This Place: Holmes Crossing Book 3

by Carolyne Aarsen

  "To what?"

  The two words echoed down the phone line.

  To what indeed?

  "It's not like you love Vancouver. Or city living, period," she continued, as if pressing her point. "You never really liked your job—"

  "I was thankful for my work," I protested.

  "Of course you were, but you're not an office kind of person. Every time you talked about that farm you lived on with your foster parents and Jerrod your voice would get all soft and melancholy like you missed that place. And now you're back in that same type of community."

  "I know." I spoke quietly.

  "And it seems like you and Duncan are getting back together."

  "We weren't together before," I said.

  “Dancing most of a wedding night with him and going out for a couple of dates? I’d call that being together."

  I didn't reply to that.

  "You're allowed to receive good gifts," Christine said, heaving out a sigh. "You always told me that God's grace and His love is a gift. Well, maybe this place is a gift, too. Maybe you're allowed to be a part of it, too. I know I'm only shooting myself in the foot here, because if you don't come back I'll need a new roommate, but I hear something in your voice I haven't heard since we first met. I hear joy. I hear enthusiasm. I think being with your niece, Celia, is doing that to you, and I think being with Duncan is doing it as well."

  I felt like I was hovering on the edges of a wonderful world, hardly daring believe it might happen for me. Just like I did when I first came to the Carpenter home. But taking that step meant dragging with me all the things from my former life that were also a part of me. I couldn't see them fitting.

  "I don't know. I just can't see how—"

  "Maybe you have to stop looking at yourself through your eyes, and start seeing yourself through others' eyes."

  The conviction in her words created a flicker of hope.

  "And now, after delivering my mini sermon I need to get back to work. And contact this guy about your paintings."

  "Thanks. For everything. You're a good friend."

  Christine was quiet a moment. "And you're a good person. Don't forget that."

  We said goodbye and I stayed where I was, holding my phone in both hands as if capturing every word Christine gave to me. Wondering if I dared take them completely to heart.

  Then I heard Celia calling for me. "I'm hungry," she announced, coming out of her room with a puzzle in one hand and Jane tucked under her arm.

  "Let's go make some sandwiches. Maybe Aunt Esther wants some, too."

  Esther was already in the kitchen when we came downstairs.

  "I thought I would get started on lunch," Esther said, looking up from the bread she was buttering as we came in the room. "Celia, do you want soup with your grilled-cheese sandwich?"

  Celia didn't reply. Instead she walked past Esther and dropped the box with the puzzle in it on the dining room table.

  "Celia, sweetie," Esther prompted. "You didn't answer me."

  "Jane doesn't like soup," Celia replied.

  "She's still doing that?" Esther whispered as I opened the cupboard door right beside her. "Talking through that doll?"

  "Sometimes," was all I said, surprised that she was doing so with Esther, when she seemed to have stopped doing it with me.

  "I'm really concerned about that. Weren’t you going to see a counselor about that?" Esther asked as she flipped the sandwiches.

  “I talked to the principal, Mrs. Lansing yesterday. She can’t get Celia in until the New Year,” I said in a lowered voice, hoping Esther got the hint.

  "Celia, honey, do you and Jane want a sandwich?" I asked as I set the dishes out.

  Celia just nodded, and I left it at that.

  "How is the office cleanup coming?" I asked Esther as I returned for cutlery, hoping she would leave the topic of Celia alone for now.

  "Slow," she said, flipping the sandwiches. She stopped, her spatula hovering over the frying pan as she drew in a shuddering breath. "It's much harder than I thought it would be."

  I put my hand on her shoulder in commiseration. "I know what you mean."

  She spun around, glaring at me. "Do you? Really? Jerrod was just your foster brother."

  That her unexpected anger was directed at me was puzzling. And I tried not to take offense at the way she minimized my relationship with Jerrod.

  "But he was still my brother," I said, making myself hold her gaze. "The only one I had."

  Esther turned away again, her shoulders drooping. "Of course he was. I'm sorry. It's just too much. Too hard."

