by Piper Rayne
Now to start a new life in a not-so-new place.
Driving along, I search for the number she gave me, realizing the number is nowhere to be seen. I count the house numbers again. 12 Housley Lane. 13. 14. 16. 17. Huh. No 15?
I pull in front of where her house should theoretically be and park Tink. Built like a tank and sparkly like a new penny, my old Jeep Wrangler never fails to catch some stares and even catcalls.
When we first saw it last year at Fortelli’s used car parking lot, Allan thought it was tacky and ridiculous. Its rich green color was striking, but the bass boat glitter-like metal flake caught every square inch of sunlight that shone on it. The previous owner had dolled it up inside, but the adorable Tinkerbell decal on the back glass with the phrase “Second star to the right and straight on to Disneyland” tugged at my 5’1”, Disney-loving heartstrings.
Low mileage, fair price, in good condition, equal parts rugged and rambunctious?
I was immediately in love.
Climbing out of Tink, I stretch my sore limbs. A 2000-mile jaunt over the last week does a number on the old joints—hers and mine. Loud popping sounds fill my ears as I jostle out the tiredness in my body. As I limber up, I peruse the house numbers within sight again, still not seeing a one and five together anywhere.
Did she give me the right number?
Several vehicles sit in driveways and near the grassy strip separating the road from the fence line down the country road to my left, but no people are milling about, minus a jogger who’s now pounding the pavement towards me.
Dark sunglasses shield his eyes, but his wavy blond hair and handsome features are in clear view. A sweat-soaked shirt clings to his trim body. Blond scruff covers his face. I can hear him panting as he sidles up towards me. “Looking for someone?”
I look down at the address Vera Kay texted me once more. “Um, yeah. I’m looking for 15 North Housley Lane, but I—”
“Can’t find the number?” He finishes my sentence for me before taking the hem of his sweat-soaked t-shirt to wipe his face. The movement grants me a peek at some well-defined ab muscles underneath.
I nod in agreement as he takes his glasses off, revealing a mesmerizing set of grayish-green eyes. “All you’ve gotta do is drive to the end of this road, turn left at the giant metal rooster, and it’ll be on the other side. Between the houses numbered 43 and 44.”
One of my eyebrows raises involuntarily, ringing a laugh from him as well as a further explanation. “They messed up on the 911 address system years ago. It’s a small town, so Janie remembers it well.”
“Who’s Janie?”
“Our mail lady. She’s a bit near-sighted, so if you are planning on planting any flowers, make sure they’re not by the road,” he adds, motioning to where the grass meets the asphalt before extending his hand. “My name’s Grey, by the way. Grey Kasen. I live on up the road.”
I take his kind gesture and return it with a firm shake of my own. “Nova Whitmore.”
“Nice to meet you, Miss Nova,” he beams. I bet that million-dollar smile makes all the girls in town go crazy.
“Likewise.”
He looks me up and down. Not in a sleazy way, just more in an “I’m trying to figure you out” sense. “How do you know Vera Kay?”
“She’s my great-aunt. You know her?”
He flashes those perfect pearly whites again. “Yeah, I know all the neighbors here. Fine lady, that one.”
Now it’s my turn to grin. “I’m pretty biased, but I have to agree. She’s amazing.”
“She sure is.” A quiet moment passes before he switches gears. “Are you in town visiting?”
“More like moving,” I add.
“Well, welcome to the neighborhood. Silverton’s a great place to be.” As if on cue, a few birds start chirping in the trees peppered throughout the neighborhood. A nice endorsement if nature is satisfied here.
“I don’t remember much about it, but Aunt Vera Kay is absolutely in love with it.” I hear about it often during our chats, so I know that to be a truer-than-true statement.
He squints his eyes, searching for something. Recognition, maybe? “Did you used to live here?”
“My parents and I moved away when I was five. I’ve visited a few times over the years, though.”
