"Do you need me to buckle you in?"
Yes. No.
"Another joke?"
"No."
Oh.
She laughed nervously and got into the car. As she pulled away, the chief watching her from where he leaned against the black wrought iron lamp post on the sidewalk, she wondered if he was protecting her from what he had seen in the world or himself.
She thought of his promise not to harm her, on his silent and intense way that confused her.
She thought about it again later as she soaked in a bubble bath that smelled like bergamot, blackberries and lavender in Jen's clawfoot tub. And she went to bed thinking about it until she fell asleep with her cheek pressed against the pages of the book she couldn't concentrate on, her hand wrapped around the tarot card of misfortune she'd kept as a bookmark.
Her last musing as she started drifting into dreams was that he mentioned her taking a bubble bath, something she had not said to him. Guess that answered one question about the Texan chief.
6. A Blueberry Adventure
Wakefulness came too early, tapping against her fitful mind where she slept in the guest room. Visions hadn't clouded her night but rather too many thick emotions, one after the next, until she woke feeling near-to-bursting with too much inside of her. She felt bruised from all of the emotions there.
These emotions were a curse.
She didn't need to part the lacy curtain, because she could feel that night hadn't yet released the world. One look at her phone told her it was four in the morning and that Ronnie had texted her.
RelationallyStunted Ronnie: I'm telling you, two times in one day is saying something
She forgot she'd changed his name. She hadn't forgotten that his last text hadn't been a goodbye, which she had deserved.
She groaned, flopping back onto the pillow before she got herself up to take a quick, cool shower. Sleep would be too elusive to chase at this point.
She was showered and tying the red robe she kept in Jen's guest room closet as she padded into the small kitchen, then stopped short when she saw Sulphur sitting on the marble island.
The cat sat there indifferently, her gold-striped tail flicking.
"Well, hello." Sulphur tilted her head, her one gold eye and one black blinking lazily. "Hope you told Casper you left. That dog will panic if he can't find you." She opened the cabinet and pulled out one of the six matching white coffee mugs Jen had. She started the coffee maker and when she turned around, she let out a gasp when she saw a new mug sitting on the island where, she was certain, nothing had been other than the cat moments before.
She looked around the kitchen, which was warmly lit by under-cabinet lighting and one lamp, the living room and hallway beyond dark.
She slowly reached out and picked up what looked like a replica of The Blueberry House. There was a wraparound porch with white trim on a Victorian blue house with a gabled roof and dormer windows. She peered closely. Even the famous Incrediball hydrangea bushes in glorious bloom were at the base of the mug. She frowned.
Maybe Jen had bought this?
Sulphur slid her sleek body against where her hand rested on the island and she purred, the vibration against her arm warm and drawing her attention to something black that lay next to her hand. She picked it up as she set the mug down, absently petting Sulphur, inspecting a thick envelope. Expensive.
When she turned it and saw her name in golden scroll, she closed her eyes tightly and shook her head. When she opened them again, her vision was still slightly blurry from not wearing her glasses, but she could see her name.
"What is this, huh? You delivering mysterious mail, or did you take up calligraphy?"
The coffee maker beeped, the sound too loud in a too quiet kitchen, but she was grateful for the steaming mug (she used the white one from Jen's cabinet), breathing in the rich scent as she sat on the hard wooden stool and opened the envelope.
To Tilly Nguyen:
A wheel of misfortune has struck your life. The Lost Souls House would like to extend an open invitation for residence in one of the unused guest rooms.
The room, already chosen and decorated, can only be opened by one Tilly Nguyen. This room will be a welcome repose for a life that has taken a topsy-turvy turn, and invite you into a place of thoughtfulness and rest.
Although worn-through carpet and walls that one could whisper through are perfectly acceptable accommodations for an underdeveloped twenty-something, that age has passed and it is now time to settle into a space far more sumptuous with the persuasive inclination for unpacking.
