8. Back Home
EIGHT
Back Home
TARA
Chicago, Illinois
Thanks to her parents’ having drilled the importance of saving money into their kids, Tara could swing a few weeks off that would allow her to help her parents and still make rent. The downside was that she had to forego her vacation to Mackinac Island in favor of a trip home. She’d been looking forward to it for months, finally reserving her stay at the Grand Hotel, where her favorite movie, Somewhere in Time, was filmed.
Tara’s shoulders slumped as she stared at the computer screen. Her mouse hovered over the cancelation button.
“What kind of fudge would you have brought back to me?” Becca wondered as she rested her chin on Tara’s shoulder to glimpse the computer screen.
“Chocolate. Dark Chocolate. Peanut Butter. Chocolate Peanut Butter. Macadamia Nut. More chocolate.” Tara’s voice sounded as dejected as a kid picked last for the dodgeball team. Again. “I would have shared it all with you, too.”
“Mmhmm.” Becca attempted to rein in her grin.
“Oh, who am I kidding? I’d have eaten at least half of it myself before I even left the island, and it would have been wonderful. But I would have shared at least some with you.”
Becca laughed at her friend.
Tara had planned on visiting every fudge shop on the island. Resigned to taking an unplanned trip home, she figured the island, the Grand Hotel, and, yes, the fudge, would still be there when she got the chance to go again.
Tara clicked her mouse with a loud exhale, mourning the loss of a vacation she’d dreamed of since she first saw Christopher Reeve and Jane Seymour on the screen.
Two days later, and with a coffee-filled travel mug at the ready, she set out for the six-hour drive to her hometown in central Ohio.
She spoke to her mom along the way and learned that her dad had made it through another surgery and was recovering as expected. The doctors were still keeping him sedated, so her mom was shuttling back and forth between home and work. Their employee, Lydia, was picking up some of the slack, but Tara’s mom had to take care of the business side of their bookstore. Tara agreed to meet her there so they could go to the hospital together to see her dad.
Tara had always made it a point to get back home as much as she could to see her parents and friends, but her job kept her busy and hadn’t allowed for a visit home for several months. She had grown up in Grant’s Crossing, but since no one outside of Ohio had ever heard of it, she always told people she lived about an hour outside the capital city of Columbus near a small city called Delaware, Ohio.
Generally speaking, people couldn’t fathom the concept of a city that shared the same name as another state, so after a while, she simply explained it was between Cincinnati and Cleveland. People had heard of Ohio’s NFL and baseball cities. Never mind that the state capital of Columbus was larger than Cincy and Cleveland combined.
Grant’s Crossing itself had a population of barely a few thousand people, and she loved it. Despite her love of Chicago, there was nothing better than coming home to a place where people knew her. Sure, they could be all up in her business day in and day out, but if she ever had a bad day, someone was always going out of their way to cheer her up, usually with a casserole.
They were Midwesterners, after all.
As she drove through the tall and still-green Ohio cornfields, she thought back to the days when friends would stop by with something to eat for the family when she and her twin brother, Tristan, were starting grade school and their little brother Theo was colicky. Or when they all showed up to help clean up that time when a whole tree fell over thanks to a nasty windstorm.
Or now when in addition to taking Tara’s mom to the hospital after the accident, Anna Marinova had kept her fed and cared for. Tara planned to take Anna flowers and give her the biggest hug she could. She planned the same for Kiro, only minus the flowers.
Nothing better than small-town neighbors.
As the cornfields opened up to reveal the Scioto River, Tara couldn’t help but smile at the Storley industrial complex, abandoned since well before she was born. Its main factory building was roughly five to six stories high, with a ceiling made of mostly broken glass, and surrounded by several warehouses and outbuildings.
In high school, Storley was also a favorite make-out spot on dates. A rather expansive complex with different colored buildings, it offered plenty of private, unlit places to park unseen. She was sure the new sheriff, Drew Strager, and his deputies knew the best hiding places since they were once teenagers here, too.
Nestled in a bend of the Scioto River, it was closing in on 150 years since Grant’s Crossing was first founded during the Reconstruction Era, earning its namesake from then-President Ulysses S. Grant. As time went on, streets and parks were named after presidents as well.
