“In its own way, yeah.”
“But don’t you ever wonder what it might have been like to finish school? I’m not kidding when I tell you that you do amazing things with your hands.”
“I don’t know, I guess,” he shrugged. “I love to create things, unique things, and I loved the entire learning process, but I would have wound up on the farm anyway. It was where I was meant to be, but the thing that always got me was that I felt like the whole experience was like dangling a carrot marked freedom in front of me, when that was never a possibility for me. That town is in my blood, just like it’s in yours.” He paused for a moment as if choosing his next words carefully. “Sooner or later, we all come home, Janice.”
That notion dropped inside me like a ball of lead, “You really believe that?”
“It doesn’t have to be a bad thing,” his voice was soft, encouraging. “I mean, think of all the good you can do for the town now that you’ve been out in the world. Think of what a difference you could make if you really did breathe life back into the Standard.”
I couldn’t help my own laughter, which might have turned hysterical if I hadn’t found the presence of mind to ask, “Did you have the power to change things after you came back?”
“I’d like to think so,” he said. “I came back thinking about ways I could make the community stronger, to make the kids see there was hope and potential in our little town. There is something there the rest of the world doesn’t have, something I think you and I missed as kids.”
The realization that next came to me was enough to make my eyes sting with tears, “You really do give all of yourself, don’t you?”
“One thing I did learn from my daddy was if you’re not going to give all of yourself to something, you might as well not give anything at all.”
“Your mom said he was really hard on you.”
He avoided eye contact as he admitted, “He was. He was a hard man every way you look at him, and all I ever wanted to do was make him happy. It seemed like nothing I did was good enough for him.”
“Does that still bother you?”
The furrow of his brow returned, and his eyes narrowed under it. “I don’t know. I try not to let it get to me.”
“Well,” I broke a piece of bacon in half and crumbled it into my mouth. “I won’t pressure you anymore about finishing school, knowing now that it really hurts you, but I hope that you don’t still think that I think less of your for it. There’s just this part of me inside that loves you so much, Troy.” The emotion was swelling up inside me, and I wasn’t sure I could keep it from flooding my self-control. “It wants all of your dreams to come true, and if there is any way I can make that happen, I want to do it.”
“Hey,” he got up quickly and came to my side of the table. “Don’t cry,” he knelt down beside me and lifted my face out of my hands. “Come on, don’t cry. You crying is definitely not gonna make me happy,” he teased.
A partial laugh broke through, and he cupped my face in his hands. He brushed the tears away and then kissed me, his lips sweet and sticky with syrup.
Chapter Thirty-Two
I spent my last two weeks in the city packing my apartment into boxes, thinking that each thing I wrapped in tissue paper was another solemn reminder of the independence I gained, and the war I once waged on the small town I was heading back to.
It wasn’t that I felt any sorrow in leaving the city behind, but there was something to be said for the experience. It changed me, and though I was returning to the place I once fought tooth and nail to get away from, it wasn’t with my tail between my legs. In fact, I planned to hold my head high and show that town just what it had been missing. I kept thinking about what Troy said, about the town being in our blood and that I could bring positive growth back to the community I always considered strange and backwards.
Troy was beyond overjoyed at the prospect of my homecoming. In fact, despite going two full weeks without even seeing each other, our phone conversation during the final countdown was more cheerful than ever. I didn’t even have to ask Troy to come to the city to help me move. He volunteered himself and his cousin Ernie, and the two of them borrowed their Uncle Chet’s moving van. They showed up mid-morning the Saturday before Christmas, and while they transferred my boxed life into the back of the van, I squared away with my landlord.
As I left Pittsburgh behind me, there was hardly an accurate snapshot of the city I’d grown accustomed to in the rearview mirror. It was like the buildings themselves hid behind tunnels and strips of highway to keep me from growing too emotional over our separation.
I held my fingers out the window and said, “I’ll be back someday,” though in my heart I couldn’t even imagine when or why. I was surprised that I didn’t cry, but noticed that the further and further I grew from the city, the larger the hole it left in my heart. Up until the day my mother died, my dreams had all been city dreams, but everything was changing.
More or less, I was homeless, or at least without independence for the time being. I still hadn’t made a decision about where I would stay, so for the time being all of my possessions were going into storage at my parent’s house. I, too, would be taking up residence there until I figured out what was best. Dad had only been living in that big house alone for about two months, and he was ecstatic when I asked if I might stay there until I was ready to move on.
“You can stay forever, for all I care.” I heard happiness in his tone, though I couldn’t tell if it was due to my homecoming, or the fact that he wouldn’t be alone in that house anymore with my mother’s ghost.
“I’m sure it won’t be forever,” I said.
Troy was still working hard to convince me to move into the farm house with him. He had tons of renovation plans he wanted to share with me, and the seriousness of his proposal only been increased by his willingness to visit assisted living communities with Lottie. She called me herself to thank me for nudging him into considering an idea she’d put into his head two years earlier.
