New Love: Blue Valley High — Senior Year (The Blue Valley Series Book 2)

by Mj Fields

  When I hear her laugh from behind me as I stare at the couch, I look back and ask, “No covers?”

  “I took those covers off when Fred passed away and never put them back on.”

  “Rebelling, are you?” I walk toward the kitchen where she places a teapot on the burner before lighting the gas.

  “Aren’t we all, dear?” she asks, pulling out her kitchen stool, that’s seat lifts and severs as a small ladder, so she can climb up and get cups.

  “I suppose so.” I reach up and grab them so she doesn’t have to.

  “Thank you, dear. I would have gotten there, just takes a minute.”

  After making the tea, we walk over to the table and sit.

  “Your grandmother called after she saw you at Maggie’s and was very upset.” Ann takes a sip of her tea, peering over the cup, waiting for my response.

  “That was a bad night,” I whisper.

  Ann laughs loudly and from her belly. “I guess it was. You’re going to be just fine, dear one.”

  I close my eyes and smile, holding the teacup under my nose, inhaling the calming scent of lavender, along with her words, before admitting, “Things are a mess, Aunt Ann.”

  “I want to hear all about it. Let’s grab some blankets and cuddle up on the deck. Remember your—”

  “My hat?” I ask.

  Ann laughs, and then we grab our hats.

  Even wrapped up and my hat on, I’m cold. “Are you sure it’s not too cold out here for you?”

  Ann shakes her head then nods toward the neighbor’s home. “Mr. and Mrs. Balen passed away a month apart. They donated the house to our church. Do you see that young man over there?” She points, and I lean forward and, in fact, see a man outside the home, also in the cold. “He’s a smart man. He has a hat on, keeping his ears warm, and using the heat that would normally escape from his head to keep him toasty on this cold winter day. He’s not in the house, staying warm, wasting the day playing games or watching TV. He’s out here in the cold, enjoying the sunshine. He is using his hands and able body to take care of what may someday be that man’s home, a place to live his life. He is tearing down that old house, and I really think he is going to rebuild it. I’ve watched him save the wood that was not rotted, as if he plans to reuse it. It’s not too cold out here for him.”

  I nod.

  Ann laughs. “He’s very nice to watch, Tessa.”

  “He’s handsome.” I think so, anyway. I mean, as far as his body goes, I can tell he’s tall, lean, with broad shoulders. I look back at her to see she’s grinning. “Do you have a crush, Aunt Ann?”

  “I’m too old to have a crush. And he’s very young. I don’t even buy green bananas anymore. I do, however, still have my eyes.” Ann winks then turns to me. “Tell me everything, Tessa, about this Lucas.”

  Everything falls out of my mouth. Well, not everything, but the basics, the PG version of the basics. I try not to cry but fail, and Ann cries, too. I do not tell her the true ending, not about the party on New Year’s Eve, but do tell her that he kissed someone, and that I saw it.

  She doesn’t say anything for a long minute as we watch her neighbor climb down the ladder then wave at Ann. She waves back.

  Ann pats my knee as he walks into the house. “Well, let’s go inside. Even he’s smart enough to know when enough is enough.”

  We make dinner together, a London broil that she seasoned, and baked potatoes with corn. She then makes a third plate.

  “What’s that for?”

  “The neighbor. His lights are still on. I assume he’s working hard in there. We have plenty, so you want to take it over to him?”

  I raise my hands up. “I wouldn’t want to intrude. You go ahead.”

  “Nonsense, you go. I will be fine.”

  Ann shares a large driveway with her neighbor, so the walk over isn’t a big deal, but it’s so freaking dark. I knock on the door, holding a plate covered in foil and wrapped in a kitchen towel.

  Again, I knock on the door, knowing he won’t hear it because, beyond the door, I hear a saw running. Finally, I try the handle, and it luckily opens. I set the plate on a small table, step back outside, and then shut the door.

  Sitting with Ann on the couch, watching Matlock, her holding my hand, she sighs.

  I look at her.

