Chapter 1
Laura
Iโve left the past behind, I think, as I flatten the last cardboard box. This one held the few books I brought. I stacked them next to Aunt Millyโs on the built-in shelves in her living roomโmy living room. Itโll take some time before I can think of this house as mine, especially because itโs notโnot legally anyway. Aunt Millyโs name is on the deed and sheโs still very much alive, though not so much kicking anymore.
Sweet Aunt Milly, who understood, without me having to say a word, that I needed to leave Chicago, if not for good, then at least for a long time. Sheโs the only person I know in Nelson, Texas. Speaking of which, itโs almost time for my daily visit to Aunt Milly at Windsor Oaks, the retirement home she now resides in. I offeredโbasically insistedโfor her to stay in her house. Itโs surely big enough for the two of us, and I work from home, so I could have taken care of her every need, but she wouldnโt have any of it.
โItโs time for me to leave as well,โ sheโd said, and, in turn, I had understood her meaning in those few words.
I put the flattened box in the garage with the rest and go in search of my running shoes. Windsor Oaks is in the center of town, about two miles from where I live. Running back and forth doesnโt come close to the distances I used to run along Lake Michigan, but itโll do for now. I find myself exhausted after four miles these days. โThis could be a result of the severe trauma you suffered,โ the last doctor I visited in Chicago said. He must have been right. And then, out of nowhere, there are the flashes in my mind again. The ones Iโm so powerless against. Blood pooling on the living room carpet and the sound of bone breaking, over and over again. I shake my head and refocus on tying my laces. Running is the only thing that makes that distorted movie in my brain stop.
* * *
โAre you taking care of my spider plant?โ Aunt Milly asks, as she does every single day.
In response, I show her a picture Iโve taken this morning on my phone.
โHow do I know youโre not showing me the same picture every day?โ she asks with a grin.
โYou know because Iโm your favorite niece and I wouldnโt deceive you like that.โ
โI have no choice but to believe you, but my favorite niece you are.โ Her face goes blank for an instant. Every time it does, I canโt help but wonder whether sheโs thinking about what Iโm thinking about. About the events I asked her not to speak of anymore. That doesnโt mean every single second of it doesnโt still occupy my mind.ย
โHow was your run?โ she asks. โIt must be getting hot out there.โ The temperature in Aunt Millyโs room is always exactly the same, no matter the conditions outside, and warm enough for the sweat to keep pearling on my forehead. โThis is nothing,โ Aunt Milly says, then falls silent again.
I wish, for her sake, that I was the kind of person who could make endless chitchat, but thatโs not me. So we often sink into a companionable silence for minutes on end, me racking my brain for a tidbit of safe information I havenโt shared with Aunt Milly yet, and, judging by how her eyelids sometimes droop, my aunt dozing off in her chair. As long as she knows sheโs not alone, I think, as I always do when I fail to come up with more words.
โAny exciting plans this weekend?โ she asks, as her eyelids flutter.
โTending to your garden.โ Although garden is a big word for the patch of overgrown grass and weeds at the back of the house. After she broke her hip last year, Aunt Milly wasnโt able to take care of it anymore.
โItโs your garden now, dear.โ By the time she gets to the word dear her voice has lost its oomph and I can tell sheโs getting tired. She takes a few seconds to catch her breath. โWhy donโt you go to Samโs Bar on Saturday? Itโs not good for you to be on your own all the time.โ This last statement seems to have zapped the last conversational energy from her body.
โIโm not though, am I?โ I give her a kind smile. โI have you.โ
She just nods.
โIโll let you rest now.โ I push myself out of my chair.
โThatโs okay, dear. Just stay a little while longer.โ Aunt Milly closes her eyes.
I sink back into the chair and wait until I hear her breath steady itself and she breaks into a gentle snore. Every day I come here, we perform a different variation of this conversation, and every time, when we reach this bitโcontemplative for me, drowsy for herโI think exactly the same thing: being alone is good and I wouldnโt want it any other way.
* * *
After I return home and take a quick shower, I stand in front of the fridge and realize itโs empty. I quickly push back the memory of how a not properly stocked refrigerator made Tracy feel. I canโt help but wonder whether Iโve become so lax about grocery shopping simply because I can now, then head to the supermarket. Nelson only has one and, when I first arrived, I was amazed by how spotless and brand new it looked. Itโs not massive, but the aisles are wide and I never feel rushed when I push my cart through them and examine whatโs on offer.
I donโt get out muchโAunt Milly is surely correct about thatโso when I do, I like to take my time. I wasnโt born a hermit. And a daily run works for me now, but I know its magic will cease to be enough soon. So I make a point of nodding at everyone I encounter, sometimes even throwing in a smile. Iโm not out to make friends just yet, but having a chat with someone closer to my age range wouldnโt be a bad thing, I guess. Iโm just afraid of what might slip out if I let my guard down even a little.
I scan the vegetable aisle, pondering what to make for dinner, when another shopping cart crashes into mine.
โOh, Iโm so very sorry,โ a woman says, but she doesnโt pull her cart back. โI was rushing again, as usual.โ
โNever mind.โ I give her a smile so as to reassure her that itโs really no big deal.
The woman stares intently at me for a second too long. โYouโre new in town, arenโt you?โ she asks. โIโve seen you run along Main Street. I have my office there.โ She paints a big smile on her face and extends a hand. โIโm Tess Douglas, managing editor of The Nelson Ledger, which basically means I do everything.โ
โNice to meet you. Iโm Laura.โ I barely touch my palm to hers. โAnd yes, I am new.โ
Tess flicks a strand of hair away from her shoulders and looks at me again. โWelcome to Nelson,โ she says. โAre you here to stay? Where did you move from?โ
โFrom Chicago. And IโI might be.โ I start pulling my cart out of the way, anxious to get back to my shopping and not prolong this conversation.
โDo you work here?โ Tess quirks up her eyebrows. She really wants to know everything.
โIโm a freelance graphic designer, so I can work pretty much anywhere.โ
โOh!โ She clasps a hand over her mouth. โYou might just be what Iโve been looking for, Laura,โ she exclaims, her voice going all high-pitched.
I should be amused by this comment, but it terrifies me instead. What does this woman want from me? I pull my cart a bit farther away from her to indicate that I want to move on.
โTNLโThe Nelson Ledgerโhas been ready for a makeover since I started working for it in 2006โฆ Well, actually, come to think of it, long before that, but I digress. I finally scraped a budget together and Iโm ready to start talking about it to people like you.โ
โIโm very sorry, Tess,โ I say with a firm voice. โIโm currently not looking for new clients.โ
Tessโs posture deflates a little. Then she inhales, and itโs as though the oxygen she sucks in instantly replenishes her bravado. โMaybe you can recommend someone then?โ
This woman really will not let up. โMaybe,โ I mutter.
She reaches into her purse and gets out a business card. โHere. Call or email me if you think of someoneโฆ or when you do have time for new clients.โ She follows up with a wide smile, baring a row of ultra-white teeth.
โSure.โ I take the card and, without looking at it, drop it into the side pocket of my jacket. โIt was nice meeting you.โ
โYes,โ Tess, who suddenly seems a bit flustered, says. โTake care now.โ With that, she spins her cart around and heads into the opposite direction.
Full on much, I think, as I follow her with my gaze. Sheโs tall and her full hips sway a little as she walks. Her blond hair comes to well below her shoulders andโฆ her stare unsettled me a little. Perhaps I could have been more polite, but she made me feel so cornered, what with her cart blocking mineโthough I could have just turned around.
I refocus my attention on the vegetables to steady myself. I think Iโll have sweet potatoes with my dinner tonight.
