Chapter 8

Lily

Iunlock my car and gather my belongings. I grab my travel bag – carefully packed and repacked for this journey – from the passenger seat. Behind it, nestled in the backseat, is Mango's crate.

"Mango, it's time, buddy," I say, tucking him into the crate and giving him a gentle stroke. He gives a half-hearted meow, almost as if to protest our hasty departure and apparent change of plans. I chuckle lightly, reassuring him with a gentle pat, "Trust me, it's gonna be okay."

Balancing the cat crate against my hip, I also grab Mango's supplies – a small pack of his food and favorite treats, bowls, and other supplies. It's a juggling act that I've gotten surprisingly adept at as I cautiously shut the car door.

I straighten, adjusting Mango's crate once more before I start following Koko. On cue, Rog leans over my car, plucks the spindle out of my back window, and hands it over to the mayor. "Thanks, Rog!" she chirps, twirling the spindle in her hand.

As Koko struts off towards the bakery, her gold and purple dress swaying with each step, she throws an imperious wave over her shoulder, urging me to follow. I quickly hand my keys off to Rog with a muttered thanks and quicken my steps to catch up to the bakery owner/town mayor. I look back over my shoulder at my car, feeling a sense of apprehension. I watch as Rog examines the hole in my window, then gives Sema a scratch behind one of his ears.

I'm a step behind Koko as she enters the bakery. I breathe deeply as I step inside, the scent of fresh bread and sugary delicacies instantly filling my nose. I glance toward the bakery counter, now busy as the lingering parade spectators have rushed inside to escape the chilly evening air. A young woman is on the other side of the counter, efficiently taking care of the demanding customers with impressive aplomb.

"Do you need an extra hand here?" Koko calls.

The woman looks up, her smile unfaltering even as she juggles two steaming cups of hot chocolate. "I've got this, ma'am," she declares with a confident grin.

I follow Koko through a crimson curtain separating the bakery's front from the back. The kitchen is empty except for Dobry, who is washing dishes at a sink. An enormous mixer and the ovens sit like silent sentinels over the space. I can imagine what the bakery is like in the early morning when all the goods in the display case are being created. I picture a wonderland of activity, people rushing about tending to a multitude of tasks – kneading dough, tending the ovens, and decorating pastries.

We move through the area swiftly. Koko greets Dobry as he looks up to watch us pass by. It's as if she rules over this domain, a revered and respected queen. We arrive at a surprisingly spacious and cozy office at the back. Koko gestures for me to take a seat in a cushy-looking armchair.

"I need to apologize once more," Koko begins, twirling the spindle in her hands like a fidget spinner. Her eyes gleam with mischievous repentance. "I promise, Sema is usually very well-behaved."

I chuckle, shaking my head. "It's okay, Koko. Just my luck, I suppose."

"Nonetheless, we can't leave you homeless now, can we?" Koko muses, her rosy cheeks dimpling with a smile. "We've got quite a few accommodations available – The Sunflower Inn for one. It's a lovely little bed and breakfast. The only problem is that they aren't pet-friendly. I can ask the owners if they'll make an exception for you as a favor to me."

I hide my wince at that suggestion. I don't relish staying someplace where the owners would find me and my Mango an imposition.

"There's also a room available at Vedma's house – I believe her renter moved out recently, but… it might be a tight fit for you and your pet, and you'd have to share the main living space with Vedma. I mean… she's lovely, but she's a busybody, and she will tell the whole town all your business."

"My only other option is probably your best choice…" She looks at me, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "I own a cabin at the edge of town, just in the woods. I had a couple lined up for the festival week, but they canceled at the last minute. It's all primed and ready for visitors. It's quite perfect, actually."

That sounds promising. It would give Mango someplace to explore, and I could use the peace and quiet. "That sounds good, Koko, but how will I get there without a car?"

Her honeyed laughter fills the air, pure and infectious. "Oh, not to worry. Rog, bless his heart, has a garage truck he lends out to people when their cars are in his shop. He'll be more than happy to let you borrow it."

I shrug because what other options do I have? "That sounds great. Thank you."

"Perfect! Let me text Rog and make sure the loaner is gassed up." I watch as Koko quickly sends off a text, all the while fidgeting with the spindle that still has the red thread wrapped around it. She sets it to twirling like a spinning top on her desk's surface.

Once she sets her phone back down, Koko catches me staring at the mesmerizing motion of the spindle.

"Lily, have you ever tried spinning?"

"I can't say I have. But it looks interesting," I admit.

"Spinning wool or flax into thread has a tradition that goes back thousands of years. I like to keep that tradition alive here in Lublin Harbor. I even teach a class to learn spinning with a spindle."

