3
Sailor
Home is Where the Pain is
“ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO DO this?”
I scowled at Lily as she asked the same question she’d asked a hundred times since she’d picked me up from the hospital and kindly driven me back to Ember Drive.
I went to speak and remembered the many guidelines the elderly doctor had advised before discharging me this morning. He’d suggested I stay for another day’s observation, but I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t relax—constantly on high alert in case Alexander North popped by again.
I hated the fact that I was as wary about him as I was about Milton. That he’d been the catalyst for all my pain, and my body refused to forget that.
I’d refused to stay, but I had agreed not to use my voice for a week to let the swelling in my throat recede. My bruises would fade. My cuts would heal. My slight concussion would disappear on its own. What happened yesterday would be a distant memory in six to eight weeks.
However, that wasn’t what the counsellor had said when she came to visit me as I awkwardly dressed to leave. She warned me of flashbacks and panic attacks, and I’d politely nodded along, all while convincing myself that I would be fine.
I’d survived.
He was locked up.
The end.
Luckily, Milton had tried to murder me on a Monday, which worked in my favour as I didn’t have to be at the market until Saturday. That gave me four whole days to heal and figure out how to use enough concealer to hide my black eye and paint-by-numbers bruises.
Shutting off the engine of her silver Mercedes coupe, Lily turned to face me. “I know you can’t talk, but I feel your annoyance, Sails.” She frowned and pointed a finger in my face. “I don’t like this. I really, really don’t like this. What if he comes back? What if you need someone to help you cook or go to the bathroom or—”
I slapped my good hand over her runaway mouth and smiled as best I could.
God, I didn’t think not being able to speak would be such a pain, but it literally killed me having to stay silent. (And yes, I was aware of the irony that being killed had gotten me into this mess.)
Shaking my head, I dropped my hand and pointed at my inherited home.
Sitting on the grass-striped driveway, the red-brick garage full of Pop’s tools welcomed me back. White jasmine vines draped off the slate roof, window boxes full of rainbow flowers, the gorgeous archway made of bent willow branches, the little fountain that attracted all the blackbirds and finches, the bird feeders, the Japanese maples, the lemon trees and feijoas, right to the huge hobbit-style gate leading to the secret garden of a backyard. The two-story house sat nestled in all of that. Softened by lichen and love, wrapped tightly with a white veranda with a swinging egg chair, and crowned by a front door with a stained-glass window showing a riot of frangipani and freesias.
This place wasn’t like the house I’d grown up in with my parents across the country. That had been stark and sterile with no garden, no welcome, no soul. I’d found who I truly was ever since I’d moved in with Nana, and I’d never felt so safe or so comfortable…so yes.
I was sure I wanted to do this.
I needed to do this.
I wouldn’t let Milton chase me from my happy place. No matter that my pulse skipped and adrenaline made me jittery at the thought of going inside.
Sighing heavily, Lily nodded as if she’d heard all my thoughts as we stared at the house. “I get it. You love it here. You feel safe here. But…”
I clucked my tongue and arched my eyebrow.
She smirked. Her dark brown hair caught the late morning sunshine, her fierce blue eyes like sapphire chips. She wore a navy power suit with white lapels and pocket trim, looking every inch the successful real estate agent. Next to her, I was the unnoticed skinny Minnie who preferred inappropriate jokes and comfy leggings.
I didn’t always used to be that way.
I used to work in corporate.
I’d been an executive assistant to a publishing house editor. And as much as I loved to read the slush pile and help make other people’s dreams come true, when Nana had admitted that she was past the point of living on her own and was deliberating moving into a home now that Pops was gone, I upped and quit and moved in.
My life had irrevocably changed.
For the better.
And Milton is not going to take that away from me.
With a huff, I opened the car door with my good hand and gingerly climbed out. Every bruise and injury seemed to hurt even worse today. The throbbing and stiffness almost crippled me as I hid my shuffling limp and strode as straight as I could up the garden path.
“Hold up, you stubborn woman.” Lily scrambled after me, grabbing the overnight bag she’d brought to the hospital for me from the trunk. Locking the flashy car, she darted to catch up.
Cutting in front, she strode up to the front door.
