Chapter 5 #2
Ned shakes his head. “We rarely contact each other. I have a standing arrangement with Magnolia House, the shelter your Aunt Birdie started five decades ago.”
I take that in, staring at him in surprise—the information that Aunt Birdie started Magnolia House five decades ago, and yet, I was completely clueless until recently.
“About eleven or so years ago, when one of the May girls had a boyfriend who was bad news, I mentioned it to your Aunt Birdie in one of my letters. She told me about Magnolia House, and I looked into it. Cassie May passed away, but not because of her boyfriend. But after that, I decided I wanted to help. Whenever the shelter sends me someone, I figure out where they should go, whether it be here at Heaven or a few other places in Paradise Springs with room and board and income if needed. I provide respite for them for as long or short as they need. Your Aunt Birdie’s shelter and I have had this arrangement since then. ”
“Aunt Birdie is even more badass than I thought.”
He grins, his face awash in creases from years of smiling and hard work in the Florida sun. “That she is.”
“I wish I knew whether she was okay. I’m afraid Trey’s been harassing her. He may have put two and two together and figured out that she was the one who encouraged me to run.” I rub my face, side-eyeing Ned, but he shakes his head.
“I’ve had no contact with her. That’s part of the deal. But I don’t think you should worry. Your Aunt Birdie’s a smart gal. She’s also tough and resilient as those live oaks.”
“I just brewed some coffee.” I smile hopefully. “How about a cup or two before you go?”
“I could use a boost for these old bones.” He follows me into the kitchen. I pour us both a mug and set out the milk and sugar. He plops two heaping teaspoons of sugar and a dollop of milk into his then sits down next to me at the counter.
Monster plops his big head in my lap, looking up at me adoringly before lumbering over to the corner and stretching out.
“He took to you real quick.”
“Did you really find him in Billie’s Marsh? Or was that also a set-up?”
He chuckles. “You both showed up at the same time. A higher power than me planned that one.” He studies Monster. “He looks good. You’re obviously feeding him enough. His coat is shinier, and he’s gaining weight. And he looks like a happy dog. You need any more dog food?”
“Ned, you brought enough fifty-pound bags and treats to last for a whole year.” I smile at him. “But I appreciate it.”
He knocks on the table and pulls himself to his feet. “No rest for the weary. I’ve got some errands to run.” He places his cup and saucer beside the sink, then turns to me. “I almost forgot to ask you. Did you find the secret compartment in the cottage?”
“Secret compartment? No! Where is it?”
His eyes twinkle. “You’ll have to find it yourself.”
“How about a hint?”
“It’s a small cottage. With a little bit of persistence, you’ll find it.”
I follow him out to the front porch. “I love the upgrades on the bike.”
He stops and eyes me solemnly. “It’s not an easy trip to Paradise Springs.
I know you’re in great shape, being a ballerina for years, but you’re not here to suffer physically.
You’re here to recuperate, find comfort and solace.
And to think of what you want to do next.
And where.” His eyes are gentle even if his words seem to hit a little too hard because it’s a tender subject.
I think of Fox’s offhand comment about self-torture.
“Maybe take me up on my offer of a ride into town at least once a week if not more? At this point, I’m going in most days.
And there’s room for Monster if he wants a change of scenery. ”
I look down, away from his kind, sincere gaze, which has the same effect as the cool, comforting spring water washing over me this morning. An errant tear plops on the wood plank right in front of his foot.
He pulls out a handkerchief and hands it to me, and I scrub at my eyes.
“Honestly,” I say softly, “I don’t know if I’m punishing myself or not.
Sometimes I feel like I should punish myself for getting myself in this stupid mess.
But keeping busy, keeping my mind and body moving and active, helps me not to…
think so much.” I look at him, and he nods without saying anything.
“And the bike ride from here to town and back… it forces me to be a part of all this.” I wave my hand around.
“To smell the pine trees and hear the birds chirping. To feel the wind on my face and the sun on my back. To be more present. And that’s not punishment. ”
“Okay. I’ll keep asking you to take me up on a ride, though.” His gaze lands on my bike. “See what you think about the upgrades.” He takes my hand and pats it gently. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be. You’ll tell me if you need anything?”
I nod.
When Ned leaves, I study the incoming thick, gray sheet of clouds.
The wind has picked up and carries the smell of smoke with it, and I’m reminded of when Cain, Trudy, and I would camp together.
Cain would be in charge of the campfires even though it took him forever to get them lit, and then they’d smoke too much until I puttered around and fixed them.
“We’re a good team,” he’d tell me. And now, my team is gone, and I’m standing here alone.
As if he’s reminding me that I’m not alone, Monster chuffs up at me. “Okay,” I tell him, “let’s go find that secret compartment.”
I search for it without success, scrubbing, dusting, and sweeping as I go until the cottage smells like lemons and lavender. I decide to continue the quest after Monster’s walk. The second I slip my shoes on, he’s right by my side.
“One more walk before it starts raining buckets,” I tell him. “We might be cooped up for a while.” I hand him a treat then stuff some more in his treat bag. “How about some peanut butter treats for this walk?”
His tail wags madly, knocking over the umbrella stand by the door. I right it, then lace my tennis shoes and glance in the mirror one last time.
“Would you really have let me leave the house like this?” I scold Monster. “Even if there won’t be a speck of sun by the time we step off the porch, I need my hat.” He nudges at the sunhat hanging on a hook by the door.
“You’re a genius!” He wags his tail, and I bend down and hug him. “What would I do without you?”
Monster is unlike any of the dogs Cain and I ever had. We always ended up with adorable mutts that had been abandoned by everyone else and were virtually untrainable in anything but cuddling and loving. Monster is smart as hell. Sometimes I have the uncanny feeling that he’s smarter than me.
With the growing thick layer of clouds, I doubt I need a sun hat. There’s very little sun, and it’s unlikely I will run into anyone. But I tug on the hat anyway. The sides droop down, like two wide, floppy ears. It’s too big to wear when biking, but I keep it by the door for Monster and my walks.
Cain used to tease me that I always looked incognito when we were on vacation, wearing sunglasses and wide-brimmed hats.
“I’m trying to keep my skin pristine, so you don’t leave me for a younger woman,” I’d tease him.
When Cain and Trudi died, I was in the news for a while, the paparazzi furiously snapping photos of me, Honey Hale, the grieving widow and grieving mother, I tried to remain as unseen and unnoticeable as possible.
The media’s interest in me died out, long enough that I could forget anyone even cared about me.
For a while, I was just another woman walking down the street.
A year later, on the anniversary of Cain and Trudi’s death, someone snapped a photo that went viral—me walking out of a liquor store with two bags of wine, no makeup, and bags under my red eyes, the still-grieving mother and widow incapable of getting her shit together.