Chapter Six #4
Another small victory, Cat thought, even as she shook her head. “No, I’ve got it. I’m just going to fold the rest of the laundry on the table in here. Find something fun to do.”
Jillian disappeared, and Cat quickly washed up the dishes, put away the butter and cheese, and tucked the bread back into the bread box even as she mulled over dinner and the time spent with Jillian.
Jillian was a very bright, perceptive girl, and Cat knew this was why the girl was fighting so hard for control, and to retain some control over her family dynamics.
Cat related, maybe too well. Tonight, the conversation had been meaningful, maybe even valuable, but it also touched the old, half-healed places inside her.
When she dumped the clean towels on the table to fold, Cat discovered her hands were trembling.
Being here, doing these small domestic things, reminded her of Michigan …
of home. Not the house itself, but the feeling of it—the kitchen with its scuffed hardwood floor and the warm scent of vanilla, cinnamon, and coffee.
Her father packing lunches, while her mother flipped her famous French toast. Her parents always talking, teasing, moving around each other with easy affection.
For Cat, their love, their connection was the definition of family.
The small, ordinary rituals that created structure, comfort, and a sense of belonging.
It was what she wanted for herself again. It was a life she craved, but only if it was right … if only if she found the right person.
Her parents. She still missed them, and yet it was becoming harder and harder to remember her childhood with them.
She had those memory fragments, little things that stayed with her, but most of it was fading.
The one thing that didn’t fade was the day of the accident.
That was as clear as if it had happened yesterday.
Ten years old, sitting in a too-bright office, while a stranger in a dark suit explained that there’d been an accident.
Ten years old, too shocked to cry, certain there had been a mistake.
Ten years old, waiting for her grandmother to arrive and fix everything, because of course Grandma Betty would.
And then, being eleven and twelve and realizing that her grandmother, who tried so hard, couldn’t fix everything.
A lump rose in Cat’s throat. She pressed a fist against her chest, pressing back against the ache.
She missed all of them … Mom, Dad, Grandma.
She missed how they loved her without question, missed having a home somewhere, missed belonging to someone.
But missing didn’t help. It never had. It never would.
She drew a deep breath and forced herself to stand straighter.
The world didn’t stop for anyone. It hadn’t stopped for her then, and it wouldn’t now.
It was time to begin filling out the job applications.
Time to create a new life for her in Michigan, and one day, God willing, it would feel like home again.
*
By the time Rhys pulled into the lane leading to the cottage, darkness had settled thick over the valley. The headlights swept across the low stone walls and the glittering fields beyond. Snow clung to the trees like frost on glass.
Olivia hummed while Rhys parked and then climbed quickly from the passenger seat, carefully carrying the takeout bag.
Cat met them at the door, long hair drawn back in a clip, a wool shawl around her shoulders, and cheeks that looked pink from the fire.
“You’re back,” she said. “How was everything?”
“Good,” Olivia said firmly, nodding her head for emphasis.
“Traffic wasn’t too bad,” Rhys said, deadpan.
“Daddy, there’s no traffic. This isn’t London,” Olivia said, as if trying hard not to be exasperated before handing him the paper bag so she could slip out of her coat.
“That’s right,” he teased. “I forgot.”
“We brought home pudding,” Olivia said, now giving her dad her coat and taking the bag back. “Chocolate fudge cake for Jilly and apple crumble for you, Cat. Is that okay?”
“That sounds so good,” Cat answered. “And crumbles are my favorite.”
Jillian appeared on the stairs. “Did you get anything for me?” she asked, sounding hopeful even as she was prepared to be disappointed.
“Chocolate cake for you,” Olivia said proudly.
“I said no,” Rhys added, “but Olivia insisted.”
Olivia gave her big sister the sweetest smile. “Because you’re my favorite.”
*
Cat ate her crumble in her room right out of the box with the plastic fork provided. She’d opened her laptop on her bed and sat cross-legged with the laptop propped up on pillows.
The search bar blinked at her, waiting. She hesitated for only a moment before typing into the search bar: Teaching positions Michigan January start.
Dozens of listings appeared—high schools, community colleges, one small university north of Detroit. She scrolled through them, reading through each.
Required: Master’s in history or related field. Check, she had that.
Experience preferred. She had been teaching sessions for the last two years.
Apply immediately.
Cat felt a huge wave of relief. She could do this. She was qualified. She had the degrees—not one master’s but two. She had the discipline. She could definitely support herself.
But the thought of it—of going back to Michigan, knowing virtually no one now, not when all her school friends had moved and married and settled somewhere in their own adult lives—left her cold.
But what were her options? Stay in England and pretend she didn’t have two houses in Michigan to make decisions for? Keep paying the property taxes and insurances when no one lived at either?
It was a waste of money and indulgent, something Cat couldn’t be, not when she would be living off a teacher’s salary.
Teachers were not generously paid in the States, and in terms of average salary, Michigan ranked nineteenth nationally.
Once she sold Grandma Betty’s houses, Cat would have a nice nest egg, but she’d have to be careful.
The last thing she wanted to do was squander what Grandma had left her.
Rhys’s phone rang downstairs, faint through the floorboards. She heard his voice as he answered and could picture him in the sitting room—either in the armchair or on the couch, his notes spread out, his computer open, a mug of something at his elbow.
Part of her wished she were down there with him.
The girls had gone to bed half an hour ago, and it would be lovely to sit by the fire and fill out applications where it was warm and cozy, but she didn’t want to distract Rhys, and let’s face it, he very much distracted her.
So, Cat remained on her bed, chin in her hand, staring at the screen as the cursor blinked steadily, before finally forcing herself to complete at least one application before bed.