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“Please give these to Carrie. She’ll understand.”
Nancy’s brows furrow, but she accepts the items and stuffs them into her pocket before one of the clients asks her a question and she whisks them into a nearby office.
I give the house one more appraising look, then get the heck out of there. The place feels sterile like emotion is forbidden inside the walls.
The only place I want to be now is back in my home in Walla Walla, where I can be myself, and enjoy the comfort and safety of my lifelong friends.
I shove my hands into my pockets and stare at my feet. Goodbye, Babs. Have a good life.
Chapter 27
Cider and Kisses
Carrie
Ihavetodriveby my house three times before Nancy’s car is finally gone. I have no desire to talk to that woman. I was told Nancy is the best, and she’ll get the highest price for the home, so I’m willing to put up with her for a few weeks to get the deal done and get the heck out of here.
When I drive by the final time, I see the car I left in Walla Walla parked out front. My brows furrow at the sight. Ryan texted me this morning with the cost of repairs. I haven’t arranged for someone to pick the car up yet. How did it get here?
I park Dad's car in the garage, then walk inside to the kitchen. Nancy left nearly every light in the house on, which makes the home feel even more impersonal. With it bright inside, and dark outside I can’t see out the windows making it feel closed in like a rich man’s coffin. As I walk down the hallway, the sound of my shoes echoes off the nearly empty walls and bare surfaces.
I hated this house before. Now, it’s worse than living in a hotel. Nothing of me is here. Even Dad’s personal belongings are gone, boxed up with Hilloria's, waiting for her movers to pick them up in the morning.
Not that I care though. They didn’t like me much anyway. I don’t know who is more relieved to be out of this family situation; Me or them?
When I reach the kitchen, I find my key fob resting on top of a folded piece of paper. I pick up the paper and unfold it.
Babs,
Sorry I missed you. Here’s your car. I wanted to make sure it got back to you safe and sound.
Ryan
“Holy crap!” I scramble for my phone and dial his number. Please, oh please, let him still be in town.
With each ring, my heart sinks lower in my chest. I’ve screwed things up again.
I’d had a few days and several hundred miles to gain some clarity. I may not know what my future will bring, but I do know that I want him to be part of it. I can't keep pushing him away. I'd let Dad's sickness derail my life for years. It's time to take back control and live my life the way I want it to be.
The phone rings to voicemail. His deep, rich voice sends chills down my spine, turning my insides to mush. I’m tempted to call and listen to it again. But before I revert to an eleven-year-old girl, I clear my throat. “Hey, Ryan. It’s Carrie. I just got home and I saw the car. And your message. I’d really like to see you if you’re still in town. Please call me. Even if you’re not in Sammamish. I want to talk to you. I was stupid and scared. I freaked out and ran. It wasn’t fair to you. It wasn’t…” I want to say a thousand things. Each thought bumps into the next making it hard to articulate a coherent sentence. I sigh. “Please. Just call me.”
I hang up before I say anything else that makes me sound or feel like an idiot. Instead, I stare at my phone, begging it to ring.
Nothing.
After a while, I let my shoulder droop and I trudge to my bedroom to change. I’m too keyed up to go to sleep, but I’m not leaving the house for the rest of the night, so I slip into a pair of yoga pants and a tank top before grabbing a blanket and then returning to the kitchen to make some cider. I hadn't had cider in years until my camping trip with Ryan. Now I can't get enough of the stuff.
I add a healthy dose of caramel to the cup and stir. As I stride toward the back door, I grab the soft white blanket artistically draped over one of the couches by Nancy’s staging expert. Then I open the sliding glass door and slip into the darkness.
A cool breeze washes over me, and the scent of the water mixes with the lilac tree growing at the corner of the building.Water laps against the beams of the dock. I tiptoe in my bare feet down the dock toward the two Adirondack chairs staged at the edge of the dock.
Wrapping my blanket around me, I sit in one of the chairs and gaze out over the lake. I lived in this home for five years and never once sat out here and stargazed or watched the boats. Maybe that’s why I like it out here. It’s one of the few spaces where I don’t have memories of Hilloria's cutting remarks, dismissive comments, or the way she belittled virtually everything about me.
I sip the cider and gaze out at the moon’s reflection on the water.
Memories of Ryan slip into my mind. The way he grinned at me that first day we met. The feel of his lips on mine. His hands on my back and in my hair. The way he knew how to calm me during my panic attack. The smoky, woodsy scent of him when I leaned my head on his shoulder while camping.
Oh, and those kisses. I keep coming back to his kisses.
