Chapter Eight
FOUR YEARS LATER
Arden hadn’t made the decision lightly or impulsively. She simply wasn’t good at light or impulsive. She’d thought it through, weighed the pros and the cons.
Just as she’d done when she’d bought the nice little house in the suburbs nearly three years before.
It had seemed right at the time. Had been right, she determined, as she did one more walk-through of what had been her home.
She’d needed to get out of the apartment, and the temptation that dogged her to lock herself into it. She’d given up walkability, but then she’d given up her bookstore job to focus on writing. And with the house she could, and had, set up her own home gym.
Then again, she could walk the handful of blocks to her aunt and uncle’s. She had a little yard, and enjoyed taking care of it. After a year or so she’d decided to share the house and yard with a dog.
For the companionship, for the pleasure of having a pet to love, and who loved her. With his stuffed llama in his mouth—the current favorite—Zorro walked through with her.
She’d chosen a Lab, as her research assured her of the breed’s loyalty and sweet nature. Good with kids, with families. Since her two cousins had four kids between them, and her neighborhood had plenty of children, she’d required kid-friendly.
“It’s a good house, right?” She trailed a hand over Zorro’s handsome black head. “Just the right size for the couple who bought it. It worked okay for us. But this is a good change.”
And they couldn’t stay here.
Dustin Dubecki could, and likely would, get out within months now. So she needed to be somewhere else. And Oregon worked. She’d loved the area every time she’d gone out to visit.
No, not impulse, as she’d thought about it for years now. Thought about it long and hard enough that she’d started looking at houses in the Willamette Valley.
She’d wanted to be close to Zoey, but not too close. Secluded but not isolated. Roomy but not too overpowering. A view, if she could get one, and—essentially—a yard for Zorro.
And on her last trip west, she’d found it near the big town/small city of Riverbend. The location suited, she assured herself as she set the welcome basket she’d bought for the new owners on the kitchen island.
She’d live an easy twenty-minute drive from Zoey and her family, just over an hour from the coast, and ten minutes from Riverbend.
Zorro would have a yard to play in, and she could play in the already established garden. She’d have a nice, updated kitchen, a semi-open floor plan. The space the previous owners used as an office she’d make into a library.
Eventually.
She’d have office space on the second level—or would when she converted what had been a playroom—and four bedrooms, including her main with an en suite.
A family home, she thought. Well, she hoped, one day, she’d have one of her own to fill it. But until then, she and Zorro would enjoy the added space.
The lower level needed some work, but it was fine as is for storage and her gym equipment.
Though she promised herself she’d join the local gym.
Eventually. Maybe.
What she would do, absolutely? She’d make the house hers.
She could afford it. She was working on her fifth book, and the last one had crept onto the bottom of the New York Times list, for two weeks.
She couldn’t claim to be a household name, and didn’t aim to be. She wanted to make her living telling stories, and that’s what she was doing.
But she needed to do it somewhere else.
Zorro barked seconds before the knock sounded on the door. And she hated the way her chest clutched at the sound.
She’d cycled out of that, out of the anxiety, the nerves and ugly dreams. Over the past year, despite therapy, she’d cycled back in again.
She glanced out the window, saw her aunt’s car.
She opened the door and received a nice long hug.
“And one more for you,” Jen added, then bent to hug Zorro.
When she did, he sang his happy song. The series of doggie woos and subtle yowls never failed to bring smiles.
“Oh, I’m going to miss that tune.” Jen straightened. “And you. I stopped by to see if there was anything left to do, but I figured there wouldn’t be. Ms. Efficient.”
“I just did the last walk-through. All done except taking Zorro for a walk before we head to the settlement. Want to go with us?”
“Yes.”
Arden got her purse, her jacket, the leash. She took one last look behind her, then closed and locked the door.
“I know you have it all timed out, have your stopping points, but traffic happens. You’ll text when you stop for the night.”
“I will. New car, good driver, no hurry. It’s a girl and her dog adventure. You and Uncle Doug will be heading that way in a couple of years.”
“We will.” Jen took Arden’s hand as they walked. “After Travis took that position in Northern California last year—and now April’s got her craft shop out there—all our grandchildren are there. Now you.”
She gave Arden’s hand a squeeze.
“We’ll retire a little sooner than we thought, and move west.”
“Where Uncle Doug will probably start up a handyman business.”
