Chapter 2

(Bella's POV)

The next morning, I stepped onto the porch with a cup of coffee, the floorboards creaking beneath my bare feet, and leaned against the railing. Lilies sprouted amid the wild grass in what once was a flowerbed, and I raised the cup, savoring the aroma as I took a sip.

I liked it here. Southport was different from Boston or Philadelphia or Atlantic, with their endless sounds of traffic and smells and people rushing along the sidewalks, and it was the first time in my life that I had a place to call my own. The cottage wasn't much, but it was mine and out of the way and that was enough. It was one of two identical structures located at the end of a gravel lane, former-hunting cabins with wooden-plank walls, nestled against a grove of oak and pine trees at the edge of a forest that stretched to the coast. The living room and kitchen were small and the bedroom didn't have a closet, but the cottage was furnished, including rockers on the front porch, and the rent was a bargain.

The place wasn't decaying, but it was dusty from years of neglect, and the landlord offered to buy the supplies if I was willing to spruce it up. Since I'd moved in, I'd spent much of my free time on all fours or standing on chairs, doing exactly that. I scrubbed the bathroom until it sparkled; I washed the ceiling with a damp cloth. I wiped the windows with vinegar and spent hours on my hands and knees, trying my best to remove the rust and grime from the linoleum in the kitchen. I'd filled holes in the walls with Spackle and then sanded the Spackle until it was smooth. I'd painted the walls in the kitchen a cheery yellow and put glossy white paint on the cabinets. My bedroom was now a light blue, the living room was beige, and last week, I'd put a new slipcover on the couch, which made it look practically new again.

With most of the work now behind me, I liked to sit on the front porch in the afternoons and read books I'd checked out from the library. Aside from coffee, reading was my only indulgence. I didn't have a television, a radio, a cell phone, or a microwave or even a car, and I could pack all her belongings in a single bag. I was twenty-three years old, a former long-haired brunette with no real friends. I'd moved here with almost nothing, and months later I still had little. I saved half of my tips and every night I folded the money into a coffee can I kept hidden in the crawl space beneath the porch. I kept that money for emergencies and would rather go hungry than touch it. Simply the knowledge that it was there made me breathe easier because the past was always around me and might return at any time. It prowled the world searching for me, and I knew it was growing angrier at every passing day.

"Good morning," a voice called out, disrupting my thoughts. "You must be Bella."

I turned. On the sagging porch of the cottage next door, I saw a woman with long, unruly blonde hair, waving at me. She looked to be in her mid-twenties and wore jeans and a button-up shirt she'd rolled to her elbows.

A pair of sunglasses nested in tangled curls on her head. She was holding a small rug and she seemed to be debating whether or not to shake it before finally tossing it aside and starting toward me. She moved with the energy and ease of someone who exercised regularly.

"Harry Clearwater told me we'd be neighbors."

The landlord, I thought. "I didn't realize anyone was moving in."

"I don't think he did, either. He about fell out of his chair when I said I'd take the place." By then, she'd reached my porch and she held out her hand. "My friends call me Rose," she said.

"Hi," I said, taking it.

"Can you believe this weather? It's gorgeous, isn't it?"

"It's a beautiful morning," I agreed, shifting from one foot to the other. "When did you move in?"

"Yesterday afternoon. And then, joy of joys, I pretty much spent all night sneezing. I think Harry collected as much dust as he possibly could and stored it at my place. You wouldn't believe what it's like in there."

I nodded toward the door. "My place was the same way."

"It doesn't look like it. Sorry, I couldn't help sneaking a glance through your windows when I was standing in my kitchen. Your place is bright and cheery. I, on the other hand, have rented a dusty, spider-filled dungeon."

"Mr. Clearwater let me paint."

"I'll bet. As long as Mr. Clearwater doesn't have to do it, I'll bet he lets me paint, too. He gets a nice, clean place, and I get to do the work." She gave a wry grin. "How long have you lived here?"

I crossed her arms, feeling the morning sun begin to warm my face. "Almost two months."

"I'm not sure I can make it that long. If I keep sneezing like I did last night, my head will probably fall off before then." Rose reached for her sunglasses and began wiping the lenses with her shirt. "How do you like Southport?

"It's a different world, don't you think?"

"What do you mean?"

"You don't sound like you're from around here. I'd guess somewhere up north?"

After a moment, I nodded.

"That's what I thought," Rose went on. "And Southport takes awhile to get used to. I mean, I've always loved it, but I'm partial to small towns."

"You're from here?"

"I grew up here, went away, and ended up coming back. The oldest story in the book, right? Besides, you can't find dusty places like this just anywhere."

I smiled, and for a moment neither said anything. Rose seemed content to stand in front of her, waiting for her to make the next move. I took a sip of coffee, gazing off into the woods, and then remembered my manners.

"Would you like a cup of coffee? I just brewed a pot."

Rose put the sunglasses back on her head, tucking them into her hair. "You know, I was hoping you'd say that. I'd love a cup of coffee. My entire kitchen is still in boxes and my car is in the shop. Do you have any idea what it's like to face the day without caffeine?"

"I have an idea."

"Well, just so you know, I'm a genuine coffee addict. Especially on any day that requires me to unpack. Did I mention I hate unpacking?"

"I don't think you did."

"It's pretty much the most miserable thing there is. Trying to figure out where to put everything, banging your knees as you bump around the clutter. Don't worry—I'm not the kind of neighbor who asks for that kind of help. But coffee, on the other hand…"

"Come on." I waved her in. "Just keep in mind that most of the furniture came with the place."

