Accidentally Falling (Sapphire Falls Orchard #2)

1. Emmy

ONE

Emmy

“I’ll be fine,” I say for probably the tenth time. “It’s okay.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” my brother, Eric, asks on the phone. It was a nice offer, but he is across the country in Seaside, Oregon, with his wife and newborn twins. It isn’t like he could do much from there.

“I’m sure, it’s fine. I’m going to see what’s going on and maybe I’ll stay, or I’ll at least figure out my next move,” I assure him. He takes the caring older brother role a bit too seriously sometimes.

“Okay, just call me if you need anything,” he says, and I agree before saying goodbye.

I understand his worry for me; I’m going to clear out our father’s house and hopefully sell the place. Our father passed away unexpectedly three weeks ago, and since then it has been a whirlwind of trying to get things together.

A quick funeral, cremation, and a reading of the will. The house was left to Eric and me equally, as our father’s only children, but Eric signed it over to me.

He already has a house, a stable career, and a family; he knows I need the money more than he does. Plus, my lease happened to be up last week, so it was a bit of cosmic timing.

Getting my master’s degree is proving expensive, and becoming a teacher isn’t a lucrative career. I’d be lucky to pay off the loans before I retire. But it is what I want to do—what makes me happy.

“Make a right turn onto Main Street,” the GPS voice tells me.

I turn on my blinker and drive into the small town of Sapphire Falls.

It’s known to have fewer than three thousand people, and I’m sure everyone knows each other.

At some point, I lived here, but considering my parents got divorced when I was two, I don’t remember it.

My mom took my brother and me to the city, and my dad stayed here.

Now that he’s gone, I regret not spending more time with him, but there’s nothing I can do about it now.

Glancing around, I can see why he stayed.

The town is cute; the main road has a train station and a variety of stores.

I don’t have much of a chance to see what’s nearby, because the GPS is directing me down back roads.

It’s making me a little nervous; I’m not sure how much this rental car can take.

I didn’t know Dad lived out in the woods. But I follow the directions out of town, past a school, and finally reach his street.

There’s a row of small houses, each with a small front yard and literal white picket fence. It is sort of cute, until I remember my dad lived here alone for most of his life.

I pull into the driveway of his house, number nine.

The lawyer said the key would be in the lock box on the front door.

I pull up the code on my phone and brace myself, stepping out of the car.

It’s early October, meaning the ground is wet from rain and the leaves are mostly fallen from the nearby trees.

The remaining few are dark reds and orange, ready to fall off at any time.

I walk along the squishy leaves, ignoring the path, and unlock the door.

I can’t remember if I was ever here, but as I walk inside, it’s like I’m hit in the face with nostalgia. The whole place smells like my dad, menthol cigarettes, and freshly mowed grass. A very distinct smell that, when I close my eyes, it’s like he’s still here.

My heart feels like someone’s locked it in a vice as my breath catches in my chest. I wipe my feet on the mat; it’s nothing fancy, just a black one to keep the dirt out.

Rounding the corner of the house, I notice the kitchen is the biggest room; there’s an island higher than my waist and at least five feet across.

I don’t remember my dad being a cook, so maybe he just got the house like this.

It’s hard to remember little things about him, and I try to avoid asking my mom if I can.

Their divorce was amicable, but she doesn’t like living in the past if she can avoid it.

There’s a weird smell that hits my nose, and I follow it to the fridge. I open the door and see his milk has gone bad, making me realize it is probably a good idea to start with unloading the kitchen.

I’ll be living here for a bit while I get the place taken care of, and I definitely don’t want to be living with mold.

I head back out to the car and grab the supplies I picked up after reading about what to do when a parent dies.

Yes, I read a book on grief because I didn’t know what to do, and books have never failed me before.

The book had a checklist in the back of things you might need to bring when clearing out a parent’s house, and I added them all to my cart, buying them before I got here.

I like to be prepared, and death is the last thing you can be prepared for, so this whole situation is throwing me off.

But I grab the garbage bags, the Clorox spray, and the paper towels, heading back into the house. I decide to put on a little music, to try and not get too depressed while I clean out the moldy bread and cheeses from my dead dad’s house.

Harry Styles always puts me in a good mood.

He’s one of the few men I’ve loved. It doesn’t take long, but it’s sad when I see there’s a shopping list on the door of the fridge.

Tears come falling down my cheeks as I realize my dad probably had no idea he wouldn’t be coming home.

He went to work one day and just never made it home.

I stare at the shopping list of items he’ll never need again.

