Chapter 3
THREE
We’ll go inside as soon as this song is over.
That was what Jane had been telling herself for the past fifteen minutes. Instead, she sat in the driveway of her parents’ white Victorian-era farmhouse—well, it’s Mom’s house now—while Scarlett napped in the back seat.
If Mom had noticed them pull up, she hadn’t come to the door. Blue light flickered from the front window into the growing darkness of the yard. The local news was probably on, and then Jeopardy after that. Dad used to watch it with a beer after work, and old habits probably died hard.
Jane took in her childhood home. That old crabapple tree that Mom and Dad had planted their first spring in the house had finally succumbed to some sort of disease, and all that was left was the trunk and a few drooping branches. The paint was peeling off a patch of wooden siding on the house, and the downspout had detached from the gutter over the porch. Back when Jane lived here, Dad would have spent a fall weekend cutting down that tree, scraping the peeling paint, and fixing the gutter before the first snow of the year. But Dad hadn’t been here this fall to do any of those things, and the maintenance on that big house had to be too much for Mom to handle.
For a moment guilt stabbed her, but Jane shook it off. This wasn’t a house where happiness echoed in the halls, and she didn’t know what Mom was still doing here now that Dad was gone.
The only memory that didn’t leave Jane flinching had played out right here in this driveway. She closed her eyes. It had been a sedan just like this old Toyota, except, back then, Nik had been driving. He’d leaned across the center console to kiss her goodbye. It was a chaste kiss. Innocent. Sweet. And then his tongue had brushed her lip, dipped into her mouth for just a second, a brief reminder of the passion they’d shared just an hour earlier. Jane had reluctantly moved away from Nik, back to her side of the car. She hadn’t wanted Dad to peek out the window and catch them making out.
If only I’d known.
With that, Jane’s mind inevitably shifted to Nik and the heat radiating from his tall frame as he moved closer to her in the store aisle. The warmth on her skin that had nothing to do with his hand resting there. And, just like that, it had all come rushing back like no time had passed.
Maybe she should have anticipated seeing him back here in Linden Falls. It was the holidays after all, and people came back for the holidays, didn’t they? But Jane had put Nik out of her mind a decade ago and had doggedly beat back any thoughts of him that had tried to creep in. It was the only way she was able to keep moving forward.
Jane paused to send Matteo a text, letting him know they’d arrived safely. To her relief, he replied with nothing more than a thumbs up emoji. Hopefully, he’d be so busy with holiday parties at the club that he wouldn’t want to talk much this week. She was probably just being paranoid, but ever since he’d agreed to let her and Scarlett take this trip, she’d lived in fear that an expression on her face or the waver in her voice might give her away.
Sighing, Jane hauled herself out of the car, slung her backpack on her shoulders, and then pulled a sleepy Scarlett from the back seat. Jane’s knees creaked under her daughter’s weight, leaving her feeling ages past her twenty-eight years. These opportunities for Scarlett to still be her little girl were few and far between. In another year, her daughter would be too big to carry at all.
At the front door, Jane hesitated with her hand outstretched. This place hadn’t been her home in a decade. Was she supposed to knock? Before Jane could make up her mind, the door swung open.
“Mom.” Jane stared at the figure in the doorway, heart pounding. Her first urge was to stumble across the threshold and throw herself into her mother’s arms. Mommy , she wanted to say, burying her face in Mom’s neck and inhaling her familiar scent. She wanted Mom to rub her back, just like she used to do, and make all the nightmares go away.
Even after everything she’d been through, everything she’d navigated on her own, she still wanted the comfort of her mother.
But instead of giving in to her longing, Jane took a step back, steeling her heart. This woman wasn’t the same person who used to care for her when she was young, who Jane thought would care for her forever. That woman didn’t exist, and this woman was a stranger . She’d proven that when Jane had needed her most, and Mom had abandoned her.
When Mom had chosen Dad instead of her own daughter.
“Please…” Mom stepped back and waved stiffly into the house. “Come in.”