  I wanted to offer to help again but I knew she would turn me down as she had each time I had suggested it.

  So I just took the pot of soup and brought it to the table.

  Lunch was eaten in awkward silence and I, for one, was glad when Celia slinked away from the table, giving me the excuse to leave as well.

  Christmas songs filled the mall with their familiar, cheerful sounds. Stores lured people in with bright banners and posters proclaiming pre-season sales. Bright-red balls and huge frosted snowflakes hung suspended over the open space connecting the first and second floor. In spite of the busyness of people scurrying about, all carrying shopping bags, a feeling of festivity and expectation filled Duncan's heart.

  It had been years since he'd been to the mall, and though he forgot how busy it could be, he also forgot the energy created by being around so many people.

  He glanced over at Miriam, who was clutching her purse, looking around with a sense of wonder, acknowledging that her presence was part of the reason for his mood. For the first time since Kimberly and Tasha died, he was looking forward to Christmas and daring to make a few plans.

  "Never been to West Ed before?" he asked, when she slowed her steps to look around her.

  "Never. It's huge." She was walking slowly as her head turned taking it all in.

  "We'll have to check out the pirate ship and the water park," he said, grinning at her surprise.

  "Water park? Pirate ship? Seriously?"

  "And a roller coaster, amusement park, numerous food courts and movie theaters, mini-golf course, submarine rides, full-size skating rink, gun range, and, oh, yeah, stores. Lots and lots of stores, half of them selling shoes."

  "Wow." She shook her head as if trying to assimilate all that information. "This isn't a mall, it's a resort. With shopping."

  "And there's a hotel."

  "Can we go to the toy store?" Celia asked, dancing along between him and Miriam, Jane tucked unceremoniously under one arm, her hair flopping with every step Celia took.

  "Of course we can," Duncan said. "You'll have to show us what you want for Christmas."

  He had counted on this happening. He had no clue at all what to get her.

  "I want Shopkins, and a bike, and Jane wants a new dress and a kitchen," Celia said, skipping ahead of them to check out one of the many Christmas trees.

  "Kitchen?" he asked Miriam with a puzzled lift of his hands.

  "It's one of the accessories you can get for her doll."

  "How much is this accessory?"

  "About four hundred dollars," Miriam said, unsuccessfully hiding a smirk when his mouth fell open in shock. “Before tax.”

  "Four hundred," he sputtered. "Four hundred. Are you kidding me?"

  "You can get a table and chair set for it, too, with dishes. That's only two hundred. And the pots and pans and fake food and appliances you can get would set you back, I think, another three hundred."

  Duncan looked over at Celia, who held Jane at her side. "That's not a doll. That's an eighteen-inch tyrant."

  "It's an investment in her future happiness and mental stability," Miriam said with a grin. "And you can't put a price on that, now can you?"

  Duncan laughed and before he realized he had done it, he dropped his arm over Miriam's shoulders. Like they were old friends.

  But she didn't pull away, and deep within something shifted into the right and pr
oper place. Like a piece of him that had always been missing when he walked away from her the first time finally found its special niche.

  This was right, he thought.

  Celia came running back to them as they passed a bookstore. "Can we look at books?" she said, catching Miriam by the hand.

  "Okay with you?" Miriam asked Duncan.

  "Absolutely," he returned with a grin.

  So inside they went. Celia quickly found the children's section and soon she and Miriam were on the floor, paging through books, pulling out some, rejecting others. Duncan was content to watch the two of them. Miriam with her shining copper hair, bent over Celia.

  They could be mother and daughter, he thought, as he watched Miriam tracing out the words she was reading to Celia. The last few days he had witnessed the bond growing between them, and he wondered how Miriam felt. Did she really think she could leave this little girl behind?

  His heart skipped a beat as an errant thought settled.

  Would she consider staying?

  And where did that put him?

  He dropped down on one knee beside them, laying his hand on Miriam's shoulder, as if solidifying the thought. His feelings for her were growing. He couldn't dismiss out-of-hand their first meeting and that instant connection they shared. That had to mean something, too, didn't it?

