Chapter 29
March in Ashwood Falls, Tennessee, was a mix of winter and spring, kind of like it couldn’t make up its mind. Some days, you woke up to chilly air that made you want to stay under the blankets all day. Then, the sun came out of nowhere, and it felt like spring was knocking on the door.
Spring”s trying to push through, though. I could see it in the flowers poking their heads up from the ground. The birds were chirping like crazy, singing their hearts out like they knew warmer days were on the horizon.
It was like a transition period, where you wanted to say goodbye to winter but you weren’t quite ready to fully embrace spring yet. You took each day as it came, never knowing if you”d need a coat or sunscreen. But that was just life here, unpredictable and full of surprises.
It honestly felt a lot like my emotions right now, caught between the cold grip of grief and the faint warmth of hope. Losing Mom was like winter settling in my heart, leaving it barren and cold. Some days, I woke up feeling like I couldn’t face the world. I just wanted to hide away and never come out. But then, just like the weather, there were moments of brightness. Tiny glimmers of joy peeking through the clouds of sadness.
I know there was a season for mourning, and I was trying to let myself feel it all. But most days, I was stuck in this in-between place, where I wasn’t ready to let go of the pain but also eager for the healing to begin. Just like how March couldn’t decide between winter and spring, I couldn’t decide between holding onto the memories of Mom and moving forward without her.
”Karis!” Mia called from somewhere deep in Hansons bookstore.
Mia convinced me to come to the store, help her reorganize the shelves, put up a few new displays, and change her window display from the Valentine”s theme to one for spring. For the last two weeks, I”d been holed up at my parent’s house, refusing to go out or talk to anyone, Mia included. One-word responses were about all anyone got from me.
Apparently, Mia was giving me time to cope and process on my own, but after two weeks, she was done allowing me to sit in my grief alone. When she called me last night, I reluctantly agreed to meet her at Hansons. I really only agreed with the intention of blowing her off this morning. Except when Mia showed up at the front door of the farmhouse, I knew there was no escaping her. It was best to give in and allow Mia to drag me out of my funk.
”Yeah,” I called, following the sound of her grunts.
”I drug you down here to actually help me not sit over there lost in your thoughts.” Mia huffed.
When I rounded the last tall bookshelf, Mia came into view. She was standing in front of one of the short bookshelves, holding a tower of books almost as tall as she was. I rushed over, attempting to grab a few to lighten her load, when the toe of my shoe caught on the carpet, sending me flying. I bumped into Mia, and we both went down along with the stack of books.
“Oops,” the laugh that bubbled up felt so foreign. It reminded me how long it’s been since I”ve genuinely laughed, and it felt good. I tried to shove down the slight prickle of guilt that came from my laugh. I knew that Mom would want me to move forward and be happy. ”Sorry!”
For half a second, I worried Mia was really mad when she didn’t respond. It wasn’t until I heard her gasp for air that I realized she was laughing. Whenever Mia laughed really hard, it always came out silent. The only thing you could hear was the wheezing breaths she tried to pull in. It was also contagious. There weren’t many times in my life that I could remember Mia laughing this hard and me not following suit.
Giving in, I ended up on the floor with Mia in a pile of books, laughing hysterically. I didn’t think tripping and knocking her down was necessarily that funny, but that”s what you get when you put Mia and me together. Throw in a little sleep deprivation and the fact that I hadn”t laughed in a while, and this totally made sense.
When our laughter subsided, I glanced at Mia. ”Sorry about knocking you over,” I shook my head before shrugging my shoulders.
”It”s all good. I was carrying way too many books anyways,” Mia smiled.
We hurried to our feet and began picking up the books from the floor. When they were all collected and placed on top of the bookshelf, we got to work creating the display Mia planned. At any given moment, two or three displays were set up around Hansons showcasing a specific book. Each display would show off a different genre. We were currently working on a new murder mystery that had just been released by one of our favorite authors.
