Chapter 43
You know, Possibly isn’t so bad. It’s weird, but it’s actually pretty cool. I’m happy here. I’m happy. I’m good here. I’m okay. Sorry for ignoring your texts. But I’ll be okay. I’ll see you whenever it’s time to see you. I hope you’re happy, too.
Shooting off a message to Mom that night just felt right.
I’d ignored her texts for so long, I’d almost forgotten that she had actually texted me a few times.
She hadn’t specifically asked me to let her know that I was doing well, but she hadn’t said she wasn’t interested, either.
So, I decided to let her know not to worry about me—in case that was a thing.
Letting her know I was happy was more for myself.
To let her know that even though she’d thrown me out on the side of the road on Two-Mile Trail, things had worked out.
So, there.
I’d had nothing else to do as I sat on my bed that night, waiting for the time to arrive to walk over to the barn.
Reading would have been a great way to pass the time, but I found myself staring out at Possibly, thinking over the last few months.
Thinking about the future. Smiling. I smiled a lot as I stared out at downtown Possibly in the dark.
When the fairy lights—which no one had bothered to take down—came on just after dusk, I grinned even more.
No one knew who had put them up, but a new tradition had been made.
There was no reason Liberty Lane—and the rest of Possibly—had to be so dark in the early evening.
They weren’t left on all night, though. Amos switched them all off before he ventured to bed each night.
Just in case anyone wanted to stargaze without light pollution.
The fairy lights were a remembrance of the town’s celebration and Lilly and Amos making up. They also served as a nightlight—a beacon—for everyone until bedtime.
It was a good new tradition. A nightly appreciation of what the mysterious hanger of lights had done for the town.
When eleven-thirty approached, I slipped my jeans and t-shirt back on, pulled on fresh socks, and slipped into my sneakers.
Sneaking downstairs through the darkened house, the living room was aglow with electric blue light.
Jack had fallen asleep in his recliner in front of the T.V.
An old Scooby Doo Where Are You? episode was playing, the sound so low I could barely hear it.
I took a second to grab the old crocheted afghan off of the back of the couch to lay over Jack, somehow not rousing him from his slumber. Then I snuck out the front door, shutting it quietly behind me.
I took my time, strolling along the dark roads of Possibly on my way to Auggie’s barn. The utter darkness no longer bothered me, sent chills up my spine. The shadows that seemed to move of their own accord as I approached Bend of the Road Graveyard didn’t unsettle me.
It’s funny, what one becomes accustomed to once they’ve grown used to their home.
The Possibilian breeze whispering across Susurrus Creek and through town felt like a beloved older relative running their fingers through my hair as I approached the fork in the road by the graveyard.
If I concentrated, I could still smell Starbucks’ treats baking in his ovens, though the café had been closed for hours.
I could nearly hear the chimes from Windchime Hollow tinkling on the breeze.
My mind imagined Wyatt was firing off a round somewhere near Lovelorn Pass Bridge, though I knew that to be some sensory memory repeating itself in my brain.
It all made me smile, not cower.
Possibly, like all towns in America—maybe the world—had its quirks.
When a person first arrives in a town, it takes some adjustment.
Change can be scary. Most of us find ourselves intimidated by the new; the strange and unusual.
Over time, if we are patient and take time to try and understand—even if we can never find it in ourselves to fully comprehend the differences—we learn appreciation.
We learn that change is fascinating.
Soon, those things that once felt strange and unusual begin to feel like home.
I stopped at the north end of Bend of the Road Graveyard, standing on the pavement at the border of the grass as I stared at the large headstone that I’d seen the night Auggie and I had seen our ghosts.
A smile came to my face as I stared upon it again, though I wasn’t sure if I was happy, sad, or just acknowledging yet another quirk of my new home.
The breeze picked up, sending my hair flying everywhere, and I found my eyes drawn to the large tree behind the headstone. Shadows are one thing, but the dark figure standing beside the tree was no shadow. For some reason, I didn’t find myself startled at the sudden appearance of Malia.
She said nothing; made no move to communicate. I stared deeply into the darkness of her hood before glancing back at the headstone. My smile grew and I looked back to her. With a slow nod, which she returned, I carried on down the road. I didn’t look back
1234 by Feist was playing on Auggie’s radio at the barn.
