Chapter 6
six
JOHANNA
I huff out a breath as I finally squeeze the last of my clothing into the small walk-in closet.
My first week back in town has gone much quicker and better than I anticipated. I managed to secure a three-month lease on a one-bedroom apartment above the new bakery on Robin Road . Unlimited iced coffee and pastries at my doorstep? Say less. When my dad helped me drive over some of my old things from the house this morning, the smell of fresh bread and coffee was the first thing to greet us.
I couldn’t believe my luck, and while I’ve loved spending time with my dad, at thirty-three years old, staying in your childhood room doesn’t scream I have my shit together . I was surprised to find out the entire building was owned by Martin Willis , the town’s produce supplier, and was even more surprised he gave me such a good deal. Growing up, the man was known as the town’s pariah, always standoffish and blunt, but he seemed quite happy to rent out the apartment to me.
The closet looks like it’s ready to bust open and I have to shove my shoulder against the door to shut it securely. Once everything is unpacked, I walk into the open living space and look around my new home. The apartment has a small bathroom, and the kitchen, living, and dining areas are open plan. Looking out of the window, I take in the warm glow from the streetlights below, spotlighting the piles of slowly melting snow. I make a mental note to add a couple of plants to my online shopping cart, knowing they’ll look cute on the windowsill and get plenty of sunlight.
While this move didn’t feel impulsive at first, it sure as hell does now. Less than two weeks ago, I was living with Harriet , working the same job and living a quiet life, with no clue what was on the horizon.
This whole week deserves a little celebration, so I pour myself a hearty glass of sauvignon blanc, make up a small plate of cheese and crackers, and sit on the floor with my back against the small sectional the apartment came with.
I unbox one of my new jigsaw puzzles and tip the pieces out on the hardwood floor in front of me. This one is of Paris skyline. As I set aside the outside pieces, my mind wanders to this week’s events.
I knew my return would prompt some chatter among the locals, but most people have greeted me with a smile or asked how Harriet and I were. The unease of seeing everyone slowly disappeared as the week progressed. It came roaring back on Thursday when I was running some errands for my dad and ran into Mrs . Stewart —one of the town council members and local busybody. When she realized it was me, she spent a long time examining me before shaking her head slowly, tsking, and walking away.
I abandoned the items in my cart and called Harriet from my car, who helped calm me down. Her parting words were, “ Tell that old bird to stick her judgy eyes where the sun don’t shine next time.” She has a special way with words even outside of songwriting.
The next day, I spent my first online therapy session overthinking every single interaction I had so far, convinced people were judging me for leaving and abandoning my dad and the Sadlers during their time of need. Amanda reminded me that people don’t know the full story and will make their own assumptions about why I left— I just wish they wouldn’t presume I did it happily—and I get to decide who and when I tell people. It’s my story to tell, but in that moment, the shame and fear I used to feel about people finding out the truth started to show its ugly face.
Leaving this town was one of the hardest decisions I ever made, but at the same time, the best thing I could have done for myself.
I felt settled after my forty minutes of word-vomiting to Amanda , and we finished the session going over my preferred coping mechanisms, should my anxiety and panic become unbearable. I haven’t had an attack in two years, and I know it’s important I’m always prepared for the unexpected and to not ignore the signs. It took me a long time to acknowledge what was happening and to stop brushing it under the rug.
It’s pure luck I’m still able to have sessions with Amanda . She isn’t licensed to practice in Maine , but one of her colleagues, Davis , knew a member of the state’s licensing board and we were able to agree to some short-term virtual sessions. It sucks that I’ll have to find a new therapist eventually, but the process of finding someone I click with isn’t as daunting now.
Since the meeting at the restaurant, I haven’t seen or heard from Patrick , which comes as no surprise. That will all change tomorrow, because Monday morning is my first day as restaurant manager—and our first shift together. Looking back on our last shift together, there’s no doubt it’s going to be the polar opposite experience. Flirty banter swapped for awkward silence.
I’m about to top up my wine glass, when my phone vibrates with an incoming video call. I turn it over and find a picture of Harriet riding a mechanical bull. Holding my phone up to my face, I click accept and I’m greeted with the sight of her ear canal. For a twenty-seven-year-old, she is worryingly inept when it comes to technology. A disappointment to millennials everywhere.
“ Harry , you video- called me, you nugget!” I shout at the screen.
She changes the angle of the camera, and it pans to her scrunched-up face of confusion. I see the second realization hits her, and then she’s smacking the palm of her hand to her forehead. “ It’s actually embarrassing how many times I do that.”
