I took my steaming mug of coffee onto the patio, then into the grass for a better look at my garden and flowers. Many were missing buds and leaves.
“Damn bunny.”
I set a bowl of cream on the pavers for the cat, eager to lure it back and maybe keep the rabbit away. Then I made a hearty breakfast and carried it to the study.
I started the new day with another book about Emily’s life, determined to see her as the warm, hopeful woman I wanted her to be. I searched my soul for a connection to her in the process. I needed to strengthen that tether if I planned to stay my course. Unfortunately, the more I read, the more evident it became that Emily had preferred the company of plants to people. And hours of contemplation over conversation.
I could not relate.
For the first time, I wondered how Emily and I could be so painfully different when her poems spoke the words of my soul.
Time dragged on as I struggled to write and reflect. My hand cramped and ached from the fruitless attempts at more letters to my family. Meanwhile, I started a third for Cecily. I missed my wireless keyboard. I missed talking to people.
The grandfather clock in the foyer chimed, and I jerked to my feet. I’d write more before bed. Until then I wanted to go exploring.
I collected my phone, purse, and keys as I headed to the door.
I thought I might visit the local library and research ways to keep a rabbit from eating my garden, or how to fix a pilot light. Davis had mentioned checking the water heater’s pilot light on the night we’d met. If I was staying put, I should probably know how to fix it. Especially since I wanted to avoid the handyman as much as possible.
After lunch, I’d visit the grocery store for baking supplies. Maybe baking would be the thread that tied me closer to Emily. My little failures so far were starting to add up, and I needed a win. I had a pile of authentic recipes, fresh ingredients on my list, and a modern-ish oven at my disposal. As an added bonus, the idea of making my own breakfast breads and muffins made me feel incredibly self-sufficient. And, in true Emily fashion, I could share them by delivering extras to the shops and ladies who’d donated to my welcome basket. Another excellent and reasonable excuse to get out and meet more people.
A smile bloomed. An errand list like this one could easily keep me busy all day. My feet hit the lane with a little kick in my step, and I fought the urge to twirl.
I’d text Davis about the furnace before returning to the manor, and he could come over to take a look at the problem later.
I made it halfway up the lane before my phone rang, and I startled. Apparently I’d reached the signal zone. I knew I should stick to letters while I was on my mission, yet—
“Hey, Mom,” I said, hoping to sound at ease and delighted instead of desperate for conversation.
“Hello, hon,” she said. “How are you doing? Still enjoying Amherst?”
My chest constricted at the sound of her voice, and suddenly, I felt homesick. I missed my warm apartment and the busy store beneath. I missed seeing the people I loved in person and all the familiar things I’d taken for granted. Why had I thought leaving town to live alone and do hard things would solve my problems? I couldn’t even take a hot shower. I had to settle for a lukewarm bath.
“Emma?” Mom asked gently. “Are you okay?”
“Mm-hmm,” I said, silently giving in to my dismal thoughts of failure.
“What is it, sweetie? Is there anything your dad or I can do?”
I shook my head, though she couldn’t see me. Her mention of Dad pulled me back to the moment, and I checked my watch. It was after nine. “I’ll be okay,” I said. “Are you at the store?”
The distinct sounds of traffic told me they weren’t.
“Not yet,” she said. “We’re meeting Annie and Jeffrey for breakfast first. I thought I’d give you a call on the way and make sure you know we’re all thinking of you and missing you every day.”
I ignored the irrational jab of jealousy on multiple counts. “Is Annie still mad at me for leaving?”
“She’s very pregnant,” Mom said. “She has a lot on her mind, and a heavy load of hormones affecting her thoughts. She’ll be fine in a few weeks.”
“She called me selfish.” The words popped out of my mouth before I’d thought better of them. I hated how much I’d let Annie’s outburst bother me, but I didn’t mean to drag Mom into our rift. We weren’t children, and Mom didn’t need the added drama.
“I’m sure she’s worried about her upcoming delivery and all the major changes she’s facing. She doesn’t want you to miss it. That’s all.”
“I wish she’d just say that,” I complained. “Then we could talk it through. It’s not as if I moved across the country. I can be home in less than an hour. All she has to do is let me know when she goes into labor. It’s no big deal.”
Mom was quiet.
“The drive, not the labor,” I corrected. “Of course the labor is a big deal.” I pressed a hand over my eyes, feeling unintentionally rude and ridiculous. “I’m glad you and Dad are visiting her in the mornings. But you should probably change the store hours if you aren’t going to be there at nine.” Otherwise, we’d lose our batch of regular morning shoppers. There were only so many times a person would visit a store and find it locked before they stopped dropping by.
