Sorting through the last of her closet, Eliza boxed up the clothes she no longer wanted and carried them out to her car. If she hurried, she’d be able to drop them off at Goodwill before making the forty-five-minute drive to Ashland City for lunch with her mom.
* * *
Once they were settled over caesar salads and minestrone, Beverly voiced the same concerns she’d been clinging to since Eliza had told her mother about the new job.
“And you’re sure this is the right place for you? It just seems rather . . . remote.”
Eliza took a deep breath and tried to keep her tone light. “It is remote. But I’m kind of excited about that part. It feels a little like an adventure. Besides, there’s a town thirty minutes away.”
“With three whole stoplights, I’m sure.” At least her mother smiled then. “What’s it called again? Rose Hill? Rose . . .”
“Rose Creek.”
“That’s right—Rose Creek. You won’t live in town though, will you? You’ll live at the school?”
Eliza nodded. “There has to be a counselor on site at all times, so yes. But I’ll have time off when I need it. There will be four of us who live there full-time.” She paused and looked at her mom, willing her to recognize the sincerity in her voice, the hope she had for the work she would be doing. “Mom, this is the kind of job I’ve been waiting for. It’s why I got my degree—so I could do this kind of work, with these kinds of kids.”
“And there isn’t anything you could do here in the city that would provide the same opportunity? Something not quite so rustic?”
Eliza shook her head. “This is it, Mom. I’m sure of it. It’s the opportunity I want.”
Eliza knew the remote location wasn’t what was bothering her mother. She suspected she simply felt the same desperation Eliza did. They both understood the possibility of distance damaging the relationship they’d been working so hard to build.
Still, Eliza knew she had to go.
Five hours east of her home in Nashville, Rockbridge Academy was a therapeutic boarding school for troubled teenagers. The school was an island of civilization in a sea of wilderness, buffered by National Forest land on three sides, making the remoteness of its eighteen-acre campus feel magnified.
But everything about the school—from the administrative staff to the counselors Eliza would be working with, even the atmosphere and energy of the place—led her to conclude the job was just the opportunity she was looking for. It was remote but not so remote that her mother couldn’t visit. That was her hope, anyway.
Eliza pulled a package out from under the table, where she’d stowed it before her mother arrived, and handed it across the table. “Here—this is for you.”
“What on earth is this for?”
“Just open it.”
She watched as her mother untied the string and carefully removed the brown wrapping to reveal a framed photo. “It’s the mountains in North Carolina,” Eliza said. “Not far from Rockbridge.”
“It’s lovely.” Her mother paused, her eyes focused on the picture in her hands. “You know, I think I might have you worried that I don’t want this for you. That’s not really it. I want you to be happy, and if this job makes you happy, then it’s what I want too.” She looked up. “But I can’t pretend I don’t hate this. You’ve been my anchor, Eliza. Even when you were a little girl, you were the one solid thing . . .”
Eliza reached across the table for her mother’s hand.
“Logically, I know I’ll be fine. The distance doesn’t have to change anything.” Beverly took a cleansing breath and pulled the napkin from her lap to wipe the tears from under her eyes. “But I will miss seeing you.”
“I’ll miss you too, Mom.”
“I’ve just been thinking how ironic it is that after all you went through, now you’re on the other side of things—you’re the one helping instead of being helped.” Her mother shook her head. “I’ll never stop wishing things had been different.”
“Mom, stop. I don’t have any regrets, all right? We had it rough for a while, but I’m okay. We are okay.”
Her mother’s smile was bittersweet. “You’ve told me that a thousand times. I wonder if I’ll ever start believing it.”
“It’s always hardest to forgive ourselves.” Eliza leaned her elbows on the table, and her mother gave her a funny look. “What? What is it?”
“Nothing. That was just the kind of thing your father would have said. And then the way you leaned on your elbows—for a moment, you looked just like him.”
Eliza brightened. Her mother could pay her no higher compliment.
