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“She did,” she said. “Nothing has changed since I moved out around fourteen. Stewart lived here with us for four years and then finally convinced my mother to move close to town. I was less than ten minutes away. Not a big deal. The house sat empty for a few years because my father wanted my mother to know she could always come back.”
“Do you think he didn’t want her to leave?” he asked
This just made no sense to him.
“I’m not sure what went through any of their minds,” she said. “I never asked. This is my side of the house.”
He followed her to one side and saw her bedroom and another spare with a bathroom in between. “This was your art room, right?” he asked of the spare room.
“What gave it away? The easel and supplies?”
She was laughing and bumped her shoulder with his.
“Do you still have what you created in this room?” he asked.
“You’ll find out,” she said, grinning.
He wasn’t sure what her smirk was about but knew she’d tell him.
They walked around the rest of the house. There was nothing that stood out from it being anything more than a normal nice house other than the property it was on.
The land they walked across was well maintained. Mostly grass around, but for both houses there was beautiful landscaping.
“Do you miss it here?” he asked.
He could tell by the way she was walking around and trailing her hands along the walls.
“No,” she said. “I really don’t. I’ve got wonderful memories but sad ones too. It’s hard to explain.”
“No need,” he said. He pulled her close and hugged her. He was sure he understood enough. She would have been conflicted seeing her parents apart and wishing they were together.
“We can go back now. I’m sure my father is up and impatient to meet you. He’s not normally kept waiting.”
“Sounds like he kept you waiting a lot in life though,” he said.
She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “He did,” she said. “Which is why I don’t necessarily jump all the time. I’d never purposely do anything to worry him. But I’m not going to be controlled either.”
Carson found it an odd choice of words but put it from his mind. It just reminded him that Laine moved at her own pace. Sometimes fast, other times slow. It was what worked for her and that meant he had to guard the urge to race to the end.
They left the house and locked up, then returned to the main house.
They were both in jeans. It was the first time he’d seen Laine in jeans now that he thought of it.
She had a pair of canvas sneakers on her feet again. Just slip-on ones. Her button-down shirt was light and covered in fall splashes of colors and tucked into her waist, her hair loose and blowing around in the wind.
She’d left her jacket at the main house with his. It was sunny but only about fifty out. They’d both taken their jackets off on the flight over.
He put his arm around her shoulders when she shivered. “Cold?”
“A little, but we’ll be in the house in a few minutes and can have some coffee to warm us up. Mario will have food put out too.”
“I smelled it,” he said.
The kitchen smelled of baked goods and spices when they went in it last time.
“I have no idea what food is on the menu. Most likely a lot of my and my mother’s favorites.”
He shook his head. If he didn’t know the whole story behind Laine’s life, he’d think how sad this was.