  Miriam looked up at him, her soft smile making his heart do a slow flip. He wanted to kiss her again, and when he saw her lips part ever so slightly, he wondered if she felt the same.

  Then Celia grabbed a book and dropped it on Miriam's lap. "Read this one to me," she said.

  A strange look came over Miriam as she picked up the book and turned it over to look at the back. She touched the picture of the writer with trembling fingers.

  "You okay?" Duncan asked.

  Miriam nodded, a wistful look coming over her face. "This lady was the one who wrote the princess books I illustrated."

  "Really?"

  "I didn't think she was writing again. After we did the princess books together she was diagnosed with Hodgkins." Miriam released a light laugh. "She must have gotten through it."

  "Good for her," Duncan said, feeling a bit puzzled at Miriam's reaction. "Is that why you quit illustrating? Because of her?"

  Miriam released a harsh laugh. "No. My publisher wanted me to do more but, well, life got complicated."

  "Boyfriend?" He threw out the word casually, realizing a woman as attractive as Miriam could not have spent the past few years on her own.

  She released a harsh laugh. "Bad boyfriend." Then she gave him a warning look, putting her hand on Celia's shoulder. "Something I prefer not to talk about."

  That only made him want to find out more, but he knew that this wasn't the time or place.

  "I'm happy she's working again." Miriam gathered the books and stood. "Did you decide which one you wanted?" she asked Celia.

  Celia pulled the last book they had looked at, the one by the author Miriam had worked with, out of Miriam's arms. "I want this one."

  Duncan trailed behind Miriam and Celia as they walked to the cash register. They passed a table that held adult coloring books, as well as crayons and markers for coloring. Miriam slowed as she passed the table, her fingers trailing over the blank sketchbooks and packages of drawing pencils that took up one corner. A look of yearning came over her face, and a light winked on in his brain.

  "Do you take any of your drawing things along when you came here?" he asked.

  Miriam jerked her hand back and laughed. "I packed too quick. Just took the essentials."

  "Aunty Miriam, I have to go to the bathroom," Celia announced, suddenly dancing beside them.

  "Okay. I'll see if I can find one."

  "There's one just down the mall a couple of stores," Duncan said. "Give me the book, and I'll wait here."

  Miriam nodded and as soon as she left the store, Duncan waved a clerk over. The young man with a ring in his nose, purple hair and pants sagging halfway down his hips came sauntering over. "Do you know anything about these?" Duncan asked, gesturing to the art supplies.

  "Yeah, man. I put that display together," he said, tossing his hair out of his face. "I do art."

  He shouldn’t have been surprised. "Perfect. You can help me figure out what I should get. It's a surprise for that young lady that just left with the little girl."

  Mr. Purple Hair gave him a thumbs-up and a slow nod. "Impressive chick. Very."

  Though Duncan wholeheartedly agreed, right now he had another focus. "She's a professional illustrator who's staying here temporarily. She doesn't have any supplies with her, and I want to get her some for Christmas, but I don't have a clue. So can you help me out here before she comes back?"

  The young man became suddenly all business. "If she's a pro, you'll want to head to Peevey's downtown."

  "No time. I need to get what I can now."

  "Okay. What we got here isn't pro-level, but it's pretty good. You'll want a variety of pencilS. Some soft and some hard, and a blending tool." He pulled a few packages from the display and then handed him a pad of paper. "And this paper has a good weight and not too much tooth, but there's some paper in the back that really rocks."

  "Can you get me the rocking paper?"

  "Yeah, man. What about colored pencils?"

  "Would she use those too?"

  "If she does illustrating, possibly. Though she might use Copics or watercolors."

  "We'll start with the pencils," Duncan returned, glancing at Purple Hair's name-tag. "Jeff. And thanks."

  Jeff picked up a tin with a picture of an abstract looking tree in rainbow colors. "These are awesome. Smooth lead, blends great. Has wax in the lead so it lays down smooth as silk. Adult coloring is a huge deal and I recommend these to everyone."

