2. Presley
Presley
Tears roll down my face as I stare at the headstone over the fresh grave. I cuddle my dachshund, Penny, closer to my chest. She turns and licks my wet cheeks.
“It’s just you and me now, girl. In that big, ole house.”
She pauses, then jerks her head back, staring at me like she understands what I’m saying.
“Grandma’s gone.” I can barely speak over the lump in my throat. “She’s really gone.”
I sob against Penny’s copper fur, seeking comfort from the only thing I can count on right now—the unconditional love of a dog.
Eventually, I sit, still holding Penny. She seems content to stay in my arms at Grandma’s grave.
The sun slips beneath the horizon, turning the sky into flaming shades of red, purple, and pink.
“She always loved to watch the sun set.” I stare at the sky in awe and wonder. “It’s like she’s telling us she’s okay, Penny. No more cancer causing her pain and misery.”
Penny licks my face, and a small smile curls my lips.
“We’re going to be okay.”
The words float along the breeze that lifts my hair and causes golden leaves to shake and fall from the maple tree by the church.
I wish I felt as confident as I sounded.
“How are you holding up?” Stella’s normally chipper voice is jarring when it’s laced with concern.
I shrug, even though she can’t see me through the phone. “Some days are better than others.”
“Do you need me to come back to Hollow Creek? I can stay—”
“No, Stella.” I sit on the porch swing, staring at the woods surrounding the Victorian house. The place my grandfather built for my grandmother was once full of so much love but is now cloaked in grief and darkness.
I spend as much time outside as the weather allows, staring at the vibrant autumn leaves. Once Halloween is over and November descends upon Hollow Creek, sitting out here will not be feasible.
At least, not without freezing my ass off.
I realize Stella is still talking and tune back in.
“… I’m sure my boss will understand.”
She doesn’t sound confident. Nor should she.
She only started teaching at the community college in Willow Hill in August. When I called to tell her my grandma died, Stella immediately jumped into her car and raced here, despite it being mid-fall semester.
It happened right before fall break, so she was able to spend some extra time with me without having to cancel class.
“No. Do not cancel classes to come out here.” I push a long brunette lock from my face. “I’m fine.”
“Pfft. I don’t believe that.”
“I’ll be okay,” I amend. “Really.”
She lets out a resigned sigh. “I just hate you being alone in that house.”
“I’m fine.” I get up from the porch and gesture to Penny, my faithful companion. She jumps up and patiently waits while I snap her leash onto her collar. “I’ll see you over Thanksgiving break.”
“I know.” I hear the clank of her spoon against a mug.
“Coffee thirty?”
She laughs. “Always.”
I step off the porch, pulling my sweater tighter around me. Penny is busy sniffing a newly fallen leaf, but she stops and looks at me. I nod, giving her the signal to begin our walk.
“Penny and I are establishing a routine. And I’m going to work at Bramble & Bean next week.”
She chokes.
“Don’t start.”
“Presley. You got fired from the coffee shop freshman year!”
“I’ve matured.”
“You blew up your grandma’s espresso machine.”
“One time. And that was eight years ago.” I shake my head, the breeze blowing my hair away from my face.
“Maybe you should try the bookstore. It’ll be safer.”
“Technically. But I could drop a stack of books on my foot—”
“Stop. Don’t say it. You’ll jinx yourself.”
“I’m not even working there.”
“But your grandparents have a library in that house.”
“Whatever.”
“Plus, you’re going to end up working at The Crooked Spine.”
“They aren’t hiring.”
“Yet.”
“That’s ominous.”
Penny jumps over a pothole, alerting me to step over it. I’m so busy listening to Stella I’m not watching where I’m going.
It’s hard not to be distracted by her strange I just know things gut feelings.
“It’s optimism.”
I snort. “Coming from you? Ominous.”
“You don’t appreciate my talent.”
“Is that what you’re calling it?”
“Better than witchcraft.”
I laugh. “I call it ‘witchy intuition.’ Not witchcraft.”
“Yes, Miss English Professor.”
My smile fades. “Not yet.”
“It’s a temporary pause from your master’s program. Your grandma had no one else to care for her.”
I know that.
My grandfather died a few years ago. He was fifteen years her senior and had a history of heart disease.
And Evelynn—the woman who birthed me but doesn’t want me to call her mom because it makes her sound “old and past her prime”—would never give up her own life to care for anyone else.
She couldn’t be bothered with me.
I was just an accidental burden.
And when that didn’t help her land the man—or the job—she went back to Los Angeles to chase the next opportunity.
“You’ll finish your master’s. I know you will.”
“Yeah. But then there’s still the doctorate.”
“Which you’ll finish, too.”
“So optimistic.”
“Call it witchy intuition.”
We laugh, and I promise to call her tomorrow before hanging up.
Penny and I turn around at the end of the lane, heading for… home.
It still seems weird calling it that. It’s always been my grandparents’ house.
Then it was my grandma’s.
And now… mine.
I blow out a breath, then inhale deeply, breathing in the fallen leaves and pine sharpened by the crisp, cold air, with chimney smoke lingering in the distance.
Penny’s nose stays glued to the ground, her tail wagging whenever she finds something interesting. A squirrel. A particularly fascinating leaf. A rabbit.
“This is our home now, Penny.”
She looks up at me, studying me for a few beats before her tail wags happily.
I smile, but it fades as I look around the woods. Although they are blooming with color, it doesn’t seem as lively as it did last year.
Of course, last year was different. Grandma hadn’t yet been diagnosed with cancer, and the house was full of laughter, pumpkin spice, woodsmoke, and something sweet baking in the kitchen.
It smelled like Grandma.
It smelled like home.
Now it just smells empty.
I let the grief wash over me as we finish our walk, vowing that tomorrow will be better.
The house comes into view through the trees, warm light glowing behind the tall windows. Against the dark wood siding and deepening October sky, it looks almost exactly the way it did last fall. Almost.
I follow the curved walkway toward the sprawling Victorian, past the turret and around to the wide porch.
My blanket is still on the swing, silently awaiting my return.
I grab it before opening the door and following Penny inside.
Closing the door behind me, I lock it, then slowly turn, my eyes roaming over the familiar furniture.
It’s as silent as a tomb.
I shiver.
Maybe I just need to decorate it. That’ll give me something to do. And liven the place up.
Poor choice of words.
I rub my hands over my arms, heading for the couch that sits in front of the roaring fireplace. Penny jumps up beside me, then curls on my lap.
I wrap the blanket around us and reach for the remote. I don’t care what show or movie is on right now. I just want to fill the silence.
“Tomorrow we decorate.”
Penny looks at me, eyes full of love.
I glance at the sappy show on TV, the two characters lost in a passionate embrace.
“Nope. Not doing this tonight.”
I keep going, stopping when I see a mask-wielding maniac chasing a woman through a house.
“Seems appropriate for the time of year.” I scratch Penny’s ears. “Ten more days until Halloween.”
Penny leans into my touch, unconcerned about Halloween or anything else.
I’m envious of her contentment.
One day, I’ll get there.
Just not today.
Probably not tomorrow, either.