The tragedy of her father’s cancer had been an agonizing blow for Eliza’s entire family. Eliza was young and confused in the wake of his death, but her mother’s grief had been insurmountable. In her silent, suffering world, alcohol had become the only drug that could dull the pain, leaving no room for her two daughters—daughters who were adrift, looking for a lifeline to help them through their own mourning. But they’d found no lifeline in their mother. As a result, Eliza had turned to her father’s memory for comfort, idolizing him, imagining the parent he would have been if he’d never been ill.
As a grown woman, she was wise enough to know that had he lived, he would have been just as flawed as her mother—as anyone. But the sheen of Eliza’s youthful adoration still clung to her memories. In her heart, her father would always feel just a little bit better than perfect.
Eliza watched the frown lines on either side of her mother’s face deepen. Beverly cleared her throat and shifted in her seat. “So, Gina came home last night.”
“What? Why didn’t you tell me? Is she all right?”
“I still haven’t seen her. I only know she’s home because her things were all over the kitchen when I got up this morning. I knocked on her bedroom door, but it was locked, and she didn’t answer.”
“You really should change your locks. She can’t keep doing this to you.”
“Change the locks? Why? So she can sleep in the street? She only comes here when she has to. If I turn my back on her, where will she go?”
“Maybe she’ll finally get the help she needs.” As she always did whenever they discussed her sister, Eliza quickly grew frustrated. “Mom, this has to stop. She’s wasting her life away, and you’re letting her.”
Her mother’s face turned stony. “She’ll figure things out. I got better. So will she.”
“You got help,” Eliza said sternly. “You went to rehab. You stopped drinking. You got better because you tried. Gina isn’t trying. She’s hiding, and she’s drowning herself in alcohol. Before long, it’s going to be too late. Not to mention how brutally unfair it is for her to show up at your house every day reeking of alcohol. Do you let her drink in the house? How is that good for you?”
“Now you stop that.” Beverly’s voice was sharp. “You stop turning therapist on your family. Your sister’s doing the best she can. She didn’t handle things like you did, but she’s going to be all right. She’ll come out of it soon enough.” She crossed her arms tightly across her chest, an indication to Eliza that as far as she was concerned, any conversation on this particular subject was over.
Eliza wondered why her mother even bothered to tell her about Gina. Their conversations always ended the same way. Her mother had been sober eleven years. Eliza wished her mother’s experiences made her more aware of the seriousness of Gina’s condition, but it was far more complicated than that. Her mother felt responsible for Gina’s struggles. She hadn’t been there when Gina had needed a mother most, and Eliza knew her mom felt guilty for it every single day.
The guilt made her soft, even indulgent to Gina’s whims. She was too gentle, too tolerant. But Gina needed something more than just a shoulder to cry on or a bed to sleep in. She needed help.
Eliza offered. Over and over she offered to help. But Gina just pushed her away. She pushed everyone away.
“Just be careful, all right? Don’t let her take advantage of
you. And don’t let her—” Eliza looked up, waiting for her mother’s gaze to meet hers. “Mom, I just don’t want her to pressure you or make you feel uncomfortable.”
“Oh, Eliza, I’ve been sober long enough to know that I have no desire to go back to where Gina is now. I appreciate your concern, but I can’t abandon her. I’ll be fine. I promise.”
Eliza only nodded.
“When do you leave?” They both seemed happy to change the subject.
“Early Saturday morning. I’ve got the rest of this week to pack my room at the condo, and then I’m off. Are you coming to the going-away party on Friday night? Lexie said she invited you.”
Beverly smiled. “Of course I’ll be there. I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”
* * *
Eliza climbed out of her SUV and stretched her arms over her head. She’d made the trip in just under four hours and was stiff from being in the car for so long. It was a beautiful day. The sky was a brilliant blue overhead, the trees a vibrant summer green. Eliza couldn’t help but feel invigorated as she took in her surroundings. She was parked in the lot behind Rockbridge’s main administration building, just in front of a row of small apartments, where the on-site staff resided. Her apartment was on the very end of the north building, number five.
