Chapter 1

Lizzy

The white powder glistens in the sun, but that’s not what makes me smile. What brightens my mood is the snowless driveway that makes my morning so much easier.

The high schooler who shovels my driveway for service hours never ceases to amaze me. I’ve never even met the kid; he’s done shoveling before I wake up. He’s never missed a day, which is why I shouldn’t be surprised he came this morning, even though the snow was unexpected.

The letter arrived along with a shoveled driveway when I first moved here six years ago on the third snow of the season. It stated that a high school student lived in the area and would shovel my driveway every time it snowed for service hours. All I had to do was sign an agreement.

I guess once that kid graduated, another one took over because I haven’t had to shovel my driveway since. Although I haven’t ever met him, I leave him little presents some days.

Sometimes, I crochet winter garments for him.

Other days, I bake pastries or desserts.

I’ve even left soup out for him. The only times he hasn’t taken my offerings were when I would leave him an envelope with some cash.

After the third time of the envelope ending up back in my mailbox, I realized he can’t count it as service if I pay him.

This morning, his present was a one-hundred-piece puzzle of a whale.

Sometimes, on my way home from work, I pick up an educational present from the gift shop at the zoo.

He’s gotten several animal puzzles, Lego sets, crosswords, and other not-so-interesting things for teenage boys.

But I firmly believe in working the brain, so I give them to him anyway.

He’s not the only godsend since moving to this tundra. As I drive to work, I think of the elderly man who taught me how to drive in the snow.

My sweet neighbor saw me crying outside my car my first snowfall.

I was clueless and resigned to calling in sick.

That weekend, Mr. Sebastian knocked on my door and offered me free lessons.

He told me he’d seen me struggle to back out of my driveway.

Mr. Sebastian was incredibly patient. He even talked me through multiple teary-eyed moments.

It took several weekends of lessons, but now, because of him, my driving in the snow rivals that of a Boston native.

After those lessons, though, I never saw him again.

Honestly, this whole city has been incredibly kind to me. Sometimes, I wonder if I have a guardian angel watching over me. It’s not just Mr. Sebastian and the high school shoveler. Everything always works out for me here.

I never had this luck back home. In Mississippi, I seemed to attract the worst of the worst. I attracted him. Shuddering at the thought, I push my past from my mind.

It doesn’t matter now. I can’t ever go back, not that I’d want to. What I did sealed my fate.

I’ll never forget that night.

Nor everything that led up to it.

The choices I had to make.

But it doesn’t matter now. It’s in the past. I’ve finally gotten comfortable enough here in my new life that I’ve broken free from the paranoia.

When I first moved here, I had a false sense of security being so far from my past. But then, randomly, I’d get the sense I was being watched.

For months, I was paranoid that he was here.

But that’s impossible. When nothing ever happened, I chalked it up to my Bostonian guardian angel watching over me.

The billboards of my other angels lead the way to my lot.

The New Hope Zoo in the heart of Boston houses my dream job as the secondary zookeeper of the reptile exhibit.

With its extensive collection of animals, being the secondary zookeeper keeps me hands-on with my scaly friends, which is more than I could hope for.

With no secondary education, I had to work my way up from maintenance to this position. When Janine, the head reptile zookeeper, saw my enthusiasm for the animals, even just cleaning after them, she mentored me to where I am today.

“Morning, Lizzy,” greets Tom, our head of maintenance. He’s a sweet, elderly man who works here in his retirement. We became friends when I was working in his department.

“Good morning, Tom.” I smile as I stop by him. “Can I convince you to stop by Reptiles today for lunch?” Despite knowing the answer, I ask anyway. As expected, his face scrunches.

“You know I don’t like those snakes and lizards like you do, Lizzy. They give me the creeps.” His apologetic tone has me dropping my teasing one.

“It’s really okay, Tom. I’m just messing with you. Want to do salads from the café around noon?”

There are many workers at the zoo around my age, but I have trouble keeping them as friends. I don’t party like the rest of them, nor do I keep up with the latest trends. They aren’t necessarily rude about it, but I can tell they get bored with my conversations easily.

“That sounds… delicious.” He pauses for a moment and scratches his head in what he must think is an innocent manner. “We could try the hotdog stand though?” His nonchalance doesn’t fool me.

“Nice try, but Betty would kill me if I gave you processed meat after that heart scare. Salads, café, noon. Okay?” I scold him.

“Fine. See you then, squirt.”

Shaking my head, I make my way through the exhibits to mine in the back. These morning walks before the zoo opens are my favorite time here. The animals are just waking, and I love welcoming them to a new day.

