Page 106 of Free to Run
It seems fitting to give Cassidy’s babies a gift from my soul, as well as my heart.
Opening the door of the corner store, I inhale the musky scent and hear a faint “I’ll be right with you.”
And then she’s right before me. Frailer than she used to be, her hair snowier than gray, but I recognize that welcoming smile anywhere.
“Miss Julie?” I whisper in disbelief.
Her head tilts to the side before her lips part in shock. “Little Louise? Oh my, child! Come give me a hug. Where did you go?”
Walking immediately into her arms, I feel centered for the first time since I left Connecticut. “You have no idea how good it is to see you,” I mumble.
I feel a whack on my shoulder. “Where have you been all this time, young lady? Your mama would have had a switch to your hide for being gone so long and not letting anyone know where you were,” she scolds me.
I pull back, and the ever-present tears prick the back of my eyes. “That’s a story that’ll take all day to tell you.”
“I ain’t got nowhere to be, girl.” She gestures to a set of overstuffed chairs and a table with a pitcher of sweet tea. She arches an eyebrow. “Do you?”
“No, ma’am.” Immediately chastised, I move over to the chair and drop down. After pouring us each a glass, I ask her, “Where do you want me to start?”
“Always the beginning, Louise.” Patting my hand, she sits back. I tell her everything. What really happened with my father, to my new family, to Keene, and the baby. By the time I’m done talking, she hasn’t said much, and I’m practically hoarse. All the sweet tea is gone, and I haven’t got a lick of shopping in.
Miss Julie stands up and flips the sign on the front door to Closed before coming back to sit next to me. “Do you miss your man, Louise?”
I turn the empty glass around in my hands. “With every breath I take.” Putting the glass down before I drop it, I ask her, “How can he ever forgive me for not telling him about the baby sooner?”
“The same way you forgive him for not telling you about something that broke your heart. You love each other through it. You think this is going to be the worst thing you’re going to face in all your lives together?” Miss Julie lets out a laugh that echoes years of love, sorrow, and loss. “Young people these days don’t take vows seriously enough, Louise. Just think about the first one for a minute. For better or for worse doesn’t mean until your next fight. It means fighting with, for, and against each other until you make it through whatever battle you face. Together.” She leans forward and captures my hand. “Don’t you think being with Keene to fight this battle with will be better than being apart? It seems like apart is killing you both.”
“I don’t deserve him,” I hiccup through my tears.
“Why? Because your father was a horse’s ass? I want to show you something.” She walks over to her laptop. After a few clicks, she gestures me over. Looking over her shoulder, I see a local article about my father’s incarceration. What shocks me is the large portion of the article asking, “What happened to Louise Sibley?”
I’m floored.
Friends from middle school and early high school are quoted, taking a chance in showing me they still cared. “Seems there’s a lot of people out there who think there was a lot of heart to love back then. Bet they’d love to know the brilliant, beautiful woman you are now.”
“I never knew,” I murmur, my fingers drifting over names I haven’t seen since I was sixteen years old, leaving South Carolina in the rearview mirror.
“They’re only one call away. Just like your man, Alison.” My head snaps up. It’s the first time Miss Julie has called me by my legal name since I entered the store. “Now, we’ve been gossiping like two biddies all day. Didn’t you come in to buy some baby gifts?”
Nodding, I do something I haven’t done in months. I smile. “Thank you, Miss Julie,” I whisper, before reaching out to hug this woman who reminded me of something I forgot along the way. I was never completely alone in this city where hell first rained down on me. Nor was I alone in the last one I ran from.
Like running, love can happen anywhere. You just have to want to find your course.
* * *
An hour later,I found two antique English silver-plated baby cups—one for a boy and one for a girl.
A cast brass and carved wood Art Nouveau magnifying glass that looks like it jumped out of the pages of Sherlock Holmes catches my eye. It immediately reminds me of Keene.
“Miss Julie?” My voice is breathless. “Can you wrap up the magnifying glass too?”
She looks down in the case. “Not going to haggle the price, Alison?” I can hear the shopkeeper in her tsking me for not trying for a better deal.
“I don’t care. I know the exact message I need to send with it,” I whisper. Keene’s and my mutual love of Sherlock Holmes. He’ll understand.
“Ah, sending it to your man.” I can’t respond—all my thoughts are centered on Keene. She prattles on. “In the interest of true love, I’ll take fifteen percent off and wrap it for you too.”
A few minutes later, I’m on my way to the Watson, Rubenstein, and Dalton office. I grab a FedEx box and a few notecards; then taking a deep breath, I pick up the phone.