Her heart rate quickened with anxiety as she thought about how alone she was in this new chapter of her life. Sheer momentum had pushed her through the past few days, but now, with no one but the birds for company, she found her solitude a little overwhelming. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. This is right, she reminded herself.
Knowing she couldn’t stand in the parking lot forever, Eliza reached in through the open driver’s side window of her car and pulled out her purse. The keys to her new apartment were inside, and she was anxious to get settled in. She pulled out her cell phone to check the time. Six thirty-four—still plenty of time to unload before dark.
“I hope you’re not trying to find a signal.” Eliza looked up. An attractive, sandy-haired man stood in front of her, hands on his hips, broad smile stretched across his face. “When I first started working here, I searched the campus high and low for even one bar of service and never came close.”
Eliza smiled. The man spoke with a subtle accent that she couldn’t immediately identify. It was charming though, as was his warm and welcoming smile. “I was just checking the time.” She extended her hand. “I’m Eliza.”
“The new therapist,” the man said. “I recognize your name. Glad to have you here. I’m Flip Marshall.”
“It’s nice to meet you. Do you live on site?”
“Down there in number two. Can I help you carry anything in?”
Eliza moved to the tailgate of her SUV and opened it, handing the largest suitcase to Flip. They walked to her apartment together, and Eliza held the screen door open with her hip while she unlocked the main door to her new home.
The apartment had a large front room and an efficiency kitchen in the back corner, as well as a small table with two chairs and a sitting area with a matching couch and chair. The floors were polished oak, and a soft blue area rug filled the space directly in front of the couch. Eliza was surprised to see a small television on the back wall.
Flip must have been watching her gaze. “Satellite television, high speed Internet, and don’t forget your trusty landline telephone,” he said. “It’s the same number for everyone—the school’s main number—but you’ll have two different extensions, one for your office and one for personal use.” Flip placed the suitcase he was carrying by the door to the bedroom just off the sitting area.
“So your bathroom is through the bedroom, and everything else you can see from here. Not too bad, is it?”
“It’s perfect.”
Flip moved back to the door. “What else can I carry?”
Eliza willingly accepted his help, and the two made fast work of moving her boxes and various belongings into the small apartment. When they finished, Flip ran down to his own apartment and grabbed a couple of cold water bottles, bringing one back for Eliza. The weather was much cooler in the mountains than it had been in Nashville when Eliza had left that morning, but it was still warm enough to work up a good thirst.
“So what do you do here at Rockbridge?” Eliza asked Flip. They sat companionably on the steps in front of her apartment.
“I’m a wilderness team leader.” Flip’s cargo shorts and hiking boots matched well with his responsibilities.
“So you’re the one who takes them off into the woods. Do you bring them all back?”
Flip smiled a little half smile. “So far, so good. Though I won’t say I haven’t been tempted a time or two to leave someone behind—at least long enough to give ’em a good scare.” He put his empty water bottle on the stairs between his feet. “In all seriousness, I’m always amazed at how much the kids change when they’re out in the woods. When they’re free from distractions and all the regular pressures they’re used to—I don’t know. They all seem like good kids. It’s a good program.”
When Flip strung several sentences together, it was easier to hear the slight lilt to his voice and pick up on the roll of his r’s and the way he clipped the end off many of his words. “So, obviously you’re not from around here,” Eliza said. “What brought you to Rockbridge?”
“What? My Southern accent not convincing enough, is it?”
“Not hardly. I’m guessing Irish?”
“Look at you,” Flip said. “I’m impressed. Not everyone guesses right the first time.”
“I watch a lot of British television. I’m pretty much an expert.”
Flip laughed. “Is that so? I didn’t realize they let the Irish onto British television, though I guess someone has to drive the cars and run the pubs.”
It was Eliza’s turn to laugh. “You said it, not me.”
