Chapter Twelve #2
Ilona crossed her legs in the grass. She ran her palms over the blades and hummed softly.
“Your mama wasn’t really living. I think she was hiding, right to the very end.
And you need to give yourself time. Your world is in upheaval.
Your mama’s gone. Your marriage is ending.
Your daughter’s grown. It’s a whole lot for a person to sort out all at once.
But you will. And your life will clean up nice, just like this place. ” She motioned to the house.
I’d power washed the stone last week and repainted the door and porch handrail. Cameron had repaired the broken shutters.
“Things will only look awful for a little while,” Ilona continued. “As long as you keep working on it, life’s going to look amazing real soon.”
I met her eyes and found hope there. “Thank you for saying that.”
She was right, of course. I’d taken the hardest step already.
I thought of Sylvia from book club, telling me the novel’s main character was supposed to make the necessary changes and choose happiness.
That was my goal now, for my sake, Camilla’s, and Mom’s.
Our family history of female misery ended with me. One way or another.
The changes I’d made in my life and this house already were incredible. Pride filled my soul. Whatever happened, I’d keep reaching for peace and joy.
I held on to my feelings of victory as we packed up the leftovers from the sale and moved the boxes into Cameron’s truck. That night, as promised, I logged on to my website and raised all my prices.
When the moon made its appearance in the night sky, I slogged out to the trailer for what would hopefully be my last night of terrible rest. I sent messages to Alicia and Ilona, thanking them both for their help, then another to Camilla, letting her know how much I loved her.
My stomach growled, but I was far too tired to trek back across the lawn. So I pulled a spoon from the drawer and a jar of peanut butter from the shelf. I felt like a kid digging into the jar and stuffing a mouthful past my lips.
I stared through the parted curtains at the full moon overhead while bullfrogs and crickets played the evening score. “I miss you, Mom,” I said. “What we had wasn’t perfect, but I’d give anything to see you one more time. I should’ve taken better care of you instead of letting you push me away.”
As with most nights, I fell asleep wishing the divorce was over, and praying tomorrow would come with good news of some kind on that front. Until I had the finalized paperwork in my hand, the feeling of dread would only grow.
I tossed and turned through the wee hours, cursing a beam of moonlight that shone onto my closed eyes. The threadbare blinds were useless. Something furry brushed against my foot and I pulled my leg beneath the blanket. “It’s not time for breakfast,” I moaned and buried my face against the pillow.
The cat rooted around my narrow bed until the peanut butter jar fell onto the ground and rolled to a stop.
I’d been too lazy to put the snack away or brush my teeth.
That second point could be a problem. Was I depressed?
Or just exhausted? I didn’t want to start down a path like Mom’s.
Owning a cat who never let me sleep certainly didn’t help my mental health.
I listened as Raisin pawed and grunted at the jar. Hopefully peanut butter wouldn’t make him sick. I couldn’t afford a vet bill and didn’t want to clean a disgusting mess.
My groggy mental wheels screeched to a stop, then reversed.
I’d left Raisin in the house tonight. Hadn’t I?
I rolled onto my opposite side, eyes pinched shut, then carefully peeked over the bed’s edge to the floor.
The dark fur shifted beneath the moonlight, and a shiny-eyed raccoon looked up at me.
“Ahhhh!” I launched upright, blanket gathered around my chest.
The creature reared back, tiny black hands raised in defense.
I sucked in a long, laborious breath, then screamed some more. “Get out! Get out! Get out!”
The raccoon made a grunting sound and moved toward the jar, as if I might want it.
The only thing I wanted was away from the trailer, the animal, and any fleas, ticks, or rabies it might be carrying.
I leaped past him on a bolt of adrenaline, blanket still clutched in my grip.
I threw myself into the night with a gut-wrenching wail.
The comforter tangled around my feet on the stairs, and I pitched forward, bouncing hard against the ground.
A low oof wrenched from my core as the air left my lungs.
I opened my mouth to scream again but only managed a small wheeze.
Neighborhood dogs barked and porch lights flickered on. Bats circled in the sky above my chimney.
I rolled onto my hands and knees, picturing the animal on my heels as I bumbled toward Ilona’s house.
Her back door swung open as I reached her patio. “What the—?”
I made a croaking sound, still unable to catch my breath, then tripped on her garden hose.
“Heavens!” Ilona crouched at my side, helping me upright as tears streamed down my dirty cheeks.
Across our joined lawns, the raccoon carried my peanut butter jar into the night.