Jane eased past the older woman into the entryway. She even looked like a stranger. Mom was only forty-eight, but the exhaustion on her face had aged her at least a decade more. Deep lines crisscrossed her forehead and extended from the dark circles under her eyes. One of Dad’s old sweatshirts swallowed up her thin frame, and she wore a brace on her left wrist.
Since Jane had been gone, they’d only FaceTimed a few times a year, and usually Jane handed the phone to Scarlett. When had Mom gotten so old? Did she look this tired the last time they’d talked a couple of weeks ago? Jane had still been processing Dad’s death and wanted to tell Mom her plan to leave LA before Matteo got home. Maybe Jane had been too distracted to notice.
Mom closed the front door. It stuck a little and she had to give it an extra shove with her shoulder before she clicked the lock shut, wincing at the effort.
Another unwanted stab of emotion pierced Jane’s heart. “How are you?” she asked, trying to keep her voice from shaking. “You’re not sick, are you?”
“No, I’m fine. Just a little tired. It’s been a long couple of months… since your father…” Mom pressed a hand to her abdomen as if it physically pained her to think about it.
Jane tried not to resent the grief on Mom’s face. The woman had lost her husband of three decades to a heart attack, of course she felt some sort of sorrow over his death. But Mom didn’t miss him , did she? Over Mom’s shoulder, Dad’s smelly, beat-up recliner was still taking up space in front of the living room window, the coaster where he used to set his beer on the table beside it. His boots were still lined up on the floor mat in the hall. It had been months since his death. Why hadn’t Mom gotten rid of those reminders of him?
She couldn’t possibly long for the days of flinching when the front door opened in the evening, of tiptoeing around, wondering what Dad’s mood would be like, of living life as the punching bag for a relentless bully. And Jane would have never in a million years come home if Dad were still around. Never in a billion years would she have brought Scarlett. Did Mom feel any sort of gratitude that she was finally able to meet her only grandchild in person? Her gaze slid to Mom’s arm. The brace she wore there was just as familiar as this old house. But shouldn’t Mom’s injuries be in the past now?
“What happened to your wrist?”
Mom adjusted the Velcro on the brace. “This is just an old injury. It acts up sometimes, especially in the cold weather.”
So, it wasn’t just Dad’s emotional scars that would linger forever. Jane shuddered at the memory of Mom holding her broken wrist with the opposite hand. I slipped on the rug, that’s all. Her voice had cracked, belying her claim that it didn’t hurt that much. It flooded back to Jane as if the incident had happened a few months ago instead of decades, along with that same tightening in her chest.
And along with a similar ache in her own wrist that acted up when the temperature dropped.
Jane never thought it would happen to her, never thought she’d end up like her mother. But here she was. This was why she had to run. Because if she didn’t, it would only be a matter of time before Scarlett ended up like both of them.
Jane’s arms were starting to shake under Scarlett’s weight, so she gently eased her to her feet. Scarlett stirred, rubbing her eyes with a palm, still clutching her elephant in the other hand.
“Oh.” Mom froze, staring at Scarlett as her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Scarlett. It’s wonderful to see you in person.” Her gaze flew to Jane’s, roaming over her face. “It’s wonderful to see you both. I’m so glad you could come.” She reached out a palm to touch Jane’s cheek, but something hard must have flashed across Jane’s face because Mom dropped her hand at the last second.
Jane wasn’t here for hugs and tearful reconciliations. She was here to protect her daughter, something her mother hadn’t done for her. Jane bent her head, focusing on helping Scarlett out of her coat to hide the moisture welling in her eyes .
“She’s—she’s so big .” Mom stood back, gaping at Scarlett.
Jane nodded. “She’s nine.”
“I know… I just… I guess I was still imagining that little baby in the photo. And then on FaceTime, it’s hard to see how tall she’s gotten.”
Jane had mailed a single picture right after Scarlett was born, but Mom had asked her not to send any more. She was afraid Dad might find them and know they’d been in contact. Eventually, Jane and Mom had settled into their routine where Mom would call every six months or so, but only when Dad was away on his fishing trips. Jane only answered when Matteo was at work. So maybe she and Mom weren’t so different after all.
