Page 20 of A Fowl Match

“What’s so great about a plaque?”

“Whaaaaa—everything! Just by displaying that on the front of your business you get more customers. Plus, bragging rights for the year. Not that I care to brag, but I’ve lost every single one I’ve entered. Chelsea has won the past two years. It’s time someone beats her.”

“Got it. I will train at all hours so that we can get first place.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it. Now, let’s quit wasting time,” she says while sitting down on a chair and scooting closer to the table.

We started out with a puzzle that had a red barn surrounded by a field of sunflowers three hours ago. All that we have to prove for it are a measly four sunflowers, the roof of the barn, and a half-eaten apple pie. My head is throbbing from the amount of sugar and mental activity. Whoever said a puzzle was easy, was lying.

“What happened with Chelsea?”

“What makes you think something happened?” She looks down at the pieces, avoiding eye contact.

“I could tell by the determination on your face when you said someone had to beat her this year.”

“Well, I guess it’s public news around here since everyone knows everything so I might as well come out with it. Jackson and I dated for about two years when I was in high school. Long story short, I went to surprise him on his birthday at his place after we graduated and I found him and Chelsea together. Turns out he was cheating on me with her for months. I was so clueless.”

“I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

“It’s okay, it was a long time ago, but that’s why I have a hard time trusting anyone.”

“Don’t worry; we will beat her in this competition. That's a promise.”

“Thank you—Jackson also works at the post office now, so that’s why I have a hard time mailing anything,” she confesses, looking down at the puzzle again.

“If you ever need me to mail something for you, I’m your guy.” And I mean it. I can’t imagine having to face your ex in such a small town with only one option for miles.

“That means a lot.” She fiddles with the pieces looking teary eyed. A few minutes pass while we concentrate on finding pieces and group them together.

“Tell me about your life in New York. Was it everything people say it is and more?” she asks while digging a fork into a half-eaten slice of pie.

“To be honest it had its moments. I really did enjoy living there. The buzz of the city. People everywhere. You could blend into a crowd of thousands of people. The thing is, I never felt more…alone.” Shit, did I confess that? I’ve never told anyone that before. I think this puzzle is wreaking havoc with my sanity.

I’ve been thinking about things this past week. I still don’t know whether I should stay here or move back to the city. I’m at a crossroads. Both decisions have drawbacks and advantages. It’s nice to be surrounded by my family here. Work on the farm has been a refreshing change in pace. I don’t miss sitting at a desk all day. But I worked so hard to build my career. I think a few more weeks will help me weigh on the decision. Will I get sick of the farming life? Is it all too fresh now?

I’m not sure.

“Living in a small town my whole life, it’s felt like I could never blend in. Everyone knows everyone. So here and there I crave blending in and hiding in a crowd.” She twirls her empty fork between her fingers. “Feeling alone, that’s something I’ve spent far too long living.”

I wonder what she means by that. This conversation is getting heavy. I don’t think I’m ready to dive deeper. It doesn’t seem likeshe is ready either. Though I can’t help but feel a connection to her.

We’re two people who’ve always felt lonely. Alone in a world full of people.

Chapter 13

Violet

It’smiddayandI’msulking in my thoughts draped in a crocheted blanket Olive made for me. Snuggling against my orange and white tabby cat, Fiona, who’s sprawled on the couch against my legs. I stare at the blank television screen hanging on the wall. I have so many things to do. I should be eating lunch. Or working on flower arrangements. I need to be doing something productive.

The thing is, I never felt more—alone.

Dustin’s words have been replaying in my mind for the past few days. Eating away at the trauma I’ve been suppressing for years. I work nonstop, never allowing myself a break to sit and wallow. But our conversation has put a crack in my armor. And today I couldn’t keep moving any longer.

A memory flashes through my mind from when I was fifteen.

“Violet, honey, we are going to be late if you don’t hurry.”

“Ten more minutes Mom!” I shout from my room.

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