Unfortunately for me, things never seemed to work out the way that I wanted.
On instinct, I let off the gas and the car slowed down. I was coming up on the turn in the road where my dream house resided. There was no one behind me as I got closer and I pulled to a stop to take it all in again.
She stood majestically at the top of a hill overlooking the large span of acres below. The once light tan hued brick was now an ashen gray, weathered by the heat and sun of summer and the cold, brutal winters. Her roof dawned large blue tarps placed there by my father. Most of her shutters had been removed. The majority lost or broken during storms. I’d seen pictures where they were a darker color, probably black, in contrast to the weathered brick exterior walls. But I always envisioned them as a royal blue.
Her porches had seen better days, though my dad assured us they were solid, just needed some tender loving care. The entire house needed it.
And I wanted to be the one to give it to her.
The inside was barren, a few sheets draped over the antique mantles surrounding the fireplaces, and across the counters in the kitchen and butler’s pantry. When we were younger my sisters and I used to sneak up to the back windows and look inside, but my father put a kibosh on that by having a cop come by and scare the piss out of us. Literally, Aspen peed her pants she was so petrified. She’d only been five at the time, but we still pick on her for it.
“I’m going to figure out how to save you, pretty girl,” I said in my car speaking to the house.
There had to be a way to get in touch with the owners. But I know my father had tried in the past to no avail. It seemed like a hopeless cause.
“I’ll be back,” I said as a goodbye and moved my car down the road again.
Pulling up to the ranch, I noted a few things that needed some fixing up around the entrance. The sign needed a fresh coat of paint and the stone columns desperately needed to be pressure washed. All things I could do for my dad while I stayed at the farm.
I parked my car along the side of the house, in the same spot I used to when I was in high school. It all felt so familiar and strange at the same time. Almost like déjà vu, except I knew that I’d experienced it.
I was going to walk up to the house and it was going to wrap me in its comforting arms like a warm hug and I’ll remember how much I love that part of being home. Each time I stepped over that threshold, it made it that much harder to want to leave. I’d forget how much I wanted to be something more than one of the Easterly daughters.
There was more for me out there.
Right?
Chapter Four - Autumn
“Hey, Daddy,” I said as I stepped into the kitchen and wrapped my arms around my father’s neck. It wasn’t often we found him in the house during the day, but since he’d reached retirement age, my mother pressed him to take weekends off. She knew his heart lay in the fields and it was always going to be his first love, but she pleaded with him to take some time to relax on the weekends. She wanted to spend more time with him.
It was sweet when I thought about it.
They were always affectionate around us when we were growing up. It used to gross us all out, but now I realize how special that was. It was what I wanted for myself and thought I’d had.
“Hi, darlin’. Have a good time in town?”
Setting the bags on the kitchen counter, I went in search of a small vase to place the dwarf sunflower in.
“It was the same as always,” I replied as I tugged a barstool over to the fridge so I could search the upper cabinets.
I was perched on top when a screech sounded below.
“Ah!”
I had to grip the sides of the fridge to keep from falling off the stool.
“Mom!”
“Get down from there this instant. You’re going to fall and break your neck.”
“I am not. Stop exaggerating.”
Opening the cabinets, I huffed when I came up empty-handed. Climbing back down, I returned the stool back to its spot under the kitchen island and began rooting inside the lower cabinets.
“What are we looking for?” my mother said from beside me on her hands and knees as if we were in search of hidden treasure.
Rolling my eyes at her antics, I explained, “I’m looking for a small vase to place a flower someone gave me.”
Immediately I knew I said too much as my mother’s eyes widened in delight and she sat back on her haunches.
“Someone gave you a flower?” It was less of a question and more of her excitedly repeating it back to make sure that she heard me right.
“Who was just handing out single flowers?” my father questioned from his seat at the table, where he continued to play a game of sudoku.
Ignoring them both, I continued to browse the lower cabinets until I reached the one in the farthest corner. I blindly moved my fingers around until I felt something like glass and shaped familiar. Gripping it in my hand, I pulled it free and smiled when it happened to be the vase I was looking for. White milk glass with cute little knobs. It was a favorite of mine.
Stepping over to the sink, I filled it halfway with water, then took it over to the island and set the stem of the pretty flower inside. I knew it wouldn’t live long, but I wanted to admire it while I could.
“It was just a stranger looking for a flower arrangement for his dinner date. I happened to be leaving the store at the same time and helped him pick one. It was his thank you, I guess. Don’t read too much into it.”
Of course, I didn’t tell them how I made a complete fool of myself and how I hoped to steer clear of him for the unforeseeable future.
“Oh! I’ll have to call Betsy to see if she saw any of it. She has a direct view of that area from the bakery. I know she’ll have the scoop on who he is. I can get you all of his information before sunset.”
“Mom,” I said gently as I placed my hand on her arm. She was practically shaking with excitement. I hated to disappoint her. “It was nothing. Okay? I was simply helping someone out. Don’t bother Betsy.”
“Fine. If you say so.” My mother frowned like a disciplined child who was told no. I moved over to the grocery bag and began unloading the contents from her list.
