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One
Cami
C ami struggled to haul the last weathered box up the stairs and into the tiny apartment over the dismantled candy shop. The label that read ornaments was peeling from the side. There had to be ten years of dust covering the top. She let out a violent sneeze as she added it next to the others. She looked around, not knowing whether to feel triumph or defeat. She was surrounded by more than her personal belongings. Her life’s memories were here. Memories she had tried to outrun for years. No matter where she looked the floor was covered in packaged relics of every phase of her life .
The boxes piled high in the corners of each room. There was barely enough space to move, but somehow she had to make this work. There was nowhere else to go. This was home now. She cut a sideway glance at her guitar case in the corner .
She exhaled, knowing there was no use running any longer. She was smack dab in the middle of everything she had escaped. Wasn’t there a saying her great aunt always had said: the past is a faster runner than you’ll ever be .
Cami glanced up when she heard muffled sounds coming from the window. She strolled across the worn wide-planked floors. She pushed the curtains out of the way and peeked outside. Carolers .
If she cracked the window just enough, their voices were clear. She pulled tightly on the red cashmere sweater when a tiny gust of wind whipped through her apartment. But it was worth it, to have the company, even if it was from the street below. She started to hum along to Jingle Bells .
There was a time when she was a caroler. But it was hard to remember who that little girl was now. So much had happened .
Harpers Point always celebrated Christmas like it was a competition .
The voices filtered in the room while Cami tackled the horrid task of unpacking. Where to begin? Logic told her the kitchen was the first place, but she shook off the instinct and instead headed straight for the boxes of Christmas decorations .
Before she had the first wreath out of the box there was a knock on the door .
“Knock, knock. Cami, are you
in here?” Claudine Francis pushed through the loft door and made it two feet in before her path was blocked .
“Oh hi. Sorry about the mess,” Cami apologized, rushing to help her real estate agent through the maze .
Claudine waved her hands in the air. “You’re moving in. No one cares about a mess. I brought you a casserole.” She held up a glass Pyrex dish covered in tin foil. “Mama’s recipe,” she explained .
“Thank you, but there’s no way I could eat all that.” Cami eyed the dish large enough to feed an entire family .
“Maybe you could invite someone over?” Claudine’s eyebrows raised several inches .
“I haven’t exactly reconnected with anyone since I’ve been back .”
The truth was, Cami didn’t know to blend back into Harpers Point life. Something that was as simple as breathing, was now foreign to her .
“What about those girls from high school you were such good friends with? Samantha Conners and Jamie Braxton ?”
She sighed. She appreciated what Claudine wanted to do, but it wasn’t that easy. She’d been gone a long time. She couldn’t jump back in and pretend she had kept in touch with everyone when she hadn’t. She had heard Samantha was married and Jamie was engaged. Cami didn’t exactly have the same things in common with them anymore .
She was the one who had left in search of her dreams. They had stayed to live theirs here. She doubted they would understand what she had experienced the past twelve years. Who would ?
“I don’t think so.” She heaved the casserole dish from Claudine’s hands and placed it in the refrigerator. “But thank you so much. Really. It smells delicious. I’ll freeze part of it?” She hoped the suggestion would make her seem more grateful .
“Oh I have an idea .”
Somehow Cami had a feeling, whatever it was Claudine was about to say was her original intent all along .
“What’s that?” she asked .
“Have you seen Evan Jacobs since you’ve been home ?”
Just the sound of his name did something to her. Cami shook her head. “Evan Jacobs? Why would I see him?” Cami reached inside a box and dusted off an antique Santa. The gold on his buckle still glittered. It had been one of her mother’s favorites. She focused hard on the rosy red on Santa’s cheeks and the sprig of holly in his cap. Anything but the sound of Evan’s name .
