Hometown Girl

by Courtney Walsh

  This unspoken competition between them had always been there, simmering below the surface, pushing Beth forward in an effort to outdo, out achieve, out win. But now, it had turned into something even uglier.

  Beth shrank under the weight of Dina’s stare.

  “Will you be ready to open by August?” Dina turned the glass around in her hand.

  Beth glanced out the window and saw Drew in the yard with a few of the workers. She hadn’t asked about the timeline lately. Part of her didn’t want to know. “I hope so.”

  “I’ve already planned to bring Harrison back here when you’re open. We really want to support you however we can. Maybe we can talk about an ad campaign—you know, when you’re ready?”

  “I doubt we can afford you.”

  Dina flicked the air. “I’d give you the best-friend discount.”

  For the briefest moment, Beth saw a glimmer of sadness behind her eyes. It skittered away as quickly as it had come, but it was the first indication that there was more to Dina than flashy cars and beauty-queen fashion.

  “You’ve been back in Willow Grove a lot lately,” Beth said.

  Dina studied her glass. “I have. Thought I’d use the chance to check up on you. I have to admit, I never thought I’d see you on a farm, covered in dirt, but I guess things change, don’t they?”

  Beth looked away.

  “I admire you for doing something like this—completely unexpected. It’s hard to break out of the mold everyone else puts you in. Especially when that mold turns out to be different than you thought.”

  What was she saying? That she resented her successful company, gorgeous husband and wealthy way of life? Didn’t she know she was living the dream? Beth’s dream.

  “It’s just . . .” Dina’s eyes found hers.

  “What?”

  “You’re not hiding out here, are you? I mean, this is what you want, right?”

  She sat with that for a moment. “Hiding from what?”

  “I saw Michael’s engagement announcement in the newspaper this morning.”

  Beth’s heart dropped. “Oh.”

  She hadn’t seen it. She’d been too busy digging around in the dirt.

  “You hadn’t heard?”

  She shook her head. “But I’m not surprised. I wish him nothing but the best.” How many lies could she tell in one day? She didn’t wish him the best. She wished him the same heartache he’d caused her. That made her an ugly person, and she knew it.

  “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you.” Now it was Dina who lied. She was probably thrilled to dole this kind of news out to her high school frenemy. Beth wanted her to leave. She wanted to get back to her gardening, to something soothingly monotonous that took her mind off everything else.

  “To be honest,” Dina said, “I always kind of thought you two would get back together.”

  To be honest, so had Beth. The realization of that stabbed at her.

  “You always were everyone’s favorite couple. And when I saw the two of you at the reunion—well, there were still sparks.”

  Beth remembered. Michael had walked in wearing that custom-tailored suit, and Callie had let out a low groan. “Why does he still have to be so good-looking?” she’d said. Beth had waved her off, but as soon as she saw him, her heart flip-flopped and she was sixteen again, out on their first date, wondering if he was going to hold her hand during the movie.

  Their life together flashed in front of her. High school sweethearts. Homecoming royalty. They’d gone to the same university and made plans together. Future plans. They were supposed to live happily ever after in a city apartment overlooking Lake Michigan. Ten years after graduation, they’d start their family. Two kids. House in the suburbs.

  But he’d ruined it. He’d taken all of those years they’d spent together and turned them into wasted time.

  Why, then, had she agreed to dance with him at the reunion “for old times’ sake”?

  He’d slipped his hand around her, placing it on the small of her back as if he were comfortable with her, familiar with the curves of her body. Because he was. In a way nobody else was.

  That night, as he held her on the dance floor, she looked up into his eyes, searching for a sign that he regretted what he’d done.

  “You’re still so beautiful, Beth,” he said. “We had so many good times.”

  She could smell the alcohol on his breath as he pulled her closer. “That was a long time ago, Michael.”

  “But we were good together, weren’t we?”

  She didn’t respond.

  “We could be good together again—just for tonight.” He turned his face into her neck, lips brushing against her skin. “I have a limo.” His hands had crossed out of comfortable and into intimate. He held one of her hands to his chest, while his other one skimmed the outline of her body. “I know you miss me. I can see it in your eyes.”

  Beth inched away from him and forced his gaze. “Is this what you’ve become?”

  He loosened his grip on her, but only slightly.

  “Or is this who you’ve always been?” Had she been too blind—too lovesick—too caught up in her perfect plan to see it?

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Her eyes scanned his, and she marked the moment in her mind. “I hope you have a wonderful life, Michael,” she said, severing the connection between them. “I really mean that.”

  “Where are you going?” He had tried to pull her back, but she’d remained—as she always would—just out of his reach.

  It was the closure she’d needed. And yet now, sitting across the table from Dina, her heart still ached knowing there was someone else in his life, someone he loved enough to spend forever with.

  “Well, I’m glad to know this whole renovation thing is working out for you.” Dina’s words pulled Beth back to the here and now.

  “You said yourself it was a brilliant idea.” Beth hated that a lump had formed at the back of her throat.

  “It’s charming, I’ll give you that.”

  “But you don’t think it’s brilliant anymore?”

