Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
PRESENT DAY
The next morning, Jane woke to a text from Matteo, another version of the one she’d gotten at the café when she was with Nik. One of the servers had quit, and he was pissed they’d left him in the lurch right before the holiday. His message was a long rant about how he didn’t have anyone to fill in.
Jane stared at the phone in her shaking hands. Please, God, just don’t have him tell me to come home to work at the club. Though she’d quit when she was pregnant with Scarlett, Jane occasionally filled in as a server when one of the regular staff was out sick. Matteo didn’t like it. Didn’t like the men watching her in her low-cut T-shirt. Didn’t like Jane forming friendships with Yolanda and the other bartenders. So, he’d rarely had her do it unless he was desperate.
Jane hoped he wasn’t desperate.
She needed every minute she could steal before Matteo expected her home. It wasn’t just the matter of Kait getting the car and paperwork together. Jane had hoped she’d have at least a few days to cross the border and get lost somewhere in the middle of Canada before Matteo noticed she was missing .
She typed a sympathetic message to Matteo and hit send, hoping that would appease him until he could find someone else to fill in. Sometimes that was all he needed: someone to complain to. Someone to take his frustrations out on.
Jane climbed out of bed with an enormous sense of relief that she wasn’t there so he could take his frustrations out on her in person. With any luck, she never would be again.
Downstairs, she found Mom and Scarlett making pancakes again. After breakfast, they spent a quiet morning putting together a puzzle on the coffee table. It was a distraction from checking her phone for messages from Matteo, who’d texted twice more to complain about the server situation, but so far hadn’t asked her to come home. Or Kait, who Jane knew wouldn’t reach out for at least a few more days.
When Scarlett switched over to playing with her Barbie Legos that afternoon, Jane headed upstairs to take a shower. As she made her way down the hall toward the bathroom, she paused once again outside her old bedroom door.
If they couldn’t take a Barbie Lego set with them, she definitely didn’t have room for a guitar. So, what did it matter if it was in there or not? Her hand grasped the cold metal of the doorknob, remembering how that same hand had curved around the neck of the instrument last night. She hadn’t played in a decade, but somehow it had all come back to her as if it was exactly what she was meant to do. Even now, as the thought floated through her head, her fingers twitched as if they were moving effortlessly across an imaginary set of strings.
Jane shoved the door open and was immediately hit with an assault of memories from her past. The green striped duvet on the bed, the shelf lined with old yearbooks, the posters of Lana Del Rey, Tegan and Sara, and the other musicians she’d loved in high school. Above the desk across the room, the bulletin board still displayed her old concert tickets and, next to them, photos of her friends. Nik showed up in most of them, of course. But so did Ali and Hannah.
Jane moved closer to get a better look, and she couldn’t help but smile.
The four of them had become friends in ninth grade when they’d ended up sitting at the same lunch table. There was sweet, ethereal Hannah in her flowered maxi dresses and Birkenstock sandals. Jane never thought she’d miss those weird hemp-heart cookies Hannah used to bring to school every day but, over the years, she’d found herself craving them. It was really Hannah’s calm, caring energy she’d craved.
And then there was Ali in her black jeans, matching black hoodie, and combat boots. On the surface, Ali had come off a bit like her clothing choices—dark and unapproachable—but it was only because she’d been too wrapped up in her latest art project to get involved in the usual high school activities and gossip. But once you were in her circle, she’d help you bury a body if you needed her to.
On one side of the bulletin board, Jane had hung a necklace that Ali had made for her in a metalwork class at the local art center. A single, delicate thread of silver twisted and manipulated into a treble clef and a series of musical notes. When Jane had thrown her arms around her in thanks, Ali had quickly extracted herself from the embrace. “Okay, don’t get all sentimental,” she’d mumbled. But Ali hadn’t been able to hide the way her cheeks had turned pink with pleasure.
Jane unhooked the necklace from the bulletin board and tucked it in her pocket. Scarlett would love it.
When Jane had left for Los Angeles, she’d left Nik behind, but she’d left Hannah and Ali, too. Did they hate her for it? Or had they moved on and forgotten all about her? Jane told herself it didn’t matter. Just like Nik and everyone else in this town, she’d pushed them out of her thoughts long ago, and once she and Scarlett were gone for good, it wouldn’t matter what anyone thought of her. But she couldn’t help but feel a pull of longing as she looked at those old photos of her friends with their arms around her, faces open and accepting, smiles stretching wide.
She’d never had a group of friends like she’d had in high school. Or any other friends at all, really. Matteo didn’t like her hanging out with other people or focusing her attention on anyone who wasn’t him. And he really didn’t like anyone else knowing their business. The few times she’d formed a tentative friendship with someone—another mom at the playground, the bartender at the nightclub—Matteo had found a way to sabotage it.