It was the first time in a long time he considered she might actually be happier in the company of people her own age, more confident with a medical professional on call. He even started to reason a little freedom might help her cope with the bouts of depression that often accompanied her multiple-sclerosis.
I arrived at my parents’ house just in time for Troy to check in from the road by phone. As I hung up, Dad opened the front door and stepped onto the porch to greet me.
“You need help with anything?”
“Nah,” I closed the car door and started up the walk. “Troy and Ernie won’t be here for at least two hours.” I leaned into a quick hug before stepping back to look him over. I noticed during my last visit that he’d lost a little weight, but without my mom there to cook for him, I wasn’t surprised. “Did you eat yet today?”
He shrugged backward and started for the door, “I had a grilled cheese.”
I followed him into the house, which smelled vaguely of pine needles and holiday potpourri. As I looked around the living room, I was taken aback by how much trouble he went to, and was surprised to see the excitement in his eyes as I took in the decorations. He’d trimmed and decorated the tree, and put all of my mother’s favorite holiday knick knacks in place. Her manger set nestled in the center of the coffee table on a fluffy layer of cotton, and three stockings were tacked up in front of the fireplace.
I could feel my eyes start to water as I took it all in. I don’t know what I expected, but it certainly wasn’t that. I’d tuned my mind out to thoughts of my mom and the incoming holiday.
“Wow,” I marveled. “It’s just like when I was a kid.” I gasped a little to catch my breath. “Everything is in perfect place, Dad.”
“I wanted it to feel like home,” he said in a quiet voice that barely reached my ears. “For both of us.”
“Dad,” Blinking and arcing my eyes upward to control my tears, I took a step back and put my arm around his waist in an awkward half-hug.
“It’s perfect.” I drew away into the middle of the room and spun around to take it all in. “In fact, I bet Mom would be jealous.”
“Oh,” he chuckled and shook his head, “I don’t know about that.”
“She always worked so hard to make everything perfect,” I remembered.
“She sure did,” his smile was nostalgic and just a little bit sad. “Anyway, I’m real glad you decided to stay with me for the holidays.”
“Me too. Though I can’t promise dinner will be as good as Mom used to make.”
“I’m sure it’ll be just fine.”
Lottie wanted to cook and have Dad and me out to the farm, but like Dad there was a part of me that wouldn’t have felt right celebrating that first Christmas without my mom anywhere other than home. It was like we both knew she would be there with us, and I for one didn’t want to miss a single moment of that closeness with her memory. While I wasn’t sure I’d be able to pull off Christmas dinner with the same finesse Becky had thrown into Thanksgiving, I’d invited Troy and Lottie to our house nonetheless.
Shortly before Troy and Ernie arrived with the van full of my belongings, Becky and Marty showed with Chinese take-out for everyone. We paused to eat and then threw ourselves into unloading carton after carton of my life in Pittsburgh and carting it up the stairs to my old bedroom. The house itself felt alive with everyone there, and though I hadn’t thought about my mother’s ghost since I’d been to see Diana, it was as though I could feel her elated presence hovering over our every move.
In a stolen moment in my doorway, Troy braced my elbows and drew me into a long and grateful kiss. “Tonight will probably be the best night’s sleep I’ve had in two months.”
“Who said I was spending the night with you?”
“Nobody, but it doesn’t matter if you do or don’t,” he kissed me again. “Just knowing I could drive over here in the middle of the night and throw rocks at your window is enough.”
“You better not.”
“What, throw rocks at the window?”
I nodded and nuzzled my nose against his, “My daddy’s a light sleeper, and he’s got a shotgun.”
“I like living on the edge,” he pressed his body against mine. “Are you sure you don’t wanna spend the night with me tonight?” The tenderness of his lips moved against my eager neck. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
I tilted myself closer to him, oblivious to the soft moan that escaped me. “Maybe after the holidays are over,” I whispered. “My dad really needs me here right now.”
His finger traced the contour of my cheek, drawing my lips back to his. “I understand.”
“I’d tell you two to get a room, but from the looks of it, you already have.” Becky charged up the stairs with a small box, and Troy and I drew to the side to allow her through. She laid the box atop a stack in the corner and as she started back toward us I grabbed her and drew her into our hug.
“This is nice,” I squeezed them both between my arms. “Two of my favorite people right here with me.”
“If you make me cry today, I’ll never forgive you,” she played tough.
“She’s been making me cry all day,” Troy chided.
“No crying today, unless we’re happy,” I insisted. “And while I never thought I’d say this out loud, thanks to the two of you and my dad, I am happy to be home.”
“Aw,” Becky cringed and bunched her shoulders up around her neck. “Did you hear that, Troy?”
“I did,” he raised his eyebrows. “I never thought I’d say these words out loud, but Janice McCarty is happy to be home.”
“Stop now.” I shoved him playfully and pulled out of our embrace. “You’ll make me change my mind.”