I shook my head and pointed at the round portal leading to the backyard.
I didn’t have a key.
But the spare was tucked under the lavender pot, courtesy of Jim.
He saved my life.
If Jim and his dog hadn’t heard me…
I shivered and pushed away such morbid thoughts.
How did you repay someone for saving your life?
Bake a cake? Buy him a new something or other? Get on my knees and tell him how grateful I was that I was still here?
“Ah, that’s right.” Lily nodded and hoisted my bag higher up her shoulder. “Ambulance ride while unconscious equals no key.”
With a nod, I pushed open the hobbit gate on its well-oiled hinges and stepped into another world.
The back garden might look chaotic to some, but to me, I understood the madness within which Nana had planted. In the west, all the herbs for her essential oil pressing grew with wild chaos. In the east, all her vegetables. In the north, all the flowers she dried and designed into jewelry, and in the south, all the medicinal plants she turned into tinctures and ointments.
Not hers anymore.
Mine.
A swell of gratefulness filled me.
Memories of Nana teaching me how to use all her tools to turn petals into medicine and forage for nightly salads fresh from the soil echoed in every corner.
Despite her advanced age, she’d spent every day in the garden teaching me everything she knew. And with each lesson, I’d lost the drive to live in a city and run in the rat race. I’d become her assistant, selling her wares at the local artisan markets and natural healing shops.
Moving past me in her nude high heels, Lily nudged the lavender pot up and grabbed the key beneath.
That was another thing with a neighbourhood like this one.
Everyone knew the secret hiding places for keys and emergency items. I wouldn’t have dreamed letting people in my old apartment block know where my spare key was, but here? It granted such peace knowing we all watched out for one another.
The back door creaked a little as Lily unlocked it and pushed it open.
The scents of drying lemongrass and oregano wafted from the farm-style kitchen.
The smell rocked me back on my heels.
The pain as I’d bashed into the counter.
The agony as he grabbed my hair and threw me into the dining table.
“You stupid cow, I told you not to look at him! I told you he’s after what’s mine, and what did you do? You smiled! I think it’s time you had a lesson in how I expect you to act around other men. There are no other men, do you hear me?”
I flinched as his fist walloped against my cheekbone.
I stumbled as he cut off my air—
Not here.
Not real.
It’s over.
I gasped as I forced myself to remember he wasn’t here. That was yesterday. Today, he couldn’t hurt me.
Today, he’s in jail.
Dropping my bag by the back door, Lucy scaled the two short steps and grabbed me in a crushing hug on the lawn.
Her embrace hurt, but I returned it, all while trying to school my breathing. Trying so, so hard not to let Milton ruin this.
“I’ll only ask one more time, Sails, and then…I’ll trust that you know what you’re doing.” Pulling away, she cupped my tender shoulders and squeezed. “Are you absolutely sure you want to be here so soon? You don’t have to sell. You don’t have to move. Just…maybe give it a little time?” Her blue eyes softened. “Come have a few sleepovers with me like old times, alright? We can stay up late and watch swoony rom-coms. We can eat all the bad food and gossip about all the boys.” She winced. “Oh, sorry. What on earth am I saying? Of course you don’t want to watch rom-coms and gossip about boys. You probably want to stay single for the rest of your life after what he did. But if you stay single, what if you have an intruder? What if a pipe bursts? What if you have a gas leak? Living alone is dangerous, especially in a big old house like this. What if someone breaks in or a rapist is on the loose and—”
Laughing silently, I planted my hand over her mouth again.
She spoke far too much the moment she got anxious, whereas I tended to clam up.
That was why we worked so well. We’d met in high school. I wasn’t exactly shy but preferred my own company. Meanwhile Lily, with her motormouth, couldn’t seem to shut up the moment she got flustered.
Letting my hand fall, I went to speak. My throat spasmed. I just shook my head and mouthed, “ I’m sure .”
She sagged and nodded. “Fine. Let’s get you inside, then. I have a house appointment at three, but I’ll stay until then. Afterward, I’ll come back with easy-to-swallow soup and have a sleep over. No arguments.”
I linked my arm with hers and smiled.
I gave her a thumbs up.
Together, we went inside.