Chapter 4
CHAPTER
FOUR
Mira
“There it is,” I say softly.
Lolly’s two-story farmhouse sits proudly on top of a small hill overlooking Sugar Creek.
Ferns sway in the breeze on the front porch, perfectly in rhythm with the swing on the far side, and a welcome flag dances happily from a shepherd’s hook by the steps.
I can’t help the ghost of a smile that graces my lips.
I park beside Lolly’s SUV and climb out of my car.
The afternoon sun is bright and warm, and birds chirp from the trees surrounding the house.
Honeysuckle perfumes the air with its sweetness.
Memories of pinching off their blooms and gently pulling their pistils to try to get a drop of nectar come barreling back to me.
I was never good at it. Markie said it was because I pulled too hard and didn’t have enough patience.
She might’ve been right.
“Hey, sugar!” Lolly calls from the side of the house. “I’m back here.”
I make my way across the soft grass until I spot her kneeling in a flower bed. “What are you doing?”
“There are only two things you do on your knees. Considering I’m here alone, that must mean that I’m pulling weeds.”
I laugh, shaking my head. Oh, Lolly.
My stomach flutters as she gets to her feet, dusting off her knees when she rises.
When Lolly called last week and asked me to come home to talk, I didn’t hesitate to accept.
I’d do anything for her. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t been sleeping soundly and thinking about what she wants a hundred times a day.
“I can’t stand weeds. You’d think, as many times as I’ve plucked them from the ground, that they’d learn not to come back.” She sighs before smiling at me. “What are you waiting for? Come give me a hug.”
“It’s good to see you, Lolly,” I say, breathing in the perfume she’s worn since I was a baby as she envelops me in her arms. My insides flood with warmth, as if her touch extends beyond the boundaries of my skin. “You look great.”
She pulls away. “Your sister has me on a new skincare regimen. For the price, I’d better look great.”
I laugh again, taking her in. She used to be the same height as Markie and me, and possibly in just as good of shape, but the years have gently stolen a few centimeters from her.
Her cheeks are rosy, her eyes bright and bagless, and her bottle-blond hair shines in the sunlight.
Seeing her makes me wonder what Mom would’ve looked like as she grew older.
And I hate that I’ll never know the answer.
A warm breeze ripples between us, carrying the scent of spring. I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with the smell of dirt and dandelions.
Standing on top of this hill next to the house where I ultimately grew up, overlooking Sugar Creek, a sense of nostalgia whispers over my heart. I have so many memories here—good and bad, beautiful and ugly. The way those thoughts can hurt and heal me at the same time is wild.
It’s mostly why I don’t spend a lot of time reliving them.
“How are you feeling?” she asks, leading me through the back door and into the kitchen. “Is your tummy feeling better?”
“Yeah. I thought it was food poisoning at first because I ate some questionable gas station sushi on the way to Markie’s. But it lasted a few days, so maybe it was a stomach bug.”
“You’re not pregnant, are you?”
“What? No.” My face sours. “Don’t speak that filth into the universe.”
She rolls her pretty blue eyes, heading to the sink to wash her hands. It’s such a natural motion, one I’ve seen her do a million times. For the briefest moment, I could be ten years old, finishing up a cupcake at Lolly’s kitchen table, waiting on Mom to pick me up for softball practice.
“How was your trip?” I ask, taking a seat at the small round table next to the window. “Did you have fun?”
“It was a good time. Only four of us ended up going because Freida broke her hip. Poor thing. I’ve been telling her to take calcium, but she’s too hardheaded to listen.” She shrugs, turning off the tap and drying her hands on a dish towel. “We did the Paramount Pour yesterday afternoon.”
“What’s that?”
Lolly busies herself by making two glasses of iced tea.
“It’s over in Paramount. Such a cute little town.
” She hands me a glass. “The businesses all have a drink of some sort set out on the sidewalk. Sometimes there’s a little snack or a game to go along with it.
I did beer pong at a distillery.” She sits across from me.
“And dare I say that I’m darn good at it. ”
“I would expect nothing less.”
She smiles. “Anyway, you just stroll around town and pop into different shops along the way. It’s such a smart way to bring people in.”
“Sounds like it.”
“You should come with us next year.”
