Chapter 3
ELLA
“Iknow, sweetie,” I soothe, jostling Violet. Her face resembles her name, a reddish-purple, as she screams her lungs out. “If I could put you down, I’d be able to make your bottle faster.”
Her hands grab onto my shirt tightly, as if she understands exactly what I said. Violet is only six months old. I’m fairly sure she doesn’t comprehend much of anything except for milk, sleep, and her favorite pacifier.
Well, that’s not entirely true. Violet clearly knows that I’m not her mother. My sister, Ember, is. I mean was. My sister was her mother.
Ember was my best friend. I was there through everything.
When she found out she was pregnant by a one-night stand — and then a second time — I stood beside her.
I was with her when she delivered Violet.
I was there when Violet smiled at Ember for the first time, and I was there when Ember told me she’d had a will written up, as a precaution, listing me as Violet and her older brother Oliver’s, guardian.
I just never thought it would happen so soon.
Ember was killed in a car accident when Violet was two months old.
Fortunately, Violet wasn’t with her. She was with me, while Ember ran to the next town over to grab some supplies for our cat showcase/bookstore, Purrfect Books.
On the way back, she was hit by an elderly driver in the midst of a medical emergency. I was told she died instantly.
Violet hasn’t really smiled since. She’ll smirk on occasion. But a beautiful gummy grin? Nope.
“Okay, baby girl, I got it. Here you go,” I say quietly, then laugh as she grabs the bottle with gusto.
Her eyes don’t leave mine as she begins to inhale the formula.
Eyes the exact same shade as her mother’s.
While mine are more sky blue, Violet has ice blue eyes.
They’re almost unnerving when she’s focused on you, like she’s systematically dissecting every part of your psyche.
Quickly walking to the rocking chair in the corner of my living room, I sit with a long sigh.
Life hasn’t exactly gone to plan. I’m raising my sister’s children, living in a three-bedroom apartment I can’t really afford, and am in danger of losing my bookstore because it’s falling apart around me, but I don’t have the funds to fix everything up.
I don’t know where I can go to wave my tattered, white flag, but I keep looking. Things have to get better, right?
I always knew I would live in a small town.
Growing up in Silver Mist Falls, a town a couple hours west of Denver, I loved the quaint area.
My best friends and I would play on my cousin’s ranch, oblivious to anything around us.
My cousin, Ally, knew she’d inherit the ranch someday, and had detailed plans for what she’d do to it.
Some little girls play wedding, mom, or teacher.
We played veterinarian, barrel racer, and animal rescue.
Surrounded by those girls, I was at my happiest.
So when my parents announced we had to move to Eternity Springs because my father had lost his job, I was devastated.
I may not have known what I wanted to do with my entire life like Ally, but I knew I wanted to live in Silver Mist Falls forever.
I cried for weeks after we moved, and barely made any friends at my new school that year.
It wasn’t until the following year that I opened myself up to friendships and began to show interest in the opposite sex.
Specifically, one person of the opposite sex.
Leo Santo.
I saw him before he saw me. I watched how alert he was, how he seemed to memorize things around him without saying a word.
It took months before I gained the courage to smile at him, and even longer before we spoke.
I was halfway in love with him before we had our first date, and could barely contain the words once he admitted his feelings toward me.
Then he joined the Army, and life seemingly got harder and harder.
I begged him to come home, he begged me to move away from Eternity Springs.
We’d break up, last a few months, then get back together.
I felt like I could barely function without Leo, but it was even worse when he was deployed.
I had nightmares all the time. I’d imagine the impeccably dressed soldiers coming to my door to tell me he was gone.
Ridiculous, honestly, because we weren’t married, so they’d have to go to Leo’s parents to deliver the news.
Then I’d wonder which of Leo’s brothers would be tasked with telling me about his death.
Years ago, I’d been close with his twin, Gianna.
We drifted apart, mostly due to the constant break ups and make ups, undoubtedly.
Eight years ago, when he hinted at a reenlistment, and again suggested I move to North Carolina, I’d had enough.
I couldn’t do it anymore. I was withering away, spending days like I was walking in a fog, waiting for what I’d deemed as the inevitable.
How could I survive losing him? I decided my only option was to do it on my terms. End the relationship and move on.
I figured since he was two thousand miles away, I could manage it.
Honestly, I never thought he’d end up at home again, after almost losing his life.
That first time I ran into him, while babysitting Oliver, had rocked me to my core.
Leo had looked down at Oliver, and the shutters that he’d immediately put up had been a shock.
Eyes that had appeared full of pain were then completely devoid of emotion.
He addressed me by name, and then stepped around me. “Ella.”
I hadn’t spoken to him since, three years later.
I’d only seen him a handful of times, and he completely ignored me.
He looks almost the same, but harder. And he limps.
For the most part, he covers it up well.
But I know him. Well, I knew him. I memorized every inch of his skin, all of his mannerisms, and his moods.
No one knew him better than me. I can tell when he’s hurting.
And every single time I’ve seen him in the past three years, I know he’s hurting more than he’ll let on to anyone.
If I had to guess, he’s hurting more emotionally than physically.
My phone rings, jarring me out of my trip down memory lane. Shit. It’s the preschool. “Hello?”
“Hi, Ella, it’s Marie,” the woman says. Marie is the teacher in the four-year-old room at the main preschool in Eternity Springs. “Oliver had an accident again, and there aren’t any spare clothes in his backpack.”
Dammit. I knew I forgot to do something this morning. It’s rare that I take a day off during the week, and I kept Violet home with me. Oliver absolutely loves day care, and would never choose to stay home on my off days. “I’m so sorry. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“No rush. He’s hanging out in a pull-up right now, totally happy. It’s almost time for pick up anyway, so you’re more than welcome to grab him early.”
“Okay. Once Violet finishes her last ounce of formula, I’ll head over.”
At four years old, Oliver has been regressing quite a bit lately.
His pediatrician told me not to be concerned, because he’d lost the only parent he had.
Violet and Oliver had different fathers.
If Ember knew Oliver’s father, she’d never told anyone, and he wasn’t listed on the birth certificate.
Only after her death did I find a paper shoved in the back of her filing cabinet for a guy I’d never heard of, relinquishing his rights to Oliver.
It was a relief, honestly, to know I wouldn’t have to fight any birth parent for him.
While Violet has seemed to struggle to find joy as a baby, Oliver has lashed out in other ways.
He has impeccable speech, but now uses a lot of baby talk to display his emotions.
Regression in potty training has been quite the issue.
Before Ember’s death, Oliver was one of the first boys in his preschool class to triumph over pull-ups.
Especially within the past two months, he’s been having accidents on a more consistent basis.
The pediatrician says there’s nothing wrong with him physically.
He suggested a child therapist, and we’re on a waitlist for a highly recommended one on the outskirts of Denver.
I’m convinced I’m doing an awful job of raising my niece and nephew.
I didn’t even want kids. I liked being the fun aunt who could have Oliver over for a sleepover, then send him back to his mom’s house, so that I could recover.
I had visions of grand adventures I’d have with Violet, but always with the assumption she’d go home afterward.
It’s been a challenge to come to terms with the fact that I am now the mother.
A second-rate one at that. And I feel like I’m failing my sister every day.
After a large belch from Violet, I walk out to my SUV.
Securing her safely in her rear-facing car seat, I begin the short drive across town to the Rising Stars Preschool.
It’s a cold and blustery February day, and dark clouds promise more snow on the way for Eternity Springs.
I’m thankful I only live one block away from the bookstore, and my childcare provider lives next door, so even when the roads get dicey, I can get to and from work safely.