Jen sighed, laughed. “Yes, he probably will, which means I’ll be drafted as bookkeeper.”
“Nobody does it better. And you’ll both love it.”
“No question about it. We thought we’d work on talking you into doing the same, but you beat us to it.”
“I haven’t told you why, not altogether. I miss Zoey, but that’s not really why.”
“Not altogether.”
“No. It’s like I stopped working at Next Chapter to focus on writing, but that wasn’t all of it. Maybe not most of it.”
She glanced at her aunt, saw so much of her father there.
“You knew it wasn’t all.”
“I knew you didn’t want to talk about it. Do you want to now?”
“I do.”
Maybe more importantly, Arden finally felt she could.
“You’ve probably figured out most of it anyway. I just wasn’t ready to say it. I do talk about it with Dr. Wren, and I really thought I’d gotten through it. I look back, and yes, I was hurt, but I wasn’t shot or stabbed. I wasn’t raped.”
“Don’t minimize what he did to you, Arden.”
“I’m not. I can’t.”
And on this quietly breezy day, she could bring back every second of the assault if she let herself.
“Too often, I think I do the opposite, and I don’t like giving him that power.
I stopped working at the bookstore because I didn’t want to leave the apartment.
I used various techniques to go out, but that was something I could stop and have a reason to justify it.
I bought the house because I felt closed in, and it was another reason I didn’t have to go out, to work, to the gym.
I even let my hair grow back because I couldn’t face the idea of going to the salon every few months. ”
“I love your hair.” Jen ran a hand down Arden’s long, thick braid.
“Yeah, well. A few months ago, I started closing myself in again. Locking the door on my office when I was in there, locking myself in the bedroom at night. Getting my groceries delivered. I could feel myself sliding back to where I’d been in the weeks and months after it happened.”
“I wish you’d talked to me.”
“I was so angry, Aunt Jen, at him, at myself, and I didn’t want to live like that. Don’t want to live like that. I can’t stay where I know he can find me. Or,” she corrected, “I don’t feel safe staying where I know he can find me.”
“I’ve never been hurt the way you were, but I can understand.”
“I thought about moving to New York, but I don’t want that, not really.”
“It’s not for you,” Jen said easily. “You need your family.”
“Yes, and my family’s going to be in Oregon, or close. I want that. I don’t want to be alone, and here, even with you and Uncle Doug nearby, I feel alone.
“I’ll be in a new place, a couple thousand miles away. He won’t know where I am.”
“You’re going through this again because he could get out in another year.”
“Ten months, one week, three days.” Heart heavy with that burden, she looked at her aunt. “I hate that I know that. I want to put all that away, and start this next part of my life fresh.”
“Then you will. I’ve never known anyone more determined or focused. You’ll make the life you need.”
“I’m sure as hell going to try. I feel … calmer when I think of that, and when I can reassure myself he won’t know where I am. He may not even think of me anymore. I want to stop thinking about him, the way I can when I write. I want to live the rest of my life with that peace of mind.”
“I’m listening to you, and one thing I hear is you think you’re weak. And, Arden, you’re not. I watched you, just a child, fight your way through the grief, the anger, when you lost your parents, your home, your sense of security, and your innocence.”
“You gave me all of that again.”
“You needed to be strong to take it, to thrive, and you’ve thrived. I’ve watched you become a writer, successful and happy, because it’s what you wanted most. And I’ve watched you come back from the trauma that son of a bitch put you through.”
When Arden started to shake her head, Jen stopped.
“Don’t do that. So you locked doors—it’s what you needed.
You got the help you needed with Dr. Wren, and that takes strength.
You’re about to drive cross-country with that sweet dog, and that takes courage.
You’re going to build your life there, and you won’t let him stop you. You won’t let anyone stop you.”
“I’m working on believing that.” Arden looked in Jen’s eyes, so like her father’s. “It doesn’t hurt a damn thing that you believe it.”
“You can trust me, someone who knows and loves you. Believe it. And in a year and a half, since you’re so good at it, you can help me and Doug find a house that’s somewhere around a two-hour drive from all our kids.”
“I can do that. I’m going to miss you, so those two years to retirement better go fast.”
“We’ll be out for Christmas for certain. Hopefully later this summer if we can juggle enough.”
They’d circled back to the driveway and Arden’s car.
“God, okay. Text, text, and text. Drive safe.”