Chapter 5
Roxy
The forest is alive around me. Dark trunks rise like columns into mist, and every breath tastes like pine and cold air and danger.
My legs burn as I run, the hem of my dress catching on roots and damp leaves, but I can’t stop.
Behind me, something moves—heavy, deliberate.
The rhythm of its steps matches my heartbeat.
I know what it is.
A bear.
The sound of its growl rumbles low, closer this time, and it isn’t just fear that makes me stumble.
It’s something else—heat curling under the terror, the same wild pull that lives somewhere between a scream and a sigh. I should be afraid. I am afraid. But there’s a thrill in it too, in being chased, in knowing that if he catches me—
A shout breaks through the dream.
“Mom! Moooom!”
The forest splinters apart. The sound of footsteps fade, replaced by the thump of smaller feet running down the hall.
“Mom, wake up!”
I blink against the soft morning light spilling through the blinds.
My heart is still pounding, my breath shallow.
For a second, I expect to see the forest outside my window, but it’s only the familiar view of the apartments across the street.
Pretty pastels with beachy decorations, the old man on the porch to the right smoking a cigarette already.
Then a small face appears beside the bed, haloed by messy curls.
“Mom,” Andi says, exasperated. “You’re not even dressed! We’re supposed to leave early! Grandma said if we get there by lunch she’ll make cinnamon rolls, remember?”
Her little hands plant on her hips in a perfect imitation of Kat as a teenager, and I can’t help the low chuckle that escapes me. Andrea is only six, but has all of Kat’s spunk and all my shrewd perception. A dangerous combination.
“Good morning to you too, bug.”
Andi’s expression softens into a grin. “Morning! You had that face again. Like you were dreaming.”
I stretch, letting the sheets slide down, my body heavy and warm. “Maybe I was. What did you dream about, babe?”
She climbs on the bed beside me, crosses her legs, and rambles off seriously: “I dreamed that the new school has dinosaurs! And everyone gets their own dinosaur, and—”
Her chatter fills the room, and I let it wash over me, grounding me in something real.
But part of me is still caught in the woods with a pounding heart and prickling skin. The dream lingers like smoke, curling through my thoughts, too vivid to be dismissed. I can almost feel that chase, the rough breath behind me, the thrill of being seen.
Ridiculous, I tell myself.
I’ve had different versions of this dream for years, always the same. Sometimes it’s a forest, sometimes snow, sometimes nothing but darkness and a heartbeat in my ears. It always ends the same way: I wake just before I’m caught.
“Mom?”
I blink, realizing Andi’s staring at me, head tilted. “Huh?”
“You were smiling weird.”
“Was I?” I shake my head, trying to clear it. “Guess I was thinking about Grandma’s cinnamon rolls.”
Andi narrows her eyes, unconvinced. She hops off the bed and runs off down the hall.
I hear the sound of something tumbling, probably one of the moving boxes she insisted on labeling, the words in black sharpie indecipherable.
She’ll be starting second grade this year once the summer is over and we’re settled… somewhere.
I lie back for a moment, staring at the ceiling.
The apartment feels different now that it’s mostly empty—bare walls, packed boxes, goodbye already wafting in the air.
The gulls outside sound closer, sharper.
The scent of salt and seaweed drifts through the opening of the window.
In just a few days Chatham will be swollen with tourists, the roads clogged and impossible to navigate.
Chatham has been home for nearly six years.
A quiet stretch of coastline for most of the year.
It’s where I rebuilt myself after realizing I was pregnant, pushing through college, getting a job with the DEEP that barely pays the rent.
Where Andi learned to walk, to swim, to laugh without worry. I thought I’d stay forever.
But lately, there’s been this pull in my chest—soft, insistent.
A feeling like something’s waiting just beyond the horizon.
Going back to Massachusetts feels strange, almost like stepping backward in time. Kat and David’s place in Cambridge is too polished, too perfect, but Mom’s there and that makes it home.
And Mom isn’t getting any younger. It would feel wrong not to spend time with her this summer.
Andi deserves to know her family. Even if it means I’ll have to see Kat and put up with her snarky remarks.
I push the thought aside and swing my legs out of bed. The hardwood floor is cold and grounding. The clock on the nightstand reads 6:42 a.m.
The mirror across the room catches my reflection as I stand. My hair’s a tangle of dark curls, my eyes still heavy from the dream. The baby weight never really went away, but I don’t hate it the way I did in my early twenties. I look older, maybe stronger, but also… changed.
I pull on jeans and a t-shirt, tie my hair back, and turn on the coffee. The scent fills the kitchen, rich and familiar. It mixes with the ocean air sneaking in through the window.
We finish breakfast, load the last of the boxes into the car, and stand for a moment on the porch. The sea wind tugs at my sweater, finding us even though the coast is miles away, whipping my hair around my face.
Goodbye, Chatham. I whisper it in my head, not quite ready to say it out loud.
This place saved me once. It gave me peace when everything else fell apart. Maybe peace isn’t meant to last forever?
“Ready, bug?”
Andi nods enthusiastically, climbing into the back seat. “I’m gonna count all the bridges!”