“Scarlett, say hi to Grandma.” She cleared her throat and did her best to sound upbeat for Scarlett’s sake. “We’ll be staying with her for a little bit.”
“Hi,” Scarlett said shyly, hiding her face part-way in Jane’s jacket.
“You must be hungry,” Mom said, awkwardly leaning down to Scarlett’s level, standing back up, and then leaning down again as if she didn’t quite know where to land. The effect made her look like a turkey crossing the road. “Would you like some soup?”
Scarlett shook her head.
“We stopped at McDonald’s about an hour ago,” Jane explained.
Mom pressed her lips together, most likely in disapproval. Jane did her best to shrug it off. Mom had given up her right to express her opinions on Jane’s parenting choices long ago. “We’re still on California time, and it’s past bedtime. I think I’ll take Scarlett upstairs to get settled.”
“Oh.” Mom looked from Scarlett back to Jane. “Okay. I made up the bed in the guest room for you two. It’s a queen, so you’ll both fit. I wasn’t sure if you’d want to sleep in your old?—”
“The guest room is fine.” Jane took her daughter’s hand. “Come on, honey.”
Jane led Scarlett upstairs, where they stopped briefly in the bathroom and then headed into the guest room. Jane hesitated for just a second in front of her old bedroom. Was her guitar in there, the one Nik had given her for her fourteenth birthday? Or had Dad made good on his promise to burn it? With a shudder, Jane backed away from the door. She wasn’t ready for that assault of old memories.
Scarlett climbed into the bed—it was far more comfortable than any of the cheap motel mattresses where they’d slept on their trip across the country—and immediately fell back asleep. Scarlett had grown up in an apartment over a nightclub, so she’d learned to sleep through anything. It was unlikely she’d wake up before morning, but Jane flipped on a nightlight just in case.
Jane found her mother in the kitchen, and she settled into a chair at the old oak table. Back in high school, this kitchen had looked typically middle-class—similar to all the other kitchens in these old houses—and she’d never paid much attention to it. But now with time and distance, it looked dated, too dark, with yellowing appliances that had seen better days, and a dripping faucet. More house repairs that Mom wasn’t equipped to deal with.
Mom stirred something on the stove and then ladled the contents into a stoneware bowl. The faucet released its slow drip again, and it plopped into a mug in the sink. Mom sprinkled cheese on top of the soup. “So, how long are you staying?”
Jane hesitated. “Just a week or so.”
Mom looked up from the bowl. “That’s it? A week?” She frowned.
“Matteo was unhappy about us going at all,” Jane said. “If it weren’t for Dad’s death, and the fact that he would have looked like a jerk if he’d said no, he would have put up more of a fight about us coming here.” Matteo didn’t care much about being a jerk. But he didn’t want to look like one. “He thinks we’ll be back in early January, by the time Scarlett’s school break is over.”
“And you won’t be.”
“No, we won’t.” Jane’s chest squeezed. God, she hoped not. “I have about a week to figure out how to…” She trailed off.
How to disappear.
The unspoken word settled around them.
There would be no more phone calls, no checking in. These few days in Linden Falls would be the last time she’d ever see or talk to Mom again. Matteo’s power over Jane couldn’t be broken by mere miles between them. She and Scarlett had to truly disappear . It was the only way they’d finally be free. If there was any way for Matteo to find them… a postmarked letter, a traced phone call to Mom…
She didn’t want to think about what he’d do.
Jane shook her head as if that would wipe those dark thoughts from her mind. We’re going to get away. There was no other choice. “Anyway,” she said, doing her best to keep the waver out of her voice. “While I’m here, I’ll help you get things packed and organized. Get as much settled as possible before we go.”
But that change of subject didn’t offer any comfort. Jane dreaded sorting through the fragments of her life, dreaded what she’d find— or wouldn’t find —in those piles of memories in the basement.
Especially one memory in particular.
She wasn’t sure what would be worse: To dig up that old guitar that Nik had scoured pawn shops to find and then present to her on her fourteenth birthday. Or to finally accept that it was lost to her forever.