“Guess I should’ve said ‘welcome back’ instead. I hope you’ll love it as much as we do.” The man really should be the welcome wagon for this town. As he looks over towards Tink, his eyes light up with amusement. “Nice ride, by the way. It suits you.”
“Thanks?”
A chuckle of his own returns mine. “I just mean with all the green and your hair and height, you’re like a little pixie yourself.”
Sweeping my longer ash-blonde bangs to the side, I nod. “Then, it’s a good fit because Tinkerbell’s my favorite fairy.”
A curious look clouds over his face. “You mean there’s more than one to choose from?”
Tsk-tsk. “Oh, Grey. So much to learn in the land of fairies,” I muse, shaking my head at his sad lack of knowledge when it comes to the mystical minis.
We chat a moment or two longer until a big truck eases down the road and comes to a stop beside us. Seemingly familiar with the driver, Grey greets him as the driver's side window descends.
A pair of dark aviators obstructs my view of what’s behind them, but the close-cropped blond hair is a match for the man I’ve been talking with over the last few minutes. “Forget what time it is?” the driver inquires matter-of-factly, a smile nowhere to be found.
“Damn,” Grey mutters as he glances at his watch, grimacing when he looks back at me. “Sorry about that.”
Waving it off, I snicker, “Heard and said much worse, believe me.”
Jogging to the passenger’s side, Grey casts a final wave at me as he rounds the truck. “See ya around, Nova.”
The driver shakes his head at Grey, almost as if he’s already exasperated with him. He slides the sunglasses back to rest on his head and turns his attention to me. A slight nod and a curt yet polite “Ma’am” are the only acknowledgments I receive from the mystery driver, who favors Grey immensely, only with a sterner expression and lack of a five o’clock shadow.
Hmm. Wonder if they’re related.
Grey’s instructions put me on the right track, eventually leading me to the adorable whitewashed brick bungalow my aunt and uncle have called home for as long as I can remember. The fuchsia mailbox stands out among the others with its bold hue and various satin gold finishes on the small metal detailing. Lime green pavers create a colorful walkway, leading up to a white home with fuchsia Craftsman shutters and a lime green wooden swing. A dark-gray door with a satin gold knocker and doorknob adds some balance. Aunt Vera has always been one for splashes of color everywhere.
Beep! Beep! I’m pulled from my short walk down memory lane as a—what else?—lime green minivan pulls into the driveway. Love for green in all hues runs in the family.
A familiar halo of curly, snow-white hair steers at the helm. “Well, you have perfect timing, sweet girl,” my aunt says through her open window, greeting me as she parks the van. “I thought you’d be much later getting here tonight.”
A group of children pours out of the van like water rushing from an overturned vessel, only to come to a halt in front of the stranger in their midst. My attention bounces from one to the others before I address my aunt. “Am I interrupting something?”
She ruffles the hair of the middle boy as she reaches for me for a quick hug. “Not at all. We’re going to grab a bite to eat. Then, it’s off to ball practice.”
Five pairs of eyes watch me almost warily, trying to figure me out. Offering them a big smile, which only the youngest girl returns, I reach for a couple of the bags she’s carrying. “But, it’s September.”
“Fall ball,” she explains, turning towards the group of children that has to be the infamous Baker clan she mentions from time to time. “Kids, I want you all to meet my favorite niece.”
“I think she means her only niece,” I tease, the sound of proverbial crickets filling in the blank spaces for the five. The next-to-tallest boy continues to stare at me like I’ve grown a second head. The eldest stands solemnly, while the three younger ones display various emotions, from intrigue and suspicion to friendliness. Tough crowd. “My name’s Nova. Nice to meet you all.”
“Like the star?” The youngest girl with big doe eyes framed by a curtain of blonde bangs gazes expectantly.
“That’s right. Just like the star.” Maybe I can win one over tonight. “What’s your name?”
“Halle,” she replies, somehow timid and assertive at the same time.
“Like the movie star Halle Berry?”
Those blue orbs hold a world of wonder within them. “Who’s that?”