“Good plan.”
Kat and David’s townhouse rises above the others, all opulence and pretension with beige and white “Welcome!” decorations on the little porch.
Andi jumps out of the SUV before it’s even parked and I shout her name, but she’s already running to the door, and my mom is already there—her arms open, a smile on her face that makes my heart ache.
It’s been a long time since Dad passed, but it’s still strange to see her here and not in our childhood home. Of course, Kat and David were there to save her. But, mom has always seemed unbalanced by the busy social scene and impeccably dressed people of Cambridge.
David marches past me as I tug a duffle out of the back seat, giving me a quick air kiss on the cheek. “Good to see you, Rox. See you for dinner.”
He slips into the sleek black Tesla waiting on the street and disappears. I look back up at the house where Kat is glowering through the window. I have no idea if I am the target of that look, or if it’s her husband.
When I make it inside, Andi is already bothering Peter, Kat’s ten-year-old son, who has headphones on and is ignoring her.
Mom envelops me in a hug, and Kat gives me a tight nod.
We chat about the drive, how tightly the car is packed, and the storage unit where all my things are until I find somewhere to live.
“Sooner rather than later, right?” Kat asks as she makes another coffee. Her third, Mom whispered to me.
“Um, I thought you said we could stay awhile?”
“There are more than enough bedrooms, Katherine,” Mom chides.
There are six bedrooms here, all with their own bathrooms. Kat doesn’t look at us. “Yes, but you know, I don’t want anything interrupting our day-to-day life. David is so busy, he can’t be distracted.”
That’s how she sees me: not as her sister, but as a distraction.
Kat glances from my head to my toes, and I wonder what exactly she thinks he’ll be distracted by.
Kat has always been beautiful—slim and dark-haired, even after having Peter.
But that sour twist on her face makes her ugly. If only she’d learn to be happy.
“David went to work,” Mom says in a low voice, giving me a meaningful look.
My brows raise. “It’s Saturday.”
Kat stomps over, finally sitting at the island with us. She’s perfectly poised as she says: “I have a solution for you. A job.”
“A job?” It takes everything in me not to roll my eyes.
Kat, a stay-at-home-mom, has never understood my desire to work, or the line of work I went into.
She’s disgusted by bugs, by the very air outside, and can’t imagine why we should conserve land instead of building more townhouses and mini-mansions.
What kind of job could she possibly find that I’d be interested in?
“Yes. In Bar Harbor.”
“That’s in Maine!”
She gives me a flat look. “You were always so good at geography. Have you looked at places around here, Roxanne? How do you plan on paying rent for an apartment? You wouldn’t want Andrea to end up in the wrong school—”
Her voice drones on as anxiety pools in my gut. She’s right, but I figured I’d have time to find a place. Mostly because Kat told me months ago that we could stay “as long as we needed.”
That has apparently changed.
“—this job, it pays well enough that you can save up for a house, and pay off all that college debt you have. It shouldn’t take very long at all I think.”
Mom’s eyes are narrowed, but she seems intrigued.
“What exactly is the job?” I ask.
“Executive assistant for a travel company or something. I’m not sure. Something that has to do with,” she flaps her hand, mouth twisting in distaste, “nature. You know, it’s not too far from that park up there.”
She means Acadia National Park with 47,000 acres of gorgeous coastline. Rocky beaches with a history of glacial interaction, bustling with wildlife. A thrill of interest goes through me.
“What about Andi?” Mom asks, ever the rational one. Kat shrugs.
“She can stay here. David said they would be willing to put Roxanne up somewhere, a little house or something. Maybe a room on the estate.”
“Estate?” I frown. Suddenly ‘executive assistant’ doesn’t seem like it has any actual connection to nature at all.
Kat sighs and stands to refill her coffee. “I don’t see how you have any other option. And David talked you up, you know, to management, so it wouldn’t look bad.”
She chatters on as Mom leans into me with a gentle nudge. “It might be just what you need,” she whispers.
“But it’s not what I want,” I whisper back. She’s already heard my lovelorn pleading over the years, that I want to end up in land management and conservancy—do something meaningful. Which is why her smile makes me second-guess turning this down.
Somehow, Mom always knows best.
“Just think about it. You never know; once you’re up there, another opportunity may arise.”
It’s tempting. I look across the open concept space to Andrea, now curled up on the couch petting the cat. As if she knows I’m watching, her eyes flick upward, and she shoots me a lopsided smile.
“It’s so far away, Mom. I came up here to be closer to you.”
“I know, love.” She leans in for a hug. “But I’ll be right here, and I’ll take care of Andi while you’re gone. Besides,” she whispers again, “maybe Maine would be more my style… if you find something you like up there.”
Warmth spreads through my chest at the idea of Mom coming to live with me. Of being able to pull that off. It would finally free Kat up, who has martyred herself with “taking on Mom” for years.
Andi would be absolutely thrilled.
Maybe this is the open door I need to be brave enough to walk through.
“Alright,” I interrupt Kat, who’s still grumbling on about something, “send me the job details. I’ll fix up my resume today.”