  “You’re doing the right thing, Tessa. And besides kissing that girl the other night, so is he. I think you know that.”

  She’s right. Down deep, I know why he did it—pushing me away because I have been there, and I wasn’t going away. I all but said the words choose me.

  “Getting over your first love is never easy; I know this.”

  It hits me that she lost hers, too.

  “I’m sorry. You must miss Uncle Fred terribly.”

  “I miss Fred. He was my best friend and partner for most of my life. He wasn’t my first love, though. My first love, my first husband, the father of the only child I ever carried, was killed during the war.”

  I swear my jaw drops at the same time my mind is blown.

  She shrugs. “I was wild about him, and he was about me. We married after a two-month courtship. It was either get married or have premarital sex.” Ann winks.

  “I didn’t know.”

  “Oh, we don’t talk about it, but Joseph was beautiful. Tall and well-built … very well built. He had hues of copper in his black hair and blue eyes. We butted heads and made up every day. We had passion. He was … my Joe.” She smiles then nods toward the left. “And Tessa, he looked an awful lot like my new neighbor.”

  There’s a knock on the door, and I uncurl my legs from under me.

  “You sit. I’ll get it,” she tells me.

  “Hello,” I hear a smile in her voice when she opens the door.

  Then I hear a deep, rich voice, but there is something soft in it, too. “Thank you for supper.”

  “My great-niece brought it over for you. We watched you working on the house and saw a light on. We figured you were probably hungry,” Ann explains.

  “I was. Thank you, ma’am.”

  “It’s Ann.”

  I want so badly to see the beautiful smile on her face but also do not want to intrude.

  “Well, thank you, Ann.” The deepness has softened further.

  “May I ask what you plan to do with the Balen home?”

  “I plan to rebuild it. They owned the lot next to them, as well, so I’ll be expanding. I hope to use it as my main home. I’ll be traveling a lot. It’s peaceful here. I like it,” he shares with her.

  “Well then, it’s good to meet you finally,” she gushes, and it’s adorable.

  There’s a smile in his voice when he says, “The pleasure is mine, Ann.”

  There’s almost a skip in her step when she rounds the corner, and a growing smile on her face as she sits next to me.

  I grin back at her. “First date go well?”

  Giggling, she settles in before rubbing my cheek. “And what a perfect date it was.”

  Sighing, she sits back. “I loved Fred very much, but I understand how you feel about your Lucas. Young love is astonishing. I often wonder what life would have been like had Joe not passed. But I know that wasn’t God’s plan for me. You’re moving past this already and will eventually get over this. I’m not saying it’ll be easy.”

  She nods toward a photo above the mantel. “Fred asked me to marry him at least five times over three years before I finally said yes. But I waited and did so with no regrets.” Ann smiles as she looks back at me. “There is no rewind button in life, Tessa. What hell we walk through has to be learned from as we continue moving forward. If we sit and wallow, the hell will consume us. Fred showed me that. It took a little longer than he expected, but we had a great life, one with no regrets.”

  Feeling the truth in her words, I hug her. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t let it consume you. Promise me, Tessa, that you will walk through without looking back. We make mistakes throughout life, and that’s what
we are supposed to do, but we have to learn from those mistakes. We can’t change the past, but your future is beautiful. You just have to let yourself see the beauty in it.” Ann kisses my cheek then sits back. “Ready for bed? You look tired.”

  As soon as my head hit the pillow, I sleep like I haven’t in months. And I wake up far too early. After scribbling a note on the back of an old envelope, ones that Ann saves to use for such things, I bundle up, slide on my boots, and then head out to attempt to run on the beach, in February.

  I freeze, but being by the water and running, and the fact that it feels closer to home than actual being home, makes me happy and sad all at the same time. It’s maddening, which oddly brings warmth. My gut—God’s voice, as I have been told—makes me want so badly to go to school here. My head screams, Chatham. My heart … Blue Valley.

  So, I run some more.