Fuck. I’m supposed to be crying already. My glasses fog up from the tears, so I take them off, put them on the counter, and slip onto the floor. My knees curl up into my chest as I sob over a crumpled-up grocery list in my hand.

I knew this was coming; the book said grief could hit you at the most random times. I just didn’t expect it like this. I anticipated it on the way here, even when I stepped through the door. But now I’m on the floor crying next to a bag of expired and moldy food.

I wish I had a little more warning for this, but I guess that’s just how things go sometimes.

Part of me wishes my dad were here, but it’s okay. I just need to get through this. I have a meeting soon with the realtor to officially put the place on the market. She will be stopping by so I can fill out all the necessary paperwork and take photos of the house.

She asked me to clean it up as best as I could, it’s also a great house, so she said there shouldn’t be too much trouble selling it.

My brother had asked if I would want to live here, but the thought of it is too much.

I don’t want to live in the memory of my dad.

It’s weird enough being here without him here temporarily.

Forcing myself off the floor, I decide to take a drive into town. I need a coffee and a few minutes to clear my head. I leave one of the kitchen windows open to clear out the cleaning supplies smell and head into town.

There’s a parking lot next to the supermarket, which is good because I’ll probably have to stop there too, considering I don’t have any food with me besides some granola bars.

I stop at Brewed Bites café and grab a hot caramel macchiato. The place is cute, a little small, but decorated in pumpkin lights and with fall decor all over the place. I could see myself coming here to read if I decide I don’t want to be at the house.

I stop to wonder if my dad ever came in here and did the same, but I’d have no way of knowing. Sighing, I head out and walk a few stores down to the bookstore, Literary Leaves. The door chimes when I walk in, and I relax a bit seeing all the books from floor to ceiling.

Either the bookstore or the library is my happy place. No matter how I am feeling before I walk in, it is like I can walk in and immediately forget everything else.

“Hi!” A pink-haired woman smiles from behind the counter. “We’re having a two-for-one sale right now on all our summer romances, if you’re interested.”

“Summer?” I mutter aloud.

“I know, I’m personally deep in my fall romances, but my boss wants them to sell. I keep telling people to save them for next year.” She shrugs. I glance at her name tag and see Gigi written in swirly letters and a drawing of a book next to it.

I walk around the place, getting a feel for how it’s laid out.

It seems to have every genre, a place for fiction but separate for romance, which I always appreciate.

The bookstore is bigger than I thought and has a separate area for children’s books along with a reading nook for them.

All throughout the store there are comfortable-looking chairs, only a few of them taken.

I paw through the bargain section and grab a few romances that look good.

Two enemies-to-lovers, a fake dating, and even a Mafia romance that piques my interest.

“Do you need a basket?” Gigi asks, popping up behind me.

“I probably shouldn’t.” I chuckle.

“Hey, I always say it could be drugs,” she jokes.

I laugh. “That’s true; there are worse addictions. And I do read them.”

“We have a program with the library where they accept second-hand books and give you a discount for new books. I can give you the information if you’re interested,” Gigi explains.

“Wow, I love that. Yes, please.” I nod.

“We see a lot of turnover, and we’d much rather readers donate than throw away. It helps the library grow and keep newer releases in stock while being able to use their grants for other needs like programs and events,” she explains and grabs me a bookmark out of her back pocket with the info.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be in town, but I’ll definitely challenge myself to read these and donate before I go.” I smile.

“Just visiting family or passing through?” she asks.

“Something like that.” I don’t offer more, and she takes the hint to not ask.

“I’ll be in the front when you’re ready.” Gigi leaves to help another person who just walked in, and I keep looking around.

I am trying not to think about my dad, but it’s hard not to. I have so many questions, but now I’ll never have the chance to ask. I always thought there would be more time.

I’ve just finished my bachelor’s and thought I’d be getting my master's, too, but with the cost of education being crazier than the cost of living, it seems impossible. Now I wonder if I should’ve spent the last four years getting to know my dad instead.

It isn’t like I know what I’m doing with my life anyway.

Sighing, I bring the books up to the front to pay.

While Gigi is still talking to someone else, I look at the fliers on the counter.

People looking for moving help, pet sitters, and one that catches my eye.

Someone is looking for a nanny. There’s no name or number, just an email asking those interested to send a cover letter and resume.

It isn’t exactly what I want to do, but the salary is listed, and it’s more than my last two jobs put together.

I snap a photo of the flier and consider applying.

If I don’t get it, I have no reason to stay in town.