Cache stopped in front of the tire swing and squatted to be eye level with her. “I noticed some stuffed animals packed in a box.” He paused. “It’s been a few weeks since the girls’ death.”
Adaline stared at him. “They’re alive. Leora and Eliza will be back.”
“No, they’re gone.” Cache looked at her, wide-eyed, and stood.
“Why don’t you believe me?” She’d tried to talk to him about what she felt time and time again, to have him understand that everything would be okay. The girls would come back home. He never listened. Sadness dwelled in his hazel eyes, and hope no longer lingered in his limbs.
“We need to move on. I miss them too, but we can’t live like this anymore,” he said.
Adaline held the rope of the tire swing between her fingers. “Like what? Like how you think a move is going to make me better. I’m not crazy.”
“I didn’t say you were,” he said, holding out his hand. “You wanted the house with the picket fence.”
“That’s when our girls were with us. We can’t go. They won’t know where to find us. They’ll come here.”
Cache brushed his hand through his hair and peered around the yard. “We’re locked in a contract.” His knee bounced and his eyes didn’t greet hers. “I need my wife.”
Adaline glanced at the snow on the grass and gripped the rope tighter.
He thinks I’m losing it.
She let go of the swing. “I’ll pack the last boxes so we can go.”
“Thank you for trying.” Cache squeezed her hand and walked to the house.
She shook her head at his comment, her boots crunching in the snow as she followed him. The footprints left behind would be gone by the next snowstorm. Adaline would be forgotten by this place she called home. She paused, taking a deep breath. The porch stairs creaked and the front door moaned as she entered her vacant house.
“We don’t need to take all this stuff. Let’s get rid of some of it,” Cache said.
She winced, trudged into the living room, and closed the oversized box of stuffed animals with packing tape. “We do need it, okay? I’m packing for all of…”
“All of who?”
“For me. I want these for memories,” Adaline said.
Cache caressed her face and kissed her forehead. “Of course. I understand that. We have about a three-hour drive into Salt Lake City and should leave before it gets dark. I’m going to make another round to see if we got everything.”
Adaline nodded and turned the corner toward a room with bright pink walls.
She halted.
The playful color burned her eyes. She closed them tight. Familiar voices spiraled around her. Shocked, her eyelids flew open and she gasped. Her girls’ faces stared from the wall—pleading for help. Adaline gripped the door frame for support as her head spun.
We can’t leave. This is the girls’ home.
She fled from the room and out the front door, holding her stomach. The November breeze made her shiver.
Cache came up behind her and rubbed her back. “Do you want to talk about it?”
She didn’t know. What would that accomplish? It wouldn’t fix the longing she felt or the fact that the color pink now nauseated her. “Remember when we painted that wall after we found out we were having a girl?”
He smiled. “Pepto-Bismol pink, how could I forget? You were determined to get that specific color. I think we went to four stores in one day to find the right paint.”
“Eight stores total. Four stores for paint, and the other four included bathroom trips and snack breaks.”
“That’s right. You craved peanut butter both pregnancies.” He laughed. “That was eight years ago. Hard to believe, isn’t it?”
Adaline nodded her head. She wiped tears from her face and glanced up at him.
Touching her chin, he gave her the same distressed look as before. “We’re going to be okay.”
Pulling away from him, Adaline gazed at the yard. “I was so nauseated, but so happy to be sick. We were going to be parents, you know.” She smacked her boot on the porch. “We were on the same team eight years ago. Now…it’s different.”
Cache paced the porch and grunted. “We’re going to our new home. You’re going to love it, just like when you first saw it.”
“Sure,” she muttered.
He shook his head. “Why are you being so difficult? We need to try to move on.”
“You keep saying that. I don’t feel the same way you do.” Adaline pushed past him and walked down the steps. She got into the front seat of the car and waited for him to follow.
Cache sat in the driver’s seat. “I’m sorry,” he said, reaching for her hand. “I’m trying to help, even if you don’t see it.”
She paused for a minute and took his hand. “How are you okay? You act as if nothing has happened.” He didn’t respond, but he never did. She wished Cache would talk to her about what he was thinking, feeling. Anything.
Cache started the SUV and backed out of the driveway. As they pulled away, Adaline looked out the side mirror to catch a glimpse of the tire swing that hung from their famous monster tree. It used to bring joy, peace, and continual laughter. Now it only held remorse, a haunting reminder of what happiness used to feel like. Most of the time, Adaline felt as empty as the house now stood. Nothing would change that.
Eight
Adaline Rushner
Salt Lake City, Utah
Sunday, November 7th
The SUV stopped, and Adaline’s head bounced with the jerking motion. She opened her eyes, immediately regretting her decision. The stores were gathered so close together in Salt Lake compared to her hometown of Owling, where there was only one grocery store and one gas station, a mile apart. A small town fit for a small-town girl.
“Are you okay? Why did we stop?” she asked.
“Black ice. We started sliding, but we’re good now,” Cache said.
