Chapter 2
Sleeping peacefully wasn’t in the scope of possibilities for Stella, not after the blistering eruption of purple words demanded
her attention in a way that frightened her. When she was younger, Stella saw words every day, especially when her mother was
still with them. As she’d grown, they slowed to appear a few times a week. But never, in all her years of word spotting, had
any of them felt like last night. She desperately wished the purple-words experience was an anomaly, a freak occurrence.
But she had doubts—a truckload of them. Mainly because the words I fell in meant nothing to her, which led her to believe there was more . . . More what? She didn’t know. The idea of more words accompanied
by more pain bred trepidation within her.
At ten the next morning Stella dragged herself down the wide, concrete library entrance stairs, masking a yawn behind her hand.
A pink van idled at the curb. Ariel waved at her through the window.
A group of kids walking up the sidewalk made hand signals for Ariel to press the horn.
She obliged, and the kids burst into laughter at the artificial dog woofing. Oh to be young, rested, and joyful.
Stella opened the passenger door and hauled herself up into the cab. This month Ariel had a stripe of fuchsia dye ribboning
through her blond ponytail. Last month it was sherbet orange, and the month before had been aqua, but only the hair underneath
the top layer. Ariel’s fresh face was makeup free with a tinted sunscreen to protect her fair complexion. A scattering of
tan freckles connecting on the bridge of her button nose trailed along both cheeks. She looked rested, an obvious contrast
to Stella’s exhausted state.
“Thanks for picking me up.” Stella wrinkled her nose at the smell of shampoo and cooked pork. “Why does it smell like—”
“Bacon? Delicious buttery biscuits?” Ariel finished. She reached behind her head to a built-in metal shelf and retrieved an
oversize white paper sack. She handed the bag to Stella. The bottom was still warm.
“I swung by the diner and grabbed breakfast for us. You know how packed it is on Sundays, so I thought we could drive to the
park but dine in so we can enjoy the AC. At first I considered a quick morning picnic, but—”
“It’s June and definitely too hot?” Stella said.
“Like swampy hot,” Ariel agreed. “You should see the line at Frost Bites.”
Stella buckled her seat belt. “It’s probably a mile long.”
“At least two miles, and it’s not even lunchtime.” Ariel shifted the van into Drive. “Can you imagine what July and August
will feel like?”
Stella nodded. “Like walking on the sun.”
“Barefoot.” Ariel slipped on a pair of oversize silver sunglasses and turned up the radio.
“Under the Boardwalk” blasted on the oldies station, and Ariel belted out the tune as the van wound its way through town toward the city park.
She glanced over at Stella. “You’re not singing.
Why aren’t you singing? We love this song. ”
Stella yawned again and shrugged. “You take the solo today.”
Once they were parked and gazing out over a vibrant-green swath of grass and mature oak trees, Stella unpacked the bag on
the dashboard. There was an egg white, kale, and tomato biscuit for Ariel and a bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit for Stella.
Ariel had also ordered extra biscuits to share. Stella divided the wad of flimsy brown napkins and unwrapped her biscuit.
“I didn’t think to ask for plates,” Ariel said, folding down the paper wrapped around her biscuit.
Stella waved off the idea that they needed a fancier setup. “Just more trash to bother with. How’s your morning been? Any
outrageous requests?”
Ariel covered her mouth and half chewed, half laughed. “Pretty tame morning. I had an early wash and trim first thing over
in Willow Lake, and after this little break with you, my day is jam-packed. I’m counting on this breakfast to hold me over
through the afternoon.”
“You need me to bring you lunch?” Stella asked. “I don’t mind, and Arnie won’t care if I cut out for a bit.”
Ariel shook her head, and her moonstone earrings swayed. “Nah, but thanks. I’d rather push through and then take a longer
dinner break to eat without stressing about running behind.”
They ate in silence for a few beats. Stella’s mind drifted to last night’s words, and she rubbed a ghost ache from her collarbone.
She couldn’t work out what any of it meant by overthinking, but that didn’t stop her brain from darting all over in an attempt
to solve the mystery.
As she bit into the biscuit, her mind refocused on breakfast. The local diner, Grits & Gravy, baked the absolute best biscuits in the world, and Stella would debate this with anyone, knowing she’d win.
Unlike stereotype diners that were grease pits, Grits & Gravy was anything but a sloppy, grease-filled locale.
The food was an unusual combination of comforting and sophisticated.
