Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Now
Raine
“ T here you guys are!” Olivia’s voice chimes over the crowd.
Zane is following behind her with Annabelle on his shoulders, and it’s adorable. Witnessing Zane and Luke take on the role of fun uncles has me in a puddle of mush. I give Annabelle a wave before Zane places her on the ground, and she runs toward me.
“Raine! Did you like the flowers Daddy and I picked out for you?” She points to the bouquet I’m clutching.
“Absolutely! Thank you so much for them.” I bend down to her level, my knees cracking as I do, and I bring her into a hug.
“Wanna go have some girl time?” Olivia whispers into my ear.
I nod, waving goodbye to everyone, and wrap my arm around hers. A little space would do me some good, because being around Ryland has me feeling confused. I keep having to remind myself that I can’t rekindle a bad breakup over a few weeks. Things are strained between us, and I don’t know how to properly manage my emotions around him. Everything feels so foreign and yet familiar all in one.
I also have to return to Rockdale at some point. I have a job and an apartment that I can’t just run away from to chase down the idea that maybe he and I can finally have our happily ever after. Putting all my eggs in that basket is foolish and I need to make smart choices for my life. I’m just not sure what that is at the moment.
Olivia tugs me forward through the crowd of people, and I catch a peek at Ryland over my shoulder. He is watching us, and I give him a smile before turning away and following Olivia.
We venture into a few shops and end up back at The Groovy Bean because can you really have too much coffee? We’re in the bathroom, and I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror. I feel breathless from laughing so much with Olivia. My cheeks are flushed, and my face holds a grin that almost has me unrecognizable. It’s been so long since I’ve felt like this.
Even in the midst of grief, joy can be found.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Olivia says next to me and gives my reflection a wink.
With iced coffees in our hands, she leads me down the street toward the opposite end of downtown where I haven’t ventured yet. As we make our way down the busy streets, she bumps her shoulder into mine and asks, “So…how are things going with Ryland?”
“What do you mean?” I reply, acting dumb.
She lifts a brow, silently telling me she knows better.
“Okay, okay. I’m honestly not sure where we stand. The past few weeks, we’ve sort of gravitated slowly back to each other, sharing hugs and holding hands. That’s it, though. I’m scared to take it anywhere else seeing as I don’t live in Covewood anymore, you know. Even if we rekindled something, what could come of it when I’m back in Rockdale?” My fears are all laid out, and an unreadable expression passes over Olivia’s face for a split second, there and gone, before I can decipher it.
“Spit it out,” I say. It’s my turn to lift a brow at her.
“Well, what if you moved back here?”
I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about staying a dozen times a day. It’s scary, thinking about giving up one life to gain another. However, the more time that passes with me being back in Covewood, the less I want to return to Rockdale. I haven’t allowed myself time to really sit down and think about it, though.
Before we dig into the issue at hand, Olivia waves her hand in a showy way toward a small storefront with large windows and a gorgeous mural painted on white brick, with a large sign that reads Potter’s Art Studio .
“Here we are!” Olivia announces.
The name triggers a memory. I know this place and that it’s owned by Cindy Potter, who was one of my Mamaw’s favorite students. Mamaw taught an art class at the local community college and had mentioned how proud of Cindy she was and that she loved this place. Before I know what I’m doing, a bell chimes above my head as I enter the studio with Olivia trailing close behind me.
The studio is bright with white walls filled to the brim with art and photographs. Wooden shelves line the walls, holding pieces of pottery. I notice a familiar photograph of blades of grass and yellow flowers surrounding the camera, looking up toward the sky. The photograph is one of mine. One I printed and gifted to Mamaw when I was in high school.
“Your grandmother insisted that I hang this photograph in the studio. I always loved the perspective you had in your photographs. How you see the world around you,” Cindy’s friendly voice echoes across the room as she makes her way toward us.
I feel the stinging of tears at the mention of Mamaw and fight against them. Once Cindy is in front of us, she gives me a sympathetic smile and brings me in for a tight hug—one that I really need and appreciate. As we pull away, she blinks away her own tears.
“Johanna was incredible,” she states and looks around the space. “She was the one who pushed me to open this studio—a dream I told her about back in college. She even donated some money and artwork to get this place up and running. I—” her voice cracks, and it’s enough to break me and force the tears to stream down my face.
Being in this space makes me feel so close to her. The colors, the possibilities, how she helped Cindy’s dream come true… It makes me so proud to be Johanna Wiley’s granddaughter.
“I miss her,” Cindy admits and wipes her cheeks. She takes a deep breath and gives us a sad smile. “I’m still torn up about her passing. I know you are too. Gosh, I’m a mess. I’m sorry.”
“I am too. It’s okay.” I give her an encouraging smile, the best that I can. “She left behind a huge hole in this world after she passed. It’s not the same without her.”
Cindy nods her head, agreeing with me, and I feel Olivia’s hand slide into mine. She gives me a knowing smile and squeezes my fingers. My eyes wander around the room once more, and I’m drawn to the two large paintings on the far-left wall. One is an oil painting of daisies. The second is a watercolor of wildflowers.
“She always loved painting flowers,” I say, more as a whisper, but Cindy smiles in agreement.
“I refuse to sell these. I know that sounds bad for business, but I love having a piece of her here, you know?”
“I do.” I think of the sunroom at the farmhouse that has turned into a memorial room for Mamaw, the piece of art that will always stay unfinished sitting on the wooden easel. I plan to leave it right there as a reminder of her for as long as I need.
“She was always so proud of you. There was never a day in class that she didn’t mention you. She would share stories or show a photograph you captured. She always kept some in frames along her bookshelf in her office.”
Fresh tears blur my vision. Mamaw always made sure that I knew how proud of me she was. But hearing someone else say it, after losing her, really touches my heart.