  Duncan tried not to look shocked at the price on the tin. "These certainly aren't the crayons I used in school."

  "They're worth every penny," Jeff assured him so Duncan added them to the pile. "I'll get the paper and then I can ring you in."

  Duncan brought everything to the counter, peering around the corner, hoping Miriam wasn't headed back. He grabbed a calendar as well so he could sandwich the supplies between it and Celia's book.

  "Can you double bag the stuff?" he asked as the clerk rang his purchases through.

  "Course." Thankfully, Jeff was efficient and quickly had the items wrapped up. He handed him the bag and added a wink. "That's an awesome gift for an awesome woman."

  Duncan just grinned, pleased with himself that he had found such a perfect gift for Miriam.

  He exited the store and walked to a kiosk in the hallway that held maps to the mall. While he was paging through a map, he glanced up in time to see Miriam and Celia walking toward him. Miriam was holding Celia's hand, looking down at her and Duncan caught the same smile she often had when looking at their niece.

  How could Miriam think she couldn't take care of Celia? She was clearly connected to her.

  Then Celia saw him, released Miriam's hand and ran up to him, looking at his bag, her eyes wide. "Did you buy my book? Did you buy me a present?"

  He touched her nose with his fingertip. " You're not allowed to ask questions this close to Christmas."

  Miriam joined them, her smile encompassing both of them and she too shot a meaningful look at the bag hanging from his other hand. "You all done?"

  "I am. Unless you wanted to get something else?"

  Miriam glanced past him, and he wondered if she was thinking about the art supplies. She shook her head then reached into her purse for her wallet. “How much was the book?”

  “We can settle back at the house,” he said, putting his hand on hers to stop her. She gave him a secretive smile. “Okay, but make sure you do. Otherwise I’ll have to come up with something else for her majesty.”

  Duncan chuckled. “Of course And now, I have a suggestion for our next store.”

  "Lead the way.” Miriam fell into step beside him while avoiding oncoming shoppers.
"I have no idea where to go."

  As they walked he looked at the map, then at the stores around them to get his bearings. "We need to get to the other side, over there," he said, pointing to a shoe store across the large opening.

  They threaded themselves through the crowd and found a way to cross over to the other side. Duncan walked into the store, glancing around. When he saw what he was looking for, he grabbed a couple of pairs of boots, turned, and showed them to her. "Which color do you prefer? These light-blue ones with the grey bottoms and yellow laces, or the beige ones with brown laces?"

  "Why?"

  "What did I just tell Celia?"

  Miriam laughed. "That rule is for kids."

  "That rule is for Christmas," he returned, giving the boots a shake. "Which ones?"

  A wry smile curled over her mouth. "I can buy my own boots."

  "I'm sure you can." He cocked her a questioning eyebrow. "Don't fight me on this. I'm bigger, and I'm tired of you getting cold feet when we go out." He could see her hesitation. “Fine. I’ll pick then.” He set the beige ones aside and started walking to the counter.

  "Okay. Okay. I like that color in a size seven."

  "Whoa, you have tiny feet." Then he turned back to the saleslady that had zeroed in on him, showed her the boots and gave her the size. Miriam sat down on the backless bench, Celia beside her, giving him a quick smile.

  "You don't want to look around?" he asked as he dropped down beside her. An assault of Christmas music declared peace and joy coming to earth in the midst of the thronging shoppers and noise, a contradiction if ever there was one.

  "No. I'm good for footwear."

  He looked down at her faded and worn running shoes, and she caught the direction of his gaze.

  "These are comfy," she said. "Good for walking in the mall."

  Before he could say anything, the saleslady returned with a large box, and as she pulled the boots out of the rustling paper Duncan felt a sense of déjà vu. He and Tasha had spent more time than he cared to remember in shoe stores as the clerks opened box after box and Kimberly tried on shoe after shoe. Thankfully Tasha was a patient toddler.

  He bit his lip as an unexpected sorrow raked through him. Yet another memory to acknowledge and move on from.