Chapter 2

2

TAMMY

I stared down into my suitcase. A dozen pairs of underwear were stacked neatly in one corner, overrun by the tank tops and jeans I was trying to take. There was very little room for the jewelry box that my mom had given me or the blue monster stuffed animal that I'd had since I was a kid. Trying to pack my entire life was giving me a headache. I wanted to call it quits and go for a jog or head down to the local bar and buy a drink. But I was leaving the next day, and I had to pack.

I checked three of the drawers in my dresser: all empty. The fourth was a collection of pictures in small frames, phone cords, and an old plastic recorder. I tossed the instrument in the "donate" pile. It had been years since I had played, and even then, it had just been an assignment for music class. I sat down on the floor to detangle the cords, finding some that were too big to fit my newest phone. In the back of the drawer, I found a coffee mug full of pens and a portable charger, that might be useful. I emptied the pens into the trash and put the mug and the charger in my suitcase.

I'd moved into this apartment a couple of years ago, after my parents died. I didn't clean it often, but it wasn't a hoarder's paradise. Still, there were hundreds of little things I was finding, tucked away in places I didn't go. One of the pictures was of my mom and me, dressed in cowgirl gear, standing in front of a ranch house.

I tucked the photo between two pairs of jeans, moving on to the next drawer. Inside, I found a necklace my dad had given me when I turned eight, still packaged in its miniature jewelry box. It was a gold star on a gold chain. I had come in second place in a bowling competition, and it was his way of saying that I would always have first place in his heart.

Two years ago, I had been working at a clothing store in Austin. My manager had asked me to stay another few hours, so we could get inventory done. I had agreed, greedy for the extra pay. When I asked my parents to pick me up late –my car was in the shop -- I didn't think anything of it. It was just a quick trip on the highway, an easy fifteen minutes from our home to the store. I didn't think they would both come, and I became frustrated when neither of them answered my texts.

The owner was closing up the store and found me still waiting on the sidewalk outside.

"You want a lift?" she said.

I shrugged. "Yeah, thanks." I had no idea where my parents were or why they were so late. It wasn't like them at all. When I got home that night, the lights were off, and my parents' car was gone. It took me hours to figure out what had happened. They had decided that we would all go out to dinner after they picked me up, so both of them had left home on that fateful night.

They had made it halfway to the exit when a semi-truck jumped the guardrail and barreled into them. The accident had made statewide news, the leading story at eleven o'clock that night. But they didn't release the names of any of the victims. I had to wait until the police called to learn the specifics. I was an adult, twenty-four at the time. My dad's insurance paid for the house and the funeral and gave me enough money to rent an apartment.

I sold the house, quit my job at the clothing store, and did nothing for almost a year. I ate pizza and watched television movies. I went for long walks around the city, exploring neighborhoods far from my own. I hit up dozens of bars and danced until midnight. I didn't know what I was doing, but I knew it was time to stop. I had to make a move that would bring me closure and help me to heal. That's why I was going to stay with my cousin.

My phone rang just as I was scooping a collection of mismatched socks into the trash. The caller ID said it was Macy.

"Hey," I answered on the third ring.

"Hey, yourself," Macy replied. "I'm just checking in to see how things are going."

"They're going. Slow, but going," I said, already exhausted.

"You sure you don't want me to fly out to help?"

"No." I shook my head. "I'm almost done. I've had months to work on this. It's just down to my bedroom."

"I'm sorry," Macy said. "It must have been hard to make decisions about all your stuff."

"Yeah, well." I rolled my eyes. "I had a bunch of recipe books that I'm never going to use, and I had all my dad's old fishing magazines. I kept some furniture and a few knickknacks, but most of it I donated or threw away."

"You can put whatever you want into storage," Macy pointed out. "You don't have to throw everything away."

"I'll sort it all out," I said. "How old is your littlest one now?"

"Emily is eighteen months," Macy answered.

"My gosh, I can't believe I haven't seen you in that long."

"Since the funeral," Macy reminded me. She had been very pregnant at my parents' graveside, her stoic husband holding a wiggling little girl.

