wherever the Dart Lands is Clark’s first ever novel. He and his wife Michelle currently reside in Tooele, Utah.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

HEY, I KNOW YOU, SAID the attractive young lady who spoke in an upbeat voice, even while root beer dripped off her face and clothes.  

Those were hardly the first words Taylor imagined hearing from the latest victim of his horrible clumsiness. He had absolutely no idea how she knew him, considering he had arrived in Helena, Montana only two days before.

Throughout his life, Taylor Olsen, who stood a wiry six feet, six inches in height, had a reputation for bumping his head on low objects, or tripping over things he had not seen resting in front of him. This would sometimes result in trauma to whoever sat or stood nearby. Having taken center stage inside a Helena gas station, he discovered a change in geography had not made his clumsiness disappear.

Moments before, he had been casually filling a large plastic cup with ice and root beer at the gas station’s fountain drink stand. Grabbing a lid and straw, he watched as a group of boisterous truck drivers, dressed in an array of rough clothes and dingy mesh caps, chatted and laughed their way towards him and the drink stand.

With the lid atop his drink container only somewhat secure, Taylor held it tight in one hand as he attempted to navigate his way around the talkative truck drivers. Believing he had successfully made his way past them, he failed to notice his left foot had slid underneath a wire rack holding an assortment of cookies and chips. As he attempted to walk toward the front register, his left foot tripped on the rack and he fell to one knee. Out of reflex, he squeezed the plastic cup in his hand, causing much of its contents to fly straight into the air, and onto the face and clothes of the young lady whom he had not seen standing in front of him.

Mop! shouted a grey-haired, female gas station employee. Somebody grab a mop and get it out here, now!

Except for the sound of country music playing from the overhead speakers, the gas station went silent as Taylor stared at the young lady. His expression appeared as though he had just run her over with his car. In a flash, the gas station employee who had shouted for a mop reached the young lady and wrapped an arm around her. 

Are you okay, sweetie? the employee asked.

The young lady, who appeared surprisingly calm, responded with a simple nod.

Can I help you get cleaned up then?

Again, the young lady nodded.  

As the two of them walked together to a nearby ladies’ room, a second gas station employee, a young man close to Taylor’s age, began to mop the floor where Taylor had spilled his drink. Chatter and activity around him returned to normal as Taylor threw away the cup and lid into a nearby trash can. The knee he had landed on throbbed like crazy as he bolted out the front doors and into the hot, August weather of Helena. Walking with a limp, he vowed to never again patron this particular gas station.

While the pain in his knee continued, he arrived at his car, parked alongside one of the gas station pumps. He gazed across the street at Glen’s Diner, the restaurant where he would soon begin his first day of work. It seemed horrible luck to be on the giving end of such an unpleasant circumstance during his first Monday in Helena. After taking a moment to ponder this fact, Taylor knew he had to put a positive spin on the situation. He turned and looked upon the gas station’s front doors, waiting for the young lady he had dashed with root beer to exit so he could talk to her and offer some type of recompense. After a quick glance at his watch, he knew he did not have a lot of time before he needed to be over at Glen’s. Correcting this situation as best he could, however, became priority number one. 

Several minutes passed before the young lady emerged outside. Even from a distance, Taylor could spot the root beer stains on her white blouse and charcoal colored business jacket, which she wore with a matching skirt, black nylons and high heels. While she looked no older than Taylor, who had turned eighteen a few months earlier, she sure did not dress like someone attending classes at the local junior college. Rather, she dressed more like a high-end business executive heading to an important meeting. 

How do I make this right besides just saying, I’m sorry? he whispered as his feet whisked him in the direction of the young lady.

Drawing ever closer to her, he watched as she paused to put on a pair of sunglasses and reach for her car keys. She performed these tasks while holding a black purse and bottle of orange juice, the latter she had purchased from the gas station. As he came within earshot, Taylor’s mind scrambled to find the correct words to say.