“And you better not either. I’d be insulted if you did. But since I’ve the blood of an Irishman, I can say what I want about my fair homeland.” He nudged Eliza and gave her a good-natured grin. “I moved to the States with my parents when I was thirteen. I’ve been here long enough that if I try really hard, I can almost sound American. But where’s the fun in that? Besides, girls like the accent.”
Eliza shook her head. She wouldn’t deny the certain charm Flip’s accent gave him, but she wasn’t about to let him know she felt that way. “Where did you move to? To North Carolina?”
“No, we moved to Richmond, up in Virginia, not too far from here. Virginia was home until I came to Rockbridge. What about you? Where’s home for you?”
“I grew up in Ashland City, Tennessee. It’s just west of Nashville, but I’ve been working for Davidson County in downtown Nashville for the past few years.”
“A big-city girl, are you? I hope the quiet mountains don’t put you to sleep.”
“No, I’m looking forward to a quieter life.” Eliza looked around the near-empty parking lot. “Not everyone lives on site, do they? Are you required to live here?”
“I don’t have to, no. It’s just you, Natalie, Jeff, and James who are required to live on site. And, of course, the dorm managers too. I guess Frank and Dr. Adler won’t ever move away either—they live in the cottage over by the entrance.”
Frank and Elena Adler were Rockbridge’s owners and directors.
Flip continued. “We’re not kept on quite so short a leash, but there are a few more of us who live here by choice. It’s almost too convenient not to if you’re on your own and don’t have a family to go home to.”
“What’s Jeff like?” Eliza asked. “I met James and Natalie when I interviewed for the job, and they seem really great, but Jeff was away when I was here, so I didn’t get to meet him.”
“You’ll like Jeff too. He’s a little rough around the edges, but once you get to know him, you can’t help but like him.”
“Who else lives on campus?”
“Jeff lives down in one. I’m in two. Henry Jacobson, he’s the English teacher, liv
es in three, Natalie in four, then you, here in five.” Flip paused and ran his fingers through his hair. “Let’s see. One of the teachers—history, I think—she just moved into number six of the south building across the parking lot, and then James is in seven. I think the last three on the end are empty. No, that’s not true. The maintenance man—Gerald, a prickly old man, that one—he lives at the very end, in ten.”
“You know I’m not going to remember all of that, right?”
“Sure you will.” Flip cracked his knuckles with a flourish. “Here’s your first quiz. Pulling up right now is the resident who lives in apartment number three.”
Eliza rolled her eyes and looked up to see a dark sedan pull into the parking lot. It came to a stop just a few spaces down from where she and Flip sat. A man in khaki dress pants and a light-blue button-down shirt climbed out of the car, keys bouncing in his hand. He moved to the trunk of his car and lifted the hatch, momentarily obscuring Eliza’s view.
“Well, I haven’t met him before, so it could be Jeff, but he looks a little too polished for anyone to call him ‘rough around the edges.’ So that would make him the English teacher, yes? I can’t remember his name.”
“Very good; that’s Henry Jacobson. And no, he’s not rough around anything. He might actually be the most cautious man I’ve ever met.” Flip raised his arm over his head to wave. “Ho, Henry! How are ya?”
Henry closed his trunk and looked up, lifting his hand in brief acknowledgment. Without another glance in their direction, he moved to his apartment, unlocked the door, and swiftly pulled it shut behind him.
Eliza raised her eyebrows and looked at Flip. “Nice guy?”
“When he’s anything at all, he’s very nice. But most of the time, he just keeps to himself. He’s into books and things. You know the type.”
“I like books.” Eliza’s tone was light. “What does that say about me?”
“It’s not just the books. He’s just so reserved and quiet. And he never wants to hang out with any of us. I don’t know. I just imagine him sitting in his apartment with his nose in a book. A bit presumptuous of me, huh? Don’t get me wrong—I like the guy, but I guess he just seems . . . sort of boring.”
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