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I hesitate, pulling the reins on honesty. I’m gun-shy to let Dalton have my heart because I can’t bear to think of him breaking it. She might understand part of that. Thanks to her controlling parents and ex-fiancé, she’s been guarded and vulnerable to love, too. She found a man willing to risk love with her, though, and all I can take for a fact is the way Dalton considers me a hookup before anything else.
Just for fun.
“Aubrey?”
I shrug. “I’m scared to get hurt is all.”
She leans in close and pulls me toward her for a side hug. “He’s a good man. I believe that.”
I agree. Yet it doesn’t give me any guarantee something in life wouldn’t inevitably and irrevocably rip him away from me.
Distance.
His ex.
Death.
Anything.
It’s too scary to contemplate, and I don’t know how long I can hold back in explaining that to him.
“And you’re right. It’ll be fine in the end,” she promises.
I glance at her, hoping she’s right. Will it, though?
Chapter 24
Aubrey
Talking with Lauren was the right thing to do. I feel so much lighter with part of that burden off my shoulders. Our conversation while folding laundry didn’t solve anything yet, but I do enjoy the deep satisfaction of knowing that Jeremy’s going to get what he deserves. Of course, Caleb wouldn’t sit back and let the creep get away with trying to force Lauren into marriage. I’m sure he would be able to pay him back for making me lose my job, but like I told her, I’m not sure if my teaching career will recover unscathed. The lies Jeremy told about me hit hard, and once my reputation is smeared there, many will have a long memory and not forget.
Even if my license isn’t covered with conspiracy or connected to anything negative, I can’t see any school near my previous one hiring me. Word travels far, so I feel like my future is over—the future I had before this summer. I’m still not certain about what will await me in life. It’s a big question mark, but I’m getting a hunch about what I want.
Dalton. A lasting relationship. Building on friendship here with Caleb and Marian. All these glorious outdoor opportunities. My heart is telling me to stay put in this area outside Breckenridge, but it’s too big of a leap to make to claim that decision is already a done deal.
In the meantime, I’ll waffle about it, like I have been. Dalton acting so weird around me doesn’t help, and I borrow a page from my older self: avoiding him and it altogether.
I have a perfect excuse to make myself scarce. Marian needs me to run another errand. Being delegated and reduced to nothing more than a gopher and errand girl should bothered me. I’m a career woman. I can wrangle a classroom of twenty children into order. Hopping around a small town to pick up or drop off items isn’t my goal in life, but today, it suits my mood. Fall isn’t that close, but already, I anticipate the gorgeous colors of leaves changing, then winter with all the snow. Snow! I can’t wait. The Californian in me is excited about this new detail in life. I’ve lived near beaches and never traveled far, so winter weather is a whole new adventure to look forward to.
Today is a perfectly clear blue-sky day. Not a cloud flies up above, and the bold azure atmosphere cuts a sharp contrast to the vibrant greens on the trees, and further in the distance, it’s beautiful against the white of snow-capped mountains. How could running errands ever be bad when this was my backdrop?
I smile, letting my spirits rise a bit with the view as I drive Marian’s older pickup. She’s asked me to collect a few things at an “odds and ends” store. Lauren stopped in the kitchen to explain that it’s like a hobby store and hardware place mashed together, yet not. I’m to look for a set of small paintbrushes that Lauren will use for detail work on a planter that cracked from the storm.
Finding the shop takes me through the small town the Goldfinch is actually in, then through Breckenridge until I’m almost exiting it. I park out front, charmed already by the old-timey awning and hand-painted decorations in the front shop windows. It’s no franchise place, that’s for sure, and I like it. It’s unique.
Inside, I meander through the aisles and see how it really is a mixture of hobby items and more standard hardware goods. The paintbrushes take a good few minutes to locate. I hold my phone up to check the picture of the package Lauren had at the bed-and-breakfast with what is hanging off the rack here. Once I make a match, I grab them and browse through the aisles again. So much to look at. So many things to spot and wonder if I ever would want to make or repair something with the items. When I reach the far-left corner in the back though, nostalgia sweeps in.
I sigh, staring at the wares of what I left behind. Teacher planners. Classroom decorations. Organizing trays. Reward posters. Branching from these corners are more resources for education. One way leads to a line of stationery and office goods like papers and folders, and the other way marks the entrance to the aisle of art supplies like crayons, paints, and such.
I stand there and simply stare, stuck with the visual of what I used to work with every day. I’m rooted in place with the reminder that a week from now, I would’ve been reentering my classroom and organizing it all for a new school year. I’d be using sharpies to label name stickers on desks and filling welcome packet bags. I’d be setting up neat rows of things for children to use to learn. The smell of books and crayons seems like a phantom scent I can’t find, and I almost miss the routine sensation of papercuts on my fingers from handling all the homework sheets, both freshly copied to hand out and the crumpled ones turned in.
I stand there for too long, stuck in this emotional flurry I can’t tamp down. It must be an awkward length of just looking without moving because a short woman approaches. “Can I help you find something?”
I smile at her, recognizing that she’s the smiling employee I’ve spotted behind the counter and in the aisles restocking stuff. Clearly, she works here, and I feel silly now since I already paid for the paintbrushes but wanted to explore more.
“Oh, I was just looking.” I lift my hand at the corner of the shop. “I, well, I used to be a teacher, and this is all…It’s bringing back memories.”
“Used to be?” The woman, whose nametag reads Sherry, giggles and steps closer, more in the light. The silver in her hair is more noticeable here, and she reminds me a bit of Marian as she pushes her slim wire-frame glasses up her nose. “Forgive my bluntness, but I’d say you’re far too young to be retired.”