Hi, um, uh, ended up being the first words, or rather first sounds, to exit his mouth. Look, um, I know you’re probably, you know. I’m sure you’re pretty mad at me right now, and you should be. I totally get that; but I just wanted to say I’m really, really sorry for what happened in there. I hope you realize it was an accident, and I would really, really like to make it up to you somehow.

As the two stood next to one another close to the gas station’s front doors, a small sliver of shade protected them from the sun. The young lady appeared to be more than a foot shorter than him, and once Taylor finished speaking, she removed her sunglasses. For a moment, the two stared at one another. He noticed her eyes were a heavy brown, like shiny, majestic marbles. From his perspective, they were quite lovely, along with the soft, olive complexion of her chin, nose, cheekbones and forehead. Her long, raven black hair likewise looked amazing, as though she had run it through a curling iron only minutes before. Even with the root beer stains on her clothes, along with the small stains in her hair, she still managed to look quite elegant and very attractive. It was not until she returned his words with a large, beaming smile, however, that Taylor noticed his heart skip a beat. This was one stunning young lady. 

It’s very nice to meet you, she said as she put her hand out for Taylor to shake. Lisa Rutherford is the name, and of course, what happened in there was an accident, so no hard feelings.

A sense of relief enveloped him like a warm blanket. Not only was Lisa beautiful, she was likewise very forgiving.

I’m Taylor, he said, as he returned the handshake. 

Pleasure to meet you, Taylor, and do you by chance have a last name?

Oh, yeah, um, Olsen,

Terrific. So tell me, Taylor Olsen, how did your first day of classes go today?

Startled, he took a step back before giving her a sideways expression.

I’m sorry, but how did you know that? he inquired. 

Lisa chuckled. Easy, she replied. First off, everyone knows today is the first day of classes for most of the college students in town. But not only that, I remember you from Saturday. She gestured across the street towards Glen’s Diner. I was having lunch with a friend of mine over at Glen’s when she and I saw you come in with that red-haired guy who told a few people you were his new roommate. My friend commented to me about how tall you are.

Taylor nodded as he recalled Lisa’s first words to him after the root beer incident. Even though he had been in Helena only two days, she did indeed know him already.

After arriving in Helena the previous Saturday afternoon, driving a midsize sedan his sister Heather had lent him, Taylor met his new roommate, Brendan McGill. Brendan lived in a two-bedroom apartment in nearby East Helena. A Montana native, he was about to start his senior year at Carroll College, the local Catholic school in town. Like Taylor, Brendan possessed fair skin and a good amount of freckles; but unlike Taylor, whose hair was a dark brown, Brendan’s hair, along with his freckles, were bright red.  

After Taylor moved all his stuff into the apartment, the two drove to Glen’s Diner where Brendan had worked for several years as a cook, and where he had arranged for Taylor to get a job washing dishes. His interview with the diner’s manager took place over the phone several days before Taylor arrived in Helena.

So, exactly how tall are you? Lisa asked. 

Six, six, he replied.

Fabulous, she said with gusto. And in case you’re curious, I am a mere five, three, so I’m a bit on the shorter side.

Taylor nodded. From his point of view, in no way did Lisa’s height or lack thereof take away from her stunning appearance.

Now, if I remember correctly, your red-haired roommate mentioned you’re from Washington State?

That’s right, he replied, impressed by Lisa’s memory. Olympia, Washington, in case you were going to ask what city I’m from. 

Lisa nodded. I also remember him saying you’d be attending our local junior college and working at Glen’s starting on Monday, which of course is today. 

That’s very good and very correct, he said, impressed even more by all she had recalled.

Her memory impressed him even more since he had never considered himself the kind of person that would stand out in anyone’s memory, let alone a gorgeous young lady like Lisa. Along with being six feet, six inches in height, with dark brown hair and fair, almost paper white skin, Taylor’s assortment of freckles covered not only his face, but also his shoulders and arms. It had been the kind of appearance he always believed made him look a little too pale, a little too bizarre looking. For a long time, he had been certain this was exactly how members of the opposite sex viewed him.

