2. Marnie

There’s something spooky about a small town.

So damn dark out here.

I pull into Uncle Gus’s farm and sit behind the wheel. Aside from the pale light shining down from an aluminum light over the barn, it’s pitch dark.

A wall of silver maples surrounds the house, their towering branches casting even deeper shadows over the house.

I have to go in there.

I have to sleep in there.

It’s been probably five years since I’ve been back to Uncle Gus’s farm. Another pang of guilt stabs through my chest. When was the last time I talked to him? Christmas, maybe. But even then, I had a mile long list of catering orders. I barely stopped long enough to visit my dad, let alone worry about my bachelor uncle out in the sticks.

That bakery was my life. It was supposed to be my mom’s legacy. In her honor.

And now, what? It’s a pile of ash.

I climb out of the car and shiver as an errant breeze travels over my bare legs. My skirt twines around my thighs and the sound of the wind is eerie in the branches overhead.

In the distance, I hear music. I glance towards Silver Bend. It’s less than a mile off. Must be Swede Days.

When I was a kid, I used to beg my mom to send me out to visit Uncle Gus during the festival. It was the only exciting thing that ever happened out here. For a town that doesn’t even have a swimming pool, Swede Days brought parades, food, and even a small carnival.

I really don’t want to be around anybody, let alone a bunch of stranger-averse hicks. But it sure beats the hell out of meeting my uncle’s ghost in that dark house.

Climbing back into my car, I turn back towards town. Light pollution, soothing and bright, fills my dash the closer I get. Parking a good distance from the main street, I walk towards the sounds of the festival. Hesitating on the edge of the sidewalk, I watch a live band serenade a bunch of people in blue jeans as they two-step around the blockaded street.

I don’t mind old school country music. Patsy Cline. Johnny Cash.

But this pop-ish country bullshit? No, thank you.

Turning away from the dance, I duck into the town’s only bar. Sweet bliss, it’s not only empty, but there’s classic rock playing over the speakers. I wander in, noticing the remnants of someone’s high school reunion.

They created posters for each class that celebrated this year. Doing the math, I slowly walk towards my mom’s year. I scan the pictures, black and white photos of girls with long hair and guys with shaggy bowl cuts. I don’t see her at first, because I don’t recognize her.

My mom, as I knew her, was one of those crunchy hippies. She drove an electric car and made her own granola. I feel the tiniest spark of betrayal when I finally spot her.

“You little twerp.”

I grin despite myself. There she is. The woman who told me the dance team was a waste of time. The woman who said makeup was the tool of the patriarchy. There she is, in full makeup and a crepe gown. Not Homecoming Queen, but in the court. I scan through the photos and see her grinning next to a tall football player. He’s got his helmet under his arm and she’s wearing a cheerleading uniform.

“Know somebody over there?”

The bartender’s voice startles me. Her eyes narrow slightly before widening. “I’d bet fifty bucks you’re Gus Novak’s niece.”

I turn towards the bar, putting my mother’s secrets behind me. “How’d you guess?”

“It’s the eyebrows.”

Argh. Dagger to the heart. Gus’s eyebrows were dark and thick. Overgrown, black caterpillars.

The bartender winces. “I just meant, you’ve got the look, that’s all.”

She tosses her bar rag aside. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Please.”

I slide onto a stool. “Vodka soda?”

“You got it, hun.”

She turns, flipping a glass up. “I’m Tia Hendricks. Your mom was Naomi, right?”

I nod.

She smiles. “Naomi used to babysit me back in the day.”

I grin. “Yeah?”

She sets the glass in front of me. “She was my favorite babysitter, hands down. I probably drove her a little wild, though. I was real sorry to hear about her passing. Cancer, wasn’t it?”

“Oh. No. She did have cancer, but she beat it.”

I pause, sliding my drink closer. It’s been four years. I can almost tell this story without feeling the burn in the back of my eyes. “It was a kayaking accident. She had a heart attack.”

“Oh, my gosh. I was way off.”

Tia pauses. “I’m so sorry.”

I shrug.

“Naomi was loved around here. Even though we didn’t see much of her these past years, people still bring her up now and then. She’ll always be a Silver Bend girl. Same goes for you, Marnie. The Novaks have a long history here.”

I nod, doing a double take when I realize I never told her my name.

Tia studies me for a few beats, shaking herself when she realizes she’s staring. “I’m sorry. I’m sure I seem like a busybody. It’s just Gus was always going on about his niece in the big city. I feel like I already know you.”

“Hopefully he said good things.”

Tia grins. “Boasted like a fool.”

I don’t know whether that makes me feel good or guilty for neglecting him.

Actually, I do know. I feel guilty. Lower than low.

“Well, anyway. Let me know if you need anything.”

Tia hesitates. “Welcome home, Marnie.”