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Case in point, here she was, a perfect stranger that Gretta, a single, elderly woman had put her up in her home without knowing who the heck she was or where she hailed from. That was crazypants, but she seemed perfectly comfortable with the arrangement. Even wanted her to stay longer.
Or maybe it said something about Vivian. Maybe she just came off as approachable and kind, not a crazed serial killer or thief, which was kind of sweet when she thought about it.
The house was cast in darkness, filled with shadows—another thing she wasn’t used to. While her gracious and far too generous host was upstairs getting her fresh linens, Vivian went through the first floor turning on the occasional light to make sure Gretta didn’t bump into anything when she came back down. Her room was on the first floor, located just off the kitchen at the back of the house. From what Vivian could tell, it was an old back porch converted long ago into a bonus room. It wasn’t anything fancy. Just four walls with a window overlooking the back of the property, but it was functional, complete with a tiny bathroom.
Her late husband probably built it for her. Or one of the many men who frequented the estate, helping her out with the day-to-day stuff. The whole town seemed to like her a lot, considering they each made a special stop to check in after her, make sure she had everything she needed. Vivian had been more than amazed observing the kindness offered by so many of the town’s residents. The fair had been quite a lesson and something so unique to her own experiences, she would never forget it.
“Hungry, dear?”
Turning at the sound of Gretta’s voice, Vivian smiled from the bedroom doorway. “Nope. Just turning on some lights.”
“Afraid of the dark or that I might fall and break a hip?”
The woman was feisty. She loved that about her. “A hip,” Vivian teased, although that’s exactly what she’d been thinking.
Moving past her, Gretta ambled over to the armoire situated between the bed and the bathroom and selected a green and cream plaid housedress from the top drawer of the bottom half of the piece of heavy furniture.
“I’m a farmer’s wife. I’m not that fragile.” She tossed her a wink. “I’ll head to bed shortly. You should, too. The boys will be by first thing to tend the animals ‘n such, and you know how much of a ruckus they can make.”
Boy, did they. Wishing each other a good night, Vivian retreated to her designated room, and, rather than remake the entire bed that she hadn’t even dirtied yet, she set aside the stack of sheets Gretta had loving placed at the foot then went about readying herself for bed. In less than six hours, the house would be alive once again.
But sleep didn’t come easily. Or at all.
Two hours later, Vivian stared at the ceiling, watching the shadows from the tree branches outside the window dance in the wind. A storm had blown in, and way out here, it was stronger than she was used to. It occurred to her, as she listened to the wind howl and the rain pelt the sill, that there were a ton of things she had never experienced before coming out here. It was as if she’d left behind one life and entered a whole new one.
In a way, she guessed she kind of had. Divorced, no job, limited funds… She was wading through uncharted territory without a life preserver.
Or maybe this is my life preserver… The thought came on so suddenly, it caught her off guard. All the nights she’d stayed up worrying, wondering what would happen to her once the papers were signed. The future she pictured had been bleak, but in a matter of a day, she’d found herself surrounded by some pretty great people—helpful, kind, and generous. She’d been so overwhelmed, and now, when she did a gut check, that feeling wasn’t entirely gone, but it had dimmed. She felt calmer now, in a stranger’s home and bed, than she had in months.
The longer she laid there, listening to the storm, the more Vivian started to think maybe it would be okay to hang around for a while. Despite what mean old Nash had told her. Gretta enjoyed her company, and the people around there were friendly. She’d bet she could find a job in the snap of a finger, which would give her a chance to save up some money for when she did decide to move on. It was almost scary when she realized just how quickly she’d become comfortable here.
Giving up the chase for sleep, Vivian threw back the blankets and padded quietly across the room to the closet. What treasures would she find inside?
Turns out, not a lot, unless dust bunnies and empty wooden hangars had suddenly gained value.
Mindful that Gretta was downstairs sleeping, she stepped lightly out of the room and down the hallway, exploring each of the empty rooms, careful to avoid the creaky wood planks as much as possible. She didn’t find much beyond the sparsely decorated rooms that had clearly been used for boarding at one time or another, just as Gretta had said.
Until she reached the last one.
The metal hinges protested as she pushed the door open. Instantly, Vivian had the sense she didn’t belong in there, but that didn’t deter her. Curiosity had her in its grip, and she went inside, closing the door lightly behind her.
The room looked as if it’d been preserved. Bigger than all the rest, it was clearly the master bedroom. The original master, and as Vivian looked around at all the pictures, she realized the real reason Gretta lived downstairs.
It wasn’t age or the risk of getting hurt. It was to escape the memories.
Although sparkling clean, no hint of dust anywhere, the room was a time capsule. Photos of Gretta and her husband, from youth through marriage and all the way up to just before he passed, were represented here. It explained the lack of photos in the rest of the house. She must have put them all here after he died. Her heart lurched when she spotted the indent in the pillow and wrinkles in the sheets on one side of the bed. Despite the room being exceptionally clean and fresh flowers on the nightstands, that one detail had been left untouched.
It was his side of the bed.
Oh, how much she must have loved him. Obviously, she still frequented the room, keeping it clean and tidy, but she preserved his memory. No wonder she wanted her to stick around. Gretta was lonely. Even with so many people popping by to check on her and lend helping hands, at the end of the day, she was always alone. Vivian felt a pang in her chest, a profound sense of sadness for the woman who she was quickly starting to think of as a friend.
Her gaze landed on one particular photo situated on top of the vanity dresser. Dressed up in a silver frame, it sat on a cream-colored crocheted doily surrounded by vintage perfume decanters, some with the little puffers and tassels. Her curious fingers longed to touch and explore fully, but Vivian resisted. She’d already invaded Gretta’s personal space; she didn’t want to disrespect it any further by disturbing what she so lovingly looked after.
Backing out of the room, Vivian closed the door softly and returned to her room, having decided: she was staying. It seemed doubly important that she remain there, as if she had a purpose that went beyond herself. Maybe she’d been guided there, or maybe it was just happenstance, but she felt like, at least for the moment, it was where she needed to be.
Cock-a-doodle-doo!
Hearing the sound of the rooster, Vivian cringed. She hated that thing. It was worse than an alarm clock, which she’d never been one for waking up to. Who needed an alarm when they didn’t work? That thought was wiped away moments later when the sound of trucks pulling up to the house reached her ears.