I was barely past the south end of the graveyard when I heard it on the breeze.
Auggie seemed to be playing his music louder than usual that night.
Maybe he was getting jazzed up in anticipation of finally achieving his goal with his installation art.
He’d been working on it before I’d arrived in Possibly, and a few months later, it was possible his end goal was in sight.
Couldn’t blame the guy for going a little overboard with the volume.
As I approached the barn, I spotted Auggie at his worktable through the barn doors, which were cracked and shooting a blade of light out across the walkway leading up to the building.
I thought to knock, considering that I wasn’t sure where Auggie and I still stood, but I knew he wouldn’t hear me over his music.
Of course, the doors were only cracked for one reason—my arrival.
There was no reason to be overly polite.
I pulled one door open just enough to squirm between the two doors, and let it shut softly behind me blocking out the rest of Possibly.
It wasn’t immediate, but Auggie seemed to sense the change in the barn and turned to find me standing just inside the closed doors.
He gave me a careful smile as he leaned, nearly laying on the worktable top, to lower the volume on his radio.
Once the volume was at a reasonable level so that we could hear each other, he spoke.
“You’re late,” he said simply.
I grasped at my pocket, searching for my phone before I realized I had left it on my bedside table.
Did I cause Auggie to miss his chance at another go in the maze?
When I looked back over at Auggie, prepared to apologize profusely, he was grinning at me.
“Turd,” I said.
“Your timing is perfect,” he said. “Just like last time.”
“Oh,” I said, smiling cautiously, “good.”
“We’ve got a few minutes, so…”
I nodded. “Yeah. So…”
“How’s Jack?” Auggie asked quickly to fill the silence between us that the music couldn’t quite fill. “I haven’t talked to him in a few days.”
“He’s good,” I lightened. “He’s really good. He asked me if I’d help him with his next project. We start tomorrow. We’ll see after that if he wants my help anymore.”
Auggie chuckled.
“Him and Sofia kind of have a thing going on,” I said, to which Auggie’s eyes grew wide. “I saw them at the dance the other night. Then again today at the post office. They—”
“So…Jack’s the letter writer? Shirlene’s mysterious admirer?”
I shook my head. “I thought that, too. But no. Jack promises it isn’t him. And I didn’t check to see if there’s a new letter today.”
“There was,” Auggie said.
“Crap,” I kicked at the floor playfully and ventured further into the barn, closer to Auggie. “Did you read it?”
Auggie looked at me like I was crazy, which made me laugh and walk over to finally join him at the table, though I gave him space.
“Something like, ‘I release my love as it cannot be, and hopefully, we meet again as friends one day’, but I’m paraphrasing, obviously,” Auggie said with a sigh.
“Yikes,” I said. “Do you think that means the letters will stop?”
He shrugged. “It’s not like the letter writer will tell us. And Shirlene is pretty quiet. Only one way to find out, right?”
“Right,” I chuckled.
Auggie looked up at the skylight, then checked his phone. My eyes followed his up to the ceiling, wondering if we would have to continue filling the silence or if the time for the maze had come.
“So,” Auggie said, “do you think you’ll beat me at my own maze again tonight?”
I grinned wickedly. “Only one way to find out, right?”
“Right.” Auggie laughed. “Are you…are you ready? It’s almost time.”
“I’ve got my maze crawling shoes on,” I lifted each foot in turn, the sneakers I’d arrived in Possibly no worse for the wear. “And I love to win.”
Auggie gestured at the other side of the barn.
“You want to start on that side again?”
“Up to you,” I offered.
His mouth pursed up in thought. “Yeah. Same places. I’ll beat this side of the maze if it kills me.”
The two of us chuckled and stood in awkward silence for a moment, before I flicked my head towards the other side of the barn.
Auggie gave me a nod, so I left the table to head to the other maze entrance.
Auggie turned the music up a little louder—probably so we could hear it in the maze and the silo after—and put away the few tools he’d had out.
When I got to the second entrance, I turned to find Auggie standing by the lever that would start the maze’s mechanism.
There was no preamble or pomp and circumstance.
“Ready?” Auggie hollered across the barn, his hand gripping the lever tightly, ready to pull.
“Good-a time as any!” I replied.
Auggie gave me a nod.
“One…two…three! Go!”