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“You didn’t need to go to all this trouble, Mom.”
“I thought you might want your own space, especially with Billy being stuck in the house and on crutches. We moved him into your old bedroom because it’s bigger, and easier for him to get around in, you know, since his bedroom is so small, and I didn’t think you’d like that cramped space, so I got this all ready for you. The heater works, too, so you don’t need to worry about being cold or anything if you’re still here when the weather starts to turn. You know how cold August nights can get near the end of the month.”
I nod my agreement and swallow down my panic over being here long enough to need the heater. At the very least, I’ll be here through September, based on what I know about Billy’s injuries, anyway. “It’s perfect, Mom. It’ll be great.”
“And you can use the indoor shower whenever you want, but you have your own little place. I think maybe when you go back to the city, I might make this my girl cave when I need a break from the boys.” She smiles mischievously. “Especially when your dad and your uncle have been into the beers. The snoring is too much.”
I chuckle. “I remember.”
She gives me another hug. “I’m sorry about Jason. He seemed nice.”
“He was. He still is. He just wasn’t the one. Better to know that now, I guess.”
“Mmm. Everything happens for a reason, doesn’t it? If that company hadn’t gone under, then he wouldn’t have moved, and you wouldn’t have ended up back home with us.” She gives my hand a squeeze. “I know this isn’t where you thought you’d be, Darlin’, but it’s where you’re supposed to be. I feel it in my bones. I’ll leave you to settle in.”
She lets herself out, and I allow myself to deflate. My mom has always been a firm believer in things like fate and karma. She has her tarot cards read all the time by some batty lady who lives in the next town over. She used to take our neighbor Bee with her every once in a while. They dragged me along once. The lady told me she couldn’t read me because I was blocking her energy, whatever that means.
I can’t see any reason for me to be back here, other than fate and karma are having a good laugh at my expense.
CHAPTER 3
HOME SWEET HOME
Dillion
I head back to the U-Haul van and grab my suitcase so I can do what Mom suggested and settle in. I shouldn’t be surprised that Billy has my bedroom now. His is tiny, barely able to fit a double bed and a dresser, whereas mine has a closet. The room hasn’t technically been mine in almost ten years, when I moved to the city for college.
And Mom has a point about privacy. There isn’t much in the house. My parents have a bathroom to themselves, but I’ll be sharing the shower with Billy, so this is definitely preferable.
I check the fridge, more to see if it’s cool than anything else. I’m surprised to find a six-pack of beer. And it’s cold. I free one from the plastic ring and crack the top, bring it to my lips, and tip my head back.
After I moved to Chicago, I stopped drinking beer out of cans. I stopped doing most things that reminded me of home, wanting to remove myself as much as I could from small-town life. I drop down on the sofa and sigh. The curtains are a lot to handle in such a compact, brown space. I reach over and pull them open so I can look at something that feels less like a bad acid trip.
Beyond the trees is Bee’s cottage. My heart aches at the sight. I miss her. She was such a huge part of my life growing up, and even after I moved away for college, we stayed close. She helped me in ways I could never forget, so the fact that I couldn’t make it to her funeral gutted me. I’d been overseas at a conference when I got the news, and I wouldn’t have made it back until after the funeral was over. It was better that I’d missed the funeral, though, because if I’d met Bee’s family, I probably would have said things I shouldn’t.
Apart from one of her grandsons, she didn’t have much good to say about them, and she was particularly disenchanted with her son-in-law. I think she blamed him for her daughter’s death. Her daughter, Adelaide, had passed when Bee’s grandchildren were very young due to complications during an elective surgery, one Bee said she hadn’t wanted but felt pressured to go through with. According to Bee, her daughter had an allergic reaction to the anesthesia and suffered a fatal heart attack. She was only in her thirties. Bee called it a waste of a beautiful life. I couldn’t fathom what it would be like to lose your child, no matter how old they were.
