Page 74 of Call It Serendipity

“I’d like to try.” Her smile is sheepish. Nervous. And yet she’s doing something for herself, a step I can’t seem to take. “Can I still crash at your place in the city?”

After how cold and empty it felt during my brief visit, I’d be happy to sign the deed over to her and never call it home again.

“Absolutely.”

“Thank you, again,” she says softly.

“You don’t need to thank me, never have. I’m glad you’re going to do this.”

“Me too.” With a determined nod, she reaches over and tears one of the untouched puzzles from my booklet, then slides it my way once more. I flip back to my crossword in progress, and we work in a peaceful silence, Taylor stealing my pen to write in the words she figures out.

But something slowly dawns on me as the minutes tick by. Setting my pen down, I turn towards her. “Wait, did you hear back from any of the shelters yet?”

“No, not yet.”

“Why not stay here, keep working with Lucy until something comes up?”

My sister flashes a soft smile, like she’s the older, wiser sibling at this table. “Because it’s time, Jake.”

“Why now?”

She pats my arm. “I saw the way you looked at Lucy when she walked into that bar last night. You deserve this.”

I blink back at her.

“Just don’t screw it up,” she adds.

“Like bulldozing over the hopes and dreams of this charming little town she loves?” I guess.

“Pretty much, yeah.”

We let out scoffs in tandem. A skill we perfected in our youth. With another sip of coffee, I peer at her over the mug. “Alright,” I start, “well any suggestions on that?”

Taylor’s brows pinch in consideration. “I’ve always relied on you for solutions. But I think maybe the best thing you can do is decide with your heart this time.”

I smile. “I think you’re right.”

Through the front window of my apartment, I see Taylor’s taillights follow the road out of town. And once she’s gone from sight, I remain.

Leaning against the window jam, I watch the townspeople of Ellicottville braving the chill that comes with the first November day. The snow from yesterday evening left a dusting behind—the roof tops and lawns frosted white. But the sidewalks are clear, and pedestrians stroll down them, sometimes casting glances towards the vacant brewery across the street.

And as I watch, I can’t help wondering if I would be at this same moral crossroads if Lucy hadn’t been a pedestrian on that particular September day. At that particular time.

What would have happened if I wasn’t in the right place to pull her from harm’s way?

After the terrible tension in my gut at that thought subsides, I allow myself a moment to appreciate the fact that, maybe, what I needed the most presented itself that day.

Not just in terms of needing Lucy and every wonderful detail that makes up her existence, but needing a wake-up call. Something that would shake me from this holding pattern I’ve fallen into.

“After all of this, how could I not believe in fate?” I say to the dogs watching me from their beds down the hall.

But fate only works if I let it.

Leaving the window, I head for the living room and grab the cordless from the coffee table. I dial one of the numbers I’ve scribbled on the notepad beside the phone’s base and make a choice with my heart this time.

42

Under the golden glow of the porch light, I watch Jake’s smile unfurl in that deliciously languid way I enjoy so much. He’s traded his soft flannel for a crisper, off-white button down, his denim for classic brown corduroys. And he’s leaning back against the post with his hands in his pockets and spades of effortless charm wafting over him.