Aiden’s shop aside, Kemken was like a time warp, as if Miles had never left. He almost expected to see his young self come bursting out of the toy store, small and dark among a crowd of tall blond Thorsens.
He’d paced the entire main drag, crossed the street, and was halfway back to the cross street that led to the Castle when someone burst out of a shop doorway, nearly causing a collision. “Miles!” the woman exclaimed. “I heard you were back.”
It took him a moment to recognize her. “Clara?” She was older, of course, and heavier, and the hair she used to wear in a long yellow braid was now buzz-cut and dyed fuchsia. A tattoo—something snaky—peeked above the neckline of her black sweater. The familiar wide smile and sparkling eyes hadn’t changed.
Clara enveloped him in a fierce hug, then held him at arm’s length. “C’mon inside?”
His immediate instinct was to refuse; he didn’t want company, especially from his past. But Clara had been his best friend once upon a time, and he couldn’t reject her so dismissively. “Sure. Thanks.”
It was a small office, ordinary except for the dragon knickknacks scattered here and there. Miles glanced at the window once he was inside and read the backward painted letters: Clara Dahl, Attorney at Law.
“You’re a lawyer?” He hoped he didn’t sound as shocked as he felt. Of all the fates he’d imagined for Clara, this wasn’t one of them.
Grinning, she led him to a comfortable chair near her desk, then eschewed her official chair and settled into the other guest seat. “Yep. You want some coffee? I have some pastries from Aiden’s. They’re fantastic.” She patted her belly happily.
“No, thanks. Just had brunch. And I can’t stay long.”
If she was disappointed, she hid it well. “It’s so great to see you again.”
Miles took a closer look around. “That’s my painting,” he said, as if she didn’t already know. It depicted Clara, standing on a hill and dressed as a Viking warrior, a heavy sword lifted in defiance of an unseen foe. She smiled as if she enjoyed battle.
“You gave it to me for my twenty-first birthday. It looks good there, doesn’t it? My clients ask about it.”
Miles gave it a critical squint. He’d do a better job of it nowadays, but it wasn’t bad. The likeness captured Clara’s spirit well.
“How are you doing, Clara?”
“Really great. I’m married—a guy from Portland named Ushi, who I met in law school. He decided he wasn’t into the whole lawyer deal all that much, though, so he takes care of our son and home while I handle Kemken’s legal dilemmas.”
“A son?”
“Liam. He’s three.” She waved her hand at a collection of photos on the wall behind her desk, most of them depicting a brown-haired boy and several dogs.
“Wow. Congratulations.”
“And you?”
Ugh. Condensed version. “Single. No kids. I… I’m sort of an artist.”
“Sort of?” She raised her eyebrows, one of them pierced with a small gold hoop.
“Well, I’m not exactly Picasso. Lately I’ve been doing a gig as a street artist in New Orleans.”
“Ooh! That’s really cool. I always knew you were talented.”
If he was all that talented, he wouldn’t be broke and homeless, but he didn’t tell her that. Instead he took another look around the office. Nothing too fussy or fancy, but also nothing cheap or crappy. It was a comfortable space that suggested Clara was successful but not rolling in dough.
“Your clients like the hair and tats?” he asked with a grin.
“Some of them do. The rest, well… if they want a lawyer in town, it’s either me or Arnie Lund. Remember him?”
“He’s still alive?” Lund had seemed a hundred years old when Miles was a kid—a dried out husk of a man who spoke and moved in slow motion and never, ever cracked a smile. He used to come out of his office and yell when Miles and his cousins were too boisterous on the sidewalk.
“Yep,” said Clara. “Still kicking. Still writing wills and looking over contracts. And he hasn’t grown any cheerier. Even the local judges prefer me, I think. At least it doesn’t take me half an hour to make a motion in court.”
Miles had known Clara was smart, so it shouldn’t have surprised him that she’d ended up in this profession. “What made you stick around Kemken?”
“I went to Seattle for undergrad and Salem for law school, and that was fun. But I missed home. This place… it’s a part of me. And it’s good, you know? The kind of place I want to raise my kid. Ushi likes it too.” She cocked her head. “You’re not going to stay?”
“It hasn’t been my home for a long time.”
“I guess not. I was kinda hoping it would be again, though. We’ve missed you. I’ve missed you.”
An awkward silence hung between them, heavy with old memories.
Finally, Miles sighed. “I’m sorry I ghosted you, Clara. We were close, and it was a shitty thing to do.”
No anger or blame in her eyes, just sadness and understanding. Which made his throat feel so tight that he had to look away.
Clara leaned forward and put a hand on his arm. “You’re right—it was a shitty thing to do. But you had something heavy going on in your life back then, and if you needed to leave, I’m glad you did. I just wish you’d sent an email or text now and then.”
“I was— It wasn’t you.” Oh, that was a stupid line. “I didn’t want anything to do with Kemken. I barely even kept in touch with my family.”
“Did someone hurt you?” She looked and sounded fierce. He would have hated to oppose her in a courtroom, but he could easily imagine her battling on behalf of her clients.
He gave her a weak but reassuring smile. “No. It was just… there were things I couldn’t face.” Maybe still couldn’t.
She nodded.
And suddenly Miles needed fresh air. He stood abruptly. “I gotta go. But, um… you and Ushi and Liam, are you planning to come to the Feast?”
She stood too. “We never miss it.”
“Good. I’ll see you there. I’ll look forward to meeting the family.”
“And maybe we’ll have time to catch up some more before you take off? I have a couple grams of Mendo kush I’ve been saving for the right occasion.”
Shit. He might as well admit this as well. “I’m clean and sober now. Been that way for a year. I’m not judging you, though. It’s only, my head’s a big enough mess already. I don’t need to make things worse with pharmaceuticals, you know?”
She gave his arm a light squeeze. “That’s cool. I’d be just as happy to catch up over chocolate and tea anyway.”
His answering smile was genuine. “Those I haven’t given up. That’d be great.”
She walked him to the door and held it open, and when he glanced back from partway up the block, she was still there. She smiled and waved. He waved back and took off for the Castle at a trot.
6
Miles spent almost the entire afternoon in the woods behind the Castle, sitting on the soft needles and moss beneath an enormous fir, letting old memories wash over him without examining them too fully. When he was a boy, he’d spent many hours like this when he needed to escape the happy chaos of the Thorsens. Maybe he’d sat under this exact tree. The forest had always brought him a measure of peace back then, and now it worked the same magic, soothing nerves that had been frayed for years.