That’s a remarkable memory, he said.

You almost have to have a good memory when you teach high school, Lisa replied. I do what I can to try to remember all my student’s names.

Once again, Taylor took a step back in surprise. If Lisa taught high school, she could not possibly be eighteen years old like he was. She would have to be, at the very least, four, maybe five years older.

You teach high school? he inquired.

I do; U.S. and world history over at the school in Bradford. It’s about a half-hour from here. I am also the assistant junior varsity volleyball coach, which is so much fun. I love sports, so it fits well with my personality. 

Taylor pondered the fact that none of his teachers in high school, or for that matter, middle school or elementary school, had been anywhere close to being as attractive as Lisa. He imagined there were more than a few boys among her students who had a major crush on her. They would be the kind of boys who always looked for ways, either good or mischievous, to garner her attention. 

But getting back to you, Taylor Olsen, said Lisa. How is your class and work schedule looking for the week? 

Fine so far, he replied, still amazed by the fact Lisa taught high school and coached volleyball. I have all my classes in the morning, and I’ll be working over at Glen’s most days until around 3:45 or 4:00, that way I’ll have my evenings free to do school work or whatever else I might feel like doing. 

Lisa grinned bigger than before, appearing as though an amazing idea had just crossed her mind. Fabulous! she proclaimed. So, you want to help correct our little incident inside?

Of course, he replied.

Good, let me give you my number then. 

Taylor could feel his face turning red as though having been hit with a high fever. While he had hoped to obtain her phone number, for Lisa to volunteer it to him made him start to blush - big time. From the black purse she carried, she pulled out a pen and yellow sticky note.

Even in the age of smartphones and Internet, she said, I’ve discovered it’s always good to keep these things handy.

She quickly wrote her name and number on the sticky note. Here you go, she said as she handed the note to him. I normally wouldn’t do something this crazy, but since you’re so eager to help me out, I might as well let you. I actually live only a few blocks from here, so you should be able to find my place pretty easily.

Taylor nodded, assuming he already knew how Lisa wanted him to make amends. Okay, so I can call you later and you can tell me where to pick up and pay for your clothes after they get dry-cleaned? That’s what you want, isn’t it?

Nope, she replied. That’s not what my number is for. I’ll get these clothes of mine cleaned and paid for on my own, thank you very much. This is for something else.

Taylor appeared perplexed. What else would that be? he asked. 

Simple. I’m going to a concert Friday night, I have an extra ticket and you’re going to be my date.   

If, at that very moment, a massive, multi-vehicle car accident took place on the street directly in front of the gas station, it is doubtful Taylor would have even noticed. His eyes popped open as though having been shocked by an electrical current.

Ah, ah, ah. I’m sorry, he said while attempting to make discernible speech. But uh, did you just say you wanted to go on a date with me?

Why yes, as a matter of fact, I did, replied Lisa. I really hate wasting a perfectly good concert ticket, and you did say you wanted to make it up to me, didn’t you? The friend I had planned to go with can’t make it, so you’re going to go in her place. Call me whenever you can and I’ll give you directions to my house. Meantime, got to run. See you Friday.

Taylor became incredulous. Wait a minute, are you serious? he asked. I mean, you do realize I’m only eighteen, whereas you are, how old?

Perhaps this had not been the most appropriate question to ask. Nevertheless, it still managed to escape his lips.

Twenty-five, she replied.

Taylor began to blush even more than before. He imagined every passerby who glanced at him would notice how red his face had turned. 

And yes, even though you are only eighteen, Taylor Olsen, you’re still a full-grown adult who is attending college. You have a job and you’re also new in town, so someone needs to show you a little slice of Montana. I promise to be kind and respectful to you at all times.