Jane pulled a photo off the bulletin board and slipped it into her pocket to take with her when she left. Maybe she would never see her old friends again, but maybe she could get back to who she’d been when she’d had them in her life.
Jane closed her eyes, remembering the feeling of being up on that stage yesterday. The vibration of the guitar against her heart, the thrill of the song coming from deep in her chest. On that long, hard road between her childhood in Linden Falls and her life in LA, she’d lost so many little bits and pieces of herself. She’d stopped playing, stopped singing, even when she could have continued. Maybe she couldn’t have performed professionally—Matteo wouldn’t have allowed it—but in the shower, in the park. Just for herself. For the love of it.
Jane did a quick spin in the center of the room, searching for the guitar, but its old stand was empty, and there was no sign of the instrument’s case under the bed. Maybe Dad really had made good on his promise to take it out to the quarry and burn it. If she spent too much time thinking about it—that beautiful gift from Nik… gone —she’d sink down on the bed and cry.
But the guitar, as much as it meant to her, wasn’t what really mattered .
They’re going to love you.
Yes, she’d lost so many little bits and pieces of herself. But maybe last night was one small step toward finding them again. Toward believing again.
Later that evening, Jane set the dining table and they ate a quiet dinner, but she didn’t mind. The silence felt comfortable instead of tense. After dinner, Scarlett headed into the living room to watch Christmas specials on TV, and Jane and Mom wiped down the kitchen counters. As Mom slid the plastic containers of leftovers into the fridge, Jane heard her mutter, “Oh, darn it.”
Jane looked up. “What’s the matter?”
Mom sighed. “I promised Scarlett we could make pancakes again tomorrow, but I forgot we’re out of milk.” She shook the mostly empty carton. “Would you go over to Spring Street? The minimart at the service station will be open this time of night. All I need is a quart until I can get to the grocery store tomorrow afternoon.”
“Sure. Would you mind if I walked?” Spring Street wasn’t far, and Jane had a lot to think about.
“Of course. Take your time. I can put Scarlett to bed.” Mom sounded genuinely happy about that.
Jane’s heart twisted at the joy on Mom’s face, the enthusiasm in her voice. Her excitement at spending time with Scarlett reminded Jane again of those times when Dad was out of town, and it was just the two of them. When they could pretend that everything was normal and safe and happy. But that’s all they’d been doing back then. Pretending. When it really came down to it, Mom had chosen Dad.
Jane sighed, trying to tamp down her bitterness. She knew from experience that it wasn’t easy to make a different choice. How many times had she packed up their clothes, only to shove them back in the drawer before Matteo came home? How many times had she dialed the number of the women’s shelter, only to hang up on the first ring? When she’d finally let the call connect, they’d told her they didn’t have any beds available.
Call back next week .
Jane pulled on her jacket and peeked into the living room. Jane had to admit that Mom had made the space cozy and comfortable for them. Scarlett was snuggled on the couch, Lego Barbie in hand as she stared up at Charlie Brown and his sad little Christmas tree on TV. The soft pink blanket tucked around her looked new, as did the throw pillows with cats on them. There were more flowers on the table in here, and a vanilla-scented candle burning.
But then Jane focused on Dad’s recliner in the corner. She’d been avoiding it since she got home. Why was it still here? Jane would have expected Mom to replace it with something less awful. Surely, she could afford to buy a new recliner, one where the acrid scent of smoke didn’t linger.
Jane shuddered, sidestepping the recliner and sitting on the couch next to Scarlett. “Hey, honey, I’m going to take a walk to get milk for breakfast. Are you okay if Grandma puts you to bed?”
Scarlett nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine.” She turned back to the TV. Charlie Brown threw up his hands, lamenting the materialism of the holiday.
“Are you sure?” Jane prompted, sliding closer. After all, Mom was essentially a stranger in a big old drafty house, and Jane had rarely left Scarlett alone with another adult before now. Not even Matteo. “I don’t want you to be scared.”
Scarlett shook her head, her blond curls bouncing. “I’m not scared. Grandma is nice.”
“And you’re okay if she tucks you in? ”
“Yeah.” Scarlett snuggled deeper into the blanket. “Mommy?”
“What, sweetie?”
Scarlett’s wide eyes peered at her. “You left the door to your old bedroom cracked earlier.”
“I did?”
Scarlett nodded. “I peeked in. It’s really pretty. I like your old room.”
In the apartment above the club, Scarlett had slept in a little alcove that was essentially meant to be an office. Jane had tried to make it nice for her, but she could see how Scarlett would be enamored by a room like the one upstairs.
“Can I sleep there tonight?”
Jane’s eyebrows rose. “You want to sleep in my old bedroom?”