Adaline gazed up at multiple tall buildings and billboard advertisements. Snowflakes fell on the ice-covered streets, and cars slowed down as if disaster was about to strike. People gathered around trucks handing out food on the street corners, and a little girl with fuzzy pink boots waved to someone passing by. Adaline held her own hand and looked away.
Look at the towers, Mommy. They touch the sky.
She shook her head and closed her eyes.
Find me.
Adaline gripped her hand tighter and peered at the back seat. “Not right now.”
“Honey, look at me,” Cache said, shaking her shoulder.
Adaline stared at him. “What’s wrong?”
His forehead wrinkled. “There’s no one in the backseat. It’s just us. You and me.”
She looked back to see a seat full of packed boxes. Adaline turned around and stared at the floor. Placing her hand on her heart, she ached to understand the hope and despair that wrenched her.
“It’s okay,” Cache said.
Adaline shook her head and peered up at him. Dizziness fogged her mind, and her fingers twitched as she gripped his arm. “It’s hard not to . . . talk to them. It’s a habit, and I like it.”
“Like what?”
“Having conversations with them.” She paused. “I think it’s fairly common for other people, too. You should try it. Maybe you’ll be able to express your feelings that way.”
“By talking to something that’s not there, Addi? That’s not helpful. It makes it harder to move on,” he said.
“Maybe this is my only way of understanding.”
Cache clenched his jaw. “I’m trying to understand. I really am. How exactly is this helping you?”
“I can’t tell you. It just . . . does.” Adaline squeezed the door handle and stomped the floor.
“It’s been a long day. I think we’re both tired.” The traffic light turned green and he continued to drive. “We’re almost there. Why don’t you close your eyes and relax for a minute?”
Adaline dug her fingers into the palm of her ha
nd. “I’m okay. I don’t need to relax.”
“Please? For me?” he pleaded. “Close your eyes.”
For him? What about me?
She peered in his direction and admired his hazel eyes and curly dark hair. Her heart belonged to a man that looked like him, but not the one that had lost all faith in her. They were different now and going in opposite directions, but she loved him still. “You’re not the surprise type, and I’m not in that kind of mood.”
“I think you’ll enjoy it. This is me . . . making an effort.”
Adaline hesitated, biting the inside of her cheek. “Okay,” she said, closing her eyes. Everything in her screamed to go back to Owling, that all this was a terrible misunderstanding. She held her hands together and rubbed her fingers in a circular motion.
The SUV swerved to the right and then continued straight until she could hear the sound of Cache tapping the brake, putting the car into park. Her stomach ached.
“Okay. You can open,” he said.
Adaline stared at the small yellow home in front of her and diverted her vision to the moving van parked in the driveway. She bit her fingernails and bounced her leg up and down. Clearing her throat, she focused on the object that Cache wanted her to see. Everything looked exactly as she remembered it—but with a new addition. A white picket fence wrapped around the large yard. It was the same one she had shown him from a home magazine that she said she’d have one day.
“Is that the right fence?” Cache asked.
She nodded and scratched her head. “How—"
“A few weeks ago, I hired some guys to put it together. I wanted you to have something special.”
“It’s exactly what I wanted,” Adaline said, looking away from him.
They even house shopped together with the girls and fell in love with the house she now looked at. The girls had twirled around in the backyard with the sun hitting their faces. Leora’s long blonde hair glowed, and Eliza’s brown ringlets bounced in every direction. It was to be their home, the four of them.
But that was before. She couldn’t step into this house without her girls. It wasn’t right.
Adaline tilted her head. The house looked like a cottage but reminded her of a dollhouse. With the white picket fence and the multiple trees arching over the place, it had a rustic and elegant charm. The snow falling from the branches had originally been magical and cozy; now the twigs resembled fingers reaching toward her, beckoning to hold her captive.
She turned to Cache. Adaline knew he was waiting for some sort of reaction out of her. “It’s still lovely…the fence is perfect.”
“But…?”
“But, I told you I didn’t want to leave.”
“We had a contract. We couldn’t back out of that.” He glanced away. “You said you loved this home. I believe the wraparound porch sealed the deal. Why don’t we go inside so you can see it again?”
Adaline rubbed her arms. “We could’ve backed out of the contract, and I’m tired of you ignoring me.”
Cache gripped the steering wheel and clenched his jaw. “Can we go inside now, or are we going to sit in the car and argue?”
A part of her wanted to stand her ground, but she was too fatigued to fight. Adaline got out of the car and walked to the front door. She paused as a flood of emotions froze her.
The oak front door had gold handles, which made her feel like she was jumping into a storybook—a story she would’ve read to the girls before bed, and they would imagine they were the dolls prancing around the yard. Cache opened the door and held it for her. Adaline brushed past him. Piles of boxes spread all over the floor.
“You let the movers come in without us being here?” Adaline asked.
“I gave them an extra key so if they arrived here before us, they could start unloading.”
“How could you let complete strangers around our most precious things? They should’ve waited for us,” she said. “Where are they?”
Cache gazed at the ground. “I’m going outside for a minute.”