After crossing the kitchen, I pulled a cup from the cupboard and filled it to the brim and handed it to Rose.

"Sorry, I don't have any cream or sugar."

"Not necessary," Rose said, taking the cup. She blew on the coffee before taking a sip. "Okay, it's official," she said.

"As of now, you're my best friend in the entire world. This is soooo good."

"You're welcome," she said.

"So Clearwater said you work at Newton's?"

"I'm a waitress."

"Is Sam still working there?" When I nodded, Rose went on. "He's been there since before I was in high school. Does he still make up names for everyone?"

"Yes," I said.

"How about Jessica? Is she still talking about how cute the customers are?"

"Every shift."

"And Eric? Is he still hitting on new waitresses?"

When I nodded again, Rose laughed. "That place never changes."

"Did you work there?"

"No, but it's a small town and Newton's is an institution. Besides, the longer you live here, the more you'll understand that there are no such things as secrets in this place. Everyone knows everyone's business, and some people, like, let's say… Jessica…have raised gossip to an art form. It used to drive me crazy. Of course, half the people in Southport are the same way. There isn't much to do around here but gossip."

"But you came back."

Rose shrugged. "Yeah, well. What can I say? Maybe I like the crazy." She took another sip of her coffee and motioned out the window. "You know, as long as I'd lived here, I wasn't even aware these two places existed."

"The landlord said they were hunting cottages. They used to be part of the plantation before he turned them into rentals."

Rose shook her head. "I can't believe you moved out here."

"You did, too," I pointed out.

"Yes, but the only reason I considered it was because I knew I wouldn't be the only woman at the end of a gravel road in the middle of nowhere. It's kind of isolated."

Which is why I was more than happy to rent it, I thought to herself. "It's not so bad. I'm used to it by now."

"I hope I get used to it," she said. She blew on the coffee, cooling it off. "So what brought you to Southport? I'm sure it wasn't the exciting career potential at Newton's. Do you have any family around here? Parents? Brothers or sisters?"

"No," I said. "Just me."

"Following a boyfriend?"

"No."

"So you just… moved here?"

"Yes."

"Why on earth would you do that?"

I didn't answer. They were the same questions that Mike and Jessica and Eric had asked. She knew there were no ulterior motives behind the questions, it was just natural curiosity, but even so, I was never quite sure what to say, other than to state the truth.

"I just wanted a place where I could start over."

Rose took another sip of coffee, seemingly mulling over her answer, but surprising me, she asked no follow-up questions. Instead, she simply nodded.

"Makes sense to me. Sometimes starting over is exactly what a person needs. And I think it's admirable. A lot of people don't have the courage it takes to do something like that."

"You think so?"

"I know so," she said. "So, what's on your agenda today? While I'm whining and unpacking and cleaning until my hands are raw."

"I have to work later but other than that, not much. I need to run to the store and pick up some things."

"Are you going to visit Black's or head into town?"

"I'm just going to Black's," she said.

"Have you met the owner there? The guy with gray hair?"

I nodded. "Once or twice."

Rose finished her coffee and put the cup in the sink before sighing. "All right," she said, sounding less than enthusiastic. "Enough procrastinating. If I don't start now, I'm never going to finish. Wish me luck."

"Good luck."

Rose gave a little wave. "It was nice meeting you, Bella."

From her kitchen window, I saw Rose shaking the rug she'd set aside earlier. She seemed friendly enough, but I wasn't sure whether she was ready to have a neighbor. Although it might be nice to have someone to visit with now and then, I'd gotten used to being alone.

Then again, I knew that living in a small town meant that my self-imposed isolation couldn't last forever. I had to work and shop and walk around town; some of the customers at the restaurant already recognized me.

And besides, I had to admit I enjoyed chatting with Rose. For some reason, I felt that there was more to Rose than met the eye, something… trustworthy, even if I couldn't explain it. Rose was also a single woman, which was a definite plus. I didn't want to imagine how I would have reacted had a man moved in next door, and I wondered why I'd never even considered the possibility.

Over by the sink, I washed out the coffee cups then put them back into the cupboard. The act was so familiar—putting two cups away after coffee in the morning—and for an instant, I felt engulfed by the life I'd left behind. My hands began to tremble, and pressing them together I took a few deep breaths until they finally stilled. Two months ago, I wouldn't have been able to do that; even two weeks ago, there had been little I could do to stop it. While I was glad that these bouts of anxiety no longer overwhelmed me, it also meant I was getting comfortable here, and that scared me. Because being comfortable meant I might lower my guard, and I could never let that happen.

Even so, I was grateful to have ended up in Southport. It was a small historic town of a few thousand people, which is located near Lake Earl. It was a place with sidewalks and shade trees and flowers that bloomed in the sandy soil. Spanish moss hung from the tree branches, while kudzu climbed the wizened trunks. I had watched kids riding their bikes and playing kick ball in the streets, and had marveled at the number of churches, one on nearly every corner. Crickets and frogs sounded in the evening, and I thought again that this place had felt right, even from the beginning. It felt safe, as if it had somehow been beckoning to me all along, promising sanctuary.

I slipped on my only pair of shoes, a pair of beat-up Converse sneakers. The chest of drawers stood largely empty and there was almost no food in the kitchen, but as I stepped out of the house and into the sunshine and headed toward the store, I thought to myself, this is home. Drawing in a deeply scented breath of hyacinth and fresh-cut grass, I knew I hadn't been happier in years.