Page 3 of The Fence Between Us

Halls that typically rang with all manner of sound, from the peeling of bells and papers shuffling to the happy laughter and chatting of children and faculty alike. Some teachers were less than thrilled to be around children all day and counted down the minutes until they could leave, but Skye had never felt that way. She craved the happy cacophony and chaotic nature of the elementary school. Sure, she was exhausted and didn’t know where the children got their energy, but being at school, surrounded by noisy kids, was better than sitting in her soundless house, alone.

The short drive back to her tiny two-bedroom cottage did nothing to shake the gloomy feeling that snuck into her chest and stuck like a stone, and the silence that greeted her did nothing to lift her spirits. Still, Skye loved her little home, and she thanked her Mamaw every day for helping her buy it. Even though Mamaw had been gone for years, the moment Skye graduated college and her inheritance became accessible, she purchased the small cottage and had slowly restored it in the years since. The vertical wooden siding, painted a soft sage green, called to Skye’s soul. Under the white-trimmed windows, the flower boxes stained with a light walnut color brought out the natural wood grain, and the color of the shingles matched the rich soil in the little garden she maintained in the backyard. Skye chose the color scheme with intention, invoking warmthand peace. Following a long day on her feet, mustering an upbeat attitude for her students, she wanted somewhere that calmed and soothed her. Best of all, it was one-hundred-percent hers.

Stepping over the threshold, Skye dumped her bag by the door and flopped onto the overstuffed reading chair, the only seating in the room besides the chambray gray loveseat pushed against the front window. Dishes waited in the sink, and several loads of laundry needed washing. Compared to her desire to lay on the chair and let herself sink into the stuffing, the need to clean did not even come close.

She tipped her head back against the rolled edge of the chair and stared at the popcorn ceiling, the stack of smutty romance books she’d been meaning to read catching at the edge of her vision. The tower threatened to topple over if it grew any taller. Maybe they’d find her buried under a stack of happily-ever-afters. That would be her luck. If she were being honest, she was having a pity party, and since it was a party of one, it was so much worse.

Another friend from college had gotten married this past weekend, and while she adored Michelle and her new husband, Skye couldn’t help the little pinch of envy that stung each time. Not that long ago, everyone assumed she would be the first to marry. Now, all of her high school and college friends were getting married, buying homes, and having babies while she sat on the sidelines, watching their new lives start as hers passed by.

Still, she’d rather remain alone than settle into a loveless marriage, filled with long nights that would make her feel more lonely than she was now. She’d had enough of that during her childhood and knew enough about what she wanted in life to know she hadn’t found it.

Skye finally lifted her head off the soft fabric and glanced around the open-concept room, taking in the hardwood floors, the clean butcherblock countertop in the kitchen, and thecabinets that matched the sage exterior of the house. A variety of plants in painted terracotta pots held positions throughout the room, the only thing she trusted herself to keep alive at the moment. Though some of the smaller plants did look a bit wilted. Skye promised herself she’d water the plants just as soon as she could gather enough will to convince her body to move from the comfortable position.

The cell phone beside her vibrated against the seat cushion, sending tremors through the soft fabric. She pushed herself up onto her elbows and watched the screen, groaning at the name flashing there. The phone continued the ring and vibrate while Skye ignored it, letting voicemail deal with the caller. A few seconds later, the voicemail icon blinked, and she played it on speaker. Leaving her phone on the reading chair, she padded to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water and deposit the multitude of stainless-steel cups she’d brought home from school. Honestly, the number of thermoses she had was ridiculous.

“Hello dear,” her stepmother’s irritated nasally voice rang out, loud and shrill in the otherwise quiet home. “Your father and I wanted to speak with you, but you haven’t been by the house.”

Censure marked her tone, something she never failed to express in regard to Skye. Gayle had come into Skye’s life not long after she’d been born, her biological mother passing away from complications only moments after she’d named her infant daughter. Skye’s relationship with her stepmother had never been what Skye hoped for and despite promising herself otherwise, some intrinsic part of Skye still strived to meet her approval. Even now, it hadn’t taken Gayle all of ten seconds to start her ridicule, possibly a new record speed for her disapproval.

“I know summer school let out today.” The disdain for Skye’s job dripped from her voice like honeyed poison. “Dinner will be on the table at five o’clock sharp. See you shortly.”

“Goodbye to you too, Mother,” Skye muttered, fighting the urge to roll her eyes at the sheer audacity her stepmother exuded, expecting Skye to drop any plans she may have had and attend a family dinner. The fact that her plans had involved a dinner for one and watching bad reality television in her pajamas was beside the point. She couldn’t help herself as her eyes drifted to the clock on her phone that read 4:30 p.m.

Crap!

Skye raced to her room, cursing herself for her spineless inability to stand up to her parents. To simplynotanswer their summons. She’d done so once before and paid the price, though she couldn’t say she regretted her decision. She peeled off the t-shirt she’d worn to work. The cheesy, “Get your Cray-On” saying in bright, bubbly lettering always made her laugh, but her parents wouldn’t appreciate it like she did. In its place, she chose a more sedate option from her closet, a turquoise tunic with a black breast pocket. Skye slipped the shirt over her serviceable white cotton bra, left on the dark denim skinny jeans she’d worn to work, and threw on a pair of black ballet flats in place of her multi-colored tennis shoes. As for her long, tangled honey-blonde hair, she did the best she could, tossing it up into an artfully messy bun at the back of her head.

