1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Summer

The wind whistled as my friend Sarah and I walked home after a long shift at Mr. Johnson's General store where we both worked as cashiers. I appreciated that she slowed to accommodate my limp especially as early winter dug its claws into the mountains of New Hampshire.

A few blocks from my house, Sarah slowed to a snail's pace, looking up at me. "Hey Summer, mind if we hold off on going home for a bit? I've got a little bit of news," she said.

"Oh?"

"I'm going to sign up for the GBA, and I wanted you to be the first to hear it. I didn't want rumors floating around town; you know what old Mrs. Simpson is like. She'll gossip about anything."

I laughed, My brows crinkled in confusion. "I know Mrs. Simpson, she'll add her conspiracy theories to anything. What is the GPA and why are you signing up for it?"

"It's the Galaxy Bridal Auction, GBA, not GPA. We're not in school anymore." Sarah laughed.

I gaped at my friend. "Let me repeat, why are you signing up for it? Do you really want to go into space for a husband?"

She shrugged, her dark brown hair bounced on her shoulders. "It's a small town. Be honest, we don't have too many prospects here, and I need the money." She pressed a piece of paper into my hand. "Here. All males are vetted. It is 100% safe."

Without looking at the paper, I pushed it into the pocket of my coat. "I don't know. I don't like the idea of someone buying you. It seems kinda weird."

"It's not. It's like a mail-order bridal service."

"Doesn't sound that way to me."

"It's what I want. I won't be in for my next shift. Mr. Johnson knows."

"You're really leaving."

"I am."

"If you're happy, then I'm happy." I gave Sarah a quick smile. "Go on, hurry up and get home where it's warm, the temperature is plummeting. I can make it the rest of the way by myself. Take the shortcut."

"You're the best Summer. I'll miss you." She wrapped her arms around me in a tight hug. "Don't resign yourself to living in the shadows. I hope you live up to your name and share your sunshine with the galaxy."

"We'll see," I said. "I'll miss you too." I gave her one last squeeze and watched as my friend disappeared down the block.

My legs ached as I walked the last few blocks to my house. I was grateful Mr. Johnson had given me this job after my accident. He knew I couldn't do the heavy lifting involved with stocking shelves, so he hired me knowing my sole responsibility would be manning the register. Sometimes I wished I didn't have to stand so much, putting stress on my leg.

I pulled my navy blue peacoat closer to me to try to stave off the wind from the evening chill. Winter could be harsh in New Hampshire, especially before the snow fell. I worked hard, but the job didn't pay too much. It was just a small mom-and-pop shop, more of a general store. It sold all sorts of items to the villagers, and over the years the community grew close. In the winter, however, the store tended to rely on tourism to stay afloat.

It felt weird to be back here after a few years on my own. When David and I left, I missed the town and my family. Though I was glad to be back with my family, I wished it wasn't because of the accident. I needed to be around people who had known me, who wouldn't be scared of me or the scars, both internal and external, I carried. I didn't want to be treated differently, but people I'd known my entire life still treated me as if I were made of glass.

I didn't like the looks of pity that crossed their faces when I saw them. Of course, I heard their whispers after my mother and father had nursed me back to health. Mr. Johnson was the only kind soul in town who was willing to give me a job. Granted, the job required me to stand on my feet and my back and legs ached at the end of each of my shifts, but it wasn't strenuous, and he knew that if I had an issue I would try to work through the pain. Tim, the manager of our local bar, donated one of the old stools from a renovation to Mr. Johnson and his store for me, so I could sit or lean on the stool during my shift if the need arose, though I hardly used it. I didn't like to appear weak. Sometimes I felt that way, especially when cold weather came on.

I tilted my head towards the sky and sniffed the air. Based on my body's reaction to the scent in the sky, I knew if snow fell during the night, I would have to call out of work. There was no way I could walk to the store with my back and my legs seized in pain. My father had been in the accident too, except he was older and not in as good of shape. He hadn't been wearing his seatbelt and had not recovered as fast as I had.

My mother had been forced to quit her job to stay home and nurse both of us back to health. My older brother, Darren, worked in the mill on weekends. He supplemented his income with factory jobs or other part-time seasonal work, but still our family still lived paycheck to paycheck. At the ripe age of twenty-seven years old, I never thought I would be living in my parents house, in my childhood room, sharing with my two younger sisters, but this was my life now.

I needed to save money and strike out on my own again. I liked my cashier job well enough. It was a far cry from my dreams of being a professional dancer and owning my own studio with a friend I'd made when I first left home. Together, we'd purchased a small studio and gave dance lessons to different age groups. After the accident, we'd grown apart, and when I realized I would never again dance like I used to, I signed ownership of the studio to her. I couldn't leap through the air performing ballet. Thinking about hip hop dancing made my knees hurt, but I decided that I would recover.

If I were to ever get married again, I wanted to have one dance with my new husband at our wedding.

I wished that I would find someone who cared about me like my mother cared about my father, but our town was small. I'd grown up with almost all the eligible men who lived here. Some were great to be friends with. Others were best ignored. My choices were slim. I could always marry my high school bully. He proposed three times after the accident because he said it would be great to have me stay at home serving his every need. I didn't want that for myself. That attitude contributed to why I left in the first place. I couldn't fault Sarah for choosing freedom.

