by Rimmy London
She would have said more, like how her heart burned in her chest every time she’d visited as if she’d burst with happiness. Or how she saw visions of a future she never dreamed was possible for her, but only when she was here. It was a type of magic she wanted more of. But she couldn’t risk him chasing those visions away. She glanced up to see him watching her.
“Well, you seem happy here, I can’t deny that.” He smiled softly, but it was brief. “Have you called the police about this morning? I mean, it could have been a raccoon, but who knows for sure?”
She hesitated, not wanting to talk about it.
“If you want to feel completely comfortable here Abby, you need to get this figured out.” He stopped and rested a hand on her shoulder. She tried not to let him see how much it affected her, leaving her skin tingling at the weight of his hand. “Someone is sneaking onto your property and leaving dead animals behind. It’s morbid. And whoever is doing it, they need to be arrested.”
He dropped his hand and she sighed. He was right. “I’ll call them right now,” she promised.
Chase looked like he was going to get back to work from the way he studied the house and tightened the toolbelt hanging around his jeans.
Abby wondered if the other men noticed the difference in appearances and the way Chase was more like an advertisement for tools, or jeans, or aftershave. He looked back at her, and she flinched.
“Here,” she said, reaching for the leash, “I’ll take Champ back.” There was a lot more she needed to say, especially with the way her heart was pounding. But Chase looked preoccupied and was no doubt making a list of things he wanted to get finished for the day.
“Okay,” he said, still distracted by his study of the house, “I’ll see you later.”
“Bye.” Abby made sure to turn and walk away decidedly—swiftly—nearly running. It was the only way she could stop herself from confessing her feelings for him in a big, mushy display. He was sure to disappear forever if she did that.
Chapter 17
The police reacted just as Abby thought they would. No doubt they were pushing the mute button to keep from laughing in her face. But eventually, they did agree to send someone out. The animal had been cleaned up, but after seeing footage from the trail-cam, the officer was advised to watch the property overnight. He didn’t look happy about it, either.
Abby knocked on his window with a cup of cocoa in one hand. “Thought you might like some hot chocolate,” she offered, handing him the cup.
He smiled but didn’t seem in the mood for conversation.
“I can’t thank you enough for keeping me safe tonight,” she added, feeling a little dramatic but completely real at the same time.
The officer’s eyes lifted to hers, and he seemed to see her differently. He nodded. “Whatever I can do, miss. It’s my job.”
She left it at that, not wanting to push their newly cordial relationship.
It had been weeks since she’d changed her mailing address, but she hadn’t received a single letter yet. When she caught sight of the mailbox, she knew she’d finally been located. It was on a beautiful sturdy post stained to match the stone and wood pillars she was having built at the front and back of the house. And a miniature beach house had been specially ordered as her mailbox. It was a little whimsical, but it fit her dreams nicely.
The front of the box had popped open a little, showing at least a dozen letters and magazines tucked inside. She pulled them out in a heap and spotted five gold envelopes. It set her heart racing, and she hurried back to her trailer, wanting to open them as quickly as possible.
Settling down at the small table, she set everything else aside. The envelopes were first. After opening each one, she organized them chronologically and started with
#3. It was a beautiful little request to write her future self a letter as if the next ten years had already happened. Easy enough. She moved on.
#4. Open an investment account.
This one had her pausing, as it was completely different from the previous three. Instead of allowing any creative license, it was a solid definition of what needed to be done. Fine.
#5. Another poetic paragraph made up of only a few lines, but Abby couldn’t stop reading it over and over, until her head could process what needed to be done. To visit her mother’s grave and leave flowers.
It felt like a rock had replaced her stomach, or all her insides completely. She hadn’t been to the cemetery since her funeral, and even that had been a strange kind of torture. To honor someone who had nearly killed her with neglect. She wiped at the perspiration on her forehead and flipped to the next letter.
#6. Which seemed like part two of #5 and just as crushing. To forgive the one you blame the most.
It was obvious to Abby who that was, but the request seemed mocking in its simplicity. Forgive her? Just like that? She pushed the letter aside and reached for the next.
#7. To love the one you’re afraid to love.
Abby’s heart felt too overwhelmed to continue. She could hardly breathe through the emotions battling for attention. Why couldn’t the mailman have found her earlier, so she didn’t have to read all of these at once? Just one drop of poison at a time, please.
There was a light knock on her door, and she lifted her head from the scatter of envelopes. Like little pieces of her heart, ripped off and flung about the table.
“Bee?” Chase’s voice was quiet and sincere, a kindness she knew so well it hurt.
She brought one hand to her chest, trying to calm the pain throbbing inside so she could answer. But her eyes had filled with tears, so quickly she knew she was losing the battle.
“You there?” he asked again, more quietly this time.
Abby walked to the door, already knowing she couldn’t open it. Not when she had lost all control. Her tears bubbled over and streamed down her cheeks as she rested a hand against the door, taking a quiet breath. If only she hadn’t opened those horrible letters.
