Chapter 3
Celine
At five fifteen exactly, I opened my eyes. Julian was splayed across my legs, several of Maggie’s stuffed animals crowded my head and shoulders, and her hardcover edition of The Hunger Games—the one she’d brought in when she couldn’t sleep—was resting on my chest. Excellent.
Closing my eyes, I took a second to breathe in this moment. As I exhaled, I rubbed Julian’s back. I picked up on the steady pounding of his heartbeat while I listened to the rhythm of the girls’ breathing.
Mornings like this were rare. No alarm, no rushing, and no panic. Nothing but a moment of peace.
I would have loved to stay here and soak this in, but I hadn’t run yesterday, and my anxiety would not let me skip again. So I slid out of bed, tucking Julian back in, and tiptoed to the bathroom to brush my teeth. Then I threw on shorts, a sports bra, and my sneakers.
My plan was to run the hill behind the house. From there, I wouldn’t lose sight of the structure. As I headed out, I relished the early morning chill on my skin. I get to do this, I told myself. I choose to push myself. A strong mind requires a strong body.
Quickly, I stretched, then I took off.
Rather than focusing on the run, I spent every second worried about the kids, so after thirty minutes, I headed back to the house, sweaty and panting but feeling slightly better.
The house was quiet as I flipped on the coffee maker and did my squats, lunges, and pushups.
Thank God for Chloe. She’d insisted on buying a pound of fancy coffee for me from the café we stopped at on the way here.
If not for her, I would have forgotten, and I would have been cursing myself this morning since I truly couldn’t function without it.
The cup was halfway to my lips and I was milliseconds away from taking my first glorious sip when footsteps pounded down the stairs.
“Happy birthday, Mom,” my kids shouted when they came into view. All at once, they threw their small arms around me and hugged me tight.
“Thank you.” One at a time, I kissed them on the forehead. “I love you.”
“Here.” Maggie held out a handmade card. On the front was a portrait of the four of us wearing huge smiles. Inside it read “You are the best mom in the world. I love you so much. You’re awesome and cool and pretty.”
“Thank you,” I said, my throat getting thick.
My sweet girl bounced on her toes, beaming.
Julian had disappeared, and when he returned, he held a new Lego cake. Pink, square, and decorated with green Lego icing. “I didn’t bake it,” he said proudly. “It’s raw, but it should still taste good.”
A laugh bubbled out of me as I ruffled his shaggy hair. “Thank you, baby,” I said. “I love it.” I pretended to take a big bite of the side, making him giggle the way I hoped he would.
“Here.” Ellie held out another card. She’d drawn a huge bunch of balloons on the front. As I opened it, I expected to find a simple “happy birthday” and nothing else. The last few years had been hard for her, and she rarely made a show of affection anymore.
Instead I found three full sentences.
“Thanks for not giving up. On us or yourself. You’re all we’ve got, but we’re damn lucky.”
I looked up at her, tears in my eyes. “Language,” I laughed.
After a short, simple hug, she backed away. That was it.
The day couldn’t have started any better.
The celebration had been small, but it had been meaningful.
Exactly our speed. Emotions pummeled me as I took in my kids.
For years I’d gone without birthday cards or any real acknowledgment, yet here were these perfect little creatures making me feel more valued than I ever had.
“I’ll be back in one sec.” Skirting them, I headed for the stairs so I could put the cards and small cake in my mom’s jewelry box right away. Not only so I could keep them forever but so I could give myself a minute.
Once I’d stashed them in the box, I darted into the bathroom, shut the door, and turned the sink on, just in case little ears were listening.
Then I let the tears fall. Sadness washed over me, along with a sense of grief, but also hope, all mixed together into an emotionally exhausting cocktail.
I gave myself a few minutes to cry silently, then splashed cold water on my face and breathed deeply, composing myself.
This day had started beautifully, and while we had endless unpacking to do, along with errands and apparently a farm tour to get to, I had hopes that it could be one of the best days I’d had in a while.
I was doing it. I was still here. And maybe we really would be okay.
Eventually, I got that cup of coffee and a shower, then we headed out. The hardware store was our first stop. I needed batteries, light bulbs, extra sliding locks for the exterior doors, and laundry detergent. I was repeating my list to myself when we entered the store, the bells jangling above us.