Taylor could not believe it. A beautiful, twenty-five-year-old young lady, or perhaps he should instead think of her as a twenty-five-year old woman, had just asked him on a date. He began to wonder if this were a dream. He might have continued to wonder if it were not for the knee that he had fallen on inside the gas station, which continued to throb with pain. 

How do you know I’m not some kind of evil nut case? he asked. 

Lisa laughed. I doubt that very much, she replied. I mean, if I didn’t know so much about you already, including that you like root beer, which is a favorite drink of mine too, by the way, I probably wouldn’t be doing this. You don’t have a girlfriend back home in Olympia, do you?

No, he responded with a chuckle. Not even close.

Well, there you have it then, said Lisa. I’m quite the eligible bachelorette myself, so call me later and I’ll see you on Friday. 

Taylor watched as Lisa walked to her car and drove away before he gazed down at her name and phone number written on the sticky note he held in his hand. Placing the note in his back pocket, he slowly walked over to his own car, climbed inside and drove across the street to Glen’s Diner. After he reached the diner’s parking lot, he stepped outside and gazed up at the blue, nearly cloudless sky overhead. Thoughts of his life back in Olympia, Washington, the city he had been born and raised in, began to fill his mind. Also filing his mind was the image of Colin Jacobs, Taylor’s best friend since the two of them were in first grade together.

Gazing skyward, he spoke. Colin, old buddy, if only you could have been here to witness everything that just happened over at that gas station.

CHAPTER 2

YOU’LL BE STAYING PRETTY busy with the dish washing, a co-worker told Taylor.

While he anticipated his new job would keep him at least somewhat occupied, he soon discovered just how occupied he would be. Glen’s Diner, a local establishment that served American cuisine from a simple menu, and opened only during breakfast and lunch hours, nevertheless maintained a strong, loyal customer base. While Taylor could not see the customers from his vantage point, standing in front of the dishwasher and sinks, he could still hear the faint sounds of their continuous eating and chatter as though, at any given time, there were at least two to three dozen patrons inside the diner.

On his first day, co-workers brought him large plastic tubs filled with dirty dishes for Taylor to wash, one after the other. He continuously scraped tidbits of food items such as bacon, toast, salads and sandwiches into a large trash can before scrubbing and rinsing the assortment of plates, cups, bowls and utensils that came his way. He next placed them in a small dishwasher where they would go through several minutes of a hot, thorough cleaning. Pulling these items out of the dishwasher, he would let them cool before he stacked them in designated locations within the kitchen area. His co-workers would then get them ready for use by the next batch of customers.

By the time he clocked out at the end of his first day, Taylor could barely walk to his car. His feet hurt, his back had become stiff as an ironing board, and his shriveled up hands looked to him like a pair of pale-colored prunes. The knee he had fallen on inside the gas station did not hurt as much, although that was because he could barely feel it.  

Driving back towards his apartment in East Helena, Taylor exhaled deeply as though having just finished a long race. His mind returned once again to thoughts of Olympia, Washington and his best friend, Colin Jacobs. While unfamiliar houses, businesses and other vehicles traveled passed him in both directions, he soon began to speak to Colin as though he were a passenger in his car.

Five months now, he said as he held firm to his steering wheel. I can’t believe you’ve been gone five months. It actually seems more like an eternity. I still hate it though, but who am I kidding? I will always hate it. I miss our wild excursions, playing guitar at whatever park we ended up riding our bikes to. Remember that one lady who heard us play before she told us how our music was like attending some folk music concert from the seventies? That was interesting.

Stopping at a red light, Taylor’s lips began to quiver. I miss the times we’d invite a couple of girls out for a picnic. We tried to convince them we would one day be famous musicians with more money than we could spend in a thousand years. I miss seeing your mom with tears in her eyes, and not because you were dead and buried, but because she was touched, listening to you perform one of her favorite songs. I hate that I’ll never hear you make fun of my freckles again, or the fact that I shot up a half-a-foot taller than you.

