Page 5 of Echo
“Yes, it is,” Mary Ellen said in a calm but stern tone that showed she was probably very good at her job. “By the way, if thedog attacks you for attacking Madison on her property, you have no legal foothold in court. Not in this state.”
He stomped back to his truck, muttering and running his hand through his mop of oily brown hair.
Poor guy.
Mary Ellen rolled her eyes, which matched mine and the man’s. A blue that seemed to run predominantly on my mother’s side of the family. It was at least something that signaled that I was in the right place and not with a bunch of random people jerking me around. “Don’t let Eddie get under your skin. He inherited a good chunk of change to buy new land wherever he wants to. He’s not out on his ass.”
“I feel bad,” I confessed.
“It’s still yours.” She held out two sets of keys to me. “This one is to the house. The other set Pearl said you’ll know what it’s for when you find it.”
There it was. The promise of a new life. A better life. As long as I was willing to reach out and take it.
“Thank you.” I grabbed the cold keys from her. They were heavier than I expected, like they were made out of something more substantial than the flimsy metal I was used to.
“You’ll have to settle yourself. I’ve got a plane to catch. Best of luck to you, Madison.” She went back to her car and drove off before I could even ask if she wanted something to eat and drink. Then again, I didn’t even know what was here.
Now that I stood in this front yard alone, nervousness grew in the pit of my stomach. Someone was watching me.
He’s not here. Stop letting him eat at you.
Ranger barked as something flew past my head, squawking right in my ear.
“Fuck.” I ducked my head and found the crow that landed on the roof of my car. Ranger hadn’t released his defensive stance at my heel, glaring into the woods.
“Easy.” I patted his head while walking up the porch steps. Ranger followed, keeping his eyes on the treeline.
Every step up the porch filled me with a sense of relief. Sanctuary, here at last.
I got the key in the door and was surprised to find how much strength it took to get the tumblers to turn. It took both hands to finally hear the snick of the lock flipping.
The black door knob turned smoothly, but I had to put my weight into the door to get it to open. I was willing to bet prison bars weren’t that heavy.
Once it opened, Ranger herded me into the house and didn’t relax until the door was shut. At that point, he laid down in front of it with plop and a huff.
New life, here I come.
Before I turned to get a look at the interior, the scent of sage, rosemary, and thyme hit me full force. I closed my eyes, letting the familiar scents waft down into my soul, pulling out a memory of my grandma’s house. It wrapped around me like her embrace, and I could almost feel her cool wrinkly hands holding me, as I cried in her arms, wanting my daddy, because he’d gone on one of his trips.
It was my second home.
I held onto that for a moment longer, not opening my eyes and ruining the illusion. Grandma died years ago, and her mind had deteriorated long before that. My last memories were of insane mutterings where she believed she was a young girl being hunted in the woods. Her ungodly screams filled my nightmares. It was nice to think of her like this instead.
As the woman who raised me, when my dad went on the road. She’d always say that when Mama died a black flame was born in his heart, and that when the rage roared inside him it was best I be with her.
She always gave him green candles she made with lemon balm when he dropped me off. He always barked at her for being a crazy old bat, but he still always kept one on the nightstand by his bed.
That was the woman I missed.
She was the safety net I so desperately craved.
I guess her sister’s house was the closest thing now.
With one last breath to fill myself with strength, I opened my eyes and faced the room. The living room furniture was ancient, and I found myself terrified to touch anything. It was like being in a museum.
I was willing to bet, based on the god awful floral patterns and sturdy woodwork, that some antique traveling show would love a chance to inspect the room. It surprised me that everything was still here, surely it was worth some money.
That wasn’t as shocking as all the family pictures still hanging on the walls untouched. I’d inherited the house, but surely her son wanted some of these.