Skye hurried to her older model silver compact SUV where she’d parked it on the curb.

The drive across town took all of five minutes, yet that all too familiar panic rose each time she glanced at the clock. Fifteen minutes had passed. Technically, she was making good time. That fact didn’t matter to her heart rate, which sputtered erratically, or her breath, which seemed content to stay permanently locked in her lungs. Her fingers strummed on thesteering wheel frantically, and her left foot kept rhythm on the floorboard. Each mile passing at the lawful thirty miles per hour seemed to last an eternity.

Skye made it to her parents’ grand house with about ten minutes to spare. Rationally, she knew this, but it didn’t stop her heart from hammering in her chest, forcing her to spend another few minutes in the car, working to ease its beating back into a normal cadence.

As her heart calmed, Skye’s gaze drifted beyond her parent’s well-manicured lawn to the awful and sterile poly fence that demarked an unofficial dividing line between Shiloh Hills’s upper-crust and everyone else. Typically, Skye did a decent job of ignoring that fence when she answered her parents’ summons. But maybe her vulnerabilities and insecurities had overridden her better sense because her eyes were drawn to that space between property lines. That particular fence hadn’t always been there. At one point it was open, sporting two rows of painted wood nailed to neat square posts.

She’d been only five years old when she heard the word rabble spat from someone’s mouth in her parents’ patio garden. She didn’t understand exactly what or who a rabble was but she spent many days studying the fence the person indicated, wondering if clues were present in the wood grain or the way the white paint clung to the splinters. The grasses that waved in the breeze, the wildflowers that danced around the posts, were the same on either side of the fence.

The crooked For Sale sign on the other side of the fence, maybe that was the rabble? Or was it the family that moved in not long after that garden party? Maybe it was the little boy who ran around in dirty bare feet and torn jean shorts.

Skye’s eyes drifted from the cold fence that mocked the memories she held dear, though they made her heart ache with sadness. She forced her eyes away and back to the opulenthome her parents occupied. The idea of going inside made her stomach roll again and she couldn’t help but seek some level of comfort by glancing one more time at the place she’d spent such happy times. The way the fence had changed through the years stood out, a stark comparison to those good memories and the corners of Skye’s mouth turned down as that ache in her chest grew. Not every memory made at that fence had been positive, not all of them promised hope and companionship.

Graduation day held so much promise for Skye, not because of the numerous scholarships and school acceptance letters she’d received like the crowd seemed to think. The principal’s list of her achievements went on forever and Skye slowed her steps to ensure the man had plenty of time to finish before she reached the podium. She made it through her Valedictorian speech, reading the words she’d written without emotion. The heat of too many bodies pressed in on her and she tried to focus passed the pounding headache she’d developed. Not a single individual in the large school gymnasium saw her accomplishments for what they were. Chains.

It took far longer for Skye to escape the congratulations and well-wishes from fellow townsfolk than she would have liked. She breathed the late spring air deep into her lungs, relief lightened her chest and for the first time all day, she let herself feel that hope she clung to.

Her sandaled feet raced through the soft grass, passed the lilac bush whose blooms were fading in late May. Excitement lit her eyes as she searched for a hint of him but the only thing waiting for her at that horrible sterile fence was a thick stack of papers, wedged between two slats. That hope she’d carried with her crashed to the ground in a heap of splintered dreams. Skye pulled the tri-folded paper from the fence and opened it, her hands shaking with that familiar sinking feeling that crept into her chest and stopped the breath in her lungs.

The words, typed in an official font blurred before her eyes. Blinking several times, Skye struggled to absorb the words before her, her mind refusing to comprehend. She recognized the name on the paper, Matthew R. Raden. Then, a horrible sense of finality overcame her as the words United States Army came into focus. Skye crumpled to the ground, lost, heavy. All of those chains finally weighed her down.

Skye swiped at her cheeks, the wet tracks there surprised and frustrated her. She jerked her head away from that fence and yanked the sun visor down, exposing the mirror to her salt-stained face. Sniffing, Skye dabbed under her eyes and hurried to hide the evidence of her weakness, frantically brushing at the reddened skin of her face. Her efforts were in vain and she eventually growled at her image. Slamming the sun visor shut again, Skye took a steading breath, ignoring the way it shuddered through her and focused on something, anything, else that would distract her from the memories that threatened to crush her heart.

Her eyes landed on the other vehicles in the driveway beside her own.

The concreted circle driveway held three cars and her trusty SUV. Two of the brand names she recognized as expensive. The other she didn’t know, but she had no doubt it was every bit as lavish. Her SUV seemed like a cheap knock-off toy compared to those vehicles, and it took all her strength not to flush with embarrassment.

She alternated between hurrying toward the house, determined not to be late, and wishing she could turn around and flee. Years of avoiding disappointing her parents and operant conditioning won out, and she found herself rushing up the opulent stone steps.

The doorbell clanged the same as when she lived there, and she fought against other memories that tried to drag her under.As proud members of one of the oldest families in Shiloh Hills, Max and Gayle Wellington exuded perfection in every facet of their lives, except for the ones behind closed doors. From the outside, Skye’s parents were perfectly put together and socially acceptable. She often wondered if her father had ever been happy with Gayle, who had been her stepmother for as long as she could remember. While her parents would never leave each other legally, they’d given up on happiness a long time ago.

---