Through his emotion, he managed to wear a slight grin as he recalled Colin’s jokes about Taylor’s gangly shape, fair complexion and freckles. He never minded his best friend’s good ribbing, since he could always counter by reminding him which of the two could see better over a crowd of people. 

Once the traffic light turned green, the intensity in Taylor’s voice grew as he continued to drive through the streets of Helena. I hate it! I hate it that you’re not here anymore! he shouted. First, my family falls to pieces, and then you have to drop dead on me when I needed a best friend the most. That’s why I left, Olympia. Yes, I’ll miss our hometown, but Buddy; I just had to get out of there!

Only a year ago, Taylor would have described his life as nothing short of fabulous. His family appeared to be, as it always had been, a strong, loving unit. His parents seemed happy as they approached their third decade of marriage. His sister, Heather, had gleefully started her first year of college, and of course, he and Colin remained inseparable. Taylor could still remember with fondness the two of them traveling on their bikes, even during one of Olympia’s many rainy afternoons that left them both soaked to the bone. After they each obtained a driver’s license, they did more driving than biking, yet they still often rode their bikes together. Only now, that carefree world of family, friends and outdoor adventure seemed only a fleeting memory.

For a moment, Taylor remembered Colin’s mom, Cynthia Jacobs, or Mrs. J as he affectionately called her. Mrs. J had tightly squeezed Taylor’s hand as the two of them sat side-by-side next to Colin’s casket following his graveside service.

Oh, Taylor, you’re the closest thing to a son I’ve got left, she exclaimed as tears continued to run down her cheeks. I don’t care that your last name isn’t Jacobs, you’re still like a son to me. Will you do me a favor, Taylor? Please, just one favor?

He nodded as tears continued to run down his own cheeks.

Will you please, Taylor, live as long as you possibly can? I know it might sound strange, but somehow, I feel like as long as you’re still alive, a part of Colin is still alive too. I need you to live to be at least 88, okay? Be sure to have lots of children and grandchildren and a lifetime of happy memories. I know that is exactly what Colin would want you to have too.

Whether she understood it or not, Mrs. J had just saved Taylor’s life. Taylor, who believed he had become nothing of worth to himself or to anyone else, had started to consider the unthinkable. Mrs. J’s words, however, echoed in his mind repeatedly, giving him a small beacon of hope to hold onto. Now, with his new life in Helena, Montana beginning to take shape, an unexpected surprise had come his way.   

Can you believe it? said Taylor, still talking as though Colin were present inside his car. I’ve got a date on Friday, and it’s with one very gorgeous girl, or I should say, woman. After all, she is twenty-five. I’m still not totally sure that really happened, and if it did happen, I can’t help but wonder if there’s a catch. Is there something about this picture I’m not aware of yet?

STILL FEELING STIFF and worn out, Taylor arrived back at his second-floor apartment. Approaching the front door, he could hear the faint sound of laughter coming from inside. Opening the door, he witnessed a teenaged boy and little girl playing a video game on his roommate’s television and game console. Turning around to see him, the two put their game on pause.

Hi there! exclaimed the teenage boy. You must be Taylor.

Right then, Taylor’s roommate, Brendan, entered the living room. 

My brother and sister wanted to come over and meet you, he said before turning towards the two of them. Ian and Molly, this is Taylor Olsen. Taylor, this is my brother Ian and little sister Molly. 

Wow, you’re tall, said Molly as she and Ian jumped up to shake his hand. 

Thank you, replied Taylor. It took me awhile to get up to six feet six.

Like Brendan, both she and Ian had identical red hair, fair skin and freckles. After shaking Taylor’s hand, Ian gestured towards a guitar case resting against a nearby wall.

Is there by chance an actual guitar inside that? he asked.

Yes, there is, replied Taylor.

Do you play?

I do, he responded in a melancholy voice, thinking again about Colin and their many guitar sessions together. Do you play? he asked Ian.

No, not yet, but Molly and I hope that sometime before we leave, you’ll play a song or two for us.

Taylor gave him a reluctant nod. He believed he could still play,