I didn't want to think about the funeral, so I pushed the thought from my mind. "I can't wait to meet her."

"She's very adventurous," Macy laughed. "I have to keep an eye on her all the time."

"Maybe I could help," I offered.

"I'll take you up on that any day," Macy said seriously.

"Do you think you'll have any more kids?" I asked, just to make conversation.

"I think we're done," my cousin answered. "Three is enough."

"But your kids are so cute." In the background, I could hear them fighting.

"I was playing with that!" a little girl shouted.

"It's mine," a little boy's voice said.

"Mom!" the girl whined. "Nicky won't let me play with the truck."

"It's my truck!" Nicky yelled.

"I'm sorry, I have to go," Macy excused herself.

"See you tomorrow," I laughed.

I set the phone back, returning to the task at hand. I moved from the dresser to the closet. Inside, there were books and papers on the floor, a few pairs of shoes that I never wore, and some old Christmas decorations. With a sigh, I decided to donate the party lights. I wasn't likely to own a house anytime in the near future, and Dillon and Macy would have their own decorations.

I wasn't planning on staying with them for very long. All I needed was a job in town, and I could move out and get my own place. I liked living on my own. There was no one to look over my shoulder and tell me when I should go to bed or what I should eat. I was free to come and go as I pleased without inconveniencing anyone or worrying friends or family. My plan was to stay with Macy for a month or two, put a deposit down on an apartment, maybe buy an old truck or a sedan, and settle into small-town life.

I had never been to Singer's Ridge. Macy had been living there for six years, ever since she had met and fallen in love with Dillon. I had been fresh out of high school when she disappeared for a season. No one in the family had known where she went, and the creep she was supposed to marry had wanted us all to believe she was mentally ill. I wasn't particularly close to my cousin, but even I knew that was hogwash. Macy didn't have a crazy bone in her body, and I, like the rest of the family, had been worried sick about her.

Through a twist of events that I still didn't understand, she had turned up in Singer's Ridge, pregnant and engaged to Dillon. In the intervening years, he had accompanied her to two family reunions, and I had met both Nicky and Daisy. They were the most adorable children I had ever met, though I might have been biased. I would get to meet Emily finally, and I looked forward to it.

Over the next three hours, I managed to pack everything in my apartment into three suitcases and six boxes. Everything was arranged in the living room for the movers. My couch, my dresser, my desk, everything except the bed and the toothbrush was ready to go. I was so hyped up, it took me a long time to unwind. When I finally fell asleep, I dreamed of cleaning a house that wasn't even mine.

T he eleven-hour trip to Singer's Ridge began early in the morning. I was up before the sun, anxious to get going. I helped move a couple of boxes into the rented truck, leaving the furniture for the professionals. I climbed into the cab with the driver, and we started out, three of us crammed into the front seat. For the first hour, we rode in silence. The second, they turned the radio to a news station before finally admitting that they wanted to listen to country music.

"That's fine with me," I said, relaxing into the seat while the driver switched the radio over to a playlist. Garth Brooks was followed by Kenny Chesney. I watched the towns change and the farms sprout and disappear into the rearview mirror.

We stopped a couple of times for bathroom breaks and once to grab lunch at a truck stop. I finally bought myself a coffee at the last stop before Singer's Ridge. The moving team took me to the storage place outside of town. It was a sprawling city of green-roofed tin cans, each with a padlock and a corrugated gate.

The lady was really friendly, and already I could feel the small-town vibe. I rented a unit for three months. That was the minimum and would give me enough time to find a job and an apartment, I thought.

The owner had her husband help us transfer my stuff from the truck to the shed. When we were done, she offered us a glass of iced tea.

"Gotta get going, ma'am," the driver tipped his hat.

"Where are you headed?" the owner asked me.

"I'm visiting my cousin," I said.

"Maybe I know her," the woman said.

"Macy Ford," I answered.

"Oh sure, we know Macy," the husband responded, looping an arm around his wife's shoulders.

