Where She Was Loved

by Sarah Tomlinson

  I watched the family eat their sundae–every last, glorious bite—through the window, my stomach churning in hunger. Awhile later, they exited the store, the children's mouths trimmed in ice cream smiles. The girl had been the first to notice me.

  "Hi there," she said brightly, walking up to me and standing so close I swore I could count every last freckle on her nose.

  "Hi," I replied shyly, trying to hide behind my long, light, mousy brown, unwashed hair.

  "Where's your mommy?" the girl asked.

  "Gone," I replied, staring at my dirty shoeless feet.

  "Are you lost?" the mother inquired, growing concerned while crouching down in front of me.

  "No." I was confused by her question. I was on Main Street, a few blocks from our campsite. I always knew the exact route back to where we slept.

  "Then where are your parents?" she asked as she reached out and tucked my hair behind my ear. I looked up into kind eyes and gave a small smile.

  "My dad's working," I answered. "My momma left."

  "Where did your mother go?" the woman asked me.

  I shrugged. "She went away a long time ago."

  "So, who watches you while your father is working?"

  I had never been asked so many questions before. "No one. Well, sometimes Miss Ava from the bed and breakfast looks after me when Daddy isn't around."

  "Can she play with us?" the little girl asked, pulling on her mother's arm.

  "Yeah, we can look after her while her dad is working," the little boy spoke up, his chocolate ice cream-covered grin making me smile, too.

  Their mother smiled, though it looked dispirited, and replied, "First we have to ask her father's permission."

  I felt apprehensive–what if my father said no? But once we tracked him down at the orchard, he grunted and shrugged his shoulders saying, "Don't see why not."

  It was funny he agreed so easily because when Miss Ava suggested I stay with her throughout the day, he went wild with rage.

  That was the beginning of my only friendships as a child. Aiden and Meg O'Connor always wanted to play school with me. Over the years, as I continued to return and seek them out, they had taught me so much, including the alphabet and how to string letters together in order to read. At the end of every summer, they would send me off with a few of their new favorite paperbacks they discovered during my absence–it kept them close, even when I was far away from Ligonier.

  Those books were the silent reminders of the two friends that kept me going, like I was worth something to somebody. Even when I was re-reading lines of a dog-eared, much-loved novel, tears streaming down my face from another black-eye occasioned from another drunken rage of my father, they were always on my mind. I had never told the twins, but they were two of my lifelines. Returning to this place, even just for the summer, was salvation in itself. I couldn't wait to see them again.

  Chapter Five

  Ashley

  We never ended up making it to one of the orchards to inquire about employment. My father had spent the entire day sleeping off the previous night's drinking binge. I knew the moment he went into the tent to get changed, he wasn't coming out. I was so angry! If I had known he was going to be snoring all day, I would have asked Eric to meet me somewhere. Instead, I went about my day, washing our dirty clothes the best I could in the bubbling stream just beyond the campsite, hanging the wet washings over branches as I thought about the young man I had just met. By the time I finished doing all the chores and returned to the campsite, my father was once again gone. There was no need to guess where he went, not to mention how he was going to afford to buy another drink or bet in another card game considering he had spent every last measly dime we had driven into town with. I wound up just entertaining myself with one of my books until bedtime rolled around.

  Today though, my father was up early and ready to go job hunting. Once I was dressed, we walked our way back into town to grab our truck. We headed out to a local farm my father discovered was hiring a few more pickers for the season. Securing two new jobs starting immediately, we managed to churn out a decent day's work and finally knocked off at three.

  We returned to town and my father parked his truck in the same spot just outside of Pesky's Bar. He ran inside and, instead of it annoying me, I felt excited that he wouldn't be at the campsite. If he saw Eric then I knew it would be the last time we could ever hang out together. The thought frightened me. I never wanted to know someone as much as I wanted to know him. He was a stranger, yet I felt an indescribable pull towards him. I had a deep longing to discover what made him so unique, so different from others I had met out on the road. It also helped that he was positively the most gorgeous creature I had ever laid eyes upon.

  While I waited for him to arrive, I sat, pretending to read a beat-up copy of my new favorite book: To Kill a Mockingbird. Well, I guess it wasn't new, I had been re-reading it since last summer, but still... Meg had read it in school and although I never had the experience of a classroom, reading a book Meg assured me was in the curriculum made me feel as though I was in someway a part of the school atmosphere. It was such a sad truth when I thought about it.

  I must have stared at the same page for almost half an hour, anxious about spending the afternoon with Eric, my focus wandering from the actual text.

  "Hey," a newly familiar voice called, walking out of the brush. "Whatcha readin'?" He nodded towards me, his hands tucked into his pockets as he casually leaned back on his heels.

  I had never seen someone so comfortable around another person. If he was as nervous as me, then he didn't show it. I was shaking like a leaf, regardless of the warm weather. This man made my insides squirm and my heart skip beats, which in turn caused me to catch my breath. He was most definitely not good for my wellbeing.

  Remembering Eric had asked me a question, I held out the book. "To Kill a Mockingbird," I replied as I lowered the cover and tucked the book into the duffle bag at my side, hoping he didn't see the way my nervous hands were trembling. I got up, brushing some leaves and dirt off of my legs, and felt quite apprehensive.