My steps faltered the closer I got to home. My knees didn't want to bend in the cold, and my back throbbed. I hoped my mother would still be awake for one of my sisters when I got home. I wanted to lay down and put a heating pad on my back.

The wind whistled through my coat, and I hurried as fast as I could into the safety and warmth of our house. My feet slowed on the steps, and it took me longer than it should have to walk up the six steps into our home. Most of the lights were off, probably a money-saving measure. When I entered the house, I heard my father speak, his rumbling voice coming from the kitchen.

"Darla, will we have enough money to pay the bills this month? According to the forecast, this winter is supposed to be one of the coldest on record. We don't have a fireplace, and space heaters only go so far."

I heard my mother reply, sadness changing her voice. "We'll make do, John. We always do."

I never wanted to be a burden on my parents. I know my coming back led to a lot of their financial troubles. Deep down, I knew the accident wasn't my fault, but I still felt responsible. If I hadn't insisted that David come back to meet my family none of this would have happened. If I hadn't insisted that my father drive because I didn't own a car, maybe I would still be in one piece, my father would still be in one piece, and David would still be alive.

I tried the pragmatic approach of "Life happens. It is what it is. Chin up and move on," but it didn't work. Guilt weighed on my mind.

Though I knew it was wrong, I stood in the hallway to eavesdrop on my parent's conversation. Money was tight, the whole family felt it, but listening to my mother and father talk, the dire straits we were in suddenly hit me. My sisters were too young to work, their job was to go to school, and my brother's job and mine weren't stretching enough. "We aren't out of food, and we have plenty of blankets. We'll make it through, we always do." My mothers voice was low in an attempt to not wake my sisters.

I knew we had food since Mr. Johnson allowed me to bring home the food that was on the edge of spoiling or close to its expiration date. He and my mother had gone to school together. At one point they had dated, and I still believed that Mr. Johnson carried a torch for her. He wouldn't let our family go hungry. I never shared with my parents where the food came from, only that I'd made it my responsibility to bring it home after my shifts. Always frugal, my mother had become a master at stretching food to feed her family of six.

I sat on the threadbare couch in the living room in the dark, my coat still wrapped around me for extra warmth. I listened to them talk about bills, mostly on my mothers side, and my father did his best to talk her off the edge. She must have looked at the clock and realized what time it was, that I was a little later than normal. I waited a few extra seconds after her last comment, got up silently and opened the front door again so she thought I came home for the first time. I hoped she didn't realize I'd listened in.

"I'm home," I called out from the doorway. I allowed the door to stay open a touch longer than it should have, letting precious heat escape as my mother rushed in to usher me in from the cold.

"Summer, I was a little worried about you with the weather. I'm glad you made it home okay." Mom popped her head out the door. "I hope Sarah makes it home soon."

I grinned and allowed her to pamper me by taking my coat and hanging it up. She rubbed my back in small circles the way she comforted me as if I were still a child. "Thanks, Mom," I said. "My back started to hurt a bit on the way home, and I slowed down, but don't worry, I made it," I said.

"Obviously, you're home. There's soup on the stove and some hot tea on the table for you."

"Thanks." I flashed her grateful smile and walked into the kitchen. "Hi Dad," I said, planting a kiss on his forehead. "How was your therapy today?"

He grunted. "Everyday is another day in the positive. I'm still above ground."

"That's true. I like the way you think."

He flashed a grin so much like my own. "One day we'll both be back to our fighting selves."

I poured the tomato soup into a bowl and took my mother's homemade croutons made from stale bread and plopped them in the soup to soak. "Dad, you know you've never fought a day in your life."

His eyes flashed with mirth and he put on an affronted voice, "Doesn't mean I couldn't have!"

"Okay Dad." As I ate my soup I told him about my day as was our family tradition. His laughter permeated the house when I told him about old man Morris buying yet another roll of toilet paper.

"A single roll?"

I nodded. "He buys them one at a time."

Walking by, my mother shook her head. "He always did. I never understood the reasoning, especially if the storm was coming. Why would he buy only one when there are perfectly good multi-packs?"

I leaned in conspiratorially. "I think I figured it out. I think he likes the company. He comes in and chats for about a half hour with every purchase, then he meanders on to the grocery store or the butcher and does the same thing. Do you know he only buys one muffin at a time too?"

Dad snapped his fingers. "You know Summer, I think you're onto something."

I finished my soup and before I could stand to put it in the sink my mother whisked it away. She began cleaning the dishes. "I've got it sweetie, don't worry. Why don't you go upstairs, take a warm shower. I'll put a heating pad on your bed. I'm not sure if Hannah is asleep yet, so try to be quiet."

"Got it. Thanks Mom," I said.

I walked slowly up the stairs and into the bathroom. Knowing what I knew now about the state of our family finances, I made sure my shower wasn't overly hot, nor that I was in there for too long. I neglected to wash my hair because I didn't want to go to bed with a wet head and I didn't want to use the blow dryer in case it woke my sister up. I should have known that Hannah wouldn't have been asleep. She was reading a book in the corner of her bed that she shared with our other sister, Gabby. I sat on my bed, looked at the mirror and brushed my hair, thinking of what else I could do to help out.