“I hate to pry, sweetheart, but were you sleeping in your car when we arrived? Don’t you have beds in the house?” Louise asked.
Don’t you have manners?
This woman was out to make up the most absurd stories about anything and everything. I had a history of seeing the best in people—which, yes, came with its struggles—but Louise and her sister obviously had a tendency to see the worst.
I bit my tongue. The last thing I wanted to do was make enemies out of the neighbors. These two women seemed the type to raise hell if they felt they had a reason to do so.
“I like sleeping under the stars sometimes. Plus, my furniture isn’t being delivered until next week. Thanks again for the pies, ladies. It was nice meeting you.”
Their stares moved across me once more, and then they smiled creepily at the same time.
Stephen King would’ve had a field day with this pair.
“We’ll be seeing you around, I’m sure. Welcome to Havenbarrow. If you don’t want to be seen around town driving that, err, family heirloom, I’m pretty sure you can get yourself the Cuber app,” Louise said with that evil smile.
“You mean Uber?” I asked.
Louise chuckled and waved a hand in my direction. “No, honey, I mean the Cuber app. We don’t have none of that Uber or Lyft stuff in town, but Connor Roe created his own app called Cuber. He’s seventeen, but the boy is swift. Plus, his car is more…stable than yours appears.”
Oh, if only she knew how much more her comment made me want to drive Mama and Daddy’s car around town. I’d dealt with enough bullies in my past. I had little room left in my heart for their nasty tones.
Still, I hadn’t driven since the accident. The truth was, I didn’t know if I’d be able to do so any time soon.
“Don’t make yourself a stranger while you’re here. Remember, if you need any information on anything and anyone in this town, you can always ask us, sweetheart. We’re pretty well informed on everything that goes on around here. Kate’s husband is the mayor, after all, so it’s our job to be informed. If you want, you can mosey down to our houses for landscaping inspiration. Remember—two to the left and two to the right and you’ll find us!” Louise said before the both of them hurried off.
Note to self: Don’t turn left or right when leaving the house.
By midday, I had a dozen more neighbors show up with desserts in tow, all claiming they were looking to introduce themselves. If I hadn’t been overwhelmed by my life before moving to Havenbarrow, I would’ve been by the time I received my fourth loaf of gluten-free, nut-free, taste-free banana bread.
From the number of questions and nosy invasions I’d experienced, I was certain the women of the town would have plenty to say about me at their next book club meeting.
To get a break from the madness, I tossed on a pair of tennis shoes and grabbed my journal. I couldn’t take any more human contact for a while. I needed to ground myself. I needed to go back to the basics.
Just me, my journal, and the woods.
4
Kennedy
Something about nature always made me feel at peace, something about the way the trees grew of their own accord and leaned in toward the sun for kisses of light. Something about the way their branches waved and danced with the rhythm of the wind while their roots stayed solidly planted in place spoke to me, the way the fresh air smelled crisp with a mixture of florals and greens.
The way the birds sang…I loved the songs they sang at the start of each spring, revealing the way they were awakening to a new beginning. I loved how the birds moved through the spaces of nature as if they belonged no matter where they were, how they moved freely without restraints. That was all I’d wanted in life, to move freely as the birds while still having my roots placed solidly in the ground. It sounded ridiculous—the idea of both flight and steadiness—but my dream was to belong in a place yet still be free.
I’d been wandering through the forest behind my house for the past forty-five minutes in search of a place to unwind and write down my wishes, my dreams, and my hopes.
I hadn’t left any type of roadmap back to my house and hoped I’d be able to find my way on my own. Worst-case scenario? I’d sleep beneath the trees. It wouldn’t be the first time, and I doubted it would be the last.
When I pushed my way through a few branches, I was surprised to come upon an open field, one free of any trees and filled with flowers of all kinds. The flower that stood out the most was the one that took my breath away.
Daisies.
Hundreds upon hundreds of vibrant yellow daisies seemed to have been placed there on purpose. My eyes flashed with tears as I tried my best to control my breathing pattern. In the middle of the field was a white bench, and I couldn’t help but find myself walking down the manmade path toward it. It was beautiful. The way the sun peeked through onto the flowers and made them glow was breathtaking.
I couldn’t think of a better place to sit, breathe, and write.
So I did exactly that.
I began scribbling in the notebook, losing myself as I poured out any and every feeling that came to mind. I didn’t have a clue how much time passed as I moved the pen across the paper, and I didn’t care. I was more concerned with getting my truths—no matter how messy they were—down on paper.
When the afternoon sky began to darken, the solar lampposts interspersed throughout the daisies began to light up the space, making everything feel that much more special.
“What the hell are you doing here?” a voice barked my way, making me leap from the bench. My pen and notebook went flying from my grip, landing amongst the flowers. I turned to see a man standing behind me and a wave of nerves crashed into me.
“Oh, hello. I’m Ke—”
“I didn’t ask who you were,” he cut in, his voice low and stern. “I asked what the hell you’re doing here.”
He was a well-built man. His shoulders were broad, his biceps were impressive, and his smile was—well, nonexistent. And his eyes? I got lost in those dark eyes that matched the sky at midnight. I knew it was ridiculous, but I could’ve sworn I’d seen those eyes before. Maybe in a dream, or perhaps in a fantasy, but either way, I felt a pull toward the harsh stranger. I knew those dark irises that drank me in, and the way he tilted his head toward me, completely perplexed, made me feel as if he perhaps knew me, too.
But from when?
From where?
“Do I know—” I started, but I was quickly cut off by his harshness.
“Are you deaf?” he scolded.
Maybe I didn’t know him. I’d have remembered knowing someone as rude as him and would have reminded myself to stay far, far away. “No. No, not at all.” I hurried to collect my journal and pen that had gone flying a few moments ago. As I stepped forward, flustered, I tripped over my own feet and stumbled, trying to catch my footing.
“Careful!” he called out, his voice a mixture of annoyance and worry—not worry for me, obviously. He seemed more concerned about the daisies.
Thankfully, I didn’t fall. I did my best to tiptoe through the flowers as I grabbed my things. “Sorry. I was wandering through the woods when I—”
“Trespassing.”