Even as I teased him, I couldn’t get over how light I felt. I hadn’t expected it, but I really was happy to be home, and the hole I felt in absence of my beloved city became full again the closer and closer I drew to Sonesville on the drive home. I couldn’t explain it, though I knew it had everything in the world to do with Troy and Becky, but even more than that my father and my mother. It was as if a part of me understood there was nowhere in the world where I could feel her presence the way I did in that house, except for in the town she devoted such a major part of herself to.
That night after everyone left, and Dad said goodnight, I sat in my box-piled bedroom with barely enough room to move around. There was a pathway to the door and another to the dresser, but beyond the bed space was limited. I curled into the quilt and turned off the light, remembering the last time I was in that room.
The claustrophobia I felt being tied down and trapped not just in that room, but to the town itself, felt overwhelming then, but none of that could touch me anymore. I was home, and for the first time in my entire life I knew for certain I belonged there.
Chapter Thirty-Three
I’d scheduled an appointment with Amber before even leaving the city, and she was happy to meet with me two days before Christmas to show me around. I’d been in that building at least a hundred times the summer I’d interned with Mr. Sanders, but as I was learning every time I drove through town, a lot could change in eight years.
Amber was standing on the sidewalk next to her car when I pulled up, all bundled in a red tweed overcoat, knitted white gloves and winter hat. Her dark hair tucked almost perfectly beneath the knit, making her look as breathtaking as she always did, and for a moment my mind lapsed back to what Troy said in church about her that day.
Just as quickly as the curious notion rose in my mind, I tamped it down, deciding I didn’t want to know what secrets Amber Williams was hiding any more than I wanted her to know mine.
She smiled when she saw me, wiggling her fingers in a little wave as I unlatched my seatbelt and got out of the car.
“Sorry I’m a few minutes late.” I started toward her, glancing over her shoulder at the old building I’d come to see.
The scene reminded me vaguely of the day the two of us came to interview for the summer internship program. It was February, and bitter cold, but the weather was nothing compared to her attitude when she told me that day, rather matter-of-factly, we should stay friends no matter who got the job.
I’d resisted at the time in reminding her we weren’t exactly the best of friends, and no matter who got the job, it probably wouldn’t change our relationship a bit, but it did. Amber Williams, who had always been civil to me, refused to even look at me our senior year of high school. It was petty and stupid, but I thanked my lucky stars she hadn’t treated me the same way she treated Becky.
Now I almost wished I’d slapped her for all the cruel things she’d done to my friend, but the past was the past, and we had business to attend to.
“You’re not late,” she grinned, her breath huffing out in silver puffs in front of her face. “It’s not going to be much warmer inside, they shut off the gas a couple months ago, but at least we’ll be out of the wind. Come on in, and let’s have a look around.”
The electricity was still running, thankfully, illuminating just how little changed inside the Sonesville Standard in the last ten years. Four cubicles huddled just behind the reception area, each desk empty and forlorn. It still smelled like old paper, the faint scent of ink lingering in the air. I stepped past her, beyond the reception desk and stood in the center of the room trying to see the potential I knew was still there.
The office in the back was dark, but without a word I walked toward it and flipped the switch inside the door. The bulbs above the desk buzzed to life, flickering a little as though they hadn’t been changed in years, but it made me smile nonetheless. I excitedly rushed into that office with completed articles more times than I could count, my love for that business growing every time the editor, Mr. Sanders looked up approvingly from an artic le I’d written.
“It just wasn’t the same after Mr. Sanders retired.” I hadn’t heard Amber come up behind me, and started a little, reaching up half-heartedly to touch my chest. “The last owners were out-of
-towners, a couple from Harrisburg who didn’t care about local happenings enough to keep people interested. They went belly-up in a matter of months and the building’s been on the market since late May.”
“Has there been any interest?”
“Honestly?” When I turned around to look at her, her dark eyes were wide as she shook her head. “You’re the first person I’ve even shown it to since it went up for sale.”
“Wow.”
“They’re asking $200,000, but you could probably talk them down to $175,000 if your first bid was really low. I think they’re getting a little desperate.”
I nodded, chewing my bottom lip as I considered it. It was going to take a huge chunk to get a paper up and running, far more than the cost of the building, more than the substantial life insurance my mother left me. According to the research I’d done, and the business plan I’d started putting together before moving back to town, the money I had in savings would be a stepping stone in the right direction, and my only obstacle would be the local bank.
“There’s an apartment upstairs?” I asked, glancing up at her again.
“Two of them, actually. Both of them empty right now, but it’d be a decent way to pay the monthly mortgage on the building if you could fix them up and rent them out.”
Nodding again, I asked her to take me upstairs and show me, and we spent the next twenty minutes looking over the rundown apartments. It would take even more money to make them livable again, but Amber was right. It would be a promising way to supplement income and make sure the mortgage got paid every month. I’d have to add that into my proposal and see if Troy might be interested in helping me out.
On the way down the stairs, I said over my shoulder. “I’m going to need a couple days to think about it, start processing paperwork with the bank to see if I can get approval, but I’m definitely interested.”
“Well, you think it over, and give me a call after the holiday when you’re ready to make an offer. I’ll have you come into my office and fill out my contract, and we can proceed from there.”
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