2010
I’ve never felt so alone.
I’m in the great room of the new Shadow Ridge house, by myself. Daddy’s waiting for Rainie’s sitter to show up at his house so he can come over to help me deal with the movers and I can’t wait for him to get here. Three trucks are in front of the house. The moving van from the storage facility is in the driveway, while out on the street, there’s the truck with the new furniture for Rainie’s room and the guest room, and behind that one is the truck with the furniture for our two offices, one of which we no longer need. I hadn’t thought of that—canceling the new furniture for Jackson’s office. Now his office will only remind me of the fact that he is missing. And yet, I let them bring in the desk he selected, along with the filing cabinet and bookcase, because I feel too numb to tell them to take them back to the store. I’m exhausted and we are only half an hour into this move.
Daddy shows up at ten thirty, just as I’m trying to explain to the movers how I want the bedroom furniture arranged. He senses my tension and stands back quietly to let me work it out with the two men doing the heavy lifting. Once the bedroom is finished and the men leave the room, Daddy gives me a hug.
“How are you holding up, sweetheart?” he asks.
“Hey, ma’am!” someone calls from downstairs. I smile gamely at my father. “I’m okay,” I say, “but I’ll be very glad when this day is over.”
The move-in passes by me in a blur. By two o’clock, all the furniture is in place, nearly a dozen burly men have come and gone, and I’m glad I paid extra to have most of the boxes unpacked, even if I’m certain nothing in the kitchen is where I’ll ultimately want it to be. The only rooms that are still full of boxes are the two offices, and I have a feeling Jackson’s office will stay boxed up for a good long time.
“It’s a beautiful house, honey,” Daddy says. He sits down on the new sectional and looks around him, a small smile on his face. “I like this wall color you picked out. Very soothing.”
I lower myself to the other end of the sectional. It’s soft but not too soft, and I settle into it. Finally, something that’s just right. All the furniture I selected is designed for comfort, with rounded corners and nubby fabric, a counter to the sleek lines of the house.
My father touches the quilt I’ve tossed over the back of the sectional. “I recognize this,” he says.
“I thought you might.” I smile. My mother had made the beautiful quilt for me when I went away to college. “I designed the room around it,” I tell him, choking up a little. “See how the blues and greens are picked up in the sectional and the chairs and the area rugs?”
Daddy takes this in. His smile is sad now, but he nods. “I do see it.” He looks directly at me. “I love that you did that, honey.”
I have a sudden brainstorm. “I have too much space for one woman and one little girl, now, Daddy. I think you should forget about the condo and move in with us.” I’m completely serious, but also selfish. I want another adult with me in this huge house that might look sparkly fresh and new but feels tainted. A terrible accident happened here, and now that red-haired woman knows that this is where I live. It feels like too much.
Daddy shakes his head. “Thanks, but I think you and Rainie need a fresh start here, without me hanging around. And besides, I’m looking forward to my new little abode.”
For a moment, we’re both quiet and the house fills with the distant sound of hammers and saws as work on the newer Shadow Ridge houses continues. “You’ll be living with that noise for a few more weeks, I’d guess,” Daddy says. “But then, peace. I think this will ultimately be a lovely, peaceful neighborhood. I like how they left so much space between the houses. Rare these days. And the trees … while you know I think you have too many … they’ll buffer any noise. The construction racket would be worse without them.” I hear his encouragement. He wants me to feel okay.
I nod. I frankly like the idea that there are people nearby right now, even if they’re noisy construction guys.
“I should get Rainie’s room ready for her,” I say, but I don’t budge from the sofa. I’m bone-tired.
“Leave it till tomorrow,” Daddy says. “And look, honey, if you and Rainie want to stay with me tonight, you know you’re welcome.”
Oh, that’s so tempting, but I won’t give in to it. I look toward the lock on the front door. The security system is ready for me to arm, if I can remember how to do it. I’ve never felt the need for one before, but I’m glad Jackson insisted we have one in this house. I hope it never needs to be put to the test.