The steps squeaked as he walked away, leaving her feeling cold and alone. Champ’s collar jingled and she could hear Chase laugh. “Hey, hey—”
She moved carefully to the small window in the kitchen and watched Chase sidestep around Champ, pushing his shoulder playfully and dashing away again. The puppy bounced and twisted, whining and panting in an excited flurry. It made her heart ache even more.
She stepped closer to watch, and Chase’s head lifted, staring right at her. He looked suddenly pained, and she realized she was a mess of tears and sorrow. And now he knew she’d ignored him.
She backed away quickly, wiped at her wet cheeks and stacked the wretched gold envelopes together quickly, doing her best to shake off the shock.
Number three. She’d start there and think of nothing else. It was easy enough, after all. Her mind was eager to imagine all her dreams coming true in the next ten years. What she wanted most, at the moment, seemed impossibly out of reach, but the challenge didn’t say it had to be rational.
She started with Chase, describing in detail their perfect, affectionate relationship. She poured her heart into the words, confessing her complete adoration of him, and his kindness and attention, and how much she loved him. They had a little boy, and of course, he was a mini-Chase. Blonde, shaggy hair and a big smile that got him out of trouble every day.
Their inn was completed, filled with guests and decorations and holiday cheer. People would come once and return year after year, making it an instant tradition. No sorrow lingered. Fear was only a memory. And regret never made it past the front gate. It was perfect.
She paused and bit her lip before quickly scribbling out the rest. The part where she forgave her mother and was grateful for the life she grew up with, which felt like the most made-up part of the whole thing.
Sealed in a plain white envelope, she tucked it behind the stack of gold envelopes, wondering if she’d have to send a copy to Mr. Blakney or if he would just accept her word that it was written.
If only Va
nce hadn’t hit on her, she could request that he find a sensible investment account and set it up. Instead, she pulled out her phone and called her bank, intending to go with whatever they suggested. She wasn’t expecting to be transferred from department to department, only to be left on hold.
Quickly rambled out, in known and foreign words alike, he told her she needed to make the first payment to her mortgage within a month, and it was a substantial amount. The only way she’d be able to pay it would be to obtain the rest of her inheritance. Then, when the money from renters started coming it, the inn would be able to pay for itself. But she hadn’t expected the payment to be due so soon.
“I thought the terms of our contract were—”
“Ma’am, I’ve already listed the terms to you quite clearly. I’m sorry if you misunderstood before. We are going to need the first payment, or we will be take steps to cancel your contract.”
Abby felt suddenly dizzy. “I’ll have an additional inheritance soon. Is there any way to push the date back?”
He grunted into the phone indignantly. “I’m sorry, but in our line of business, money you don’t have is nothing more than money you don’t have. We will need the payment in our account or our hands by the end of the month.”
She sighed, although her heart was beginning to beat faster. “Okay, I understand. I’ll get it to you.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” He sounded like he was going to hang up, so she asked quickly.
“Also, I wanted a recommendation on an investment account… please.”
“For what?” he asked, sounding nearly mocking.
“Investing,” she grumbled.
“Let me transfer you.”
“No, don’t—”
The line disconnected and polite music played quietly. She was on hold. Although she groaned, a dull panic was beginning to tighten in her chest. The possibility that she could lose the house was terrifying. She shook her head, clearing away the fear.
There were only a few more challenges left to receive, even if the ones she’d been given were huge. But how could she just rush through them? She squeezed her eyes shut and let resolve build up inside her, knowing she was going to have to try. Losing the house wasn’t an option.
A dull voice answered the phone, and she took their first recommendation, quickly transferring $1,000 into her new account and hanging up as quickly as she could. She was going to race through the challenges and procure the inheritance money; that was all there was to it.
Her hands shook as she thought of number five, but she pulled on her tennis shoes and hurried out the door. The cemetery was over an hour away, so she wanted to get going. Champ jumped up when he saw her, but he sobered quickly, seeming to decipher her nerves.
“Sorry, boy.” She rubbed his head. “I’ll let you off when I get back.”
She rushed past the house, trying to catch her breath while her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Somehow, she had to find the strength—she had to do it. From the corner of her eye, she saw the patio door open as she passed, but she didn’t slow down. She wanted to get this over with while she had the courage.
“Abby!” Chase shouted just as she’d opened her car door.
She turned reluctantly, feeling everything inside of her soften at the sight of him. He walked forward slowly, although his eyes were a blaze of energy, holding her gaze captive. His mouth opened but no words came out, and he closed it again, shifting his weight as if he didn’t know what to say.
“Uh, the inside’s looking great.” He fidgeted some more. “They’re going to start cutting for those new windows tomorrow. I think that’s a great addition. An inspired idea.”
He smiled back at her, and she took a deep breath, trying to stop the shaking in her hands. But they still trembled.
“That’s great to hear,” she said, suddenly wishing he could go with her. If Chase were there, standing beside her at her mother’s grave, things would be okay. “I just need to run…” She gestured to her car but couldn’t finish her thought out loud. Instead, her eyes slowly wandered back to his. I have to visit my mother’s grave, and I need you there with me.