Most of my babies are indoors. Reptiles need warmth, so temperature-regulated habitats are where they thrive. The snowy Boston climate doesn’t suit them well.

As soon as I enter the building, I start de-layering. The temperature rise used to catch me off guard, but after so many years, I’m used to it.

I hang everything in my locker and put on my uniform. Once my chestnut locks are braided into two strands, I’m ready to start my day.

“Morning, Freddy. Anything happen last night while I was gone?” I ask our Galapagos Tortoise as I enter his enclosure.

I talk to all the animals, but with Freddy, I listen more than I speak.

There’s a lot I can learn from him. He’s been here for over fifty years.

He’s been at this zoo longer than I’ve been on Earth.

He grumbles as I lay out his leafy greens. I even throw in a few succulents as a treat for him. I know I’ll end up doing the same for the others. There’s something about these sweet animals that begs me to spoil them.

That’s the thing about animals. They’re pure of heart. They don’t attack unless provoked, unlike humans. Animals are gentle and kind.

Most people fear reptiles, but that’s only because they don’t know them. They haven’t been educated on them or been put in a position to become comfortable with them.

I used to play with the lizards outside my house growing up.

We didn’t have pets, but sometimes Mama would let me keep a lizard or frog inside until they inevitably passed.

I learned how to keep them alive longer, what they ate, how much they slept…

Eventually, they were banned from the house, so I built a little farm outside for them.

In high school, I worked part-time at the local pet shop. The plan was to move to Jackson and work at the state zoo, but that didn’t go as planned. Nothing back then did. When I moved to Boston, I came to the zoo on a whim. I wasn’t expecting a job, but I met Tom, and he was hiring.

This zoo saved me. I’m incredibly grateful for the opportunities it’s given me. Which is why I appreciate every day I have here.

All too soon, my animals are fed, and the zoo is open. Today’s my day in the bearded dragon habitat. I educate field trip groups about the animals. It’s a great opportunity to teach the young how safe and cool these reptiles are.

After a few hours, I rush to meet Tom, already twenty minutes late.

“I’m sorry–” I start.

“Lizzy, calm down. This isn’t the first time you’ve been late to lunch with an old man because your snakes distract you. And yet, I’m still here.” Tom holds out a chicken Caesar salad for me.

“Thanks.” I reach for my salad and start shoveling it in with a grimace. I won’t admit this to Tom, but I also wish it were a hotdog. But I’d rather choke down a salad with Tom than eat a hotdog alone.

“So, Lizzy, any boys?” Tom asks not-so slyly.

“No. You know these Boston guys aren’t interested in me. But that’s okay. I’ve got you and Betty, and my animal friends here and at home. What more does a girl need?”

“A husband would do you some good. You need friends your own age. Betty and I won’t be here forever.

” He pauses at my scowl. “I’m not saying you need a man.

Just that having someone love you makes life more enjoyable.

And I want you to have what I have with Betty.

” The glow in his eyes when he speaks of his wife says more than his words ever could.

“It’s not that I don’t try. Every guy I attempt to go out with either ghosts me, stands me up, or bails halfway through the date. It’s like I’m cursed.”

“You’re not cursed. Maybe the boys are intimidated by your intelligence.” I stare at him dumbly, because that’s the most grandparent take on why guys don’t want me. Not the clearer one that they aren’t interested in the lizard girl.

“Did Betty put you up to prying?” I accuse. His reddening cheeks answer for him.

“Maybe. But only because she cares.” He coughs awkwardly. “She wants to know if you’ve tried any of those nifty dating sites on your phone.”

See, this is one of the biggest problems for me. I can’t use dating apps. Literally.

“I’ve tried them, but after a few days or even hours, they stop working.

Every single one. Every single time. I’ve even taken my phone to the store, but they can’t explain it.

It’s as though the universe doesn’t want me to date.

” I throw my hands up in exasperation. “But it’s fine.

At least that lessens the chances of me meeting a serial killer on the apps. ” Or an abusive asshole.

“Hmmm… that seems like a problem I can’t help with.” Tom takes another bite of his salad and makes a face.

“Now you can tell Betty you tried. If she has any bingo friends to set me up with, let me know,” I tease.

After a few more minutes, I go back to my reptilian habitats. And after a few hours, I go home to my reptiles. And I decide if this is all life has in store for me, it’s enough. My reptilian friends give me enough company. I don’t need a man or a dating app.

Plus, men come with risks. Risks I’m not willing to chance just yet. I know he’s gone, but if he could do what he did, other men can too.

Trust isn’t a luxury I’m willing to give to a man.

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