10. Natalie
Natalie
This is a scenario I hadn’t had the foresight to plan for. My family left town. How will I ever find them?
I suppose I could go into town and find someone who would know where they’ve gone—there was certainly never a shortage of folks who kept up with the goings-on of the town.
I doubt that much has changed. The lady who stood in the door of my childhood home only knows that the owners who sold her the home were named Kent and Shirley Berns.
I think she also mentioned something about an RV, but I hardly heard that part as I thanked her and walked away.
Now I’m back in my car, flabbergasted as I think of my next steps. I don’t want to seem like a creep by sitting outside the woman’s house for long, so I take one long final look at the house that holds my childhood, and I drive back the way I came, to the center of town.
I park outside Le Fou and enter the little coffee shop.
As soon as I take my first step inside, the most glorious scent fills my nose.
I pick up on hints of maple and a floral aroma as I make my way to the counter.
I scan the space, taking my time, wondering if I’ll recognize anyone sitting at the tables.
The café definitely didn’t look this inviting nine years ago, and the newness of it all makes my lips twitch.
Maybe Maple Lake isn’t the same boring old place I remember it to be.
It’s definitely had its fair share of updates.
As I lift my gaze to the barista at the counter, I meet a woman’s eyes, dark and hidden behind round wide-rimmed glasses. Her hair is black and curly, pulled into a half-up-half-down bun. She’s watching me with wide eyes like she’s seen a ghost.
I approach the counter with hesitation, hoping she’ll look away first. But she doesn’t.
Her tan skin glows under the string lights hanging overhead, and the counter shines almost too brightly from the reflection, making me squint.
The woman doesn’t even blink. I frown, wondering now if maybe she’s just psychotic.
“Umm,” I hedge. “Hi.”
The woman, probably a couple years older than me, finally blinks, her mouth agape. She pushes a stray curl from her face and presses her glasses higher on her nose.
“Hi.” Her voice sounds forced, fake. “How are you?”
How am I? A little freaked out with her staring at me like that, that’s how I am.
I give her half a smile. “I’m good,” I answer, slowly and politely. “Thanks for asking. Can I get a large iced lavender matcha latte, please? And”—I look through the assortment of pastries and desserts in the glass case—“a poppy seed muffin?”
“Uh-huh, yeah. Of course.” She types my order into the little screen in front of her, blinking up at me a few times as she does, and then tells me my total. A young man comes out of the back kitchen area and starts mixing ingredients together.
I hand the girl my personal credit card. She swipes it, then hands it back, but she lets go of it too soon, and it falls onto the counter with a light slap. She’s acting so strangely, almost like she’s nervous. I frown out of confusion.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” she says, grasping at the card on the countertop. As she lifts it, her eyes catch on something she sees on the front, and her eyes fly to mine. “Your name is Natalie?”
My brows lower further. “Uh, yeah.” I take the card, quickly stuffing it back into my bag. What is going on? I just need to grab my matcha and get the heck out of here.
Her beautifully tan hands rest on the counter as she whispers, “You’re Juliet’s sister.” It’s not a question, but a statement. She knows who I am. She probably knew it the moment she saw me walk in, and the name on my card just confirmed her suspicion.
My eyes widen, leveling with hers. “Yeah, I am. Is she here?”
She nods. “Not here here, like, in the shop. But she still lives here, in Maple Lake.”
“Can you tell me where she lives? Do you know if my parents are here? Or my brother?” I can’t believe my luck that someone would recognize me so quickly and know where my family is.
The woman looks behind me, and I follow her gaze over my shoulder. Nobody’s standing in line behind me, and there are only a few other customers preoccupied in the café.
She leans forward, probably so no one can hear her words echo over the exposed beams that stretch across the tall ceiling.
“Jules lives in a house across the lake, and Tyler lives in the city. But your parents…” She shakes her head, and my stomach plummets. “They moved away. They live in an RV and travel around the country.”
The RV.
A sigh escapes me. I was so close, but most of my family seem just out of reach. Except Juliet.
“Thank you. Thank you so much.” I smile gratefully, feeling a slight glimmer of assurance that I’m on the right path.
The girl sticks her hand out toward me. “I’m Aliana Swell. Jules is my best friend.”
Then it dawns on me. I remember seeing Aliana in our house a few times.
Jules and I had a lot of the same friends when we were young, but Aliana was Jules’s friend from high school.
Once they started hanging out together, I became less noticeable.
Less exciting. Less fun. But I guess that happens naturally when there’s a two-year age gap between sisters.
I shake her hand. “I remember you, just a little. You came over a lot.”
She smiles. “Yeah. We both look pretty different compared to the old days, huh?”
“Yup.” I nod and move my eyes around the counter, not sure what else to say.