As I sifted through the piles of books, their musty scent filled my nostrils, momentarily distracting me from the weight of grief that hung heavy in the air. Sorting and rearranging shelves had given me the perfect outlet, a temporary escape from the relentless ache in my chest. Mia stayed beside me, her presence a comforting anchor in the sea of emotions threatening to pull me under.
We worked in sync, our movements almost choreographed as we navigated the maze of shelves. Occasionally, a stray comment or shared joke would break the silence, but mainly, we exist in quiet companionship. I appreciated Mia”s understanding and her unspoken acknowledgment of the pain I carried. She didn’t push me to talk about Mom”s passing, knowing that when I was ready, I’d confide in her.
Instead, she offered me a safe haven, a space where I could lose myself in the monotony of tasks, if only for a few hours. It was a welcomed distraction, a respite from the overwhelming waves of grief threatening to consume me. With each book I placed on the shelf, I felt a semblance of control restored, a small victory in the battle against sorrow.
As the hours pass, the ache in my heart didn”t fade, but it became more bearable, more manageable. Mia”s presence was a reminder that I wasn’t alone in this journey of healing. And although the pain may never fully dissipate, I found comfort in the simple act of being productive—of moving forward one step at a time.
”When do you plan on going back to the bakery?” Mia”s question broke the silence.
”Honestly, probably on Monday. Aspen has been doing such an incredible job, and I”m so thankful for her stepping in for me. There was no way I would have been able to keep Whisk Me Away afloat if not for her, but I”m ready to be back in the kitchen. I miss it.”
Mia nodded her head in agreement. ”I”ve stopped in every few days when I can get away from here, and she seems to be in her element over there. Everyone in town seems to like her. That little boy of hers is the cutest.”
I smiled at the reminder of Aspen”s son. I met him the day she came in for the interview and couldn”t agree more. He was a cutie. I couldn”t help but wonder what her story was. She shared enough with me to know that Hunter”s dad was no longer around.
”Did you talk to her much when you”d stop in?” I asked, curiosity getting the best of me.
”Not much, really. She was always very friendly, but whenever a topic got too close to her past, she would steer the conversation in a different direction,” Mia answered.
“Hmm,” I hummed in response.
”Change of subject, but how are things with Brant?” Mia asked, shooting me a questioning look.
I sigh, knowing I wouldn’t be able to dodge her questions about Brant. ”I”ve been keeping him at arm”s length,” I admitted reluctantly. ”He”s tried reaching out, but every time I think about letting him in, I just... I can”t bring myself to do it.”
”Why do you think that is?” Mia”s tone was gentle, but her question probed deeper than I was comfortable with.
I hesitated, grappling with the words to explain my inner turmoil. ”I guess... I guess I”m afraid,” I finally confessed. ”Afraid of letting him in, of getting close, only to have him leave.”
Mia”s expression softened, understanding dawning in her eyes. ”It”s because of your mom, isn”t it?” she asked softly, her voice filled with empathy.
Tears well up in my eyes as I nodded silently. ”Losing her was... unbearable,” I choked out, the pain still raw and all-consuming. ”I can”t imagine going through that again, letting someone in and loving them deeply, only to have them ripped away from me.”
Mia reached out and squeezes my hand, offering silent comfort as tears trickled down my cheeks. At that moment, I was grateful for her support and for being there when I need someone to lean on.
”It”s understandable that you are struggling right now, but I don”t believe for one minute that your mom would want you to close yourself off to love. She would want you to open that amazing heart of yours and live life to the fullest.” Mia pulled me into a tight embrace.
I wrapped my arms around her and allowed her comfort to wrap around me.
”Just think about it, okay?” Mia whispered before giving me one more big squeeze.
”I will,” I responded, wiping the remaining tears off my cheeks. Sometimes, I was surprised my body was able to produce any more tears. I have cried more in the last two months than I have in my entire life.
Mia”s words rattled through my brain for the rest of the evening, making me question what I should do. Can my heart really take any more heartache? And was the possibility of heartache worth it?