It was a sober Faith who unlocked her apartment door. The key Gus had used to lock up was on the floor, and Taco gave it a quick sniff before running to his water bowl. She picked it up and tossed it onto the counter, glancing around her quiet, empty place.
There was no food in the fridge other than a stale bagel, cream cheese, and cream for her coffee. She didn’t need to peek in her cupboards to know they were basically bare. She’d been eating at work most days.
Faith decided a quick shower and change of clothes would help get rid of the funk she was in. Afterward, she combed out her hair and pulled on a simple pink T-shirt dress. She was on her knees searching for her white flip-flops when a noise caught her attention, and she paused, looking toward her bed with a frown.
Her cell phone.
Immediately, a ball of anxiety erupted in her gut, and she sat back on her haunches, exhaling slowly. Taco appeared as if sensing her distress and rubbed his nose against her arm.
“I’m being stupid,” she whispered, giving him a scratch under his chin.
Faith got to her feet and walked over to the bed, then reached down for her phone. It was fully charged, and there were hundreds of messages and emails. Her old life in all its sad, bleak glory was on this device, and she’d successfully ignored it for weeks. A part of her had felt that if she tucked it away — if she didn’t see the damn phone — that none of it mattered. None of it existed in this new life she’d made for herself.
As her fingers hovered over the messages, she thought of Candy. “The past matters,” she whispered. Even the dark parts.
She’d pretty much vanished from her life weeks ago. Did she have the balls to check back in?
She sank onto the bed, fingers shaking, and began to scroll through her messages.
Declan. Ex-fiancé.
Hilly. Ex-best friend.
Mr. Bradford. Her parents’ lawyer.
Mr. Jackson. Her financial advisor.
Jackie. Her former roommate.
Mom.
Feeling slightly sick, she ran her fingers over the phone. It was a voicemail, and Faith stared at the little heart emoji beside the small headshot of her mother for so long her eyes blurred. “Shit,” she muttered, swiping at the tears on her cheeks. Taco whined and laid his head on the bed, big eyes warm and loving.
Could she handle hearing her mother’s voice? She held the phone so tight her fingers cramped, and with a long, slow exhale, she pressed play.
My God, Faith, I wish you’d pick up. It’s been weeks with no reply; how can I live with the way things were left? I’m barely hanging on, but I want you to know I’m so sorry for everything. I only wanted the best for you. Always. Anything I did, I did for you, but none of it was illegal. You have to believe that I’m innocent. The lawyer says I can’t talk about things, not even to you, but it’s killing me. I want you to hear my side of the story. None of which matters. Not now, anyway. Bradford tells me you’re not responding to him, and Mike Jackson says you haven’t touched your bank account since that day they came for us. It’syours, Faith. All of it. They won’t take it from you. I made sure of it. I’m not the bad guy here and I need you to believe that.
There was a pause and her mother’s voice broke.
Why won’t you answer me?
And that was it.
Faith turned off her phone and put it on the small table beside her bed, along with the charger. Out of sight and all that she supposed as she stood and listened to the silence. God, she didn’t want to be alone.
She walked back to the living room and peered out the window that faced the front yard. The spot Gus used for his truck was still empty.
“I guess it’s just you and me, Taco.”
The dog’s ears pricked forward, and his tail began to wag when she reached for the leash. By now, it was close to five o’clock, and despite the turmoil she felt, her stomach rumbled. She realized she hadn’t eaten much all day and decided to walk downtown.
As always, the town itself soothed her nerves. It was in the ‘hellos’ from neighbors on their porches and the squeals of laughter from kids on their bikes or running through the garden hose. It was in the old man who lived just down Main Street who offered her a bag of apples, freshly picked from the trees in his backyard. She accepted, and he left it for her to grab on her way back.
By the time Faith reached the diner, her steps were lighter. She left Taco tied to the table outside and headed inside.
Tully was at her spot by the cash register, reading a magazine while twirling her long platinum curls. She glanced up when the bell over the door jingled.
“Hello, stranger,” she said with a grin. “I was wondering when I’d see you again. Thought I’d lost you to the lake. Where is that dog of yours?”