Even in her thoughts, it was difficult. How could she ask him?
“Ey, new guy!” A rough voice yelled from inside the house.
Chase turned and held a hand up briefly. When he looked back at Abby, his lips lifted into a crooked apology. “I’d better go finish with the kitchen fixtures.” He took a small step and paused, watching her face.
“Oh, yeah,” She nodded decidedly. “Go ahead. I’ve gotta run too, I’ll be back later tonight.” Her next breath wheezed through her lungs as she watched him walk back to the house.
She was on her own.
The drive went quickly, although she still felt like she was in some kind of mystical haze. A dream she hadn’t entirely woken from, one where anything could happen. Like pulling off the road onto a shadowy lane, where willow trees hung in great weeping displays and tombstones littered the ground.
She stepped from her car and listened to the silence, remembering. The path to her mother’s tombstone was easy to trace with her eyes. An invisible trail that had been seared into her memories. She walked it slowly, paying attention to the names she passed to keep one name from her mind.
But when she reached the small gravesite at the edge of the property, she allowed her eyes to settle on its mark. Etched into the gray stone, Loretta Mackay Tanner.
“Hello, Mother,” she whispered. It was a beautiful name, she’d always thought. But now all it brought her was pain. Memories of being a child full of hurt and aching, longing for love when all she received was bitterness and cruelty.
She ground her teeth together, fighting the ghosts of the past until it was too much. With a sob, she sunk to her knees, wishing things had somehow been different, and she could say she was sobbing from a heart broken with love lost, or a sweet and tender bond now obsolete.
But it was only the desperate plea of why. It crushed her lungs and clenched at her heart with a grip cold and painful. Why didn’t you love me? Why wasn’t I enough? A child again, with no understanding and only tears.
It felt like years that she knelt hunched over in pain, reliving the worst of her life. But after the wave of sorrow passed, the pain eased. For the first time in her life, she felt a cool, soothing spring bubble up from somewhere inside. Like it had opened up in the center of her soul and washed clean the memories of the past. With a deep, cleansing breath, she sat back on her heels. Her heart swelled, a strength and happiness like she’d never known slowly engulfed her. The pain still tinted the edges of her mind, but it no longer hurt.
She thought of Chase, of the forest, the Poppyridge house, her puppy, and everything together. Gently, she settled three white roses atop her mother’s grave. A symbol of purity and cleanliness, a fresh start.
She set one hand along the gravestone and was about to stand when her fingers caught on an edge of paper. Fumbling with it, she pinched the object and pulled it from a tangle of bushes that hugged the tombstone.
She stared in shock. It was an envelope with her name, Abigail Tanner, artfully scrawled on the front. Written in pen, the letters had nearly faded away as if it had been waiting years for her to find it.
The glue separated easily as she slid one finger underneath and peered inside. One simple lined paper, yellowed with age, and a small white note were folded together. She lifted them out and opened the note first, recognizing the writing immediately.
— I found this among the small box of possessions that was mailed to me after her death. It’s something you need to see with your own eyes. While there was no excuse for her addictions, there was also no doubt of her love for you, my dear niece.
— With love,
Aunt Sharalyn
With hands again shaking, she unfolded the larger note. A full-page, written in pencil and with an unsteady hand. A hand that was likely tremoring with craving.
— My dearest daughter,
&n
bsp; You are, to me, something so pure and clean. I recognize it, but I can’t be near it. I’m no longer your mother but a demon. The woman who bore you, devoured by a beast that rules the full vessel of what was once a caring human. Now I am neither. It’s only at the mercy of this evil being that I watch you suffer, under what looks like my own hand. I cannot be satisfied by anything other than what the demon craves, and its meals lurk in dark corners.
No tender feeling can penetrate its desire, no love can reason with it. I hardly know what love means anymore. I wish to die, so that you may be rid of me, my sweet girl. I loathe the voice that demeans you, the hand that cheats you, the life you must struggle through. But if one day you find it in your heart to no longer hate me, I will be satisfied. It’s more than I should ever ask, but in this small moment of clarity, I grasp at this hope like a last gasp for air.
And if you should ever forgive me, you would be truly angelic, my little one.
— With stained hands,
Your mother
It felt like her heart would break in two with her memories now intertwined in her mother’s words. But while her vision blurred, her mind was achingly clear with thoughts of a woman overcome with addiction, giving up on life and everything—everyone around her. It was shameful and horrid, but also tragic.
For a fleeting moment, Abby could see a tiny glimpse of a world where her mother was healthy, smiling, and kind. Like a glimpse into heaven. And then it was gone.
She folded the papers carefully, stuffing them back in the envelope. When she stood, it was as if all her pain had simply shrugged off and fallen to the ground at her feet. Suddenly she was free, facing the future with no injuries from her past. She could hear the birds in the trees and chipmunks chittering away. Even the damp fall leaves, as they left their high perch and floated a lazy circle until touching the ground. It all seemed connected, harmonious, and something had changed inside.