CHAPTER Three:

   Lauren allowed herself the luxury of sleeping in on Saturday morning. It was her day off, and she had been looking forward to it. Finally, she could relax and get her mind off the worries plaguing her.

   Not that they were gone completely. 

   She ran her fingers down the keys one last time, then stood up from the piano bench. Music had filled the house all morning as she played and reminisced about days gone by. 

   The sun shone through a window across the hallway, sending a ray of light across the floor. It was a memory lane. Pictures of Lauren and her grandparents hung along the walls. Between them, pencil marks measured off Lauren’s height from the time she could walk, to her sixteenth birthday, when she’d stopped growing.

Lauren pressed her hand against the cool teal walls and looked at the ladder leading up to the attic. 

   It had been years since she’d gone exploring up there. A smile twitched at the corners of her lips as she stepped towards it and started to climb. The hatch door creaked as she pushed it open and hoisted herself up. 

   It was dusty, and the small bit of sunlight that streamed in from a window on the far side of the room didn’t do much to brighten things up. Cobwebs framed the corners of the ceiling, and the whole space could have used a good sweeping. Lauren sneezed and blinked as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. 

   A spider scurried up its web in the corner of the room. She made a mental note to stay away from it. No matter how often she’d read Charlotte’s Web, she could never bring herself to like them. 

   A large chest sat in the corner, with a few items stacked next to it. One small box caught her eye. It looked new, but it must have just gone unnoticed. She slid across the floor and picked it up. It was heavier than it looked. 

   She carried it back to the ladder and began climbing down. The trap door slammed above her. Staring down at the strange package in her hands, she went to the couch and plopped onto the cushions, tucking her legs beneath her. 

   The lid came off, and the first thing that greeted her eyes was a bright red rosette. She stroked the silk and read the words on it. 1st Place, written in faded gold print. Lauren laid it aside and picked up the stack of photos underneath.

   They were old, a warm hue that was a telltale indication that it was a film camera. A little girl stood in the first picture, holding a giant tomato in front of her. Pinned to her shirt was the rosette. Behind her stood a man beaming with pride. 

   “Grandpa,” Lauren whispered. 

   She lifted the picture higher and studied it. His hair dark, and fewer wrinkles framed his eyes than she’d remembered. He must have been around thirty when it was taken.

The little girl was almost an exact picture of herself at that age, but her eyes were bright blue. It was Charlotte. A shiver ran down Lauren’s spine, and distaste puckered her mouth. She moved it to the bottom of the stack.

   The next picture held her too. This time standing next to Mrs. Quinley, who was also younger. Her hair fell around her face in golden locks, a blue silk handkerchief tied under her chin. The next photo showed the girl building a treehouse with Mr. Quinley, and in the next Mrs. Quinley tickled her as a little baby.

   There was no escaping the scenes. Lauren felt a prick of hurt, she disliked seeing them all so happy together when she knew how it had all fallen apart.

   What would it have been like to have a mom? She wondered it often. One who wasn’t just a story that slipped away the more she tried to know. Of course, she wouldn’t have traded her childhood with her grandparents, but it had been different, to say the least. They’d never let her call them mom and dad. Lauren knew they always held out hope that her mom would come back.

   Charlotte had been at the funeral. The event was a haze of tears and emotion in Lauren’s memory, but she clearly remembered seeing her. The woman had come in just as the service started and slipped away before it ended. She hadn’t even bothered to say hello to her grieving daughter, not that it would have been welcome. 

   Lauren set the pictures aside and reached into the box again. This time she pulled out an envelope. The front was black, and when she flipped it over she found it unsealed. She opened it and slid the letter out. 

   “What’s this?” she wondered aloud, smoothing out the crinkles with her fingertips. 

The handwriting was messy but familiar. 

   “Dear daughter.” 
   Lauren paused. It almost felt like invading her grandpa’s privacy to read something clearly not meant for herself. But he couldn’t be offended now, and no one else was going to read it. 

   Curiosity got the better of her, and she read on. 

   “The last time I saw you, our conversation did not go the way I wish it had. You must understand that I can’t agree with what you’re doing. You have a life here, and I don’t understand why you ran away. 

   But no matter how differently we think, you are always my daughter, and I love you. I’m sorry we parted with such angry words. If I could take them back, I would. 

It pains me to sit at the dinner table and see your empty plate. To see your daughter grow and reach so many milestones when you’re not here to see them. 

   Lauren needs a mother, but that’s not the sole reason I want you to come home. I miss you. Remember the time we built a tree house together, and a few days later it fell apart? 

   We all make mistakes, but we can always fix them together. 

   Wherever you are, I’m praying for you. Remember that I will always love you.

   Your loving father.”

   Lauren set the paper down and leaned back against the sofa, staring straight ahead. Her grandpa had always been a joker, an optimist whose words stumbled over one another when it came to sentimental speeches. Charlotte must have really hurt him, for him to write such words. 

   Tears stung her eyes, and she blinked them away. The least her mother could have done was visited them. In the nineteen years she’d had with them, Charlotte had never bothered to write, phone, or visit once. The doctors said they would try their best to notify her when the Quinleys were in the hospital. 