  Returning to the house, I find Ann is still sleeping. Honestly, I have no idea when she normally gets up in the morning, so I shower then start making breakfast to surprise her, as I know it’s been years since anyone has done that. In fact, I can bet that the last time she was served breakfast in bed was when we came to stay after Uncle Fred passed. Alex and I did so. She showed me pictures just last night from that visit.

  While scrambling eggs, I smile, thinking about all the scrapbooks and photo albums that we poured over last night, and the ones we’re going to today while listening to her old Lawrence Welk vinyl.

  And that’s what we end up doing, and we take a long walk after lunch. We were going to walk all the way to the lighthouse, but the wind picks up, so we decide we’ll drive to all of them tomorrow instead.

  We make dinner again—chicken and biscuits—and I shovel a nice path between her house and Ann’s neighbor so that she can take him dinner tonight. I also change the blown lightbulb on the side of her house so she’ll be able to better see. I squirt some WD40 on her screen door because, apparently, even the slightest squeak triggers me now.

  I watch through the kitchen window as he wipes his hands on a towel then tosses it aside before taking the plate, hugging her, and kissing the top of her head. And I get all sorts of tingly, giddy, and can’t help but feel all that, plus more, for her.

  Standing at the sink, sipping our evening tea, she sets her cup down then hugs me. “I’ve had the best two days with you, Tessa. The best days in many, many years. Thank you for coming to visit.”

  “Love and admire you. I always have. I needed you, and you were here, as always. Thank you for having me. I promise to come visit more.”

  Ann smiles as she rubs my cheek, as she always does. A loving term of endearment that only Aunt Ann gives. One day, I hope she will give the same to my babies.

  Again, I wake early and go for a run in the cold, hat on my head, watching the sun rise.

  I feel the Capes … Ann’s warmth, but I also feel closer to God. The water does that. The ocean especially. It’s vast and its greatness truly humbles me.

  I stand on the shore then squat down, hugging myself while thinking all the wisdom that comes with age and the gift that she’s given me over the past two days. I take a moment to thank God for Ann, and for my family.

  Standing, I then think of Lucas for the first time since being here when not specifically talking about him. He wants that—family—and he’ll have it. And I know he will be a great father, and that he has Audrianna and the girls now, too. The next four months will be difficult but doable, and yes, that’s what my gut—God’s voice—is telling me.

  After making tea and toast, because Ann mentioned wanting to make a special breakfast together, I peek in at her and see a slight smile on her face.

  “Aunt Ann,” I whisper.

  Ann says nothing.

  I walk closer, not wanting to wake her, but she did ask that I do.

  I reach over and gently rub her arm. “I made you some tea.”

  When she doesn’t wake, I gently shake her shoulder, and her arm falls to the side. Ann still doesn’t wake up.

  “Aunt Ann, wake up.”

  She doesn’t.

  “Aunt Ann, please wake up!”

  I throw back the covers and pull her up, holding her body to me, sobbing as I cry out, “No! No! No!”

  Holding her to me, still crying, I grab her phone and dial 9-1-1.

  After the call, I force myself to do what was asked by the operator. I cry as I lay her back, my whole body trembling as I walk to the door and unlock it as instructed. Then I run back to her bed and lie down beside her, whispering, crying, sobbing, “I love you,” over and over, and over again.

  I hear Ann’s Joe’s voice ask, “What’s going on?”

  “We got a call. Do you know the owner?” another man asks, and I wrap my arms around my aunt, not wanting them to take her.

  “She’s my neighbor,” he answers.

  Holding so tightly that I worry I’m hurting her, I beg that she do the impossible, “Please wake up, Aunt Ann, please wake up.”

  “Miss, you need to get off the bed and let us get to work,” one of the paramedics instructs.

  “No!” I scream at him then turn back to her.

  “Aunt Ann, please, please, wake up. Please!”

  “Miss, we need you to let go now,” he instructs urgently.

  “No! God, please, no!”

  “Come on,” Ann’s Joe says softly as he picks me up and pulls me away. I struggle, but he holds me tighter. “Gotta let them do their jobs.”

  He sits me on the couch as I sob, wiping the tears and snot off my face with my sleeve.

