The flight attendant smiles as she recites her safety instructions. Through the window, I watch the luggage carrier pull away. I smell coffee brewing in the galley and wonder if they have any decent tea. It doesn’t matter. I feel very much at peace.
I look down at my wrist. I can barely believe that I found the bangle bracelet Win gave me right where I left it so long ago—between the wall and floorboard of the tree house—on the worst night of my life. I found it the night Kayla sent the police to get me down from the tree house. The silver had blackened with age but I polished it until it shone. Since then, not a day has gone by that I haven’t studied it, running my fingers over the engraving. But until today, I hadn’t put it on. I needed to get out of Round Hill first. I needed to feel free.
I lean my head against the window now and look at my wrist with a smile.
Ellie—We’ll Fly Away—love Win
“Yes, Win,” I whisper to myself as the plane shudders, then begins to move. “Here we go.”
Chapter 53
KAYLA
Rainie runs into the kitchen, where I’m icing Christmas cookies. She grabs my hand.
“Mama!” she says. “They have a little girl!”
“Do they?” I ask. “That’s wonderful.”
A new family is moving into Shadow Ridge. That will make four houses inhabited and I hope Rainie’s right about the little girl. She thought the last family had a girl as well, but it turned out to be an eight-year-old boy with hair down to his shoulders. All of the children who’ve moved into Shadow Ridge so far have been too old to be her playmates.
I cover the icing with plastic wrap. “Let’s go meet them.” As the first residents of Shadow Ridge Estates, Rainie and I have appointed ourselves the unofficial welcoming committee.
We bundle up and walk down Shadow Ridge Lane. All of the houses are finished now, and without the constant noise of construction, the neighborhood has become the quietest place I’ve ever lived. I’d be lying if I said it’s the most peaceful place I’ve lived, because there are still nights when the call of an owl or a fox can send chills up my spine, but that’s getting better.
The new family is three houses down from ours. Even from a distance, I can see a girl Rainie’s age. She looks lost in the midst of the muscular moving men who are lugging furniture between their van and the house. A woman wearing a navy-blue parka and pink scarf is pointing and directing.
“Hi!” Rainie begins to run when we’re a house away.
The woman turns at the greeting. “Hi!” she calls back. She looks frazzled—blond hair up in a messy bun, cheeks pink with the cold—but she smiles. She’s a bit older than me, but not by much.
“We won’t keep you,” I say when we reach her. “We just wanted to say hi. I’m Kayla Carter, and this is my daughter Rainie.” I look to my side for Rainie, but she’s already deep in conversation with the little girl, who appears to be quietly listening to her chatter. “We wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood. Let us know if you need anything.”
“Thanks,” the woman says. “I’m Paula and my daughter’s Tara.” She looks at the moving van. Rolls her eyes. “This is overwhelming,” she says.
“I know.” I glance at our daughters. It looks like Rainie’s telling little Tara her life story, expressive arms flying through the air, brown eyes wide with excitement. “There are no other kids my daughter’s age in the neighborhood so far,” I say. “She’s thrilled to meet Tara.” I look past Paula toward the house. “Is the rest of your family inside? Do you have other kids?”
“Just Tara,” she says. “And newly divorced.” She wrinkles her nose at that, as if it’s hard to say, but I think, This is some kind of miracle. Another single woman and little girl. “I’m widowed,” I say. I’m getting more accustomed to the word.
Her face falls. “I’m so sorry.”
“Ma’am?” one of the movers asks. He’s carrying a small dresser as if it were made of cotton. “Which bedroom you want this in?”
“The front corner.” She points.
“You’re swamped,” I say. This is not the time for deep conversation. “I’m going to let you go.”
“Which house did you say is yours?” she asks.
“The one at the end of the street.” I point behind me.
“Oh, that’s the most beautiful house in the neighborhood,” she says. “I love how it’s nestled in the trees.”