Page 4 of Peaches & Pistols

Swiftwater, Colorado. I hoped to travel farther before choosing a new hometown, but the bus stopped right outside the library here early this morning, and we’d run out of snacks and water overnight.

It’s surreal that the journey to our new life took less than twenty-four hours. What a difference a day can make.

The nicest woman saw us sitting on the sun-warmed lawn and invited us to join her at the cutest coffee shop—Bean & Brew. I shouldn’t have spent the eight dollars, but I didn’t want the lovely blonde woman to know we’re currently homeless and start asking questions. She ordered something called a dirty chai and I didn’t want to ask for just a water.

Homeless. A giggle bubbles up my throat. I never imagined I’d be so happy to be without a home. Specifically, his home.

I hand Everly her chocolate milk, which the barista so kindly topped with whipped cream and chocolate shavings and take my green tea and the largest peach turnover I’ve ever seen. I’m salivating like a hound dog—I haven’t eaten since the disastrous dinner. I wanted Everly to eat all the snacks she packed, and I’m starving.

“Would she like to color?” the barista asks before I turn away.

“Yes!” Everly pipes up, fingers gripping the counter she can barely see over.

“Here you go, sweetheart.” Armed with her chocolate milk and an envelope filled with a coloring page and crayons, we move to find a table.

“How about we sit here?” The woman beams at us, gesturing to the empty chairs at a small bistro table by the window overlooking Main Street.

I’m hesitant to trust on principle, but there’s something about her that puts me at ease.

After Everly’s scooted in to the table, I take my seat beside her and enjoy the earthy scent of my tea. She dives into her chocolate milk with abandon, whipped cream giving her a hilarious mustache. Before I can take a bite, she leans over the turnover and takes a bite out of it without even picking it up.

I can’t help but smile at my tiny soulmate, and grimace at the soggy, chocolate-milky hole in the top of the turnover.

“What brings you to Swiftwater?” the blonde asks.

When I don’t answer right away, she chastises herself.

“Sorry. I’m Izzy. I’ve lived here all my life and it’s not all that often we get new faces. Sometimes I forget not everyone knows my name.” Her smile is warm, blue eyes crinkled behind pink cat-eye glasses.

She didn’t ask for our names, and I suppose why we came here’s irrelevant, since our fresh start can be whatever I want it to be.

“We just moved here, arrived this morning.”

Her brow furrows. “Where’s your luggage?”

Shit. “We were faster than the moving truck. That’s why we were hanging out waiting for the library to open.”

“I didn’t see any cars out front. It’s pretty quiet in town this early in the morning.” Her tone is kind, but skeptical. I don’t know what I’ll say if she keeps pressing me.

My lack of response is answer enough. I can’t help it when my eyes dart to Everly, needing her safe beside me.

“Well, the library usually opens around eight, or whenever the librarian moseys over to unlock the door.” She checks the time on her phone. “So, any minute now.”

“Mama, look!” Everly waves her coloring page like a flag in the wind, so fast I can’t make out the image, but I praise her profusely, nonetheless.

“Wow, that’s a beautiful unicorn!” Izzy coos at my daughter. “I wish the horses at the ranch were this pretty!”

“Horses?” Everly’s excitement’s so palpable, waves of joy pulse from her tiny body.

“Mmhmm. I live with my husband on a huge horse ranch just out of town. My sister and her husband live a stone’s throw away—so do my in-laws and my husband’s older brother.”

Sorrow suffocates my heart. It’s easy to forget how utterly alone I am in the world until I’m confronted with what I’ve always wished to have. A big, happy family.

“Holy cow! That’s so many people! You all live in one house?” Everly asks so rapidly I’m not sure Izzy will understand her chipmunk voice.

Izzy’s melodic laugh fills the cozy coffee shop. “No, we all have our own houses. The ranch is enormous, there’s plenty of space for everyone.”

“Mama, can we go pet the horses?” Everly asks, and I cringe.