CHAPTER NINE

Maven

Four weeks in Solitude Ridge have come and gone, but my mom and I have enjoyed every minute of them. We spent many days hanging out at the bookshop, having dinners with other friends in town, and even enjoying a spa day at one of the fanciest resorts in the area. Of course, there was the occasional awkward pause in the air when someone would ask us, "So how have things been?" or make the comment, "Maven, you're looking great." I always answered with a polite "thank you," and the conversation usually shifted quickly.

My mom never brought up what I'd heard her and Mina talking about the first night back, and she still doesn't say anything as she holds me tight in her arms.

Today, she's going back home. I can tell she's overly stressed about leaving, and I don't know what else I can possibly say to reassure her I'm going to be fine.

This is what I want, this is where I belong, and not only as the little girl who came here with her parents, but as a woman who is making a new life for herself, or is at least trying to. I want to fight for this new version of Maven. The version who is stronger, whose life isn't about everything that happened in the past, but about starting a new chapter—which was my ultimate goal for coming here in the first place.

Pretty much everything has gone exactly as I had hoped it would, and yet the thing nagging at me is Renn. Weeks have passed since that night at the coffee shop, and he hasn't said much to me since, only a few hellos or a wave here and there, but nothing more.

My counter to his question obviously hit harder than I meant it to, and it wasn't my intention to make him uncomfortable, but why did he react the way he did? He made up a not-so-convincing reason to leave and was out of the coffee shop before I could say anything else. To be honest, I'm annoyed. If he felt like he could ask me questions, why shouldn't I be able to ask him in return?

When I told Tasha about our conversation the next day, first pointing out how obvious she was in leaving the two of us alone, all she said was, "I told you. He doesn't talk about his past."

I'm supposed to just accept that and move on like everyone else in town, but it doesn't sit right with me. Maybe I could if it wasn't for his change in demeanor toward me. And while I was beyond grateful for his help when Jamie showed up, I'm only more motivated to find out why he felt the need to react this way. Could his past really be so sinister that he wouldn't share it with a single person? Not a single detail? My mind warns me to be cautious, but my heart is open and curious. It seems absurd to be wary of someone so courteous and friendly as Renn, but it still leaves me confused. At the same time, I keep reminding myself we just met. He's still a stranger, more or less. I shouldn't overthink it, so I pretend I don't care, hoping I can convince myself.

"I wish you could stay for one more night. You'll be missed by everyone at Firefly Night," I say through a sad smile.

"Me too, but I really need to get back to the business."

"I know, and they need you. It's okay, Mom. I promise."

She holds on to me a little tighter before she says, "Call me immediately if you need anything, okay?"

"I will, Mom. I promise."

"I'll be up in a few months for your birthday, but if you need me to come before then, just tell me." I can hear the quiver in her voice and know she's holding back tears.

"I'll call you all the time and message you at least once a day, I swear," I tell her, but I mean it with all my heart. I'll miss my mom, but I need to be on my own. She raised me, then nursed me back to health, but she has a new life to live, and I'm not going to let her love and worry for me hold her back anymore. I want her to move on, too.

She draws away, taking my face in her hands. "So much like your father. Independent, strong, and stubborn," she says, smiling. I look into her copper-brown eyes and wonder what else she sees when she looks at me. Does she feel resentment? Disappointment? Maybe it's none of those things. She's a more forgiving person than I am, and I wish I could be more like her in so many ways, but she isn't wrong. I am very much my father's daughter.

"Call me when you get home," I say, giving her one final, tight hug.

"I love you, and I'm proud of you," she says into my hair. I swallow down the emotion building in my chest; I can't cry now, or she will never leave.

"I love you too, Mom."

I watch her pull away and drive down the lane until she is out of sight. So this is the true test. I smile nervously to myself, making my way back inside and leaning against the door after I shut it behind me. I take a few deep breaths. "This will be good for you," I tell myself.

I clean up around the cabin, not that it needs it, but I want to keep myself busy. It's not too long after she departs that my phone buzzes with a new message.

"Already?" I smile to myself as I see it's from my mom.

Mom: I know it's none of my business . . . I'm not sure what happened with Renn, but he came to say goodbye when I stopped at the bookshop. Just wanted you to know. Love you sweetheart.

I don't know what to type back. I wonder for a moment if I were the one leaving Solitude Ridge, if he would have bothered to say goodbye to me. There's no denying that it stirs something in me. I land on something simple, not wanting to open that door more than it needs to be.

Me: I love you too, Mom.

It's still early in the day, so before I talk myself out of it, I grab a blanket and a book and walk down the trail to the pond.

It's a flat path, perfect for an easy stroll through the dense, evergreen woods, and I take my time to study the fallen leaves and pluck some wildflowers. When the clear, glass surface of the pond comes into view, I can't resist the urge to touch the water, carefully weaving through the brush to the water's edge. I graze a finger across the surface, then gradually wade my hand back and forth, watching the ripples expand in every direction.

Before long, I'm captivated by the intricate dance of cause and effect. The slightest touch upon the surface, or the tossing of a stone, every action, even the most subtle of movements will reverberate throughout the entirety of the tranquil pond. It causes me to think about my own life, about how every choice and every action I make affects those closest to me, my little circle of special people.

Five years ago, a heavy consequence from a terrible choice unexpectedly dropped into my pond. The water has finally stilled, and I hope my decision to stay in Solitude Ridge will be a positive ripple in my pond. For a long time, the ripples felt more like tidal waves, engulfing and drowning me. Isn't that why I am here after all? To iron out the past, hoping for smoother seas ahead? There would've been no harm in staying where I was before—working, and keeping busy—but I knew deep down that I would never truly be able to move on until I was here again. It was a personal experiment I created for myself. A test to see if I was really as strong as I felt—as strong as I knew I could be if I reached deep in myself.

I crave for my life to be like the calm stillness of the pond, but no matter how badly I want it, something whispers to me in the back of my mind that the peaceful life I desire is fleeting, and the next great wave will soon wash me away once again.