Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 105756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
I wanted Dad and Leonora back. They were my safety net, my soft place to fall, and now I had no one.
I cried for a good half an hour before I forced myself to get dressed and drive to work. Getting there early enough meant I could shower and change without anyone noticing.
The days passed in a dark, hopeless, lonely routine.
On day four of my new living situation, I woke up in agony. An ache spread all down my leg, and it was so stiff I feared I wouldn’t be able to move it. It took about fifteen minutes of self-massage to make it feel nominally better, but I knew I was still going to have to use my cane. Ever since the surgery, I’d barely had to use it, and now, after only four days with poor sleep, I felt like I was back to square one.
I was about to get dressed—which was also a pain because I had to do it while confined to my car—when my phone rang. Normally, I didn’t answer numbers I didn’t recognise, but my leg pain had me not thinking clearly, and I answered on instinct. “Hello?”
My voice was rough, my teeth chattering. You could practically hear how cold I was.
“Miss Rose?” a familiar voice replied, and my stomach flipped. What the hell was Jonathan Oaks doing calling me?
“Y-yes, speaking. How can I help you, Mr Oaks?” If he insisted on addressing me formally, then I had no problem doing the same.
“You knew it was me.”
“I recognised your voice.” Why was I flushed? To be honest, though, the warmth rushing to my face felt nice given the circumstances.
“Ah, I see.” A stilted silence followed. “Are you quite all right, Miss Rose?”
“I’m fine,” I clipped. “What do you need?”
“Ah, well, I was going through some things at my mother’s house, and I discovered a few of your father’s possessions. I thought you might want them.”
“What possessions? I already cleared out his clothes and everything in his and Leonora’s bedroom.” Frances was currently storing most of it in her garage. “I’m not sure what else there could be.”
“There are some, uh, photo albums, a collection of watches, and a few other things. If you’d rather I—”
“No, no, I’ll come get them. I can come after work, around six-thirty, if that suits?”
“I probably won’t be there. I have a busy schedule today, but I can have Therese drive over to let you in.”
“Okay, that sounds fine. Thank you.”
“No problem,” he replied, and I thought he’d hang up, but he stayed on the line then said, “Are you sure you’re okay? Your voice sounds a little—”
“I’m getting over a cold. That’s all,” I lied quickly. “But thank you for your concern.”
“All right, well, I’ll let you go.”
“Yes. Goodbye, Mr Oaks.”
“Miss Rose.”
5.
Jonathan
I hung up then stared at my phone for a long moment. Ada Rose sounded strange on the call, like she was in pain of some sort. The strain in her voice was evident. Something in my stomach twisted at the notion. It didn’t make sense. She wasn’t anything to me. So, why did I care about her wellbeing?
Okay, I knew why. It was because of the funeral. A week ago, I’d wanted her out of Mam’s house and out of my life. But now, well, I felt like maybe I’d formulated the wrong first impression of her, an impression that was shadowed by my poor opinion of her father. Ada had walked up to the front of the church in a conservative black dress and matching shoes, her shoulders tense like she was physically carrying her grief, and my throat had constricted. I hadn’t seen it before, but I’d seen it then. She’d truly loved her father, and from her heartfelt words, I’d sensed she’d loved Mam, too.
She’d stood in front of the packed-out congregation, speaking of our parents with such loss and sadness, the weight of their death heavy in her words. I’d felt her emotion like a whack to the chest. It had been genuine. The woman had had a deep fondness for my mother, and I’d felt a mix of discomfort and gratitude. I could’ve been the one up there talking about Mam had it not been for our estrangement. Instead, I’d had to sit silently in a pew like a stranger.
But I was grateful because Ada had been a friend to my mother when I’d been too stubborn, resentful and proud to be in her life.
It was half the reason why I’d extended the olive branch and offered for her to stay on at the house at a cheaper rate. She’d declined, having already found somewhere else, and oddly, I was disappointed.
It meant I wouldn’t see her again, and after how she’d spoken in the church, the stories she’d shared about Mam … I wanted to crack open her brain so I could steal more memories. I was greedy for stories about my mother during the years we’d been apart.