The spindle topples over, coming to a stop on Koko's desk. She picks it up and stares at the wooden object with a look that says her thoughts are a million miles away. "I love the tradition of spinning. It means the world to me," she explains while I nod along.

"But it's not just about creating thread or yarn. It's about creating something from the unformed. The act of spinning is to create something new. I think that's why spinning is so strongly associated with women, and especially motherhood. Creating the thread and weaving represents how everything is tied together. It's why, historically speaking, it was women's work. We create life. Almost every culture carries a myth about spinning and life and fate."

"Like the Fates in Greek mythology?" I respond, thinking about the myth about the women who clipped the threads that ended people's lives.

"Greek mythology," Koko scoffs under her breath. "But yes. The Moirai is a good example. That's one of the myths about weaving. In Slavic culture, we have our own myths as well. It's said that the mother goddess spins the thread of life itself, determining a person's destiny, similar to the Moirai." Koko pauses, picking up the spindle and unrolling a bit of the crimson thread still spooled on it.

"This color makes me think about the Red String of Fate. In Chinese folklore, it is believed that each person is born with an invisible red thread that connects them to their one true love. Their fated mates. No matter where they go, no matter how the thread may stretch or tangle, the thread that connects them never breaks. The two people connected by the red thread are destined lovers, regardless of place or circumstance. Isn't that romantic?" Koko sighs at the thought like a teenage girl over a poster of her favorite boy band.

Maybe I'm too newly burnt by ‘love', but fated love seems more than a little far-fetched.

"Hey, Koko?" I ask, my gaze watching as she rhythmically winds and unwinds the thread from the spindle. "Have you ever… met the person on the other end of your string?" I don't know this woman well enough to ask such personal questions, but she's the one who brought it up first. And I'm curious.

Koko's laugh trails off at my question, a soft, odd note of understanding replacing it. She heaves a resigned sigh, her hands still busily fiddling with the red string. "Him," she starts, her voice a timbre of worn wisdom and fondness. "Yes, I have met him… my string's end. But we are currently on a break."

My lips part in surprise. I have no idea why that catches me by surprise. Perhaps it's because Koko seems so self-possessed.

Koko casts me a glance, her sparkling eyes painting a picture of trials, triumphs, heartache, and redemption. "It just goes to show, Lily, being fated does not exempt you from work," she says. "Any relationship needs work to survive, even pre-destined ones."

The wisdom in her simple yet expansive confession strikes me, a solemness settling around us like a shroud. It makes me think of Marcus – about how he just got comfortable and stopped trying. He let me do all the work and started taking me for granted. My mind spins, ensnared by this revelation, and I break the silence, albeit softly, "I'll remember that, Koko."

Koko jolts as if waking up from her thoughts, her twinkling eyes anchoring on me again. "So… Have you decided where you'd like to stay while your car gets fixed?"

"I think," I begin, my decision already made, "I'd like to stay at the cabin in the woods."

Her eyebrows lift, giving me an approving look. "Good choice. Here, let me get you the keys." Koko stands, her dress swirling around her as she moves towards an antique desk in the corner of the room.

She opens one of the drawers, rummaging around before she pulls out a set of keys. Her lips curl up into a warm smile as she strides back to me, her movements effortlessly graceful.

Extending her hand, she offers me the keys. Their dull bronze surface glimmers under the pale light as I take them.

I watch as Koko swiftly rips out a page from a notebook. She quickly writes something and then offers it to me. "I wrote the directions to the cabin. It's really easy to get to. I've also included the number here and my cell phone number in case you need anything. What's your number? I need to give it to Rog so he can let you know when your car is ready."

I rattle off my number.

"You should go soon. It's easier to find before dark," she suggests, glancing up from jotting down my number. "No need to worry, it's not hard to find, but it gets dark in the woods. It's nestled right into the heart of the local forest – perfect for anyone hoping to escape it all. You won't have any neighbors to bother you. But it means it gets very dark at night."

"I see," I answer, intrigued but slightly anxious at the notion of isolation. That's when I think about Mango and laugh – he's all the company I need.

"No, no, don't you worry, Lily," she assures me, misunderstanding my furrowed brow. "The road that leads to the cabin ends at the front door. You won't miss it."

"That sure sounds promising, Koko," I reply, smiling despite my nerves. I decide to enjoy this enforced break. Perhaps I need this – the quiet, the solitude. I need a chance to heal, to move on, even if it's just for a few days in the woods.

"Now, the cabin is quite charming. A lovely rustic A-frame – lots of windows, natural woodwork, a quaint little porch. It even has a fireplace! And it's safeguarded. There's a wooden domovoy statue sitting next to the porch. It was brought from the motherland."

At my confused look, Koko explains, "A domovoy is a house spirit. He protects the home and its occupants. If you ever need help, you offer him some leftovers from your dinner."