  "How literary," he remarked, sounding impressed yet giving me that handsome one-sided smile.

  I smiled back and tucked my hands behind my back to hide them. "What do you want to do today?" I pushed a stray lock of hair behind my ear and waited with a shy smile on my face. I was used to feeling awkward around strangers, but this was really uncomfortable. My face was heating up knowing he was looking right at me. I kept my eyes on the ground, waiting for him to reply.

  "You are cordially invited," he began with a flourish, "to tea."

  I looked up and laughed. "What?"

  "You have been invited to the house of my grandfather, Pastor Graham," he stated. "He wishes to take you, the wayward child of an alcoholic, beneath his wing."

  That wasn't quite what I had been expecting him to say. "Oh, okay." I didn't know how to respond but, in that moment, I felt ashamed.

  "Hey, I was just kidding. I mean, it was a terrible joke. He didn't say that at all. It's part of the deal," he stage-whispered to me.

  "What deal?" I raised my head to look at him, once again feeling perplexed.

  "The one my grandfather made with my dad. He's supposed to meet everyone I choose to associate with this summer, since I am technically grounded. I mean, I'm nineteen, but seriously, if you met my dad, you wouldn't argue with him."

  I wondered just how immense his father was since Eric was by no means small; he was prodigious, standing at least a foot taller than me. I felt positively pint-sized next to him. So in my mind, his father must have been a giant!

  "Oh, well, I guess I could do tea," I replied.

  "Are you prepared to run the gauntlet?" He wiggled his brows at me and flashed the cutest side smile.

  My heart flipped and I couldn't help but grin in return. He had a way of putting me at ease. I kept forgetting I was still technically talking to a stranger. We had only just met a day ago, and here I was ready to fo
llow him further into the woods. Some would call that stupid!

  "If that's what it takes," I jested, rolling my eyes.

  He laughed. "You're funny. Do you know that?" He turned back the way he had come and began to walk.

  "You might be the first person to tell me that," I stated as I began to follow him through the trees towards our next destination.

  I had never been inside of Pastor Graham's enormous house, nor had I dared to go near it. I will admit I might have wandered close to it a time or two, seeing it wasn't too far from where we camped. To get there, we had to pass through a large pasture filled with several Holstein cows. It looked much like I imagined it did when it was first built–minus the large TV dish on the roof and the silver Camry in the driveway.

  I followed Eric as he stepped confidently through the front door. It was my first time inside a house so captivating–the scent of lemon floor polish and clean laundry permeated my nose. There was a large grandfather clock in the main entryway and cushioned rugs on top of the shiny, walnut-colored hardwood flooring. It was unlike anything I had ever seen, with the exception of the magazines I would flip through in line at the grocery store.

  Pastor Graham came out of a room off to the side. "So, this must be Ashley," he greeted me warmly as he walked towards us. He held out his hand, which I shook tentatively. He wasn't wearing anything special to denote his vocation, instead opting for a pair of khakis, a plaid shirt under a maroon sweater, and a pair of Keds.

  He had such a warm impression about him; with the laugh lines at the edges of his sky-blue eyes and his thick, gray hair combed neatly, I couldn't help but smile back up at him. I was at ease and struggled to understand how a complete stranger could feel like an old friend.

  "Nice to meet you," I replied shyly.

  "Come in," he insisted, ushering me into the room he had just exited from.

  I followed and walked into a beautiful sitting room–a real proper parlor, one that I had only ever read about in one of the twins' novels. There was no television, as it was clearly set up to receive guests.

  My heart raced in my chest. I felt a little inadequate standing in it, taking the whole room in, even if I was wearing the nicest dress I owned–a canary yellow cotton jumper.

  "Have a seat," he offered, gesturing toward the ornate cream colored couch as he sat down in a matching chair across from it, clearly comfortable within his surroundings.

  I perched on the edge of the cushion, trying not to dirty it. Eric sat down next to me, throwing an arm over the back of the couch, clearly relaxed in his surroundings–the smell of his aftershave a momentary distraction arousing my senses. I tried to stay focused on the old gentleman in front of me, but having Eric so close sent butterflies off in my stomach.

  "I haven't seen you around, Ashley," the Pastor stated, capturing my attention once more. "Is your family staying at the resort?" The way he looked at me, I had a sense he knew all too well where I was staying. Still, I politely answered.

  "Um, no, sir" I replied. I struggled for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to say, I live in the woods behind your house every summer, when the door to the parlor opened, admitting a plump, older woman. She carried a dark, mahogany wooden tray with a delicate bone-china tea set on it.

  "Mrs. Brooks," Graham greeted, "meet Ashley, Eric's new friend."

  "A pleasure to meet you," Mrs. Brooks smiled. "I'm the pastor's housekeeper."

  "Nice to meet you, too," I smiled up at her.

  "How do you like your tea, dear?" she asked.

  "I don't know," I replied truthfully. "I've never had tea before."

  "Two scoops of sugar, then," she decided for me, her gentle round face showing sympathy. As if the thought of someone never tasting something as simple as tea made her sad.