I shrug. “Maybe I will.”
The look in her eyes as I sip my tea tells me that she won’t get her hopes up. That’s probably for the best.
I glance around the kitchen as Lolly takes a drink, noticing a few new additions to the curated chaos of Lolly’s style.
A digital photo frame is propped up on the counter, a gift that Markie gave her for her birthday.
Two new platters hang on the wall above the powder room.
I’m surprised there’s room, considering she’s been adding to that collection for decades.
There’s a new glass-tiered serving tray on the baker’s rack, too.
Shifting in my seat, I begin to ask what she wanted to talk with me about, but she beats me to the punch.
“So how have you been?” she asks. “What’s new with you?”
“Nothing, really. Same crap, different day.”
“Are you still renting the space above the bakery?”
I nod. “My lease is coming up next month, and my landlord offered to lower my rent if I sign an extended lease. But I don’t know. I don’t really want to commit to something long-term, especially when I don’t know how long I’ll want to stay there. What if I wake up one day and want to leave?”
Her gaze lingers on my face for a few beats longer than it should, longer than is comfortable. There’s a question in her eyes. There’s something she wants to say. But whatever it is, she holds back.
And that makes me nervous because Lolly doesn’t hold back.
I bite my bottom lip, pulling my teeth across it as I give her extra time to share what’s on her mind. She wanted me to come for a visit so we could talk. Does this have something to do with that?
She takes another drink, extending the maddening silence between us. The longer we sit staring at each other, the more time I have to try to sort out where she’s going with this. We were talking about my apartment … aha! I know what she wants.
The relief is real.
“I know you think I should take the extended lease,” I say, exhaling a long breath.
This has happened before, but not for a long time.
When I first moved out at eighteen, she made me promise to come back once a month—and I did.
But as I’ve grown older, FaceTime has taken the place of many of those visits.
I can’t really blame her for wanting to see me in person, especially when she’s ruminating over my life choices.
And knowing that’s what she wants to talk about is like a boulder removed from my chest.
“But I don’t know that it’s right for me,” I say, hoping to put her at ease.
“While I agree with you that eventually I need to settle down and plant roots, I just don’t think now is the time.
I do know that my current living situation isn’t the place.
But I promise to visit more, and I’ll try to move closer to you if I do leave Kentucky. ”
She hums. “I’m happy to hear that we’re on the same page.”
“About what?”
“About you settling down.”
I sigh, falling back into my chair. Here we go …
“You can’t run from one place to another for your whole life, Mira,” she says over my exasperation.
“I’ve made it this far.”
She groans, shaking her head at me.
I hate that we disagree about this, and that we disagree so passionately.
It wasn’t always this way. Lolly used to see my travels as a form of freedom, me exploring the world.
Now she sees it as though I’m running from life.
If I were running from life, I’d pick a tropical island with tons of pineapples and no sharks.
“Look,” I say, leaning forward, taking my sunglasses off the top of my head.
“I know you’re worried about my lack of …
permanence. That I don’t stay anywhere long enough for it to stick, and that I don’t have retirement set up or stellar credit in my name.
But I don’t want all of that, and I really don’t think it matters. ”
“You’re missing the point.”
“Am I?”
She huffs a breath.
“I’m not against settling down some day, and getting married and having kids,” I say, hopefully appeasing her a little bit.
“There’s a part of me—granted, buried deep, deep down in the pit of my soul—that likes the idea of having a partner.
But men are so gross these days. They either bring nothing to the table, or they bring everything and expect me to fork over every piece of myself in exchange for it. ”
“That’s not true.”
I laugh. “Have you tried dating lately?”
“Yes, actually. I had a date last weekend with Greg from the butcher’s shop.
And I could’ve gotten laid at the Paramount Pour, but I had the girls with me and couldn’t get away.
They’d be lost without me there to guide them.
Hilda wouldn’t know how to call a rideshare if her pension depended on it. ”
I bury my face in my hands.
“Speaking of Hilda,” she says, rising. “I need to call her daughter and tell her to check her mom’s diabetes meds. Hilda bottomed out on us twice at the Pour, and I know she won’t tell Christina about it.” She pats my shoulder as she walks by. “I’ll be right back.”