"I can't wait to see it," I say, accepting the paper and reviewing the directions. Koko winks at me, her excitement infectious. Perhaps this is exactly what I needed – a new place, an unexpected adventure.

"Come, Lily," Koko says, extending her hand towards me, a cordial smile ghosting her lips, "I'll walk you back to the garage so you can pick up your loaner."

Koko is kind enough to take my rolling suitcase, so I don't have to carry everything myself.

Exiting the bakery, we walk together. The ongoing festival's vibrant colors and bustling sounds seem to come alive even more. The town is buzzing with laughter and conversation. The boundless energy of joyful celebration fills the air with an intoxicating magnetism. I watch, fascinated, as the people of the town revel in the festivities, eyes gleaming with delight, their faces alight with pure zest for life. Couples dance in the space before the stage as onlookers cheer them on, every corner echoing heartfelt laughter.

There's a sense of harmony, a shared euphoria that I've never experienced before. All around me, the town –as strange as it is – feels alive, thumping with a heartbeat in rhythm with the music and merry chatter.

As we navigate the crowd, Koko commands attention like a celebrity walking the red carpet. The people of the town halt their lively conversations to greet her, their eyes sparkling with reverence and affection.

"Ah, good evening, Mayor. Another fantastic festival day," the elderly man sitting outside the hardware store hails Koko, his face creasing into a warm smile.

A group of teenagers call after her, asking if she's got a spot picked out in the park for the fireworks. I notice one of them, a boy probably not much more than eighteen, blushing furiously as Koko winks at him playfully.

And so, it goes on – every step we take, every corner we turn, people greet the mayor, their faces lighting up at the mere sight of the woman.

As we near the garage, I glance at Koko with newfound reverence, the way she's so effortlessly the heart of this town. I can see why the townsfolk are so smitten by her. She radiates warmth and comfort, like a big cozy blanket.

I can see a sign up ahead that says Svarog's Garage on a street corner that is far enough away from the town center that we're mostly alone on our walk. Approaching the building, I see three garage bays, two of which are currently open. My car is in one bay and another unfamiliar vehicle is in the next. Rog is hunched over, his head nearly lost within the labyrinth of the other car's engine.

When he sees us approaching, he straightens up, pulls a rag from his pocket, and cleans his hands.

"I already put in an order for your window. It'll take at least two days to get here, if not more, and then another day for me to install it," Rog warned, his brows furrowed in concern.

"Okay. If you can somehow get it here faster, I'd really appreciate it."

He doesn't respond, but I get the sense that my request would require a miracle. Rog pulls a set of keys out of his pocket and offers them to me. Then he points to an old blue truck parked on the side of the building. I have a feeling that the truck is older than I am but decide not to voice my doubts about it.

"It may be a little old, but it runs like a clock," Rog swears. He plucks a slightly bent business card from his pocket, handing it to me. "Koko sent me your number, so I'll text when your car's ready. However, here's my number in case you have any questions."

"Thank you. I appreciate it," I respond, tucking the keys in my pocket. My eyes linger on my vehicle, thankfully free from any apparent harm inside the garage.

"Just be careful at the turns, the brakes are touchy," Rog adds in a gruff voice.

"Make sure you send me the bill, Rog," Koko reminds the mechanic before turning back to me. "It's been nice to meet you, Lily. I wish it were under better circumstances. However, enjoy the cabin. When Rog finishes with your car, you can drop the cabin's keys off at the bakery."

I thank Koko as she hands me my luggage. I turn to head to the truck, wanting to get to the cabin before it gets dark.

Koko starts to walk away, strutting towards the road, when she suddenly pauses, and a soft gasp escapes her lips. "Shoot!" She exclaims, smacking her forehead. "I almost forgot!"

She quickly walks back to me, her golden curls bouncing with each rapid step.

"There's a little path behind the cabin. It leads to a lake," she says, her hand waving in the air as if to draw me a mental map. A soft smile graces her lips. "There's a charming gazebo there; it's magical at night."

She pauses, her gaze lost momentarily as if caught in a beautiful memory, before snapping back to reality. "And tonight, the town will set off an amazing firework display at 11 sharp. Trust me, you don't want to miss it. The gazebo is one of the best places to watch the show!"

With a wink, she walks away, leaving me staring after her, feeling a little bit like a lost lamb.

I need to let Aunt Zizi know what has happened, but I'm too wiped out to figure out what time it is in New Zealand at the moment, so instead of calling, I text Aunt Zizi warning her that I'm stuck in the middle of nowhere for a few days because of car troubles.

Tossing my stuff into the truck bed, I set Mango's crate in the passenger seat and get into the truck. It starts with a deep rumble I can feel in my rib cage. I put the car in reverse and slowly back out of the mechanic's lot, giving myself plenty of space to get a feel for how the truck drives.