A short time later, Daddy goes back to his house to pick up Rainie and bring her “home.” He walks her into the house, but then leaves, telling me it’s time for Rainie and me to explore our new home together. He looks tired and I hug him gently as I thank him for his help.
Rainie and I spend the next hour checking out all the newly furnished rooms. We end up in her bedroom, where I make her full-size canopy bed with her new Dora the Explorer sheets. “What would you like for dinner?” I ask, tucking in the top sheet. “We have to go out. We have zero food in the house.”
“Taco Bell!” she shouts, and claps her hands.
So strange. Before the accident, it was always McDonald’s. Now this Taco Bell kick. “Taco Bell it is,” I say. “And then a quick run to the grocery store so we have food for breakfast. Need to go potty before we leave?”
“No,” she says, but I take her anyway. She’d been such an easy little kid to toilet train but that, like everything else, has occasionally slipped backward since the accident.
Downstairs, I try to set the alarm before we leave the house, but I can’t get it to work. Either a door or window is open, the touchpad tells me. Number thirteen, whatever that is. I check the back door, but it’s locked. Has to be a window. Rainie is starting to lose her patience, so I give up. It’s not until I’m in the car that I feel shaken by the number. Thirteen. I roll my eyes at my silliness. I’m being paranoid.
The construction guys are only working on a few of the houses this late. It’s after five and the short street is much quieter as I turn off Shadow Ridge Lane onto Round Hill Road. Rainie and I eat at Taco Bell and she tells me about building block towers with the babysitter at my father’s house while I was with the movers. “Tiffany said I should be an architreck like you and Daddy,” she says.
I smile. “An architect,” I say.
“Architect,” she repeats.
“I think you’d make a good one if that’s what you decide you’d like to do.”
It’s nearly seven when we get home. She doesn’t want a bath until I explain that she’s a big girl now who has her very own tub in her very own bathroom. That seems to satisfy her. She chatters about her friends from preschool as I wash her back. After her bath, we curl up together in her new bed and as I read to her, I wonder how she will fare this night. I’ve shown her several times how to get from her bedroom to mine, and I promise to leave the hall light on. I’m most worried about her making a wrong turn in the hall and falling down the stairs. Every time I think of that possibility, my body gives a little jerk.
Rainie is exhausted, though. She’s already asleep by the time I finish the book. I get out of her bed, turn off the light, tiptoe out the door, and pad quietly downstairs. I’m uncomfortably aware that every window I pass has no blinds or curtains. The wall of windows in the rear of the house, so spectacular in the daytime, makes me feel exposed and vulnerable now. Jackson and I planned to leave those windows uncovered, but that’s not going to do. I’ll order coverings for all the windows this week.
The front windows, though, already have beautiful Roman shades, and after I close them all, I sit on the sofa and dive into the information the security system guy left with me to figure out what number thirteen might be. It turns out to be an unlocked kitchen window. I lock it, scurrying quickly through the kitchen with its sliding glass doors, and hurry back to the living room, where I successfully set the alarm and my heart stops its ridiculous gallop.
Upstairs again, I make the king-size bed—we’d sold our queen for the king and right now, I regret it. I don’t want all that empty space to remind me how alone I am. I sit on the edge of the bed and before I know it, I’m sobbing. Big gut-wrenching sobs that hurt my chest and throat. I’m tired of trying to be strong. I miss my husband. My best friend for the last ten years. It’s so unfair. We were supposed to have more children together. Design more houses together. Grow old together. We had it all planned out. Damn it! I pound my fist on the bed. It doesn’t even make a sound.
I finally pull myself together. Turning off the bedside lamp, I cross the room to look out the window at our new street. The darkness takes my breath away and I shudder. There are no lights in any of the unfinished houses and the streetlights are not yet working on Shadow Ridge Lane. There is only one light I can see and it burns in the window of the old Hockley house. I drag the one chair in the bedroom close to the window, and I spend the better part of an hour staring at that light as if it’s shining from a lighthouse and I am lost at sea.