  “I didn’t say that.” Dina leaned back slightly in her chair. “Are you guys okay for money?”

  “We’re fine,” Beth said—a little too quickly. Dina was the last person she wanted knowing about their financial struggles.

  “Good. I’m glad.” She smiled again. Why couldn’t Beth find any trace of condescension on her face? Dina was famous for that. “You’ve sure got the town talking. Everyone is really excited about what you guys are doing for the community.”

  The thought made Beth nervous. What if she let them all down? Again?

  “Well, I should go. I have a meeting in the city this afternoon.” Dina scooted her chair back and stood up, lingering for a few long seconds, as if she didn’t want to leave.

  “Thanks for stopping out.”

  “Of course. And I’m serious about the ad campaign. Turns out, I’m pretty good at those.” Dina opened her sleek designer bag and pulled out a small white card. “Here. Call me when you’re ready, and we’ll put something together.”

  “Thanks.” Beth took the card, hating that it was Dina whose kindness made her feel like a charity case.

  As they stood on the front porch, Dina turned toward her. “Good luck.” She opened her arms, and Beth stepped into a quick but awkward hug.

  Dina’s phone rang. “I need to go. See you soon!”

  Beth leaned against the railing and watched as the reminder of the life she wasn’t living tiptoed through the grass, got in a sleek silver Lexus and drove away.

  Chapter Twenty

  Evenings at Fairwind Farm were too quiet. Drew had spent the last three weeks surrounded by people—volunteers, and now his crew of guys—but when the sun went down and the place was covered in moonlight, that’s when his mind played tricks on him.

  That’s when the real nightmares started.

  He’d cleaned the old farmhouse, repaired broken doors and cabinets. T
wo nights ago, he’d fixed the downstairs toilet, and next week, he’d paint the walls, then refinish the floors.

  Now, with another day waning, he used the old hand-pump well behind the farmhouse to clean up. Beth stood off in the distance, watering the seeds she’d planted in the raised beds.

  She wore cutoff shorts, a white tank top and a button-down shirt tied in a knot at the side. And that goofy-looking garden hat she’d found in the house. He couldn’t decide if she looked ridiculous or adorable.

  He’d seen the magazine clippings in Beth’s notebook on the table when his mind had been especially anxious. He’d needed a project, so he’d built the beds. He hadn’t expected they would make her so happy.

  After seeing the way her face lit up, he wanted to figure out a way to do it again.

  How long had it been since he’d made another person happy?

  Still, he found it nearly impossible to talk to her about anything other than planting seeds or repairing barns. He wanted to, though, for maybe the first time in his life.

  Oh, he’d had plenty of girlfriends, but he always broke things off before they could become too serious. He’d never wanted to talk about himself the way a woman always seemed to want a man to.

  But there was something different about Beth. He wanted to know her. Was it because he had the impression that maybe she was hiding something too? She was hard to know, which made her all the more intriguing.

  She was all business. Very professional. But he didn’t care about any of that—he wanted to figure out who she was. He knew that wasn’t going to happen, though, so he settled instead for making her happy from a distance.

  It didn’t take much. A new mailbox. A vase of freshly cut lilacs on the kitchen table where she worked. And maybe next week he’d have time to work on a chicken coop.

  Anything to make her smile.

  If he wasn’t careful, he’d convince himself that making her happy around Fairwind Farm was the same as making her happy in her life.

  It wasn’t. And he’d be smart to remember that.

  What was it about her that made him want to be known?

  She glanced up and found him staring. He was caught, but he couldn’t look away—not yet. He just wanted to see that smile dance around in her eyes. To think—even for a misguided second—that he’d somehow caused something so pure and beautiful? It was enough to keep him going for another week.

  Her face softened and she waved, smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

  What would she say if she found out the truth about him? That he was a coward—a disappointment?

  Being “known” was out of the question, and he’d accepted that a long time ago. So he’d have to be content making her happy from the sidelines. That’s what was best, for both of them.

  As the sun disappeared behind the cornfields in the west, Drew made his way out to the barn he’d discovered the week before. He had to hand it to Birdie—she might be old, but she was stealthy. Even though he knew she was there, he’d seen her only when he’d gone looking for her.

  And he’d gone looking for her more than once, drawn back to her, to the possibility that something she said or did would provide the answers he’d been searching for.

  He walked inside the barn and called out, though he had a feeling she’d seen him coming from her window.

  “I haven’t had this much company in years,” she said without looking at him.

  “Am I bothering you?” He stopped halfway up the stairs.

  “Are you kidding me? Half the town has decided I’m a tinfoil-hat-wearing lunatic, and the other half just doesn’t like me. I could use a friend.” She eyed him from behind her easel. “Something tells me you could too.”

  “Nah, friends are overrated.” He climbed the rest of the stairs and sat down on a too-soft purple velvet sofa.

  She shoved the jar of bubblegum at him. “Here.”

  To be polite, he took a piece and unwrapped it, then popped it in his mouth. While he didn’t consider Birdie a friend, it was nice to have a conversation with someone who actually knew who he was.