“She’s a famous actress who...” A pause fills the air. I’m unsure how much to get into with a girl who doesn’t seem older than seven or eight. “Well, no need to go into that. Anyway, it’s great to meet you, Halle.”
Vera Kay walks behind the two tallest boys, laying a gentle hand on each boy’s outer shoulder. “These two are Clay and Griffin.”
The tallest one gives no more than a nod. Something about his nature tells me that was a big deal, though.
“Griffin’s our quiet one,” she explains further, which makes him drop his gaze a bit.
“Nothing wrong with that.” Although, I’d bet the house I no longer own that he’s a great listener.
He lifts his dark, haunted gaze towards me, the corners of his full mouth twitch ever so slightly as if to say he’s pleased to hear someone acknowledge it.
“H-hi,” the other sputters out, the cutest little freckles dotting his very rosy cheeks. His brown hair carries a tinge of red in it, as the sun reveals with each movement he makes.
“Hi there.”
His cheeks grow rosier as bashfulness takes root. Funny. I had him pegged more as a class clown kind of kid.
“Last but not least,”—she motions towards the two middle children—“These two are Hadley and Henry.”
A backward ball cap graces Hadley’s head, with wisps of blonde hair fluttering everywhere in the slight breeze. The tough-as-nails demeanor she’s sporting is a clear sign that she prefers space, which I freely give to her to make her more comfortable.
The boy Henry stands a step off to the right behind her, his little fist clenching the material near her lower back. His nose boasts a nostril that’s slightly smaller than the other, with a thin scar running from it to the top of his cupid’s bow. If this display is any indication, his big sister does a lot to protect her smaller sibling from the cruel world.
Meeting the children who gave Aunt Vera purpose after Uncle Glen’s death warms my heart all the way through. “Again, it’s great to meet you all finally.”
They exchange funny side glances at my comment. We turn to go into the house, but a small gasp stops us from moving any further. “Is that yours?”
Following her line of sight, I mentally add another name to the list of Tink fans. “It is.”
As Halle stares at the 4x4, a glow radiates from her whole body. “It’s so pretty!” she exclaims, admiring the way the metal flake glistens in the sun. “Can I ride in it with you sometime?”
“Halle!” Clay scolds. “You don’t impose on people like that,” he says, scowling at her, then going all Jekyll and Hyde with me, morphing that frown into a goofy grin. I can’t be sure because the sun was in my line of vision, but I’m pretty convinced he just threw a wink in there as well. There’s the playfulness I picked up on.
Vera Kay stifles a laugh, no doubt deciding which one to call out first, as I turn my attention to Halle. “How about I ask your dad if it’s okay first, and if he says yes, you’re welcome to ride with me next time we’re going to the same place together. Deal?”
She shakes her head excitedly in agreement as Vera Kay checks the time. “Let’s help Nova bring her bags in before we eat.”
I wave off the kind gesture, knowing they’re pressed for time. “It’s okay. You all don’t have to do that.”
“Nonsense,” Vera says, already handing the bags in my backseat to Clay and Griffin. “Family always helps each other.”
3
Nova
Aunt Vera gets to work in the kitchen while the kids run to different corners of the house to get ready. It’s so lovely they feel at home here—just like I always have.
“Think you’re up for starting a new job day after tomorrow?”
Woman is a miracle worker. “Did you hear something from Silverton Elementary?” Excitement fills my soul as relief pours over me at the prospect of being back in the classroom again.
“Nothing’s going to be open until the spring semester,” she replies as she busies herself in the cabinets, leaving me a little more than deflated. “I did line up a part-time gig at the local coffeehouse. Think you’ve still got the moves?”
It may not be what I want right now, but at least its familiar territory. “Don’t know about the moves, but I can pour a mean cup o’ Joe.”
“I think that’s all you’ll need. Baked & Brewed is a very low-key place.”
Gathering up the various veggies she has already laid out for a salad, I place them near the chopping board and get to work. “When do I need to put in an application?”
“You don’t. You’re already hired.”