“I put clean sheets on the bed yesterday,” said a voice from the doorway. Jane turned in her seat to find Mom looking at her as hopefully as Scarlett. Jane thought back to when she’d poked around the room earlier. It had looked the same as when she’d left it, and she’d assumed that Mom had closed the door and pretended that it didn’t exist. But now Jane realized that the blinds had been thrown open, the surfaces dusted, the old stuffed animals lined up on the bed. Mom had gotten the room ready for them.
Jane turned to look at her daughter. For one of them in particular.
It was no wonder Scarlett loved it. She didn’t have all the painful associations with this house that Jane did. She didn’t know all the terrible things that had happened here. In fact, for Scarlett, this house probably felt like a sanctuary from her own painful memories and terrible associations.
“Maybe this house needs a few new memories?” Mom said, almost as if she could read Jane’s mind. “Good ones, for once.”
Jane looked at Mom standing in the doorway. She’d spent the entire day playing with Scarlett, and her happiness was evident by the way the lines around her mouth had softened and her eyes looked bright. Had it really meant that much to her?
Yesterday, Mom had said that Jane and Scarlett were her Christmas gifts. But a gift was something you got to keep. And Mom wasn’t going to get to keep Scarlett. Or me. Jane’s gaze swung from the hopeful look on Mom’s face to the one on her daughter’s. They’d be leaving and they wouldn’t be coming back. But maybe they could at least have these couple of days.
“Sure. You can sleep there.”
“Yay!” Scarlett yelled, throwing up her hands.
Jane couldn’t help but smile. “I’ll peek in at you later, okay?” She reached for her daughter and gave her an extra big squeeze. Then she pulled on her shoes and headed out into the snow.
Most of the neighbors had shoveled their walks earlier—Linden Falls was the kind of place where people took care of things like that—so the walk to town was uneventful. Jane traced the old route from memory, picking up her pace at the turn that would take her past Mrs. Andino’s house and again at the intersection that led up the mountain to Sand Hill Lane, where Nik apparently lived now.
As usual, the minimart attached to Butler’s Garage was open late. Jane made her way to the refrigerator, slowing her steps past the door that opened to the autobody shop. She peered through the glass, looking for signs of Kait, but that side of the building was dark. A teenager stood behind the counter, barely looking up as she rang up Jane’s quart of milk and slid it into a paper bag.
Jane headed back out onto Spring Street. She had to hand it to Linden Falls, they really knew how to do it up Hallmark movie-style for the holidays with wreaths, sparkly lights dripping from trees, and life-sized mechanical Santas waving from store windows.
Jane sighed, turning to head back the way she’d come and smacked face-first into a now-familiar blue Patagonia jacket. She staggered backwards as Nik reached out a hand to steady her.
“Jane.” His eyes widened. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” His lips tugged into a smile that managed to look both happy and a little bit wary. “Did Hannah invite you?”
“Hannah?” Jane blinked. “Invite me where?”
Nik glanced at the sign over her head. The Harp and Fiddle.
Jane’s eyes widened. This was the only bar in town. Her old friends were probably getting together for a drink. She definitely hadn’t meant to show up and crash their party. “Oh, no. Nobody invited me anywhere. I was just out for a walk. And milk.” She waved the paper bag in his direction.
Nik cocked his head. “I’m meeting Hannah and Ali. Do you want to join us?”
“I—” Jane stared down at her sneakers, chewing on her bottom lip. Her chest squeezed as she remembered those old photos of Hannah and Ali on her bulletin board. God, she’d missed them almost as much as Nik. “How are they? Hannah and Ali?”
Nik smiled affectionately. “They’re really good. Hannah still lives in Linden Falls. She married a great guy she met in college, and she’s a teacher at the elementary school. She has a six-year-old daughter named Amelia.”
“Really?” Despite herself, Jane felt her face spread into a genuine smile. With the way Hannah used to mother them, of course she’d become a teacher. And she had a daughter. Jane pictured a little girl with wild red hair and a flowered dress.
“And Ali lives in New York City. She’s the curator of an art gallery.”
Jane’s smile grew .
“Her mom is still here in town, so she makes it back every month or so. The three of us still hang out a lot. Why don’t you join us?” Nik said. “I think everyone would be happy to see you.”
Jane remembered that warmth she’d felt at the sight of the photos of her old friends. She would love a few minutes with Hannah and Ali. But it had been years. She might be nostalgic about the past, but they probably barely remembered her.
Before Jane could make up her mind, she spotted a tall, gorgeous woman hurrying down the sidewalk toward them. “Nik-o-las!” the woman said, flinging herself into Nik’s arms. Laughing, he wrapped one arm around the woman, and used the other hand to push her long, shiny hair out of his mouth. “Jeez, Al, it’s only been a couple of months.”