“My goodness.” The man behind the counter perked up, his smile wide. “It’s the new family in town! Emma is gonna be so jealous that I got to meet you first. She runs the grocery store, but if you’d already been over there, she’d be bragging and I would have heard about it.”
He rushed around the counter, wiping his hands on his jeans before offering one to me.
“Walt Pierson.” The man was in his sixties and spry, with a white mustache.
I forced a smile, even as a little wave of discomfort rolled through me. This kind of scrutiny was not something I was used to.
“Celine LeBlanc,” I said, shaking his hand. “And these are my kids.”
“Such a pleasure. What can I get for you today?”
Before I could explain myself, Maggie and Julian had taken off, exploring the store with glee, Maggie stopping nearby and sizing up an expensive-looking bird feeder.
“Don’t worry about them,” Walt said as if he could sense my anxiety. “You kids play sports?” he asked Ellie. “My daughter-in-law coaches the basketball team. A tall girl like you should play.”
My moody tween stared at him for a minute, then turned and stalked in the direction Julian had gone.
I gave him a tense smile, my face heating. “She’s getting used to a new town.”
Walt collected all the items I’d come in for, then he gave me a 15 percent friends and family discount and told us about the upcoming fall festival.
“Just keep an eye out for the Maple Street Mafia.” He held out a tape measure to Julian, insisting he keep it, which would probably make my son’s year. “They mean well,” he continued. “Most of the time.”
“The… what?” My chest tightened.
Mafia?
I looked out the front windows, scanning the sleepy New England tourist town. Could this really be a hotbed of organized crime?
He shook his head and shuffled away, not the least bit concerned about the information he’d just given me.
I’d worry about that later, I supposed. With the kids in tow, I dropped our purchases off at the car. Then we cut through Market Street toward the grocery store, passing not one, but two cheese shops along the way.
Huh. I really liked cheese.
A truck passed us, the driver honking, and two cyclists waved from the road.
“Are these people okay?” Ellie asked, her lip curling with derision.
“I think people just wave here,” I offered weakly, though I was equally confused by the hospitality.
The grocery store looked like a cottagecore film set. The flower boxes out front were overflowing with blooms, and there was a whimsical hand-painted sign featuring a smiling maple leaf waving hello.
“This place is strange.” Scanning the storefront, Julian pulled his noise canceling headphones over his ears.
We had a well-established grocery store routine, and step one for my son was donning the headphones. Grocery stores were sensory overload for a neurotypical person, but for Julian, who was sensitive to noise, visual clutter, temperature changes, and bright lights, it was a battle.
I pulled a bright yellow shopping cart from the corral and wheeled it inside, instantly finding myself surrounded by twinkly string lights and overflowing baskets of produce.
“Welcome to Sugar & Sprout Market,” a middle-aged woman wearing a headscarf chirped. “I’m Emma and I’m so pleased to meet you.”
I gave her a tense smile. How was it that the kinder these people were, the more on edge I became?
“The new teacher?” she asked. “From Maine?”
I nodded. Did I really want to give this stranger details about my personal life?
“We are so grateful you’re here.” There were a few other shoppers around, though none of them were close, so I couldn’t tell if she was using the royal we or if she was referring to the voices in her head.
Julian pushed his headphones down, his focus fixed on the floor in front of him. “Do you have ice cream?”
His sweet voice interrupted my anxiety spiral, cutting through the concerns about all these unfamiliar people knowing who I was and what I did for a living.
I rested my hands on his shoulders and bent forward, reminding him to make eye contact.
“We sure do,” Emma said. “We also have a reading nook and a little free library.”
Maggie’s eyes widened, and I swear hearts danced above her head.
“And what do you think about trying our newest blackberry jam?”
Eye twitching, I inhaled deeply. Was it too much to ask to buy milk, cereal, and a secret chocolate stash in peace?
But I kept my mouth shut because even Ellie had brightened a little and was now drooling over the display of fresh-baked bread.
Because carbs were one language even snarky tweens could understand.
“It’s my mom’s birfday,” Julian explained, having found his favorite, raspberry sorbet, in the freezer section.
Emma beamed at him, then me. “Then you’ll need a cake.”
After spending way too much money on artisanal pretzels, the best-looking strawberries I’d ever seen, a small chocolate cake, and several pints of ice cream, we hauled it all to the car.
As we walked, the kids happily chattered, discussing which snacks they wanted to try first. I, on the other hand, scanned the area for threats.
Old habits died slowly.