“Don’t apologize for Trey.” Sharp beeps tell me she’s backing up into a parking spot. “Do you have any good things there besides your new furry friend?”
I look out at the clear blue water sparkling in the sun. It’s cooled me down enough that the sun feels like solace on my shoulders and back, rather than the agony it was on the last few minutes of my bike ride here. I think of the treats I got at the bakery and grocery store. And the 99-cent Sudoku book from Greene’s, tucked in my basket. Small pleasures I’ve been trying to sprinkle into my days. “Yes.”
Ever since I told her I wasn’t sure if there would be any good in my life again—the kind of good that fills you up and makes you feel like all’s right in the world even when it’s not—Cat told me that even if I didn’t have that overwhelming goodness in my life, that I just needed to keep myself going with small good things. Until the big good comes back.
“I’m trying,” I tell her.
“Good.” She breathes into the phone. “Look for more good things. Meditate. Do one of those ridiculously large puzzles with tiny pieces that you like to do. Have some—” She stops abruptly. We both know she was going to say wine. “Have some chocolate.”
“Okay. Love you.”
“Love you. And go find a place with a barre because I know you were lying.” She hangs up.
I sit on the dock and roughly sketch the pond, then slip my shorts, T-shirt, and shoes on, deciding to brave the wood steps to the wide veranda and peek in one of the windows that’s not boarded up. It looks like nobody’s been inside since forever—it’s dusty and dark, but the wood floors sparkle in the pocket of sunlight shining. A small, round table and two rusted chairs are pushed to the side in the kitchen. In the middle of the floor is a sawhorse. Drywall is stacked against the wall, as if someone began working in the kitchen, then gave up.
I tuck my phone deep into the satchel. A paper bag from the drugstore tumbles out, reminding me of its existence. I stuff it back in and try to forget about it.
I’ll think about it later.
I’ll have to think about it later.
The hawk is back, sitting on the same branch. He watches me mount my bike. When I start pedaling, he alights from the branch and soars above me, then veers off and away.
When a tortoise crosses my path, slow and sure, I stop and watch it. Trudi’s sweet face pops into my mind, making my heart squeeze as I remember one of the many riddles she told me that Cain had taught her.
“Why did the tortoise cross the road, Mommy?”
“I don’t know. He wanted to get to the other side? Whydidhe cross the road?”
“To get to the Shell station.” And like she did after every punchline, she’d grab at her stomach and giggle loud and long.
Sadness rockets through me, but I push it away and watch the tortoise make his way to the other side, his front feet shoveling him forward through the sand. When I set off again, I make it a little farther down the road before my tire flaps hard and loud against the sand. When I hop off the bike and study it, my stomach plummets to the hot packed sandy road. I can’t patch the tire with the patch kit I have; it’s a long, wide split. The whole tire will have to be changed.
My only form of transportation has gone caput. I’ll have to push the bike all the way back to Ned’s, then lug my things to the cottage.
All of a sudden, I’m so tired I can’t stand it. The thought of the walk ahead of me makes me want to plop down on the road, belly up, and wail. I finger my flip phone in my pocket. I want to call Cat back and ask her to come get me so badly it hurts.
4
FOX
Skye isin the back room when I arrive at Seventh Heaven. I find a pair of khakis to replace the coffee-splattered jeans, and change in the dressing room, then rip the tags off. Ava, nose in a book, is manning the register. She grins when she sees me.
“New braces?”
“You’re not supposed to see them! They’re clear.”
“Ibarelysee them.” I reach around her to grab a bag for the jeans I was wearing. “Ring these pants up, will you?” I toss the tags onto the counter. “How’s the swimming and snorkeling lessons with Tank going?”
She beams. “I’m probably better than you now.”
“Doesn’t take much. I’m not the fastest swimmer, and you’re not going to find me snorkeling around looking at fish.” I pucker up my lips and make a fish face, and she laughs. “So, when are you coming to ride Silver Bullet?”
“I renamed her Rose Petal. Lacy said I could.”
“Pretty name.”
“Lacy said I can come today to ride her.”