  I smiled at the older woman gratefully as she handed me a cup on a saucer with a cookie next to it. I placed the saucer on my lap, holding the fragile cup with both hands.

  "You have a lovely house," I remarked, hoping to steer the topic of conversation and sad looks away from me.

  "Thank you," the pastor replied. "It's been in the family for over a century. If I have my way, young Eric will one day raise his own family within its walls."

  I turned my face to look at Eric who lazily rolled his eyes, obviously hearing his grandfather say it before. To my relief, the conversation never returned back to where I was staying, although I was forced to answer some questions about myself.

  "So, do you still live with your parents?" the pastor then asked.

  "My father. My mother... is gone." Almost too late, I recalled Eric's misperception of the whole mother thing.

  "I'm sorry to hear that." The pastor looked tired as he expressed his condolences. "You seem like a good girl, Ashley. I'm trusting you to keep Eric out of trouble now."

  "I promise." I looked the pastor in the eye. "He'll be on his best behavior," I swore with a serious nod, and I meant it. There was no way I wanted to lose the opportunity to get to know the young man sitting beside me.

  He laughed and nodded at me. "Very good. Well, you two kids go out and do something," he encouraged. "I'm sure you don't want to hang around with an old man for the afternoon."

  I thanked him and Eric and I literally ran for the door, heading for town on foot.

  "He likes you," Eric said, placing his hands in his pants pockets as we strolled towards Main Street.

  "Good. I was so nervous," I admitted timidly.

  "You shouldn't be."

  "I mean, what if he didn't like me?" I asked honestly.

  "What's not to like about you?"

  I smirked, but didn’t answer. A lot of things, I thought. Hopefully, Eric would see something worthwhile in me and not the boring, uneducated girl I was.

  We turned onto Main Street and as we continued to talk between us I heard my name being called. I searched for the hollering voices and was elated when I saw two familiar faces riding towards us. My friends!

  Chapter Six

  Ashley

  "Hey there, stranger!" Meg hollered as she brought her bike to a stop in front of us.

  "Just when were you planning on coming to see us?" Aiden asked, dismayed, pulling his own bike up beside his sister’s.

  "I only got here the night before last," I explained, not liking the scowls that were aimed at me—I was in so much trouble with them!.

  "All of yesterday!" Aiden yelled so loud the entire town probably heard. The twins always spoke loudly in order to be heard over the other. It was one of the best things about them. I loved to watch the siblings bicker and banter back and forth. It made me wish for my own brother or sister. I often wondered what it would be like to have that one person in my life that would always be by my side, even if there were times we disagreed.

  "But–"

  "No buts young lady," Meg shouted, pointing a finger at me "We've been waiting for you since last August!"

  I shook my head; there was no point in arguing with them. Trying to change the subject, I pushed my new friend in front of me and into their direct line of sight.

  "Hey, guys, this is Eric," I informed them. I watched as Meg quirked a brow, while Aiden rubbed at his chin.

  "You're Pastor Graham's grandson," Meg finally said, eyeing him with suspicion and maybe a little intrigued.

  "We heard you were dealing drugs," Aiden chimed in.

  "I was," Eric stated, unfazed by their scrutiny and forthcoming ways. "Not anymore, though. Stupidest decision I ever made, trust me."

  "Aren't you on, like, house arrest or something?" Meg probed.

  "Where's your ankle bracelet?" Aiden finished, straight to the point.

  Eric laughed. He seemed amused by my friends and their line of questioning. I wondered if anything fazed him.

  "No, to the first question. I'm not on house arrest, unless you count my grandfather watching my every move and second question, that would be a no also. I don't have an ankle bracelet because I wasn't arrested," Eric replied, nonchal
antly. "I've merely been banished to the far North in order to do penance, thanks to my father," he chuckled, lightening the mood.

  "Ah," the twins said in unison. And just like that, the questioning was over. Meg swung her leg over the side of her bike, dismounting and rushed forward to wrap me in a hug. I held on tight taking all the affection I could get. It was as if my body had been starved of human contact for too long. She pulled away first and I reluctantly let go, stepping back to stand beside Eric again.

  "So, what are we doing this afternoon, well, evening?" she asked, looking at us both.

  My heart fell just a little since I had been hoping to have some alone time with Eric. But only for a moment because I was so overjoyed to see the twins that the feeling faded quickly.

  "Let's go see what Ava's cooking," I suggested to the group. They looked between each other and smiled, nodding their heads. And just like that, plans were made and I couldn't wait to set my face on Ava and Sharon.

  Miss Ava Harris was the proprietor of the local bed and breakfast, The Sleep Inn, but her establishment was open to anyone for breakfast at any time, day or night. She was in her early forties, with chocolate-colored hair to die for, and was loved by all in Ligonier. Her sister, Sharon, lived with her as well. She was in her late thirties with mousy brown hair, much like mine, but with the mind of a ten-year old. Ava had told me when her sister was younger, she had sustained a traumatic brain injury during a car accident in which her sister was apparently driving. That was about as much as Ava would ever tell me, the thought obviously still too painful. I never pried more, as it was none of my business.