“I missed you, dumbass,” the woman said, leaning back to look at him. And then she shifted so she was facing Jane. Her smile slowly faded, and her eyes widened. “ Jane? ”
“Hi, Ali,” Jane said, taking in her old friend. Ali still wore black, but instead of jeans and a hoodie, she had on wide-legged pants and a cropped top under an expensive-looking wool coat. Jane was suddenly self-conscious in her sneakers and jeans.
Ali stepped back. “Well, this is… yeah. A surprise.” She shot Nik a glance that Jane couldn’t quite interpret. “I definitely didn’t expect to see you here.”
Nik shoved his hands in his pockets. “We just ran into each other, and I invited her to come for a drink.”
Ali’s gaze swept over her. “So, you’re… back from LA?”
“Just for a few days.”
At that moment, they were interrupted by another woman hurrying down the sidewalk, her red hair frizzing, coat flying. Hannah. She looked exactly the same as Jane remembered her.
“Thank the Lord I finally made it. I thought I’d never get Amelia to sleep.” Hannah reached over to give Ali a squeeze, and then she made her way down the line to Nik. Finally, she shifted to his left. “And you must be…” Hannah stopped, blinking rapidly. “You must be… Jane! Oh, my God.”
The next thing Jane knew, she was wrapped up in a tornado of red hair, vintage fabric, and lavender-scented lotion. And, just like that, she was back in Hannah’s room, lying on her back in a pink canopy bed flipping through their horoscopes in the Linden Falls Gazette .
“Hi, Hannah,” Jane murmured, over the lump in her throat.
“Jane, I honestly can’t believe it. Nobody told me you were coming.” Hannah stepped back to look her over.
“Nobody knew,” Ali said, her voice flat.
“It was a… last-minute trip,” Jane said.
Hannah’s face softened. “I heard about your dad. I’m sorry for your mom. I’m sure she’s happy to have you here.”
Jane looked down at her hands. “That’s why I came. To help her out a little.”
Ali huffed. “I’m surprised you did, especially after all this time.”
Hannah gasped. “Ali!”
Ali turned to face Jane. “We thought something terrible had happened to you when you left.”
Jane blinked. “You did?”
“Of course we did. You were our best friend. We hung out every single day, and we had all those summer plans.”
Nik had wanted them to go camping at Randall Park and on a road trip to New York City. And she and Hannah were talking about applying for summer jobs at the ice cream shop.
“And then you just…” Ali held her hands together and splayed out her fingers. “Poof. Gone without a word. We literally thought you’d been kidnapped, because there was no way you’d leave without telling us where you were going.”
It hit Jane with a jolt. She had been such a mess when she’d left, in such a hurry to disappear, she hadn’t considered how her friends must have felt. And then, like she had with Nik, Jane had avoided thinking about Hannah and Ali once she got to LA. It had been less painful that way.
“Your parents just kept telling us you were fine, but nobody would say anything else. Finally, Hannah’s dad went over one day to talk to your mom. She told him you’d gone to California to make it in the music business.”
Jane nodded. Because what else could she do?
“Taking off like that was really messed up. Why couldn’t you have just told us you were going? Sent an email once in a while or something?”
Jane had no idea what to tell her. No idea what to tell any of them. Through the window of the bar, the people of Linden Falls were talking and laughing, home for the holidays, and visiting with friends and family. What am I doing? Jane didn’t belong here. Not in this town, and not with these old friends, pretending that anything about her life was normal.
How could she explain where she’d gone for the past ten years or what she’d been through? With any luck, in a week, she and her daughter would be in a questionably stolen car on their way to disappear forever. If she stayed here and hung out with them, what would her friends think when she just took off again?
“I’m sorry. I really am.” Jane twisted the top of the paper bag in her hands. “But I should get going.”
Ali shrugged. “We wouldn’t expect anything less.”
Nik nudged Ali in the arm. “Jane, you don’t have to go.”
“Yeah,” Hannah agreed. “Don’t go yet. I didn’t even have a chance to tell you about Amelia.” She pulled out her phone and clicked the side button. On the lock screen, a photo of a little girl of about five or six popped up. She had her mother’s blue eyes and hair the color of maple leaves in fall.
Jane’s heart pitched. “She’s gorgeous.”
Hannah reached for Jane’s hand. “And I didn’t get to hear anything about you. How’s the music business? Are you married? Do you have kids?”
A cold wind kicked up, blowing right through Jane’s too-thin coat. She tugged it tighter around her and backed away from her old friends, panic rising in her chest. “I really wish I could stay. But—” Her foot caught on a crack in the sidewalk and she stumbled. Nik’s hand shot out to steady her, but she pulled her arm away. “It really was good to see you all.”
And then she turned and took off down the sidewalk.