Chapter 11
11
C apri Jacobs tugged the brim of her baseball cap lower, blocking out the glare of the late afternoon sun. Her hands were steady, calloused fingers deftly working on the engine of Dick’s old truck parked outside her cabin. It was the same truck he’d taught her to tinker with when she was just a kid, the one they’d spent countless hours fixing together. She could practically hear his voice, guiding her, telling her to “keep at it until it purrs like a kitten.”
Today, though, the truck’s stubborn silence mirrored the turmoil inside her. Her mother’s sudden marriage to Earl had left Capri feeling untethered, like a raft with no anchor. The small cabin that once bustled with laughter, arguments, and shared meals now echoed with emptiness.
Fixing things—engines, appliances, even the old wooden steps leading up to the porch—was something Capri had always done. But now, it had become her lifeline, a way to keep her hands busy and her mind from spiraling into the abyss of loneliness that seemed to grow wider each day.
She had no one to blame but herself. No one had made her devote her life to taking care of her mom and Dick—making sure the bills were paid, the doctor appointments were scheduled, and their lives were kept whole and happy. She’d even paid off the house to keep them debt-free.
But now here she was.
She straightened up, wiping her hands on a rag, and stared out at the distant mountains. The peaks, still dusted with snow even in the early months of summer, had always been her refuge. But today, they offered no comfort. With a sigh, she reached for her phone, a desperate thought flickering through her mind.
Charlie Grace would know how to make her feel better. Her friend had a way of seeing the world through a different lens—literally since she was always behind one these days. Capri dialed her number, hoping to hear a familiar voice.
“Hey, Capri!” Her girlfriend’s voice came through the cell phone, bright and cheerful as always.
“Hey,” Capri replied, trying to match her friend’s energy. “I was thinking maybe we could grab coffee or something? I’d love to catch up, just you and me.”
There was a pause, and Capri could almost see Charlie’s face, her lips pursed in thought. “I’d love to, but I’m swamped with this photography exhibit in Jackson Hole. It’s opening in a few days, and I’ve got to get everything just right. Rain check?”
Capri forced a smile, though the rejection stung. “Yeah, sure. No problem. Good luck with the exhibit.”
After hanging up, Capri tried Reva. If anyone could spare a moment, it would be her. Reva was always the quintessential friend, the one who had a knack for making everyone feel at home. Maybe they could meet for lunch.
“Capri, hi!” Reva’s voice was warm, but there was an undercurrent of stress. “What’s up?”
“I was wondering if you wanted to hang out, maybe grab lunch or something,” Capri asked, her voice hopeful.
“Oh, I wish I could. But Lucan’s got the sniffles, and I’m taking him to the doctor just to be safe. You know how I worry,” Reva said, a touch of apology in her tone. “Another time? But I’ll see you Friday night at Lila’s?”
“Of course,” Capri said, her heart sinking further. “Give Lucan a hug from me.”
Last, she tried Lila. The two of them had always been close, especially since Dick passed. Lila understood what it was like to lose someone, to feel that gaping hole where love used to be.
But Lila was distracted when she answered. “Hey Capri, can I call you back? The clinic’s been crazy busy since Doc Tillman left, and Whit and I are trying to keep up. We have six dogs, two cats, and a rabbit in the waiting room. It’s been nonstop.”
Capri swallowed her disappointment. “Sure, no problem. Good luck with everything.”
She didn’t bother calling anyone else. She momentarily considered reaching out to the Knit Wit ladies, then the notion dawned that Oma, Betty, and Dorothy would likely be busy with their own lives—grandkids, church dinners, whatever else filled their days.
Oh well, she’d just have to make do with her own company.
Capri shoved her phone into her pocket and glanced at the cabin, her childhood home, the place that held so many memories of her mother and Dick. The kitchen walls were still covered in the same wallpaper her mother had chosen years ago. The creaky floorboards still groaned in the same spots, a familiar soundtrack to a life that was no longer hers. The sofa, the television…the bathroom rugs. Nothing had been updated in years.
The truck’s engine remained silent as Capri returned to the porch, where her tools were scattered. She picked up a wrench and gathered the rest of her tools and headed inside the house and straight for the kitchen.
She pulled open the cabinet doors under the sink. The drain had been slow for months.
Capri crouched and positioned herself nearly inside the cabinet, the smell of cleanser filling her nostrils. Her jaw clenched as she attacked the faucet drain with a wrench, her movements quick and forceful. The metal groaned in protest, but she didn’t care—she was determined to get it apart. Water dripped steadily from the pipe as she unscrewed the trap, her fingers moving with practiced precision despite the frustration bubbling inside her.
When she finally pried it free, a mass of hair and gunk greeted her, tangled in the curve of the pipe. She yanked it out with a grimace, the mess clinging stubbornly to her fingers.
With a quick rinse, she watched as the water flowed freely again, a small victory in an otherwise uncontrollable world. Capri reassembled the drain with fierce satisfaction, tightening each connection as if she could tighten the loose ends of her life just as easily.
Finally, she stepped back, breathing hard, her hands shaking slightly. The clog was gone, the sink was fixed, but the turmoil inside her was still very much there. Fixing things was what she did best, but no amount of effort could fix the emptiness she felt.
Something inside her snapped, or maybe it was finally piecing itself together. She didn’t know. But as she stood there, hands still clutching the wrench, Capri made a decision—a big one. She wasn’t ready to say it out loud, not even to herself, but she felt it settle deep within her, solid and unmovable.
Capri dropped the wrench, the metal clanging loudly against the wooden floor, echoing in the empty cabin. She turned and walked outside, leaving the door ajar, the decision she had made growing stronger with every step.
Outside, Capri turned and surveyed the cabin, her eyes tracing the familiar lines of the weathered wood, the chipped paint on the window frames, and the sagging porch that she and Dick had promised to fix “someday.”
The small structure stood nestled against the backdrop of towering pines, almost swallowed by the vastness of the mountains beyond. It looked as tired as she felt, worn down by years of holding everything together. The once-cozy home now seemed like a relic of another life—a life filled with laughter, shared meals, and late-night conversations by the fire. But now, it felt hollow, a shell of what it used to be, mirroring the emptiness inside her.
The memories were everywhere—the spot where she and her mother had planted flowers that now struggled to bloom because Capri had likely overwatered them. The swing on the porch where she and Dick would sit in silence, both knowing that words weren’t always necessary. Capri’s gaze lingered on the front door, its paint faded from years of exposure to the elements.
This was the place where she had learned the value of hard work, of loyalty, of love. But now, it was also the place where she felt abandoned, left to pick up the pieces of a life that no longer made sense.
She took a deep breath, the cool mountain air filling her lungs, and felt a bittersweet pang in her chest. This cabin had been her sanctuary, her refuge from the world. But now, it was just another thing that needed fixing—only this time, no amount of effort could restore what had been lost.
As she looked at the cabin, she realized that it was time to let go, to stop trying to mend what was beyond repair. The unlikely decision she had made felt like both a burden and a relief, heavy with the weight of finality yet light with the promise of something new.
With one last look, Capri turned away, knowing that whatever came next, it wouldn’t be within these walls. She was ready to move forward, even if it meant leaving a part of herself behind.