Page 26 of One More Secret

Too many people like Jess need the help now.

12

JESSICA

March, Present Day

Maple Ridge

A weekafter I offered to buy Iris’s house, Anne beams at me from the other side of the lawyer’s conference table, her reading glasses sitting on the bridge of her nose. “Well, congratulations, Jessica. You’re officially the new owner of my great-aunt’s house.”

“Thank you.” A smile tugs on my face, excitement and nerves twisting and pulling it into place.

I. Bought. A. House.

Sure, it’s a fixer-upper. But so am I. We’re caterpillars just waiting to come out of our cocoons. But a lot of work needs to be done before we’re ready for that. Work I’m willing to do.

We leave the office and head to Anne’s car. The light spring breeze ruffles my hair, and the warm sunlight kisses my face. Eugene, the city where the law office is located, is an hour from the mountains and slightly warmer than Maple Ridge, but I still prefer the small town I now officially call home.

Anne unlocks the car doors with her key fob. “Is there anywhere else you’d like to go in Eugene while we’re here? I figured I’d ask because you don’t have a vehicle. And I still need to pick up a few things before Dan and I leave for our trip tomorrow.”

Her question, her kindness, is a flicker of warmth in my chest. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. I took the afternoon off work to come here, and I’m not against the idea of shopping.”

An avalanche of joy buries the nervousness that comes with buying a house, and the smile that stretches across my face is wider than before. “I wouldn’t mind getting some soil and seeds for the garden. And I need to buy new inner tubes and tires for Iris’s bike.” Luckily, I checked last night what sizes I need for the tires. “And even though I’ve been reading through your great-aunt’s magazines, I wouldn’t mind checking out a bookstore.” And I really should get a phone.

Plus, I need an outfit I can wear during a job interview. Once I land a job interview.

At the mall, we wander through the shops. No one seems to pay attention to me or recognize me. I’m just another shopper.

I allow myself to relax a little more. The sounds, sights, and smells of the mall are overwhelming to someone like me, to someone who hasn’t experienced them in quite some time. But I don’t mind. They’re a welcome difference from those that were part of my life a month ago.

I manage to get a phone and a cheap plan, and I purchase bike tires and inner tubes, underwear, bras, socks, and some more clothes. Mostly a cheap pair of jeans for working around the house, a few pretty blouses and T-shirts, a simple skirt that would work for a job interview, a couple of cardigans, including one with a delicate knit. Clothes that don’t scream, “Look at me,” but make me feel feminine and a tiny bit more confident, even with the ugly scars on my face.

“This would look gorgeous on you.” Anne holds up a dainty floral sundress. “It’s still cool in Maple Ridge, but it does get warmer in the summer.”

I flinch at the sight of it. “It is pretty. But I don’t have any occasions to wear it.” That’s the truth. It’s also the kind of dress my husband expected me to wear when we were together in public.

It was one of the mean games he liked to play.

“You’re nothing but a cheap whore,” he’d said one night after we went out with some of his friends. He was the one who’d demanded I wear the dress. Who’d demanded I go with him.

I didn’t say anything. There was nothing I could say to prevent what would come next.

He hit me across the cheek so hard, my ears rang for the next few minutes. I knew then…knew I wouldn’t be allowed to leave the house until the bruises healed.

“All you did tonight was flirt with my friends,” he’d accused, venom in his tone. “Right under my fucking nose. And don’t deny it, Savannah. I saw how they were looking at you.”

The clinking of metal against metal behind me brings me back to the present. I uncurl my fingers, my nails digging half-moons into my palms at the memory.He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead.I can wear a sundress and it’s my choice. It has nothing to do with him.

Relief rides the long breath gliding over my lips.

Anne is still inspecting the dress. She adds it to the clothes draped over her arm and goes to pay for her small collection. I keep looking around the store while I wait for her.

Once she’s finished, we leave our bags in her car and walk to the bookstore. I almost weep at the selection. This place is heaven. Heaven compared to the prison library.

Anne heads to the biography section. I don’t even know where to start. I wander through the store, touching the spines of various books as if they’re made of precious jewels. People in the aisles don’t give me a second glance.

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