AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She’s not Kal Seward’s. She’s mine.
She and Nora both are.
In no hurry this time, I allow myself to take my time as I walk around the house and look over Mom’s flowers. She loved being outside, loved her flower beds, took great pride in them. Their vibrant colors are a stark contrast against the rustic ranch house that we painted the summer before my junior year, and it already needs it again. That’s not all that needs work. The front porch looks like it is going to fall apart, the back porch needs to be stained again, and the small one-car garage, currently housing my old black Bronco, looks like it’s leaning toward the house even more than before. I gotta get that thing out of there.
I open my Notes app and tap out a list of everything that needs to be done before I put the house on the market. The thought of selling no longer feels like I’m looking at the last page of a book I’ve been forcing myself to finish; it’s more like reading one I don’t want to end.
Mom’s flowers were always beautiful. Clusters of cheerful sunflowers stand tall, their golden heads reaching toward the heavens, hoping for her to whisper to them, as she always did. Their bold blooms radiate happiness and a promise of brighter days ahead. Among the sunflowers are patches of orange marigolds. Their fiery hues always evoke memories of Mom, of a sunset on the horizon. Intermingled with the sunflowers and marigolds are cascades of bluebonnets—the state flower of Texas. Their sweet fragrance fills the air. I’ve always loved their scent; it reminded me of home, Mom, and, yes, of Whit.
Heading back around front, I walk up the stairs, and the familiar creak echoes through the quiet Texas morning. Standing in front of the door, I add keypad lock to the list of things I want done. That way, I can give the code to a realtor if I decide to sell.
I open the door, step into the kitchen, and stand there. I can almost hear Mom singing softly, as she always did when she was baking. As I think back, it blows my mind that five, sometimes six days a week, she’d work from five in the morning until one in the afternoon, waiting tables, and she always came home and made an after-school snack for me and my friends and dinner every night, except for our once-a-month movie night when we ordered pizza and wings.
But she’s not here. Each step feels heavier than the last as I force myself to take in every bit of the place, silently begging for the walls to tell me what to do with this place.
The living room is small, but it was big enough for Mom, me, Whit, Danny, and Marks to hang out comfortably. With all the pictures and knickknacks boxed up, it feels no bigger, just empty.
As I move through the house, running my fingers over the familiar surfaces, I can’t help but feel a pang of guilt for staying away for so long. Guilt for abandoning this place that had once been a sanctuary, guilt for not facing my grief head-on before. If I had, then maybe I wouldn’t have alienated my friends, and Whit wouldn’t be in a position where marrying Kal fucking Seward was even an option.
Amid the guilt, there is also gratitude. Gratitude for a community and my friends who took care of Mom and stood by me in her final days. Those who tended to this place with love and care in my absence. Gratitude for the memories that still linger in every corner, reminding me that Mom will never truly be gone when parts of her are still living. Me, the flowers, the huge Easter lily someone sent her after Dad’s funeral—all very much still alive.
For the next several hours, I make even more notes, and then I send the list to Danny.
Me:
Schedule me in.
Danny:
Done.
6
Monday
Iunlock the back door leading to the offices at the women’s shelter and walk in, then lock it behind me and head to the volunteer office.
When I walk through the open door, York is pulling her hair up into a ponytail. “You’re early.”
“Nora had more incentive to get out the door today.” I set my brown leather bag onto the desk and then drop my ass in the worn desk chair.
“Did you let her take two stuffies to school instead of one?” York asks, sitting across from me at the other desk in the tiny office.
I roll my eyes.
“Of course you didn’t, hard-ass.”
“Nan’s place for waffles,” I say as I flip on the computer.
“Wait, what? You diverted from the almighty schedule?” she asks, knowing how hard it was to get Nora on any sort of schedule when I first got temporary custody.
I lean back and pull my feet up and place them on the edge of the seat. “I made the mistake of walking over to Pope’s after Kal left last night and?—”
She holds up a hand. “Pause. Kal was at your house?”
I nod.
“What was the occasion?”