"How are you gonna get up to the cabin?" the owner wondered.

"We'll give her a lift," my driver said.

"Nonsense," the older gentleman removed his hand from his wife and dug a set of keys out of his pocket. "We take care of our own here."

The driver looked at me, and I shrugged.

"Okay." He swung himself up into the cab with a wave. "That'll save us some time. Thanks."

The other mover climbed into shotgun, and the two reversed out of the parking lot. The owner disappeared into her office and returned with a promotional calendar. "Give this to Macy when you see her."

I turned it over in my hands, examining the front. It was a collection of landscapes, from Mt. Denali to the Chicago skyline.

"My son says we need to drum up new business," the woman explained somewhat apologetically.

I smiled, "Will do." I followed her husband to his pickup truck, slung the one bag I was taking with me into the bed, and climbed into the passenger seat.

My new driver was much more talkative than the old one had been. He waxed philosophical about small towns and the people in them. He told me all about the librarian and how she wouldn't let him off the hook for an overdue book, even though he had been to elementary school with her. I was grateful when he finally turned off the main road and began the climb to Macy's cabin. It was dusk, and magic had settled on the forest. I could hear the songs of birds calling to each other through the trees. We could see just far enough to know that the woods went on forever in all directions. As we drove, a deer ambled past, unconcerned by our intrusion. We pulled up to the driveway and honked the horn.

Abruptly, the cabin door flew open and two children raced out to greet us. Macy and Dillon stepped out onto the porch to supervise, wearing big, welcoming smiles. Nicky and Daisy hopped down the steps to dance around the truck.

"Did you bring us anything? Did you bring us anything?" they cried, clearly more excited about the prospect of presents than seeing their cousin.

I laughed. The old man from the storage place grabbed my bag out of the back and handed it over to Dillon.

"Won't you come in for some dinner?" Macy asked him.

"No, thank you," he said with a wink. "My wife's cooking, and I would be in a lot of trouble if I didn't save my appetite."

Macy laughed.

"Here." I remembered the calendar and thrust it at her.

She shuffled the toddler in her arms to work a hand free. "This is nice."

"All your storage needs and whatnot," the man said with a smile.

"Thanks for giving me a ride." I waved as he got back in his truck and rumbled down the hill.

"Come in." Macy stood aside to allow me to enter.

I hugged her around her wiggling toddler. I hugged Dillon and fought to detach myself from Nicky and Daisy as they latched onto my legs.

"What did you bring us?" Nicky sang.

"Okay, okay," I laughed. I grabbed my bag, overwhelmed with the welcome.

"Give her a minute," Macy said, following us inside.

The family had clearly eaten already, and the kids were dressed for bed. I sat down on the couch and opened my bag. Inside were two little toys I had grabbed at a drugstore on my way out of Austin. It wasn't anything special, but the kids were overjoyed. I watched them hug their new treasures to their cheeks and accepted kisses as payment.

"Bedtime," Macy said.

"Mom," Nicky complained.

"Tammy will be here tomorrow," Macy promised.

The kids stood up and followed their father into one of the adjoining rooms. There was half a moment of blissful peace. I could breathe the fresh country air and appreciate the smell of the hardwood floors. Then Emily started crying, and Macy had to excuse herself.

"There's chicken pot pie in the fridge. Help yourself to a beer," she said. "I'm sorry, I'll be right back."

"Take your time." I didn't even get up, exhausted from the trip. The cabin lights were warm, exposing a slice of life that was different from anything I had experienced before. Toys were scattered across the floor, a baby Binky and an empty beer bottle on the end table. There were dishes in the sink, but the table was clean. The cabin was lived-in and happy; I could feel it in my bones. This vacation with Macy would be a welcome diversion from single life. I could finally forget the trauma of losing my parents and the ex-boyfriend who had cheated on me and put down roots in a family town. All that lingering pain felt strange on me in this moment, and I could only explain it as feelings of hope.

I kicked my boots off and curled up on the couch to wait for Macy or Dillon, confident that I was going to fit in just fine.

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