  “Let me get you a tissue.”

  When he walks away, I get up and run toward her room. He catches me around the waist and drags me back.

  “I know you’re hurting, but you need to let them do what needs to be done.”

  “I need her to wake! Up!”

  After several minutes, I watch as they come out with a stretcher, and …

  “No! No! No!”

  I jump up, and again, he pulls me back.

  “Oh God, no.”

  “We’re sorry, Miss,” one of the men says as they wheel her out.

  My legs turn to mush, and the neighbor helps me to the floor. I crawl to her room and sit against the bed, hugging my knees.

  “Can I call anyone for you?”

  I shake my head as I wipe more tears, and then I reach for the old rotary phone and set it beside me. I dial the phone, and Mom answers.

  “Mom …” My voice shakes then breaks. “I need you.”

  Unable to talk, catch my breath, or do anything but cry, the neighbor takes the phone.

  “Hello. I’m Ann’s neighbor, Collin,” he says as he looks around the room. “I’m very sorry, but Ann passed away last night … in her sleep.”

  I cover my ears and cry, “No, no, no, no, no.”

  He sits on the floor next to me, wrapping one around my shoulders as he continues his conversation with my mom. He tells her which hospital and listens to whatever Mom says then responds, “I’ll wait. You’re welcome. I’m very sorry.”

  I get up and walk out of the room, hurrying into the bathroom, where I blow my nose and wash my face, trying to make myself come to terms with this … this loss.

  When I walk out, I keep my eyes on the floor, not wanting to see him, or him see me. For some reason, I feel the need to show Ann respect by apologizing and thanking him.

  But before I have a chance to say anything he calmly tells me, “Your mother is calling your aunt’s pastor. He should be here soon. I’m going to sit with you until he gets here. Your mother is going to be here as soon as she can.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Are you cold?”

  “No.” My voice squeaks, and the tears begin … again.

  He takes my hand and pulls me behind him. Then he motions for me to sit on the couch, as he does so first. When I sit, he wraps a consoling arm around my shoulders and pulls my head to his shoulder.

  “It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to be
sad. It’s okay to grieve, especially for a woman as deserving of such as she.”

  So cry, I do.

  I fall asleep, I have no idea how, but I do. And waking up, there is a hole where my heart was. It hurts. It hurst so fucking bad.

  I stand up and swallow, my throat feeling like fire, and head to the bathroom.

  “I need a shower. I’m okay. Thank you. I’m sorry. She liked you,” I ramble on like an idiot until I shut the door behind me.

  Standing under the shower, I cry more, so much more.

  Once the tears slow, I get out and get dressed, happy I left my clothes for today in here.

  While dressing, I hear two men talking in the kitchen.

  Ann’s Joe says, “Her mother should be here soon, I guess. It was all a bit chaotic, Pastor Lou.”

  “I’m glad you were here for her.”

  His voice now deeper, he says, “I wish I could stay. She was so upset. She’ll be okay, right?”

  “Of course, and praise be to God that her niece was here, and that you were alert enough to notice a problem next door. But breathe easier knowing Ann wasn’t alone. She was surrounded by love.”

  “I’ll miss my flight if I don’t go now.”

  “Go. She’ll be fine. Stay safe, son.”

  “Always.”

  I wait for the front door to close before I walk out of the bathroom. And when I see the pastor, immediate recognition hits. “Pastor Lou.”

  Arms spread, I hurry to him, and he hugs me.

  “Oh, Tessa, it’s you. She’s in heaven with her Lord and Savior, and Fred. And she spent her last days with you, Tessa. She was truly blessed.”

  I nod, fighting tears now as I hug him back.

  I know Pastor Lou from a summer VBS, as well as past trips to visit Ann when we went to her church on Sundays.

  Within hours, my family arrives. Within two days, Ann is cremated, and we are able to bring her home. Her wish was to be buried in Syracuse with Fred and his siblings. It ends up being a small service, with few people in attendance. I feel sorry for anyone not here, for they have, and never will, meet a woman whose kindness knew no bounds and whose love felt like home.