   “She should have come,” Lauren said bitterly. 

   How much trouble had Charlotte caused them? As Lauren had grown, she’d caught the town gossips whispering rumours about her. Discreetly, they thought, but even as a child she’d been too observant to miss their sharp glances. Everytime she misbehaved or was less than perfect at anything, she worried that she was turning into her mother.    Not to mention the times people told her grandparents they must have done something right this time around. She’d hated that phrase and the way her grandparent’s eyes dulled when they heard it.

   Pushing herself up from the couch, she snatched the letter and marched to the door. Her rubber boots were still sitting by the door, and she slipped into them. The heat was almost unbearable outside, but she didn’t care.

  A breeze blew gently across her face as she walked down the driveway. Even it was humid. The sun cast dancing shadows through the trees. Lauren reached the road and turned right, walking alongside the pavement. 

   It only took a moment to reach Aunt Betsy’s driveway. It was a beautiful house that greeted her sight. Sunny yellow gables were bordered with ornamental white moulding in a Queen Anne style. 

   Betsy sat on the porch, a book opened in her hands. Her silver hair was twisted back in a bun, and the sleeves of her loose housedress moved in the breeze. She watched as Lauren ascended the steps two at a time. Knowing her as long as she had, she could tell something had upset her. 

   “Good afternoon!” She set her book aside. “I was hoping you would drop by today.” 
   Lauren returned the smile and sank into one of the cushioned chairs that was lined up beside the railing.

   “Let me get you a lemonade. It is far too hot to sit out here without one. Make yourself at home.” 

   A tabby cat stood from its bed and arched its back in a stretch as Aunt Betsy went into the house. Then it straightened again and when to bump up against Lauren’s legs. 

   Aunt Betsy returned a minute later with two large glasses of lemonade, ice clinking against the sides. 

   “Thank you.” Lauren took one and savoured the coolness in her hand. 

   “So what brings you to my humble abode?” Betsy looked pointedly at the letter. 

   “I found this in the attic. Thought you might like to see it.” Lauren handed it to her.

   “What’s this?” Aunt Betsy picked up a pair of reading glasses on the side table next to her, then squinted at the paper. “Oh.”

   Lauren tapped her fingers against the side of her glass while she waited. The cat meowed at her. 

   “I can’t concentrate when you’re making all that racket.” Aunt Betsy peered at her over the letter. 

   “Sorry.” Lauren’s cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink. She set down the drink. 

The cat jumped into her lap and curled itself up contentedly. She ran a finger along its back and tried to be patient. 

   After what seemed like an eternity, Aunt Betsy lowered the letter. She looked out across the road, into the fields that grew across from her house. 

   “Your grandpa was a good man, you don’t need me to tell you that.” 

   Lauren nodded and pursed her lips. This wasn’t helping yet. Talking about her feelings rarely did, yet she was trying again. 

   “Why did you want to show this to me?” 

   Lauren looked down at her hands. “I don’t know. It just made me so angry at her, and after all this time... It’s just not fair.” She trailed off. 

   Aunt Betsy sighed and leaned back in her chair. “Your mother was just a young thing when she skipped town. Sixteen. It near killed your grandpa, he looked for her, but she didn’t want to be found.” 

   A faraway looked came over her face, and her green eyes clouded with sadness. 

   “They heard the news before she came. Always had ways of looking out for her.” She fixed her gaze on Lauren. “You were such a tiny baby. No one who would have done so much for you as your grandparents did. They loved you something fierce.”

   “I know.” Lauren’s voice was a whisper, and she struggled to keep the tears at bay. 

   Aunt Betsy picked up the letter again. “I don’t have the answers you’re looking for. What came over your mother, I’ll never understand. Her parents loved her so much. They gave her everything she could have wanted. It just seemed like she didn’t care anymore.” 

   “What should I do with the letter?” 

   Neither woman knew of an address they could send it to. Lauren didn’t want to keep it anywhere in sight, and she knew even if she returned it to its hideaway, it would stay in the back of her mind. 

   “There’s not much you can do with it. I’d keep it, just in case. If your mother ever shows up, you can give it to her.” 

   A scoff escaped Lauren’s lips. She didn’t want her mother coming around. Like it would ever happen.

   “You are angry, aren’t you child?” 

   “How could you expect me not to be?” Lauren’s eyes flashed. “How could she do this to them? She broke their heart and didn’t even feel bad about it.”

   Sighing, Aunt Betsy looked back out to the fields. 

   “She knew when they were in the hospital, I’m sure of it.” Lauren pushed the cat off her lap. “She never came. She didn’t care. And yet, in their final hours, I heard them calling her name.” She swiped at her eyes angrily. 

   “I don’t understand it myself.” Aunt Betsy’s eyes shone. “Hold a space in your heart for forgiveness. All I can say is that we don’t know her situation. We can only pray for her.”

   Pray for her? That wasn’t Lauren’s ideal solution. It was the last thing on her mind. Charlotte did not deserve her prayers, she wasn’t even close to being on the list of people who did. Lauren wasn’t about to forgive her either – for sending her grandparents into the grave with broken hearts. It was too late for forgiveness.