  “Have you told the blonde the truth yet?”

  He met her eyes but didn’t respond.

  “I see.” Birdie took the pair of reading glasses that hung by a chain around her neck and propped them up on her nose, squinting at something on her easel. “What are you waiting for?”

  The taste of bubblegum exploded in his mouth. “I don’t want her to know about any of this.”

  “Why in heavens not? Maybe she can help you.”

  Drew blew a bubble, let it pop, feeling like a ten-year-old again. Some vague part of him remembered sitting in here with Birdie and Jess. “What’s she going to do, crawl inside my head and figure out what’s broken?”

  Birdie plunked her paintbrush in the water jar. “Did you ever think maybe you didn’t see the man? Maybe you don’t have a single answer locked inside your mind.”

  Drew shook his head. “There’s something there. I can feel it.”

  “Why? Because some adults told you there was.”

  He didn’t want to talk about this.

  “Maybe the adults got it wrong, kiddo. And telling that pretty girl the truth isn’t going to run her off.”

  “I lied to her, Birdie.” He couldn’t tell Beth the truth now. They’d been working together for three weeks—he’d missed his window. Besides, he didn’t want people knowing he was the reason Jess’s case had gone cold. What would they think of him then?

  She took the glasses off and stood, still behind the easel. “Well, then unlie to her.”

  He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “It’s not that simple.”

  “That girl cares about you. She’s not going to hold it against you that this terrible thing happened to you when you were ten years old.”

  He spit the gum into the garbage can. You could only chew Bazooka Joe for so long. “How do you know she cares about me?”

  And why did his pulse race at the thought?

  Birdie sat back down on her stool. “A woman knows.”

  “She just needs me to get the farm ready.”

  “Keep telling yourself that, sonny.”

  Birdie was obviously seeing things that weren’t there. She glared at him. “I think you need to realize you didn’t do anything wrong here.”

  The words hung there, thick and heavy, the way dense fog hung over the meadow in the cool mornings.

  “You were as much a victim as Jess was. And shame on those adults for not making sure you realized that.”

  “I’m not a victim.” He stood.

  She walked over to him, standing at least a foot shorter, and stuck her bony finger into his chest. “You were just a boy. You shouldn’t have had to carry the weight of any of that. And you’re still carrying it—I can see it on your face. I could see it the first day you walked in here.”

  “I’m fine, Birdie.”

  “Then why did you come back?”

  He swallowed the lump that had formed at the back of his throat. It caught him off guard, this rare, unwanted emotion that proved she was right.

  “I’m here to restore an old farm,” he said.

  “Oh, honey,” she whispered, taking a step back, obviously aware of his pain.

  “I have to go.” He started down the stairs. “I’ll see you later.”

  She didn’t respond, and he didn’t look up at the window as he walked through the yard toward the farmhouse. Instead, he wrestled with the pain that jabbed at the back of his mind, begging for his attention.

  As he approached the house, the windows on the second level caught his attention. For three weeks now, he’d slept on the couch in the living room, memories flooding his mind. But he’d never stepped foot on the second floor.

  He hadn’t been ready for what he might find up there.

  Remnants of Jess.

  Their second-to-last summer at Fairwind. He’d been nine and complained the entire drive. He hadn’t wanted to spend a whole mon
th on a stupid farm with no one to play with but some dumb girl.

  But Jess had surprised him. She wasn’t like the girls he knew back home. She’d grown fearless. She’d jump into the creek fully clothed if it meant catching a frog. She’d pick up garter snakes by their heads and fling them out into the cornfield. She’d ride the horses and complain when her dad wouldn’t let her go faster.

  He’d been so intrigued by her. Maybe even smitten, as much as a nine-year-old could be.

  They’d become friends that summer. Good friends. And the next year, he couldn’t wait to get back to the farm. They fell back into their comfortable friendship almost immediately, but only a few short weeks later, Fairwind was filled with police officers and search and rescue teams. And people ordering him to remember.

  “You must’ve seen something out there, son,” one cop had said. “Nobody can hurt you now. We need you to be brave and tell us what you saw.”

  He’d searched his mind for something—anything—that would help them find Jess. His own parents begged him to remember something. A sound. A smell. A face. But he came up empty.

  His silence had made them think he was traumatized or hiding something. Their constant prodding had made him question himself. So here he was, trying to do what he should’ve done all those years ago. Trying to remember. He awoke in the middle of every night disoriented and drenched in sweat, having relived another nightmare that refused to tell the whole story.

  Drew moved quickly through the kitchen and living room, straight to the stairs before he lost his nerve. Night had fallen, and he knew he couldn’t wake up panicked one more time.

  Desperation propelled him up the stairs, light from the moon filtering in from the window in the hallway above him. When he reached the top, he stopped and drew in a deep breath.

  He noticed the door to Jess’s bedroom was partially open, and a picture formed in his mind. On the rainy days, they’d sprawl out on her floor looking at her bug collection. She’d speak with such excitement, showing him the new bugs she’d found down by the creek. Jess had found each one in her encyclopedia, labeling them one at a time.