Chapter 18 #2
So I’d sit here and enjoy the feel of his forearm brushing against mine, and then I’d go back to reality and do all the stuff that had to be done.
Because there was no room in my life for crushes.
Though was it possible there was room for a kind friend?
Someone who was good to my kids and cared enough to pack the right snacks?
I’d never had one of those before, and more and more, I wanted to be his friend.
To hear his jokes and listen to his stories and figure out what the hell the machines he used on the farm were for.
Crushes were silly. But friendship? That was the kind of relationship that I’d begun to think I could handle.
After pizza and a reunion with Wayne, we stood back and watched Josh operate his own forklift, which was strangely hot.
The kids crashed hard shortly after, but I was still buzzing. It had been a good day. Minimal disagreements and a new project. Plus Julian had done really well with the car ride and the pumpkin. He hadn’t had one meltdown, and honestly, was more animated than I’d ever seen him.
I had to savor days like this. Reflect and wring out every good moment. Because there would be hard days, and when they came, I’d need these memories to keep myself going.
The best way to get rid of this kind of nervous energy was to work out, so I stepped into my sneakers and banged out three sets of pushups on the porch, followed by planks and lunges.
I was considering which workouts would exhaust me the quickest when I realized I hadn’t gotten the mail today.
Our mailbox was down at the end of the drive, about a quarter mile from our cottage, and I usually stopped when I drove into the farm after work or running errands, but we’d been in Josh’s truck today and out of our routine.
Surveying the house where all three kids slept, I reassured myself that it was okay to jog there and back. I could see the cottage the whole way, though not as well as I could from the hill where I typically ran.
So I took off, jogging down the gravel drive, smiling and laughing to myself about how incredible and hilarious my kids had been today.
Julian’s serious calculations, Maggie’s decoration ideas, and Ellie’s eye rolls. It had been a while since I’d seen them let loose and be themselves. If we stayed here, maybe it would happen more frequently. Maybe they’d eventually get comfortable and let their guard down.
I picked up the pace, and almost instantly, my lungs burned.
I loved the sensation. It had been at least a decade since I’d run a race, but I’d recently started thinking about entering one.
Having an event to train for was good motivation, and I’d like the kids to see me racing.
I wanted to show them that a person could still set goals and do things even when they were, as Ellie constantly called me, elderly.
At the mailbox, I stopped, my breaths heaving in and out of my lungs, and pulled out a stack of what looked mostly like junk.
On the way back, I stuck to walking briskly as I sorted through it. It was dark, but the moon was bright enough that if I squinted, I could make out the print on the envelopes. Fliers and ads, my car insurance bill, a catalog, and a lime green envelope.
The scrolly, loopy handwriting caught my attention, and I came to a quick stop. It wasn’t printed. No, the words were in ink.
And it was addressed to me. At this address.
My chest tightened. No. It couldn’t be.
Heart thudding, I opened the envelope.
Inside was a cheery greeting card with cartoon animals on the front. Written inside, in a scratchy scrawl I’d never forget, it read Found You.
Vision tunneling, I dropped all the mail to the ground.
Every part of my body shook with panic. Nausea rolled through me, and I dropped to my knees, vomiting on the side of the driveway. I stayed there, head down, palms pressed to the gravel, for several minutes.
My mind spiraled, and only when a dog barked in the distance did I come back to the moment.
“Wayne,” a deep voice bellowed. “What are you doing?”
Wayne ran toward me, his paws hitting the driveway quickly and his tags gently clinking against his collar.
Then he was next to me, panting and whining.
I couldn’t move my head to look at him. Couldn’t lift a hand to pet him.
“Celine?” Another set of footsteps. “Are you okay? Should I call an ambulance?”
Josh appeared in front of me, wearing a pair of plaid pajama pants. He was shirtless and barefoot, but I barely registered his presence.
“Are you sick?”
I nodded.
Wayne spun in a circle, barking, then sat beside me like a sentry.
“Sorry,” I croaked, finally forcing myself up onto my knees.
“Can I help you?” He held out a hand.
Shame washed over me, but I accepted the offer, and when I was standing, I breathed in deeply, trying to get my bearings.
“I can take you to the hospital.”
I shook my head, swallowing against a fresh wave of nausea.
“I’m not sick. Just give me a second.”
He gripped my elbow and stood silently while I attempted to compose myself.
“Breathe,” I said out loud, forcing air into my lungs.
A warm hand landed on my back. “Is this okay?”
Eyes closed, I nodded.
“Do you need water?”
I shook my head. “Could you just walk with me back to the house?”
“Of course.”
Slowly, Josh and Wayne accompanied me down the driveway, Josh holding the mail I’d dropped on the ground and Wayne looking up at me every couple of seconds.
Josh had threaded my arm through his, and I couldn’t resist the temptation to lean against his warm, solid torso. If he was cold, he didn’t show it, and he didn’t seem to mind slow walking me toward my house in the middle of the night.
He was warm and steady and strong. And although I couldn’t say it out loud, I was grateful he was there with me.
When we reached the house, I let go of his arm and walked away. It would have been polite to turn around and thank him or maybe give him an explanation, but I was too overwhelmed to speak.
But I couldn’t do this to him. I couldn’t burden this earnest, kind man with this ugliness. Not after today.
He’d look at my kids differently. He’d look at me differently.
And I couldn’t live with that.
“Pushed myself too hard,” I said as I stepped onto the porch. “Not as young as I used to be.”
“I respect your privacy.” He strode closer and squeezed my hand. “And when you’re ready to tell me, I’ll listen.”
I nodded, trying to not look like a complete train wreck. I took the mail from him, then shuffled toward the door.
“If you need anything, call me.”
Without responding, I closed the door and leaned against it. I took a deep breath, then another. How had he found us?
I poured a glass of water and sat on the couch, willing my heart rate to slow. Eventually, when the terror had dulled, I could focus again.
And what I focused on was memories. Memories of my kids laughing. Julian’s wonder at the giant pumpkin. Singing along with the radio on our road trip. Morning snuggles before school. Stella and Callie and the lovely community we were building here.
And Josh. The gentleness hiding behind his giant masculine exterior. The care with which he treated me and the kids, the thoughtfulness, knowing almost instinctively what Julian needed from him, right down to the brand of crackers.
I was sick of this shit. Sick of Donny and all he’d put us through.
The fear I’d experienced when I opened that envelope had now been replaced by burning hot rage. I balled my hands into fists and closed my eyes.
He doesn’t get to touch this life.
He doesn’t get to ruin what I’ve worked so hard to build.
Rolling my shoulders, I got up, checked all the door locks, and headed upstairs. I lingered in doorways, watching each of my kids sleep for several minutes, and made myself a promise.
I was done hiding.
Donny would be in prison for another year. He had no power over me anymore.
He might have found me.
But the joke was on him, because I was no longer lost.