She fills in the gap. “I like your hair.”
“Thanks,” I say, smiling at her and reaching up to touch my waves.
Aliana beams. “Juliet will be happy to see you. Are you going over there now? I can give you the address.”
I pick at my nails, unsure what I want to do now.
The sound of the espresso machine reaches my ears.
“You know, I might. But I might sit a little with my latte first.” I chuckle nervously.
“It’s been nine years. What’s another few minutes, right?
” I rub an itch on my forehead and shift my weight from one foot to the other, my nerves already skyrocketing.
Her brows furrow. “Of course,” she says, her voice slightly skeptical.
She looks back at the guy making my drink, then grabs a piece of paper from under the counter.
A pen appears as well, and she scribbles something down before handing the paper over to me.
I take it. “That’s Jules’s address and her phone number. ”
My shoulders relax the slightest bit as I examine the paper more thoroughly than needed. I hold the paper up. “Thank you for this.”
She nods, with something like hope playing over her features as her dark curls bounce from the movement.
The young man making my coffee calls my order from the other end of the counter, so I say goodbye to Aliana, grab my matcha and muffin, and walk out to sit in my car.
Once I’m off the street, I fold in on myself, feeling small, like I no longer belong in this town—and I suppose I don’t.
But I want to belong somewhere, I just …
don’t know where that is exactly. Could I ever belong here again?
I’m nervous to approach Jules; the future between us is full of unknowns.
How will she receive me? How will she react?
I can only pray I’m able to assemble enough courage to face my sister again.
Finally, my nerves have simmered as I’ve reached the bottom of my flower-flavored green drink. The fear of an oncoming panic attack sits on the back burner, threatening to boil over, but I breathe and tell myself I’m okay to keep it at bay.
Jules must hate me for what I did, for disappearing like that. Why wouldn’t she?
And my parents. I wish they were still in Maple Lake so I could get the hard part over with, between everyone at once. But I’m also relieved to know I won’t be facing them today.
And my poor older brother, Tyler. He didn’t deserve any of this. He was always the kindest brother, always taking time to include me in the fun when he could.
Sun rays shine through my window, caressing my cheek and warming my face. It soothes me. I close my eyes, breathing in this feeling and letting it cover me—the feeling of peace, even if it will only last for a second.
When I open my eyes, I think I’m finally ready to take a walk near the lake. I doubt I’ll actually be brave enough to talk to Jules today, but maybe I can at least scout out where she lives so I know where to find her tomorrow.
It’s the perfect day for a walk, and I’m enjoying the way the breeze carries an earthy scent as it plays with loose tendrils of my hair.
The lake, situated at a bend in the road not far past the café, is wide and oblong—like an oval, but bent more like a kidney bean.
Large houses sit on the far side of the glistening blue lake, with large decks and short yards that reach right to the water’s edge.
A paved walking path loops around the lake, with lampposts, benches, and the occasional wooden picnic table nestled near the trail.
For a second I imagine what it might have been like to take walks here and picnic with my sister.
What might she be like now? An adult, deep in her profession—maybe in a relationship like myself?
She’s going to hate that I’ve come with my shovel to dig up the past.
My sandals make flopping sounds as I walk.
Six green-headed ducks make a water landing, flapping their wings against the blazing sun, and I smile at the image.
I forgot how beautiful Maple Lake is, with its calm moments, its vivid colors, and its larger-than-life trees and rolling mountains. I keep walking, taking it all in.
As the houses get closer, I hear children laughing and squealing.
On the horizon I spot a few people in the distance.
There’s a blue house with shutters painted a darker blue than the rest of the structure, and in the backyard a woman plays with two little boys, who I assume are her kids.
The smaller one—probably around four-years-old—clumsily throws a ball toward the woman, and it flops onto the vivid green grass, rolling toward the water.
A long-haired white dog runs circles around all of them.
The woman prances after the ball, catching it before it can get too far.
The kids squeal, clapping their hands to show their excitement.
It’s adorable. The woman’s long brown hair hangs across her face as she laughs with the kids, who wait patiently for their game to continue.
Before tossing the ball back into the yard, she slides her hand behind her neck, pushing the long strands of her full chocolate-colored waves to the side.
Even from this distance—some twenty yards away—the smile that I once knew as well as my own appears, red-cheeked and full of joy.
I halt in my tracks, one foot still raised above the ground, and I stumble to catch my footing. I attempt another step forward, but my feet feel glued to the path, like quicksand has formed in the cement. That woman … It’s—
My heart races, eyes beginning to burn, my chest tightening under the pressure.
She’ll hate me for running away.
Running away.
Disappeared.
Past.
Hate Me.
I can’t do this right now. I can’t. Not right now.
I turn and bolt back to my car.