2. Chapter 2
Skye
S kye and her fellow teachers stood in front of the school building on sweltering asphalt and waved as the final long yellow bus pulled out of the parking lot, taking with it the last of the summer students.
She never minded working a few extra weeks after the official school year ended, enjoying the chance to explore fun activities that doubled as learning opportunities.
Though she loved her job and the kids, Skye couldn’t deny that she looked forward to spending long hours lounging in the striped canvas hammock in her small backyard.
She had spent several months creating a mini oasis behind the tall wooden fence that enclosed the space, placing sparkling pavers and short solar lights along the path from her back door to the two shady trees where she hung her hammock, and the tiki torches and potted citronella plants helped ward off blood-sucking mosquitos.
The yard exuded relaxation, and she couldn’t wait to spend more than a few minutes wrapped in the cocoon of the hammock, swaying in the gentle breeze.
Along with a slew of other instructors, Skye watched until the final bus disappeared over the hill, then retreated into the sweet relief of the air-conditioned building.
She headed toward her assigned classroom, needing to grab the impressive collection of canvas bags and fancy stainless-steel thermoses she’d amassed during the month-long summer program.
Now, she regretted waiting until the last minute to pack them all back home.
As more teachers dispersed to their classrooms or left the building altogether, the lack of busy noise made her melancholy.
Halls that typically rang with all manner of sound, from the peeling of bells and papers shuffling to the happy laughter and chatting of children and faculty alike.
Some teachers were less than thrilled to be around children all day and counted down the minutes until they could leave, but Skye had never felt that way.
She craved the happy cacophony and chaotic nature of the elementary school.
Sure, she was exhausted and didn’t know where the children got their energy, but being at school, surrounded by noisy kids, was better than sitting in her soundless house, alone.
The short drive back to her tiny two-bedroom cottage did nothing to shake the gloomy feeling that snuck into her chest and stuck like a stone, and the silence that greeted her did nothing to lift her spirits.
Still, Skye loved her little home, and she thanked her Mamaw every day for helping her buy it.
Even though Mamaw had been gone for years, the moment Skye graduated college and her inheritance became accessible, she purchased the small cottage and had slowly restored it in the years since.
The vertical wooden siding, painted a soft sage green, called to Skye’s soul.
Under the white-trimmed windows, the flower boxes stained with a light walnut color brought out the natural wood grain, and the color of the shingles matched the rich soil in the little garden she maintained in the backyard.
Skye chose the color scheme with intention, invoking warmth and peace.
Following a long day on her feet, mustering an upbeat attitude for her students, she wanted somewhere that calmed and soothed her.
Best of all, it was one-hundred-percent hers.
Stepping over the threshold, Skye dumped her bag by the door and flopped onto the overstuffed reading chair, the only seating in the room besides the chambray gray loveseat pushed against the front window.
Dishes waited in the sink, and several loads of laundry needed washing.
Compared to her desire to lay on the chair and let herself sink into the stuffing, the need to clean did not even come close.
She tipped her head back against the rolled edge of the chair and stared at the popcorn ceiling, the stack of smutty romance books she’d been meaning to read catching at the edge of her vision.
The tower threatened to topple over if it grew any taller.
Maybe they’d find her buried under a stack of happily-ever-afters.
That would be her luck. If she were being honest, she was having a pity party, and since it was a party of one, it was so much worse.
Another friend from college had gotten married this past weekend, and while she adored Michelle and her new husband, Skye couldn’t help the little pinch of envy that stung each time.
Not that long ago, everyone assumed she would be the first to marry.
Now, all of her high school and college friends were getting married, buying homes, and having babies while she sat on the sidelines, watching their new lives start as hers passed by.
Still, she’d rather remain alone than settle into a loveless marriage, filled with long nights that would make her feel more lonely than she was now. She’d had enough of that during her childhood and knew enough about what she wanted in life to know she hadn’t found it.
Skye finally lifted her head off the soft fabric and glanced around the open-concept room, taking in the hardwood floors, the clean butcherblock countertop in the kitchen, and the cabinets that matched the sage exterior of the house.
A variety of plants in painted terracotta pots held positions throughout the room, the only thing she trusted herself to keep alive at the moment.
Though some of the smaller plants did look a bit wilted.
Skye promised herself she’d water the plants just as soon as she could gather enough will to convince her body to move from the comfortable position.
The cell phone beside her vibrated against the seat cushion, sending tremors through the soft fabric.
She pushed herself up onto her elbows and watched the screen, groaning at the name flashing there.
The phone continued the ring and vibrate while Skye ignored it, letting voicemail deal with the caller.
A few seconds later, the voicemail icon blinked, and she played it on speaker.
Leaving her phone on the reading chair, she padded to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water and deposit the multitude of stainless-steel cups she’d brought home from school.
Honestly, the number of thermoses she had was ridiculous.
“Hello dear,” her stepmother’s irritated nasally voice rang out, loud and shrill in the otherwise quiet home. “Your father and I wanted to speak with you, but you haven’t been by the house.”
Censure marked her tone, something she never failed to express in regard to Skye.
Gayle had come into Skye’s life not long after she’d been born, her biological mother passing away from complications only moments after she’d named her infant daughter.
Skye’s relationship with her stepmother had never been what Skye hoped for and despite promising herself otherwise, some intrinsic part of Skye still strived to meet her approval.
Even now, it hadn’t taken Gayle all of ten seconds to start her ridicule, possibly a new record speed for her disapproval.
“I know summer school let out today.” The disdain for Skye’s job dripped from her voice like honeyed poison. “Dinner will be on the table at five o’clock sharp. See you shortly.”
“Goodbye to you too, Mother,” Skye muttered, fighting the urge to roll her eyes at the sheer audacity her stepmother exuded, expecting Skye to drop any plans she may have had and attend a family dinner.
The fact that her plans had involved a dinner for one and watching bad reality television in her pajamas was beside the point.
She couldn’t help herself as her eyes drifted to the clock on her phone that read 4:30 p.m.
Crap!
Skye raced to her room, cursing herself for her spineless inability to stand up to her parents.
To simply not answer their summons. She’d done so once before and paid the price, though she couldn’t say she regretted her decision.
She peeled off the t-shirt she’d worn to work.
The cheesy, “Get your Cray-On” saying in bright, bubbly lettering always made her laugh, but her parents wouldn’t appreciate it like she did.
In its place, she chose a more sedate option from her closet, a turquoise tunic with a black breast pocket.
Skye slipped the shirt over her serviceable white cotton bra, left on the dark denim skinny jeans she’d worn to work, and threw on a pair of black ballet flats in place of her multi-colored tennis shoes.
As for her long, tangled honey-blonde hair, she did the best she could, tossing it up into an artfully messy bun at the back of her head.
Skye hurried to her older model silver compact SUV where she’d parked it on the curb.
The drive across town took all of five minutes, yet that all too familiar panic rose each time she glanced at the clock.
Fifteen minutes had passed. Technically, she was making good time.
That fact didn’t matter to her heart rate, which sputtered erratically, or her breath, which seemed content to stay permanently locked in her lungs.
Her fingers strummed on the steering wheel frantically, and her left foot kept rhythm on the floorboard.
Each mile passing at the lawful thirty miles per hour seemed to last an eternity.
Skye made it to her parents’ grand house with about ten minutes to spare. Rationally, she knew this, but it didn’t stop her heart from hammering in her chest, forcing her to spend another few minutes in the car, working to ease its beating back into a normal cadence.