Chapter 12 More Reasons to Stay
TWELVE
MORE REASONS TO STAY
CINDY
Ryan and I met up every chance we could, often here at the farmhouse, talking and making love. Once we started, it was like our friendship returned, only sweeter now because we could finally touch each other, and admit what was growing between us was special.
I spent most of my days going room by room, removing the junk and deeply cleaning the place.
Tackling Mom and Dad’s bedroom was next.
Gabby stopped by after school, helping me go through some of Mom’s clothes.
After crying my heart out to Ryan about Dad, I just didn’t think I could handle this part on my own.
“Oh my gosh, look at this closet. It’s like a time capsule of boho style. I love it,” Gabby ruffled her fingers across the sleeves of mom’s clothes hanging there, stopping now and then to pull the hangers apart and admire a dress or two.
“Mom had a lovely taste in everything—clothes, this home and the way she decorated it . . .”
“If I didn’t have the tiniest closet at Megan and Robbie’s house, shared with Daphne, of course, I’d keep most of this stuff. I love everything I see so far.”
I always admired her free spirit. “Fitting, since you seem to be the one who inherited Mom’s artsy ways. In the coldest winters of New York City, those scarves you knitted for me are the ones I turn to every time, and the ones I get the most compliments on.”
“Oh. Look at this one,” she gasped, pulling out a hanger and holding an item up to her in the mirror. “Tan knitted halter with long fringe? Love it. Do you think she made this herself? There’s no tag.”
“Hm, maybe? It’s more revealing than most of the things I recall Mom wearing. Will it fit? She was a little more busty than you.”
“Let’s find out.” My baby sister tore her blouse off over her head and a shocking view assailed my eyes. What looked to be a fresh tattoo of a big butterfly covered her upper shoulder blade.
“Gabby!”
“What? Oh, my tat? Do you like it? I designed it myself.”
“How’d you get a tattoo artist to agree to do this to you? You’re not eighteen yet.”
“Close enough.” She shrugged, skirting around the answer. “I provide my artwork to a parlor in trade for the tats.”
“Tats—as in plural? Gabby, I knew you were an artist, but I didn’t realize it extended to your body.”
“Got something against tattoos?”
“No. I don’t. It just came as a shock.” Great, now I could add worries about my two younger siblings to the top of my list. “It’s beautiful, really. With your talent, I hope you’re applying to art schools for college.”
“Oh, I’m not going to college. Here, tie the straps in back.” She pointed to the minuscule threads of the backless garment with one hand, while holding it up to her chest in front.
I obliged and suddenly realized the full fears and worries our parents must have possessed about us. “Then what will you do, stay in this small town and continue to work at the ice cream cone factory?”
“Well, Levi has offered me a position at the tattoo parlor as soon as I turn eighteen, so—” she yelped. I might have pulled the threads too tight.
“Levi? I think Ryan and I should meet him. And could you really see yourself sticking people with needles all day? No, thank you.”
“No, I’d be the artist in residence there. I could never do the actual application. Oh my gosh,” she exclaimed, turning around in the mirror to view the halter. “I love this. It’s mine. Let’s dig into the rest of the closet and see what we find.”
I couldn't believe how my baby sister had almost grown up. But with no parents around, Marcie living in Boston, and how busy Megan and Robbie were with their kids, who was looking after Gabby and Daphne?
If I lived here, the two girls could stay with me, and I could watch over them. My next breath caught in my throat. What was I saying?
Was this another sign? More reasons to stay? Despite my vow to Mom to leave this small town and never come back, with every day that passed, and with each kiss from Ryan, I was finding my heart leaving New York City, mile by mile, and tracking right here to Glendale Falls.