Page 13 of Finding Home

CJ barked out another laugh that matched his big smile.

She beamed. “I remember how green you were when I sliced my finger while we volunteered at the Nursing Home in high school. You were ready to play medic until you saw the blood. Also, you did 4-H and were always raising farm animals.”

"Didn’t realize you noticed all that in high school.” Bemusement glinted in his gray eyes.

Raking her teeth against her bottom lip, she shrugged.I hadn’t either.

“I remember you were always taking the lead on school projects and organizing activities. It makes sense that you’re in management.”

Elle shifted in her seat, now aware of how he saw her, then and now. “Yeah. I’m the National Director of Virtual Medicine for Sloan-Whitney. I’m assuming Jerome has mentioned that.”

“He and your whole family. Pete tells everyone you’re a big wig.”

“Hardly.”

“He’s always bragged about you. In high school, Coach sang your praises.” He smiled, deepening his voice in an accurate impression of Uncle Pete. “Eleanor is taking twelfth grade classes and she’s only a junior. Eleanor collected one-hundred pounds of canned food for the food bank. Eleanor saved Christmas from the Grinch.”

“Enough.” She raised her hands, giggling.

“It’s sweet. He’s proud of you, Eleanor. As he should be. You’re impressive. You always have been.”

“Thank you, CJ.” Their gazes wove together. “My friends call me Elle.”

His mouth quirked. “My friends call me Clayton.”

“Clayton,” she said his name slowly, allowing her lips to try it out. Elle held her water bottle up in a toasting gesture.

“Elle.”He pressed his water bottle against hers. A simple toast to them.

FIVE

“The person, be it gentleman or lady, who has not pleasure in a good novel, must be intolerably stupid.”

~Jane Austen,Northanger Abbey

Sleep was more of a journey rather than a destination for Elle. Most nights she tossed and turned between intrusive thoughts and vivid nightmares of the past. Last night was no exception. As she lay watching daylight tiptoe into the room, she willed sleep to come.

“I give up,” she huffed, kicking off her blankets.

A good sweaty workout would purge the previous day and reboot her to tackle today. Almost twenty-four hours in Perry left her battered from a tornado of emotions. Bubbles of happy reunions vied with the sharp pang from seeing her mom in front of the Owens Family Clinic.

Changed into black yoga pants and a purple tank top, she sucked in the dewy morning air. Elle strolled to the dock for some pondside yoga. Flip flops kicked off, she spread her mat on the dock’s wooden planks.

Even before nights of challenged sleep, Elle was an early riser. It started with Grandma Coates, who’d wake her before the first crack of dawn. They’d sit in the living room, a bowl of sugary cereal in Elle’s lap, watching the news before school.

That childhood morning ritual dissolved away after grandma got sick. The cancer consumed the once vibrant woman. At eleven, Elle got herself up and sat, cereal bowl in her lap, alone watching the news before school.

Not alone. Elle had herself. That self-reliance bolstered her to not just care for herself, but for the broken doll that was her mom after Elle’s dad had left.

Eyes closed tight, she moved into the workout and away from the haunting pull of the past. Around her the world hummed with the morning playlist of chirping birds and a distant happy bark.

Lowering into corpse pose, she ended her yoga routine. The glow of ache and energy radiated within her. Controlling her breaths in time with the gentle breeze, she closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them to golden rays streaked between fluffy clouds. The sunshine the same color as her mom’s blonde curls. Her throat choked with sudden emotion.

Those phantoms were dimmed in Long Beach. In Perry, they burned bright.

I see you ghosts. Now fuck off.She closed her eyes tight.

“Oof,” Elle gasped as the weight of something round, furry, and squirmy hit her chest. Her eyes shot open and met the dark eyes of a rogue pug, its wrinkled black and tan face drawn into a curious pout. “Well, who are you?”

---