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For some reason, after all this time, it helped seeing the sincerity on Charles’ face. “Thanks for that. Congrats, Charles. You deserve to be happy.” I turned and jogged away. Forcing the tears to say at bay, I quickened my gate.
He called after me, but I pressed forward. There was nothing left to be said. Charles was my past. As I drew closer to home, I focused on tomorrow. I’d find a job, focus on helping at the farm, and try to live.
“DID YOU STILL WANT TO go into town today?” Dad’s voice interrupted the packing binge of my room. So far, five boxes were filled of memories I hoped faded. I was nearly done.
I taped the last full box before stopping. Dad was freshly dressed for the day in his normal attire. “Yes, I wanted to look for a job, if that’s okay.”
“Punkin’, you
know you don’t have to work.”
“I know, but I need to work. It will help me move forward and be productive with my time.”
He nodded his head. That was another thing we had in common; neither of us could remain idle. In prison, I volunteered for anything that wouldn’t bring attention to me. It kept me busy and in the good graces of the warden.
Dad lifted the box. “Let’s take these to the barn and then we can head in.”
“Sounds perfect.”
I glanced around my nearly-bare room. A fresh start. Everything felt lighter, cleaner and I knew I would survive.
Picking up one of the boxes, we headed down to the barn. Sparkles whinnied at us as we passed her. “Hey, girl, I’ll bring you a treat on my way out.”
We placed the first load of boxes in the back of the tack room. Out of sight. Out of mind. I grabbed a handful of oats and brought them to Sparkles. She eagerly ate them. “Tomorrow, we’ll go for a ride. You and me. How does that sound?”
She moved her head in acknowledgment and I laughed. Dad always thought Sparkles understood what I said. We had a connection. She had learned her tricks at incredible speed. We were bonded for life.
After finishing with the boxes, we drove into town. A slight unease came over me as I thought about facing all the people . . . knowing they would be judging me somehow someway. Alec was like a grandchild to so many. I was too for that matter.
Dad updated me on the furniture he was building and the different horses he boarded. My mind went on autopilot. Things felt normal, but I wondered if any of it was an illusion.
Dad and I never talked about his thoughts on the accident. I knew he loved me and stood by me. The thought of what the answer could be scared me to death. Every time I got the courage to ask, I let it die on my tongue. Sometimes knowledge wasn’t power. Sometimes it did irreparable damage.
Shifting the truck to park, Dad gave me a wink. “What time do you want me to pick you up? I plan on heading back home to work after I pick up supplies unless you want me to hang around.”
“I’m good. Millie’s picking me up at three to bring me back if that works for you.”
“Sounds perfect. I got you something.” It had been a while since I’d gotten a gift. We were limited in prison and only the necessities were allowed. He pulled out a phone from the glove compartment. “I got you a new cell phone. Just call if you need anything. I programmed Millie’s and my numbers in. I’m only a phone call away.”
“Thanks, Dad.” I clutched the cell phone. “This means a lot.”
To be cared for by someone else wasn’t a feeling I was accustomed to after four years of looking out for myself.
Dad patted my knee. “You’re home now, London. You’re home. That’s all that matters.”
“Love you, Dad.”
“Love you too, punkin’.”
Giving Dad a kiss on the cheek I got out of the truck. I needed a few minutes to collect my thoughts before I spoke to anyone. After keeping my emotions at bay, now that I let them out, they hit my like a storm.
I needed a game plan.
On a nearby bench, I sat on the outskirts and took everything in. Tried to familiarize myself with a place I once called home. So many things were the same. Mrs. Patterson was walking her dog. As she passed the bench in front of the old-fashioned barbershop where Mr. Stewart and Mr. Lambert sat, Mrs. Patterson handed them a donut she bought from the bakery. I smiled thinking about the times I sat on the bench with the men. They talked about all the city’s happenings and how whippersnappers today weren’t appreciative for the things they had.
Taking a deep breath in, I saw the owner of the Gazette, Mr. Harvey, sweeping his portion of the sidewalk. After that, I knew he would start polishing the window letters for the Guin Gazette.
The comforting familiarity brought a genuine smile to my face. Life was going to be okay. Everything was going to work out. These people were like my family too.