“Thank you,” I say softly, and we give each other another hug. “I needed this. Needed to see you and this amazing place. I’d love to come back soon,” I admit, my heart already beaming with the thought of spending more time in this happy little space. “I’ve always wanted to learn pottery,” I add, pointing toward the potter's wheels in the corner.
“You’re welcome anytime. Hey, actually, I have been wanting to host a class about photography for the community. I want to start hosting a free class once a month. If that’s something that would interest you while you’re here, maybe we could work on something together?” Cindy pulls out a card from her back pocket and hands it to me. Once it’s in my hand, I feel my spirit move.
It's as if Mamaw is standing right next to me, her hand in mine instead of Olivia’s, giving me a little nudge that says stay . That I’m needed here. That I can find my place in Covewood again, answering all the questions I have been pondering for days now.
“I’ll be in touch,” I tell her before Olivia and I make our way back outside into the sunshine. I turn to look at the building once more, noticing the For Rent sign in the building next to the studio, before following Olivia down the street.
We walk in silence as we make our way toward the stage. The scents from the coffee shop and freshly bloomed flowers that sit in pots along the street fill my nose. The wind blows softly against us, carrying with it fallen blooms from the nearby dogwood and redbud trees that line the sidewalk.
My name is tossed out in greeting with a wave, and I realize something. I knew Rockdale was missing something before, but I wasn't sure what. Now, I recognize it’s missing foundation—belonging, stories, and community.
I didn’t have Felix waving at me from across the road with a half-eaten burger held between his fingers. Or Luke patrolling the crowded streets, sneaking a hug as he walks by. A chorus of friendly whistles when I wave to the guys who work at the garage down the street and are friends with Papaw. People here value family and love.
Olivia must see the worry written on my face as she places her hand on my shoulder, giving me a comforting squeeze. Friendship isn't a big thing. It's a million little things. Like how Olivia knows just how to make me laugh or when to comfort me. Or how she always seems to know how to read my mind and how to say the right thing at the perfect moment.
“Let’s go find the others,” she says, leading the way.
Moments later, we are close to the stage. Streets have been blocked to provide a safe area for people to mingle together. We spot Zane, Ryland, Luke, and Annabelle all huddled together, sharing the biggest onion petal I have ever seen. Ryland, as if sensing us near, looks up first and tries to smile over his mouthful of food.
“There ya are,” Zane says in greeting, and I reach over and give him a side hug.
“Luke, how bad did the mac and cheese fight get?” Olivia asks and hops over toward him.
He groans at the memory, which causes a fit of laughter among the group again. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Zane steps closer to Ryland and makes a silly face at Annabelle, which gets her to giggle, before pulling out his phone to show us a video. “I live-streamed the whole thing. It was epic.”
“I knew I could count on someone to get it!” Olivia laughs and pushes against Zane’s chest.
“I texted the guy who was working the music to play a more appropriate song for the fight, and he chose wisely,” he adds, winning Olivia’s smile again.
“You’re the best!” she chimes, and Luke stiffens as Olivia gives Zane a hug and then shows him something on her phone. They laugh together, going into their own little world. Zane and Olivia are a lot alike. I wonder why they’ve never dated before. Or have they and I wasn’t told? I make a mental note to find out later.
We all enjoy a few songs together before Luke has to get back to patrolling. I peer over at Annabelle who’s snuggled in her dad’s arms, looking like she’s about to fall asleep. Zane nudges Ryland before saying, “She’s looking tired. Want me to take her home?”
“I can take her,” Ryland replies, but Zane is already shaking his head, his eyes flickering toward me, and gives a wink. “Are you sure? You don’t?—”
“Annabelle, Uncle Zane is going to take you home,” he says and reaches over to grab her from Ryland.
Annabelle doesn’t protest as she leans her face on his shoulder and wraps her arms around his neck, her eyes already shutting. Ryland thanks his brother, gives Annabelle a kiss, and promises to tuck her in soon. She doesn’t respond, already crashing from all the sugar and excitement of the day.
Olivia announces that she’s going to go find Luke. Ryland and I are left by ourselves, and he takes the lead, quickly wrapping his arms around me, pressing my back close to his chest. He draws me closer, as if even a centimeter of space is too much for him. My back is on fire from where his chest is touching me through my cotton shirt.
We listen to a few more songs. I make sure to act as obnoxious as I can with my dance moves just to get him to laugh and dance along with me. We chuckle at the eye rolls we receive along with others who join in the dancing. He makes sure to keep me close as we dance to the slower songs, and he sings the lyrics into my ear for only me to hear .
The tension between us builds. Maybe it’s the music, the twinkling lights strung above us, or the fact that I’ve decided to push aside my worries and doubts, but having his hands on me, in a place that is so familiar, makes me feel like we are the old Raine and Ryland.
Maybe pieces of them are still alive after all.
Ryland pulls me closer to him until my nose reaches his chin. He has one hand gripping my hip while the other is tracing the side of my cheek. The shining light from the stage is reflecting in his multicolored irises, and I catch the hint of gold and green woven together as his eyes dance with mine….right before they land on my lips.
My heart is hammering so hard in my chest I’m sure he can feel it. Ryland leans down, inching his lips closer to mine, and in a panic, I lean my forehead onto his and grab a hold of what little control I might have left. I place a hand onto his chest, pushing away just an inch.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, not quite understanding why I’m holding back when I’ve wanted this for so long.
“It’s okay,” he says, backing away to give us both space.
The last part of the show is an encore of fireworks blasting into the sky above us. Ryland looks up, the light reflecting off his eyes, and I keep staring at him. This moment carving out a nook in my chest where I know it’ll sit, like a time-worn fragment of magic I’ll remember it even when everything else starts to fade.