Page 58 of His Road Dog

Chapter 23

Nicole

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A BUNDLE OF DRIED LAVENDERslapped Nicole in the face. She reached up to the rigged wire, strung across the kitchen ceiling of her parents' house, and retied the bundle of flowers higher. It was something she and her father had always done.

Her mom, standing only five feet two inches tall, never tied the herbs and flowers she had a penchant for drying high enough to keep them out of their way.

"Hey, mom?" She walked over to the open window above the sink. "Where's the cinnamon?"

Her mom straightened from tending the garden. "There are sticks in the drawer by the fridge."

Nicole sighed. "Thanks."

She'd hoped that over the years, her mom had bought a canister of cinnamon at the store rather than grating the cinnamon sticks into powder. In the next breath, she took the thought back. Mom's ability to make something out of nothing was one of the skills Nicole admired.

Her time away from home had spoiled her to having conveniences at her fingertips or available at the nearest grocery store.

Skipping the idea of having cinnamon toast, she grabbed an apple out of the basket and joined her mom outside. The noon sun provided warmth in the middle of what otherwise was a thick forest on public land.

Her mom brushed back her hair with her wrists, avoiding touching the strands with her dirty hands. "Did you find the sticks?"

She held up the fruit. "Changed my mind."

"Lazy." Her mom laughed. "You haven't changed a bit."

She smiled. It was true. Ever since she was young, she longed for a more comfortable life. She'd taken all the work her parents had done to give her more for granted until she'd stepped away and taken care of herself.

"It's so great to have you home." Her mom picked up her basket of green beans and sat down beside Nicole. "I wish your dad could spend more time with you while you're here."

"There's no hurry. When harvest is done, we can catch up. I'm not going anywhere for a while." She finished the apple and reached down for a handful of beans.

Her mom set the empty pot between them. Together, they snapped the beans into inch-long pieces. The therapeutic chore gave Nicole something to do.

Coming home hadn't been exactly how she'd expected it to be. Her mom had a new routine and needed no help. Her dad was deep in the middle of harvesting and came home after dark each night and fell straight into bed, only to wake before the sun came up and disappear from the cabin.

"These smell good." She tossed a handful of pieces into the bowl.

Her mom smiled and kept snapping. Nicole's fingers practically moved on their own, doing one bean after another.

Snap, snap, snap,toss in the pot.

Across the common area, children shouted at each other, running back and forth to each other's cabins. She watched them play. The mothers were also outside. Some talked while hanging clothes on the line to dry. Others picked up toys or looked after the kids.

She squinted, trying to see who stood by the outbuilding. "Is that Celia?"

Her mom raised her head. After several seconds, she said, "Yes."

"I didn't think anyone my age still lived here." She watched Celia move out of sight.

"She came back last year." Her mom pointed. "See that little one with the blonde hair and pink shirt?"

"Mm-hm."

"That's Celia's daughter, Jane." Her mom reached for more beans. "If you visit her, be kind. She had a bad marriage and came home to escape the abuse."

"That's awful," she murmured, struck by how disappointments and danger seemed to bring more people home than she realized. But maybe that's how life worked here in the commune. Grown kids found themselves in trouble, and they rushed home to their parents to get a do-over.

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