Just like Nik was lost to her forever.
She had a flash of him from earlier today. Those dark eyes searching hers, the lock of deep brown hair falling across his forehead, the heat building as he closed the space between them. She’d worked so hard to stave off memories of Nik, and all it took was ten minutes in this town and one look in those eyes to bring them all rushing back.
“Well.” Mom cut into her thoughts. “I’m not sure there’s much to do. The lawyer is helping with the estate paperwork. He says everything automatically goes to me, so it’s not very complicated. And your father’s old tools and things are fine where they are in the basement for now. I can invite that high school boy from down the street to come and take what he wants in the summer.”
Jane’s head jerked up. “Summer? I thought we talked about you selling this place this spring? Getting an apartment in town. What about that retirement building with the pool and exercise classes?”
“I’m not sure I’d fit in at a fancy high-rise like that.” Mom placed a mat in front of Jane and set the bowl of soup on top, even though Jane had told her she’d already eaten.
“High-rise? Mom, it’s five stories.”
“Still, I’m comfortable where I am.” She followed the bowl with a napkin and a spoon right in the middle.
Steam rose from the bowl. It smelled delicious, but Jane didn’t think she could choke down a bite. Knowing Mom would be out of this old house and safely settled in a retirement community in town had helped Jane to come to terms with her own plans to move on. “You can’t take care of this place all by yourself. I counted about eight different things that need repair just from the front door to here.”
“Well, there’s that high school boy. I can ask him to help out. He’ll be happy to make some extra money.” Mom picked up a pot and began scrubbing it in the sink.
Once again, Jane was struck by the lines on Mom’s face. The circles under her eyes that looked darker under the overhead light. “What’s really going on here? Why are you so determined to stay in this house?”
“Despite what you think, there were a lot of good times here.” Mom’s gaze skated around the kitchen. “Birthdays… holidays.”
“What, like the Christmas Dad kicked the tree over because he thought you spent too much money on presents? Or the day he threw my birthday cake in your face because you left the oven on?” Jane shook her head. Sure, there were plenty of holidays and birthdays that weren’t blighted by Dad’s anger, but the possibility had always hung over this house like the smoke from Dad’s cigarettes. What would be the next thing that would set Dad off? What would have him kicking in the drywall or backhanding Mom across the kitchen?
Mom swiped at the pot with a dish towel. “That birthday—I should have remembered to turn the oven off?—”
“Just stop it!” Jane slapped her hands on the table, and Mom flinched. Old habits again. “Do you really not see who he was?”
Mom stared down at her hands. “He was your father.”
They were the same words Mom had used to justify his behavior a decade ago.
He’s your father.
Didn’t she see that made it worse ?
“How can you still be defending him?” Jane shoved the bowl of soup away, and a few drops splashed on the placemat. She immediately grabbed the napkin to clean it up. Even now, even knowing he was gone, that old anxiety and fear had seeped back in the moment she’d set foot in this house. Her eyes darted to the doorway, waiting for him to come charging in, angry at the mess she’d made.
Jane crumpled the napkin, leaving the spilled soup on the mat. And then she stood up and marched out of the kitchen. Had she really believed she could come back to this house without talking to Mom about the day she’d left? They always managed to avoid that subject on their phone calls, focusing on Scarlett, and Jane had told herself she was over it.
Clearly, she wasn’t over it. She hadn’t even made it an hour in Mom’s presence, and the pain of betrayal was as sharp as ever.
In the hallway, Jane grabbed her jacket and yanked it on.
“Where are you going?” Mom called from the kitchen doorway.
“For a walk,” Jane muttered, hopping on one foot as she pulled on a shoe.
“It’s dark out.”
“I don’t think anyone would have the nerve to mess with the daughter of the late Chief McCaffrey, hero of Linden Falls, do you?”
“What about Scarlett?”
“Scarlett will sleep until morning. I won’t be long.” Without waiting for an answer, Jane swung the door open and headed out onto the porch, pulling the door shut behind her.