Well...here I am and here it is!
I almost didn't write this...but I'm so glad I did! I really hope y'all love my first solo work in a super long time!
First and foremost, I want to thank Jill and Mel. Jill for messaging me last night saying "what do I need to do to help you post tomorrow," and Mel for being on board with the insanity and doing a rush-job for me that was still thorough and perfect as she always is!
I've got a team of prereaders that will be coming in when it's not so rushed, so preemptive thanks to those ladies!
Without further ado...here's present to you after such a long absence! There probably won't be much angst. Just a little enemies-to-lovers tension. The kind we all love ;)
-1-
Bella
"…not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse."
Silence.
Complete, utter, unequivocal quiet.
I'm not sure I've ever lived in anything other than absolute chaos, and now here I am.
And it's all mine.
This house, my new house, is gigantic. And majestic. A place I spent a lot of time in and always drooled at the fantasy that it may someday be mine.
It makes my breath catch in my throat at the thought that it really and truly is exactly that. Mine.
Now that the time is actually here, and I'm standing in the unruly, freshly moved-in kitchen, I'm not sure what to do with it all. Especially without Auntie Kate here to fill the air with her quirky, flamboyant energy while she tells me all about the secrets this home holds.
It's a lot. The home has been in my family since the 1800s. Both my father and Auntie Kate were born in the master bedroom that now holds my little twin bed from college. There's decades upon decades of history in this house. Secrets told. Lives shared. Memories made.
And now I'm in it all by myself.
No siblings barging into my space. No college roommates begging me to get my nose out of a book and go out to some party I have no interest in.
It's just as much unsettling as it is freeing.
Boxes are piled around me, begging to be unpacked, but the bottle of moscato my sister brought as a housewarming gift is begging louder to be opened.
Now where are my wine glasses?
My fingers run over my mother's looping script that reads "kitchen-glassware" and I smile to myself at the evidence of Renee Swan's organizational skills. She's forever making my life infinitely better.
With my glass now full, I make my way to the front door, enjoying the squeak of the hinges that remind me of slamming screen doors in the summertime. Still, I make a mental note to add WD40 to my never-ending hardware store list.
The porch is still filled with Aunt Kate's plants, most of which are wilting in the late fall air. I opted to keep some of Auntie Kate's furniture, especially the old, antique rocking chair that's lived on the porch for as long as I can recall.
Sitting down in the chair, I take my first sip of wine and let my eyes scan the neighborhood around me. The street is lined with towering trees turning all different shades of orange and yellow. Kids are out riding bikes, throwing balls, and I can hear them laughing from swing sets in their backyards. Parents are home and likely doing their daily routine of making dinner, helping with homework, and later getting the kids washed up and ready for bed. A couple makes their way down the street, her arm linked in his, smiles a mile wide on both their faces as they walk their dog.
It's a happy place located about five miles from Cincinnati, Ohio, where people can come home to slow down at the end of their busy, bustling days.
A place we can all lay our heads down at night and know we're completely safe.
Nothing bad happens in a town literally called "Loveland."
Even the Halloween decorations are more cutesy than ominous—spider webs, huge inflatables, and orange and black streamers.
The only slight exception is the 20-foot skeleton in the yard of the house next door.
I haven't met any of my neighbors yet, but my lips do quirk up a little when I see it. It's the last week of September, so I wonder if they'll be putting up more decorations over the next few weeks. Half the fun of Halloween is the scare factor, it'd be nice to see someone amp up the terror. Every kid should have that one house they're afraid to walk up to; they always have the best candy.
Breathe, my girl, I hear my aunt's voice tell me in my head. Breathe and settle your bones into your home.
She always had some strange, almost witchy way of saying things. And doing things, honestly. I have many fond memories of simmer pots, sage cleansing, and cabinets full of herbs and ingredients used for much more than cooking.
Her spirit is in every room in the house, her bones added to those of all the others that lived in the home before her.
We were thick as thieves, she and I. She used to always tell me, "We're more than family, sweetheart. We're tied together at the soul. You and I have traveled many lives and many different worlds together, and yet we remain tied together."
I wish I had asked her more questions about that when she was still here. She got sick right when I was leaving for college, and with the insanity of navigating being an adult in the real world by myself for the first time ever, I stopped coming around as much.
I miss her.
Auntie Kate had no kids, and with me being the oldest of seven, I often looked to her childless home to be my safe haven. Her husband passed away when I was still very young, and while I have some fond memories of Uncle Garrett, most of what I have left of him are all the stories she would tell me. They were a regular Gomez and Morticia, disgustingly in love and not afraid to tell everyone else about it.
I want to fill this house with that kind of love again, though I've also been told my standards are too high. I know what love is supposed to look like—why would I settle for anything less?
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and when I retrieve it, I see my dad's smiling, mustached face on the screen.
"Hi, Dad."
"Hey, kiddo." His voice instantly soothes me, wrapping me in a reminder of the security I have with my father on my side. "Mom and I wanted to call and see how you were doing on your first night."
I wish he had called about an hour ago because now I've gone and made myself sad and there's no way I'm hiding it from him. Had it been Mom that called, she could easily be distracted with interior design ideas for this place.
"I'm doing good," I lie anyway.
"Bullshit," he calls splendidly.
I sigh, resting my head against the back of Auntie Kate's rocking chair. "I'm really fine, Dad. It's just a new place, ya know?"
"I get that, honey, but it's also not."
"Well"—I sip my wine, trying to plan a retort that I absolutely don't have—"That's valid. But you know it's not the same without her here. Without anyone here."
"Ah," he says in that paternal know-it-all way that he can get away with because he definitely does know it all. Or at least most of it. "Yeah, I guess it would be weird having never lived on your own before."
"Yeah," I sigh. "But really, Dad, I'll be okay. I just have to adjust a little."
"Sure, sure, yeah…do you know the code to the gun safe?"
My wine gets caught in my throat a little, forcing me to stutter and spit for a second before I can reply. "Jesus Christ, Dad. There's a gun safe hidden in this place? And what's more, you think Auntie Kate has touched them at all in some odd years? They'd probably blow up in my face."
His boisterous laugh makes its way through the phone and I instantly grin. "I'm fucking with you, kid. You think I would've let Katie keep a gun in her house?"
"Not if you had any decent sense." I chuckle, remembering that she could be just as fiery as she was sweet as sugar.
"I do know someone that might be able to help you, though."
"I told Mom already, she can't come stay with me for the first few nights. I have to do this on my own."
"Not Mom, sweetheart. Sadie."
I'm beaming now, my face lit up as I sit up at attention in the rocker. Of course. It's brilliant. Why didn't I think of it before?
"I'd really, really love that, Dad."
Happy Holidays! x