“Wait.” The knife blade hangs in mid-air as I take in her words, trying to make sense of them. “Someone who doesn’t know me is going to give me a job without even filling out an application or interviewing?” I eye her suspiciously, wondering what the catch is.
“He may not know you, but he knows me,” she winks like she’s privy to some secret that I’m not. “You’ll find things work a little differently here in Silverton, Nova. The word of an honest person carries a lot further than a bunch of malarkey on a piece of paper.”
“If you say so,” I laugh as we continue working alongside each other. “Thank you.”
Her warm hand presses gently against my cheek, cradling it like it’s something precious. “I’m just so happy to have you here. It’s been so long since your last visit, and I can’t wait to make up for all the lost time.”
How lucky am I to call her family? I cover her hand with mine, gratitude emitting from every pore. “Thank you for keeping me up. I promise I’ll get out of your hair as soon as I can find a place.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” she scolds, waving her free hand dismissively, like what she’s already done for me is no big deal, even though it’s beyond huge. “You’ll stay here until you’re ready to leave because you want to, not because you think you have to.”
“What if I never do?” I half-heartedly tease.
“Then, we need to pick out some paint colors and start making this your place as well.” Turning towards me, she opens her arms wide and envelopes me in her love. “Welcome home, sweet girl.”
The memory of her hugs pales in comparison to the real thing. It’s been such a long time since an adult’s hugged me like this—like everything’s going to be okay. Mom passed away from diabetic complications shortly after my last visit here during my freshman year, so the memory of her hugs is all I have to go by now. Dad hasn’t been in the picture much since he and Mom divorced when I was in high school. Allan was always very backward when it came to affection while we dated and became even more withdrawn from it after getting married.
My second graders always doled out hugs, but there’s something different in the way an adult who loves you takes you into their arms. A hug that takes you back to simpler times when you didn’t have to worry about bills or setting alarm clocks. When there was no fretting over the mortgage or finding out your ex-husband’s a lying cheat. It reminds you that you have an ally and someone to help shoulder the burden.
I bask in her warmth until she pats me on the back. A wet kiss plants itself on my forehead, then she’s over by her trusty old fridg
e, pulling out containers from the freezer. While unpacking her famous Popeye casserole—her deviously delicious way of getting my mom to eat spinach as a child without knowing it was in there—we chat easily. Mom carried on the tradition with me and it was one of her handwritten recipes I had framed in our kitchen.
“Miss Vera?” A distressed voice carries into the kitchen, preceding a thump along with a louder Owww! when said voice collides with the doorway. The sounds of struggle are muffled beneath a shirt that’s somehow on, somehow off, somehow all twisted up on Clay’s body. “Can you help me?”
After extracting Clay’s tangled limbs from his shirt and grabbing a quick bite, the kids and Vera Kay head out the door, ready to start their evening.
Walking them all to the van, I say my goodbyes to the kids, all of whom return them in one way or another except Griffin, who just nods solemnly.
Vera Kay hugs me one more time as they pile in, maybe sensing I needed another one, perhaps needing one herself. “Wanna go catch some fly balls and scope out the cute coaches? They’re both single,” she slyly whispers in my ear.
A laugh bubbles to the surface with a slight groan chasing it. “I think I’ll just settle in tonight. Next time, maybe.”
“I’ll be back a little later,” she calls over her shoulder as she closes the sliding side door. “Make yourself at home, honey. Let’s bounce, kids!”
4
Scott
“Dad! Dad!” The bell above the door barely has a chance to announce his arrival before he’s at the bar, covered in dirt and glass. “Guess what?”
With one quick glimpse at the bowl full of sticky brown dough, I realize the new biscotti recipe I’ve been working on tonight will have to wait until another time. After serving the few customers who moseyed in this evening, helping Harper and Holden with the younger ones’ homework, and cleaning up the two messes Lincoln caused, I spent the extra time playing around with a few ingredients. Although, I haven’t seen Clay this excited in who knows how long. A new recipe can wait its turn. “What is it, son?”