   “Trust God, my dear. He knows what she needs, and He is your comfort.” 

   “That’s easier said than done,” Lauren mumbled. 

   She trusted Him, at least she thought she did. She could trust Him for comfort, for strength to get done what she needed to get done. But she knew how she felt about Charlotte, and she didn’t want anyone to change her mind. 

hg

 

   “Silver-Bell Creek.” The sign came into view, a curly-lettered billboard with an etched salmon jumping out of a wave along the bottom. 

   Charlotte smiled despite the butterflies in her stomach and the dread growing with each mile she drove. 

   Willow peered out the window and giggled. She didn’t know where they were going, but she was excited anyway. 

   The navy car sped along, through town and off a side road. It slowed at the end of a driveway with tall elm trees growing alongside it. 

   “We’re here.” Charlotte glanced back at her daughter and held her breath as she turned.

   A gasp escaped the little girl’s lips as the house came into view. It was beautiful. Grey shingles slanted down the roof towards the cream siding. Rose bushes ran alongside the path to the porch, white and pink roses in full bloom. They looked recently trimmed. Charlotte knew it was the wrong time of year to do so. 

   “Is this our new house?” Willow asked. 

   “No,” Charlotte stepped out of the car. “It’s your sister’s.” 

   She opened the side door of the car and unclipped Willow’s seatbelt. The little girl wiggled out of her arms as she set her down on the ground. 

   Everything looked nearly the same. The old shed out back, door held shut with a bucket. The garden was still well-kept and bursting with produce. Willow was already launching herself towards the deck, but Charlotte called her back. 

   She might be ready, but I’m sure not. Charlotte straightened her back and sighed. It all reminded her so much of the last time she’d been there. Her eyes fluttered shut. If she hadn’t known better, she would’ve expected the screen door to fly open and her mother to run down the steps. 

   But it wasn’t to be. Her parents had probably hated her until their dying breath. After all, she’d been a rotten daughter, every parent’s nightmare. But Lauren couldn’t hate her. She didn’t know her, and Charlotte knew how to put on a show when she needed to be charming. 

   “Look! A chicken!” Willow pointed to one, who was heading under the porch suspiciously. 

   That was new. Charlotte gathered her wits about her and walked up the steps to the porch. There was no answer to her knock, so she peered in the window. The straw hat her dad had always worn was hanging on a coat rack by the door. Everything was quiet. No one was in sight. 

   “Yum!” Willow was stuffing cherry tomatoes in her mouth. “Mmmm...”
   “Stop it!” Charlotte turned back to her. “Those aren’t yours. Get out of the garden. Now.” 

   Willow reluctantly complied, joining her on the porch. Charlotte knocked once more, for good measure, before turning and heading back to the car. 

   There was a truck in the driveway. An old ford with rust around the bottom of the fender and a blue stripe along the side. 

   “I want to see my sister,” Willow pouted. 

   Charlotte put her back in her car seat and fastened her in. “Your sister has a name. It’s Lauren, and she isn’t home.” 

   It was hard to tell which of the two was more disappointed. The ride back to town was quiet. Charlotte pulled up in front of the grocery store. This had been the short leg of their trip, and they needed to stock up before going any further. 

   Worst case scenario, she’d run into someone she knew. Best case scenario, she would be in and out in five minutes and no one would be the wiser. She left Willow in the car as a precaution. If someone happened to see the two of them together, the news would spread faster than wildfire. Besides, the girl was sleeping, and she didn’t want to wake her up.

  Grabbing her sunglasses, Charlotte hurried inside. A woman she didn’t recognize was working the till. Probably someone new, taking into account the name change of the business. Charlotte grabbed a box of crackers and headed to the produce aisle. Oranges were on sale, and they kept decently. She grabbed a bagful. They were Willow’s favourite. 

   She was heading back towards the door when a flash of red hair caught her eye and stopped her in her tracks. Was it Rose? The girl looked eerily similar, but it couldn’t be unless she hadn’t aged a day since their school days. 

   “Hi Amanda,” the woman at the till smiled at her. 

   Charlotte decided to get out while she still could. She grabbed a loaf of bread on her way to the till. 

   “Did you find everything?” 

   “Yes, thank you.” Charlotte paid and took her bag. As she turned to leave, a rack of postcards caught her eye. She set down her wallet on the counter and picked up one of the cards.

   Pictured on it was a horse galloping across a field of flowers, mane and tail flowing. Willow would adore it. Charlotte hesitated as she considered. 

   The door jingled again and more customers came in. It wasn’t worth the risk of being recognized, she decided. She pushed past them on her way back to the car.

Willow was awake when she returned. 

   “I got you a little surprise!” Charlotte set the bag on the passenger seat floor before holding up an orange.

   Willow grinned. “Thank you, Mommy!”

   Charlotte peeled it and threw the rind out the window into the parking lot. She passed the orange back, then started the car. 

   Well, Lauren was of no help. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be for them to meet. Charlotte wasn’t sure how she was going to handle the next few weeks, but she’d always found a way before, and she imagined that she would again. The car roared to life, and she headed out of Silver-Bell Creek and on to whatever the future held.