We both take after our mom with our bright blonde hair, freckled skin, dark brows, and tall frames. Our dad always said he was grateful for that, but I’m glad we share his blue eyes.
My baby sister has been my constant since I left Sutton Bay . It was my job as Big Sister to console her and try to fill the huge gap our mom left after she passed. We found our roles reversed when I followed her to Tennessee after Ted’s funeral. She held me tightly as I cried silently during our flight to Nashville , and even slept in my bed that first week. During the hardest days, she would comfort me, but she also gave me the push I needed to be honest with myself and get the help I needed. That was the hardest step, and though it still felt like I was walking through molasses, it eventually got easier as each day passed.
She never made me feel like a burden. She helped me find a job at one of the local restaurants and let me infiltrate myself into her small friendship group. I wasn’t sure I would ever see the light at the end of the tunnel when I left Sutton Bay , but she stood by my side, holding the flashlight every step of the way.
She’s flown home a few times over the years, but Dad usually chose to come visit us for the holidays. There’d been a few occasions I was close to joining Harriet during her visits home, but the anxiety always got the better of me. I also knew there was no avoiding Patrick in this small town, so I stayed put.
“ I swear Dad would have better luck navigating a smartphone than you,” I tease.
“ Hey ! My brain works where it counts.”
“ I can’t argue with you there. To what do I owe this pleasure?” I ask in my over-the-top British accent. It’s my default when I get nervous and can feel my anxiety creeping in. Not that this phone call induces that, I just know she’s going to want to talk about tomorrow.
“ So , how are you feeling about tomorrow?”
See ?
I stand, abandoning the puzzle, and sit cross-legged on the sofa. “ Nervous . Excited . Antsy .” I run my fingers down the stem of the wine glass, keeping my eyes trained on the movement. “ Worried how he’s going to act around me.”
“ Hmm . I think you’ve got to let him ride out those feelings. Maybe …never mind.” She shakes her head, and her evasion piques my interest.
“ Maybe what?”
She lets out a big breath before continuing. “ I’m so proud of what you’re doing. Honestly , I thought you were joking at first, but I know how happy Dad is that you’re back. A lot of time has passed, maybe it’s time to talk things out with Patrick .”
“ You didn’t see how he looked at me on Monday . Like we were strangers. I doubt my reason for leaving is enough to wipe away everything that went down. I left him during one of the worst times in his life.”
Even through the phone I can see the gears turning in her head. “ Okay , so you might not get the response you’re hoping for. But isn’t telling him better than holding it in? Please don’t forget that you had a lot on your plate too.”
“ He’s not going to care, Harry !” I snap. “ Sorry , sorry. I know you’re trying to help. Let’s drop it, I’m too tired to try to predict what mood he’ll be in tomorrow. One day at a time.”
“ You’re fine, I get it. Really .” She blows a kiss through the screen, the topic dropped. “ Well , how is everyone? I haven’t been back since this tour kicked off, but hopefully I can come visit later in the summer.”
The idea of Harriet visiting perks me up, even if it’s months away. “ They’re good. I haven’t seen anyone apart from Dad since Monday . Graham is around, though he’s keeping to himself as usual. Dad said Flo is somewhere in South America right now. As for the people of this town, well, they’re exactly the same. Nosey and everywhere you look.”
She laughs at that, throwing herself backward onto her bed. “ I’m hoping you haven’t seen much more of Mrs . Stewart ?”
“ No , thank god. There’s the cutest new bakery below my apartment though. I met the owner, Quinn , and she makes the best iced coffees.”
“ Oh , Jo …” My sister sighs. “ Still with the iced coffee in below-zero temperatures? Could you get more basic?” I gasp in mock horror. “ Seriously though, don’t let that old fart bother you. You’ve worked so hard and only the people closest to you need to know the truth. It’s up to you if you tell Patrick . For what it’s worth, I know he’s not going to pass the same judgment you’ve experienced from others. You’re going to do great tomorrow. Chin up and show them you don’t care what they think.”
“ Thanks , sis. I’ll try. I’ll text you tomorrow when my shift ends. Love you.”
“ Love you too. I’m proud of you. Give Dad a hug and say hi to Mom for me.” We share a sad smile and I promise her that I will.
I finish off my wine and go through my nightly routine before cocooning myself into my comforter, ready to get a good eight hours. Only I find myself staring aimlessly at the small picture frame on my bedside table. How did we ever get here? I think to myself. From best friends to the man, I …well, whatever we were is so far from what we are now that I can’t see us ever finding our way again.
After hours of tossing and turning, my brain finally switches off. The last thing I think is Patrick Sadler will never be a stranger to me, no matter how much we act like it.