He left, slamming the door on his way out.
Adaline frowned.
Strolling into the kitchen, she let her fingers glide across the stainless-steel appliances showcasing a setup made for a master cook.
Too bad that wasn’t her.
Polished wood floors covered the dining room and kitchen, and a large fireplace summoned her into the common area. The inside of the house looked smaller than she remembered, more confined, like a prison. She walked upstairs to examine each of the four bedrooms, moving past the one Leora and Eliza picked months ago. They claimed it by kissing their hand and touching the door.
The same room. They loved being close to one another.
Adaline needed to run away from this place that held her hostage, that told her she should move on and create a new chapter in her life.
She was suffocating.
Owling held the last moments of her girls, and she’d walked away from them by moving to Salt Lake.
What kind of mother would do that?
Her instincts had told her to stay in Owling, and she didn’t listen, but Cache needed her as well. She couldn’t be in both places at once, which made her feel raw, torn up inside. Adaline would always fail one way or another, choosing between the two.
Cache came back into the house and walked upstairs. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask if the movers could come in. I know you have trust issues, especially after what happened.”
She leaned into him and he wrapped his arms around her waist.
“You look sad. Don’t you like it?”
He really thinks a house is going to make me feel better.
Adaline nodded. “No, this is beautiful. I just think I’m a…” She halted and let go of Cache.
“Are you okay?”
Her eyes shifted around the room. “I’m fine. Why?”
“You’re scoping the room like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Just lots of dust and…” She bent down toward the ground.
We like it, mommy. Please, let us stay.
Her hands shook, and sweat dripped from her forehead. She couldn’t breathe. Adaline gasped and clung to Cache’s shirt.
One . . . two . . . three . . . breathe.
Inhaling, she tried to focus on the rhythm of her heartbeat. Her fingers steadied, and a surge of air filled her lungs. Adaline braced herself on the railing. “I’m okay. I’m going to start unpacking a few boxes.”
“Nope. You have other plans,” he said. “It’s been a long day, and the movers just came back. I’ll go get some extra hands to bring in the mattress. You need to take it easy.”
He left and Adaline slowly walked downstairs, holding the railing. She looked in the front room for the big box marked sheets. It wasn’t hard to miss, being the biggest one she had packed. Adaline took a box cutter out of her coat pocket and sliced the tape. She reached in to pull out the contents. Her arms cradled pink butterfly sheets, and she sniffed the fabric. It still held a distinct, lingering scent of strawberry from Eliza’s stuffed bear, Pinkerton.
Reality stared Adaline in the face, a version that wasn’t her real life. Leora and Eliza were supposed to have the childhood she never had, free from terror, abuse, and pain. She held the sheet to her cheek and sang lullabies to the soft fabric.
“Mommy will find you, my girls. I know you’re out there.”
The door clicked open. Adaline turned away to plaster a fake smile before looking at Cache.
“Here it is.” Three men with black shirts, matching black hats, and a logo that read Mendon Moving Brothers came through the door behind Cache and waited for his instructions about where to put the mattress. “The room is upstairs, first door on your right.”
“Keep it down,” Adaline said in a hushed voice, putting her finger to her lips. She rocked the sheets back and forth in her arms.
Cache knelt next to her. “Let me take those sheets for you?”
“No.” She leaned backward and pressed the fabric t
o her cheek.
“Okay. I’ll be right back. Cache grabbed their king-sized sheets from the opened box and headed upstairs.
Once he was out of range, Adaline turned to the butterfly sheets and sang a lullaby.
The sound of pounding feet filled the house as all four men came down the stairs. She glared at them but continued rocking.
Left. Right. Left.
“Anything else, boss?” said the tallest Mendon Brother, with long blond hair and uneven sideburns.
“We can take it from here. Thank you for your help, and drive carefully on those icy roads,” Cache said, giving the man a tip.
The man shook his hand, and Cache closed the door behind them. He picked Adaline up and carried her upstairs to their bed. “This is where you’ll be spending the rest of your night,” he said, lying next to her.
She didn’t resist and closed her eyes, waiting for him to fall asleep. Leora and Eliza would have a room ready for them when they came back home.
Nine
Cache Rushner
Monday, November 8th
7:00 a.m.
Cache turned over in bed to find pillows wedged against his back and the covers ripped off the mattress. He knew all too well Adaline must’ve been sleepwalking again. She started doing it every night after the girls died.
He staggered out of bed, rubbing his eyes before he entered the hallway. The first two rooms were vacant. Turning the corner, Cache stumbled into a pile of empty boxes flung across the floor. He kicked one and moved the others out of his way.
What the hell?
He watched as purple stars reflected off the bedroom wall out into the hall. He hunched over, holding his aching chest.
Not again.
Entering the bedroom, a star lamp on the floor glowed next to Adaline’s sleeping body. She clenched a large stuffed teddy bear that nuzzled underneath her chin, and she half-smiled—he would take that at this point. The room meticulously resembled the way it had last been left at the Owling home before the girls’ deaths.
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