The menu was filled with homey favorites, but all the ingredients were fresh and food was cooked to order, elevating the usual diner fare.
The buttery biscuit had a crunch on the bottom with a soft, pillowy, layered center, and Stella couldn’t imagine anything
more perfect to sandwich between it than her favorite breakfast combo: bacon, eggs, and melted American cheese.
“These biscuits are everything,” she said.
Ariel nodded. “Divinely inspired.”
“Mind-blowing.”
Ariel lifted her hand and waved it through the air. “Miraculous.”
Stella laughed. “You win.”
Ariel poked the last bite into her mouth. “These biscuits win.”
Stella glanced out the passenger-side window. A young man tossed an orange Frisbee to an overly eager border collie. A jogger
ran by on the trail that wound through the park. Just thinking about going for a run exaggerated Stella’s fatigue. She reached
for a napkin and wiped a blob of cheese from the corner of her mouth.
Ariel cleared her throat and turned down the radio’s volume. “Maybe I’m wrong, but you seem a bit off today. I’m also interested
in why you were a six yesterday. Does it have something to do with why you’re giving off a muddy vibe today?”
Stella paused, confused by the statement and wondering if somehow Ariel knew about the purple words. Then she remembered their
texts last night. “Oh . . . it’s nothing worth talking about.”
Ariel pointed at Stella’s face. “You have the worst poker face. Actually, you have no poker face. As you said the words, your facial expression drooped and you got sad eyes.”
Stella tried to look offended, but she wasn’t. Ariel knew all of her expressions and diversion tactics. Stella finished her
biscuit, then took a slow inhale. “Muddy vibe? Sounds gross, which is probably accurate. I didn’t sleep well.”
“Any particular reason?”
Stella nodded. Multiple reasons, but she wasn’t ready to talk about the words yet. “I burned a journal yesterday.”
Ariel’s eyebrows rose dramatically. “Like some kind of ritual? I know people burn candles and papers with messages on them
to release bad energy or to cut energy cords, but you? You burned a book? You don’t even dog-ear the pages.” Ariel glanced out the window. “Have we slipped into an alternate universe? What was in
the journal? Symbolic writings?”
Stella held up a hand, her buttery fingertips reflecting the sunlight. “Whoa, that got real woo-woo real fast. A ritual, seriously?
What kind of ritual would I be doing? No, it was everything I’d been writing for and about Wade during the past six months. I’m over it. I’m tired of
feeling connected to him, so I burned the journal in the library’s furnace.”
Ariel twisted off the cap on her water bottle and took a long drink before responding. “That’s kinda like a ritual. You were
hoping to sever your connection by burning everything you wrote about him.”
Stella shrugged and wiped her fingers on a napkin. “All those words . . . burned.” Lost forever. And yet she still felt every one of the words vibrating inside her. Burning the journal hadn’t erased what happened from
her heart. She thought of the golden words that slipped out of the furnace.
Surrender. Anew. Forgiveness. Maybe she should start a new journal, write those three words at the top of a clean page.
But that didn’t feel like what she was supposed to glean from them.
Understanding what the words meant and how they were connected to her life
had never been as confusing as the past two days.
“How do you feel now?”
“Confused,” Stella admitted.
“Should I assume by you being a six last night that it didn’t go as planned?” Ariel asked.
Stella opened her own water bottle and took a drink. “Why can’t I get over him?”
Ariel cut her gaze over to Stella and pursed her lips. Then she toyed with the turquoise pendant hanging from her necklace.
“Because you don’t want to.”
Stella choked when she tried to swallow. Drops of water dribbled from her mouth. “What?” she squawked. “Why would you say
that?” She wiped her mouth with a thin napkin, tearing it in her roughness.
Ariel inhaled a slow breath and then pinned her Caribbean-blue eyes on Stella. “Now, don’t get mad, but if you wanted to let
it go, you would. There might be a bit of bitterness lingering inside you. I can help you get it out—”
Stella bristled. “I’m not bitter!” Then she immediately flushed with embarrassment and sagged against the seat. She thought
about the older woman visiting the library yesterday—she’d been bitter for twenty years. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t yell at you.
I didn’t sleep much last night.”
Ariel’s understanding smile sent a wash of guilt over Stella. “For what it’s worth, I think burning the journal was brave.
It shows you’re trying to let go, and that’s something. You’ve been through a lot in the past four years. Leaving Memphis, losing your dad, moving home, and then spending a year with Wade, hoping he’d come through, only to realize he was . . .”