Chapter 10
10
I follow Terrance’s Volvo down a curvy, narrow road. We’re about twenty miles outside downtown Blue Beech, and I haven’t seen a house in miles.
He makes a sudden left, and I curse when one of my wheels hits a pothole before we reach a gravel lane that leads to a two-story home with a wraparound porch perched on a hill. It’s an old house, but you can tell it’s in the middle of a remodel. Half of it looks done, while the other half still needs some TLC.
A man and woman dressed in matching denim overalls wave to us from the porch as we grow closer. I park, and they walk down the three wide steps to meet us.
“Pete,” the man says, holding out his hand. “This is my wife, Agnes.”
“Adrian.” I shake his and then Agnes’s hand.
Pete runs a hand through his graying beard. “Terrance said you’re looking for somewhere to stay. Our loft above the garage is open. If you don’t mind a little dust, the place is all yours. It’s private, and we won’t bug ya.”
“Thank you.” I clasp my hands and tip my chin toward them .
“Make sure you’re careful while driving here at night,” Agnes says, and I notice one of her overall straps is undone and behind her shoulder. “It’s easy to get lost.”
“The place is furnished,” Pete adds. “It’s outdated furniture, but, hey, it’s furniture.”
“It’ll do,” I say, grateful.
“Rent is eight hundred a month. If you need us to go lower, we can. We cover all utilities.”
Finding a rental in Blue Beech has been harder than trying to learn Terrance’s filing system—and the man still hasn’t learned that technology is his friend. There was hardly anything available, so Terrance asked around and found me this.
The hour-drive commutes to my condo late at night are taking a toll on me and my dog, Tucker. Tucker stays with my abuela while I work and then rides home with me later. I can only allow him to stick his head out the window at midnight for so long until enough bugs start blowing in our faces.
On the drive here, Terrance told me Pete was one of his closest friends. He and Agnes used to live closer to town, but Agnes wanted to buy a horse, so they bought this place for the extra land.
“You allow pets, right?” I ask.
“What you got?” Pete asks. “A dog? Cat?”
“Dog. Golden retriever.”
“Dog is fine.” He removes his hat and wipes the sweat building along his forehead. “We got an old dachshund. You might see Greta running around here at night. She don’t bite but appreciates a good slice of bacon and belly rubs.”
“Sounds like she and Tucker are a lot alike then.” I smile.
“That mean you’ll take it?” Agnes asks.
“I’ll take it.”
“We’re glad to have you.” Pete claps me on the back before handing me a key. “Agnes always makes breakfast. If you’re hungry in the morning, stop in. Now, let me show you your new place. ”
I grab my duffel bag from the trunk, and Terrance and I follow Pete. We trudge up creaky, old stairs that lead to a door on the second story of the garage. The air is musty when we walk in, and Pete starts opening windows.
I drop my bag onto the leather couch. There are plenty of rips, but thankfully no stains. Pete wasn’t lying when he said the place was dusty, but it’s not too bad. There’s a box TV that I’m sure was made while I was in Pampers and a metal-framed bed, but the appliances aren’t too outdated.
“I’ll let you make yourself comfortable,” Pete says. “Let me know if you need anything.” He tips his head toward Terrance before leaving. “See you next week for poker night.”
Terrance shoves his hands inside his pockets. “Your grandmother is making dinner tonight. If you’re not busy settling in, stop by.”
I gesture to the duffel bag. “Not much to unpack here.”
I’m not selling my condo until I’m one hundred percent positive I’m staying in Blue Beech. I’ll give it six months. If Essie doesn’t forgive me by then, I don’t know if I can live in the same town. With how small Blue Beech is, we’re bound to run into each other, and that’ll only be a harsh reminder of what I fucked up.
Terrance grins and takes his hand from his pocket to offer a thumbs-up. “Glad to have you staying here in Blue Beech.”
After settling in, I sit on the couch and drag my MacBook from my bag. But I don’t turn it on. Instead, I drop it next to me and wander to the plywood bookshelves on the wall. I run my fingers along the spines of old yearbooks. Blue Beech High yearbooks, each year dating back to the early 1950s.
Essie and I graduated from high school the same year, so I immediately grab the one dated with her senior year. I flip through the pages to find her picture, via alphabetical order by class, but it isn’t there.
River’s is.
She’s missing .
I check the class photo.
She’s also missing.
As far as I knew, Essie attended school here for every grade.