Page 7 of Love and Other Lost Things

Jane had mailed a single picture right after Scarlett was born, but Mom had asked her not to send any more. She was afraid Dad might find them and know they’d been in contact. Eventually, Jane and Mom had settled into their routine where Mom would call every six months or so, but only when Dad was away on his fishing trips. Jane only answered when Matteo was at work. So maybe she and Mom weren’t so different after all.

“Scarlett, say hi to Grandma.” She cleared her throat and did her best to sound upbeat for Scarlett’s sake. “We’ll be staying with her for a little bit.”

“Hi,” Scarlett said shyly, hiding her face part-way in Jane’s jacket.

“You must be hungry,” Mom said, awkwardly leaning down to Scarlett’s level, standing back up, and then leaning down again as if she didn’t quite know where to land. The effect made her look like a turkey crossing the road. “Would you like some soup?”

Scarlett shook her head.

“We stopped at McDonald’s about an hour ago,” Jane explained.

Mom pressed her lips together, most likely in disapproval. Jane did her best to shrug it off. Mom had given up her right to express her opinions on Jane’s parenting choices long ago. “We’re still on California time, and it’s past bedtime. I think I’ll take Scarlett upstairs to get settled.”

“Oh.” Mom looked from Scarlett back to Jane. “Okay. I made up the bed in the guest room for you two. It’s a queen, so you’ll both fit. I wasn’t sure if you’d want to sleep in your old?—”

“The guest room is fine.” Jane took her daughter’s hand. “Come on, honey.”

Jane led Scarlett upstairs, where they stopped briefly in the bathroom and then headed into the guest room. Jane hesitated for just a second in front of her old bedroom. Was her guitar in there, the one Nik had given her for her fourteenth birthday? Or had Dad made good on his promise to burn it? With a shudder, Jane backed away from the door. She wasn’t ready for that assault of old memories.

Scarlett climbed into the bed—it was far more comfortable than any of the cheap motel mattresses where they’d slept on their trip across the country—and immediately fell back asleep. Scarlett had grown up in an apartment over a nightclub, so she’d learned to sleep through anything. It was unlikely she’d wake up before morning, but Jane flipped on a nightlight just in case.

Jane found her mother in the kitchen, and she settled into a chair at the old oak table. Back in high school, this kitchen had looked typically middle-class—similar to all the other kitchens in these old houses—and she’d never paid much attention to it. But now with time and distance, it looked dated, too dark, with yellowing appliances that had seen better days, and a dripping faucet. More house repairs that Mom wasn’t equipped to deal with.

Mom stirred something on the stove and then ladled the contents into a stoneware bowl. The faucet released its slow drip again, and it plopped into a mug in the sink. Mom sprinkled cheese on top of the soup. “So, how long are you staying?”

Jane hesitated. “Just a week or so.”

Mom looked up from the bowl. “That’s it? A week?” She frowned.

“Matteo was unhappy about us going at all,” Jane said. “If it weren’t for Dad’s death, and the fact that he would have looked like a jerk if he’d said no, he would have put up more of a fight about us coming here.” Matteo didn’t care much about being a jerk. But he didn’t want to look like one. “He thinks we’ll be back in early January, by the time Scarlett’s school break is over.”

“And you won’t be.”

“No, we won’t.” Jane’s chest squeezed. God, she hoped not. “I have about a week to figure out how to…” She trailed off.

How to disappear.

The unspoken word settled around them.

There would be no more phone calls, no checking in. These few days in Linden Falls would be the last time she’d ever see or talk to Mom again. Matteo’s power over Jane couldn’t be broken by mere miles between them. She and Scarlett had to truly disappear. It was the only way they’d finally be free. If there was any way for Matteo to find them… a postmarked letter, a traced phone call to Mom…

She didn’t want to think about what he’d do.

Jane shook her head as if that would wipe those dark thoughts from her mind. We’re going to get away. There was no other choice. “Anyway,” she said, doing her best to keep the waver out of her voice. “While I’m here, I’ll help you get things packed and organized. Get as much settled as possible before we go.”

But that change of subject didn’t offer any comfort. Jane dreaded sorting through the fragments of her life, dreaded what she’d find—or wouldn’t find—in those piles of memories in the basement.

Especially one memory in particular.

She wasn’t sure what would be worse: To dig up that old guitar that Nik had scoured pawn shops to find and then present to her on her fourteenth birthday. Or to finally accept that it was lost to her forever.

Just like Nik was lost to her forever.

She had a flash of him from earlier today. Those dark eyes searching hers, the lock of deep brown hair falling across his forehead, the heat building as he closed the space between them. She’d worked so hard to stave off memories of Nik, and all it took was ten minutes in this town and one look in those eyes to bring them all rushing back.

“Well.” Mom cut into her thoughts. “I’m not sure there’s much to do. The lawyer is helping with the estate paperwork. He says everything automatically goes to me, so it’s not very complicated. And your father’s old tools and things are fine where they are in the basement for now. I can invite that high school boy from down the street to come and take what he wants in the summer.”

Jane’s head jerked up. “Summer? I thought we talked about you selling this place this spring? Getting an apartment in town. What about that retirement building with the pool and exercise classes?”

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