Taking in a deep breath of salty, crisp air, I watch the waves retreat from the tips of my boots at Piper Beach . Snow still covers the beach, but patches of golden sand peek out along the water’s edge. The crashing of waves and distant cries of seagulls are sounds I didn’t know I missed until this moment. A strong sense of nostalgia carries with the wind.
Summer barbecues. Sand -covered hot dogs. Water fights in the shallow waters. Hot cider on cool fall nights.
I managed to get a few hours of sleep, but my body decided it was time to wake up before the sun today. That would have been fine had I remembered to stock coffee in my apartment, but not having any gives me a good reason to pay Quinn a visit this morning. For now, the cold winds whipping across my face will have to do its best at waking me up. Trudging down the beach, the satisfying sound of snow crunching beneath my feet, I try to remind myself of Harriet’s words last night. That confidence is now overshadowed by nerves the closer the clock ticks to the start of my shift.
My brain seems to be working overtime this morning and a swarm of negative words and questions swirls around my brain like an angry hurricane.
Selfish . Disloyal . Heartless .
What would her mother think?
It’s hard not to presume people think the worst of me, when I spent years thinking the same things about myself.
A sudden gust of icy wind hits me in the face, making my eyes water and ears ache. Calling time-out on today’s morning outing, I walk back to my apartment. I look up the hill that is Robin Road , leading right through the town, and puff my chest to prepare myself for the steep walk. The view is always better going down, plus, my thighs aren’t used to such steep inclines anymore.
The sun breaches the horizon as I reach my apartment, the sky now a hue of pinks, purples, and oranges. As I’m unlocking my door, a smiling face waves at me through the window of the bakery. Quinn gestures to the coffee machine and I nod my head and hold up my hands, letting her know I’ll be ten minutes.
We hit it off immediately. She is probably the bubbliest and most welcoming person I have ever met, and is a tiny little thing, with envious curves and an infectious smile.
Unlocking the first door, I jog up the small flight of stairs, unlock the main door to my apartment, and strip out of my clothes. I trade my leggings and fleece for a pair of distressed jeans, dark green sweater, and black ankle boots. I’m not short at five foot nine, but a little heel gives me that extra boost of confidence. I glance at myself in my bedroom mirror. I did my best to hide the shadows under my eyes, and my hair is thrown up in a messy bun as usual. A quick swipe of mascara and blush makes me look less ghoulish, and I accept it’s the best I’m going to look today.
“ You’ve got this,” I reassure my reflection. I throw on my coat, head back downstairs, and walk into the bakery just as Quinn is setting my take-out cup of iced coffee on the counter.
“ Oh my goodness, you are a fairy godmother sent by the coffee gods,” I groan in excitement. I make grabby hands toward the cup, before grasping the cold plastic between my fingers, and taking a long sip.
“ I’m cold from watching you drink that.” She laughs as she wipes down the coffee machine.
I let out a sigh as the sweet, coconut flavor bursts across my tongue and the first hit of caffeine enters my bloodstream. Nothing , and I mean nothing, beats that first sip of coffee in the morning.
“ I don’t care, it’s good three hundred and sixty-five days a year, and I’ll never stop.” My voice is much cheerier now that I’ve had some coffee.
“ Well , this is on the house.” She places a paper bag with a little bit of grease staining the middle. I’m about to tell her I can’t accept it for free, but she stops me when she points a finger at me and looks very stern for someone so chirpy. “ For your first day—a good luck ham and cheese croissant.”
“ You had me at cheese.” I take hold of the bag and inhale the melty, gooey goodness that’s definitely Swiss cheese. “ Thanks , Quinn .”
“ You’re welcome. Knock ’em dead!” She cheers, and I can’t help laughing at her enthusiasm as I wave goodbye and make my way back outside.
Making a new friend since coming back to town—something I didn’t see happening—makes me feel a little lighter and puts a pep in my step. My commute to work is short and I reach my destination in seven minutes flat; one of the best things about my new apartment is that it is exactly two blocks away from the restaurant . It would probably take me less time on a normal day, however, the sidewalk is still extremely icy, so my steps are taken with caution.
Although I’m still a ball of nervous energy and feel like I might puke any second, this day has started off okay, and I shimmy on the spot in celebration when I reach the front door of the restaurant. Only I forget that the sidewalk is moonlighting as an ice rink today, and it’s too late to right myself, because in a split second, I’m on my ass and covered in iced cold coffee.
Feeling momentarily dazed from my fall, I lie there motionless, waiting for my vision to clear. Only , when it does, I’m met with the angry stare of my new coworker.
Yay first day!