Down the road, sirens drew near. Tara pulled over to the side of the road to make room for the Grant’s Crossing fire engine that raced by her with its lights flashing. Following close behind was the ambulance.
“Go get ‘em, guys,” she said to herself, wondering when they’d ever get some women firefighters in there.
Pulling back into the lane, she turned her car toward the heart of Grant’s Crossing, unable to resist driving around the square where all the town’s festivals took place. It was also home to some of the best restaurants and locally-owned shops, including Between the Lines bookstore, owned by the Bailey family for over forty years.
Tara parked her car and walked up to her parents’ bookstore, smiling at the back-to-school display in the front window. The familiar jingle of the shop bell welcomed her as she walked inside.
She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. There was nothing better than the familiar and wonderful scent of new books, the best perfume she could ever need. Her face lit up amongst so many wonderful stories.
“Welcome to Between the Lines,” a voice called out as she entered the store. Tara glanced up to see the smiling face of a young woman standing behind a table of new releases in the wide opening of the center aisle that led back to the children’s section.
“Thanks.” Tara instinctively responded to the employee she didn’t recognize. “You must be Lydia. I’m Tara Bailey. Is my mom here?”
“Hi, Tara. Great to finally meet you. I wish it were under happier circumstances. Helen’s in the back.”
“Thanks,” Tara waved and walked to the back through a swinging door labeled employees only.
“Lydia? I can’t seem to find that box of mystery novels.”
Tara could see that her mom was bent over, the top half of her body disappearing behind two boxes stacked on top of each other, her hand helping her maintain her balance while one leg was on the floor and the other was sticking up in the air.
Tara giggled at her mom’s precarious position between the unopened boxes. “Need some help back there, Mom?”
A woman with the most beautiful silver-highlighted red hair popped up and welcomed her with a big grin. “Honey!” Her gaze darted around for the safest path through the disorganized stacks of boxes. “Hang on. I’m coming!” Carefully stepping over some smaller boxes, Helen Bailey tiptoed her way out and greeted her daughter with a warm embrace. “You are just what the doctor ordered.”
Tara wrapped her arms around her mother for a much-needed, long hug. “It’s so good to see you. How are you, Mom? And how’s Dad?”
“Oh, I’m fine. And your father’s doing okay.” She slowed down as she carefully enunciated the letters o and k. “He’s a little better. They’ve got him on some powerful pain meds, but the doctors say he’s out of danger. It’s just going to take him a while to heal.”
She grabbed Tara by the arms and looked her up and down. She gently ran her fingers through her daughter’s long, wavy hair. “You look so beautiful, honey. I’m so glad you’re here.”
Tara hugged her mom again. “I want to go see Dad. Can you come with me? Or will you come back over after the shop closes?”
“Lydia has already agreed to close. Give me about fifteen minutes, and we can drive over together.”
“Okay. I’ll get us some coffees.”
“Say hello to Celeste for me.”
Tara stepped out of the shop, pausing as a car drove by before crossing the street. She strolled past the large carousel stage in the northeast corner that had once been home to a working carousel in the square. Sure, the horses and the carousel itself were long gone, but the building remained and was a prime location for summer theater productions and concerts when the weather was warm. In the mornings, there would even be friends sitting down at the tables outside to play chess while enjoying a strong cup of coffee. Tara smiled at the crotchety older men with cigars who added their own unique ingredients to their hot drinks, usually poured from flasks tucked inside their jacket pockets.
Tara always loved strolling down Adams Street, making up the east side of the square. Passing by Jelly Rolls, an almost century-old institution with two shops in one: a confectionery on one side and a soda fountain-turned-ice cream shop on the other. It was one of many reasons to love this town that had been around for a century and a half. The town was a scant fifty years old when it first opened its doors, offering the most delicious treats in the county. She paused long enough to enjoy the window display, finding delight in all the multi-tiered trays of chocolate candies and truffles, all made right there in the shop just as they had since the day it first opened back in the mid-1920s.
Through the window, she caught the eye of Nate Johnson as he brought out a tray of sweets. He met her excited wave with a friendly smile. She planned to stop in there while she was home. She couldn’t take Mackinac fudge back to Chicago, but Nate’s hand-made truffles were the next best thing.
Right now, however, coffee was calling, and she needed to see her best friend more than ever.