Page 10 of Secondhand Secrets

Did that explain Sarah’s comment last night about “Little Ally Egan’s wedding dreams”? As in, marriage was Ally’s ultimate goal? Even her means of escaping Harlow? Or at least, joining the status quo with the other younger people around here?

Either way, maybe the outcome of his mission to learn more about her was that he wasn’t on the same page as her. Though not totally opposed to settling down, he had no plans of doing so in Harlow. And then there was the matter of establishing his career ahead of any personal commitments. So maybe, when it came to Ally Egan, keeping a safe distance would be his only choice.

Five

Chip stared at Ally while trying hard not to narrow his eyes, as if that would aid his desire to read her thoughts and bargain against her hints at wanting different things than him. Instead, he scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck and set about breaking the standoff. “You know, you could always move away for yourself or even just travel?”

The earlier spark returned to her eyes, and she spun her focus back to the long country road, recommencing her springy steps. “Oh, that’s the dream. I’ve been saving for a while now. When I have enough, I’ll jump on the first plane to Paris or Italy… Ooo, I’ve always wanted to go to Prague! Prague sounds beautiful and fun, dontcha think?”

She shot him another wide beam, a clue for him to extend the topic of travel. “Prague?”

“Yep.” She swung her hands out in the breeze, her walk seeming to now involve an element of dance that made him almost want to join her. Almost. “I met this woman reading cards at a beachside festival over at Lake Superior once. I was a kid, and my sister was there too, and Momma had me sit with her while the lady read her fortune. The woman’s accent was so far from anything I’d ever heard, and she wore the most colorful and flowy clothes. When she mentioned she was from Prague, I made a mental note to find a way to get there one day.”

“That explains where you get your fashion sense from, as well as your theories on karma.” He made a point of eyeing her eccentric outfit, jangly bangles, floaty skirt, and all.

She let out an exuberant laugh, another eccentricity that proved his point. “I guess you scientific types don’t believe in karma?”

“Karma. Fate. Voodoo…” He shook his head. “Fun to read about in fantasy novels, but no, no, and no. I can’t believe in something so unproven.”

“Hmm…” She stopped and put her hands on her hips, the slight upward curve to her lips giving her stern stance a touch of cheer. “Life must be easy when you’re so sure of yourself.”

Though he spluttered a habitual laugh, a hard weight pressed on his chest and cut him off from any further reaction. Once more, he bought time by squinting at the road, the silhouette of a bus stop and an old bench his new distraction.

Remembering this view and the bus stop, his shoulders sagged. Her house was near and he could already envision her yard. The giant maple that turned gold in the late fall, them as children huddled in the dirt, building bug villages. Mrs. Egan’s sandwiches and cold lemonade, her lemonade recipe using lemons straight from the tree out the back. But first, she’d insist they run inside and wash their hands.

That memory brought a smile to his face. More so, the times he and Ally would then spend polishing off their meals on the front porch, wild and aimless, the Egan’s home a refuge.

A lump in his throat had him turning back to Ally. “Most times, I’m far from sure.”

His voice held an unintended soft rasp. One that said more about his insecurities than his words did, his heart now clenching that he’d diverted from what he’d hoped would be a lighthearted catchup.

“I only mean that you’ve always been clever.” She extended a hand and patted his arm, the slight pursing of her lips conveying sympathy. “You’re the one with all the answers, remember? Take it from someone who’s never had any of that, you’ve got more than most.”

The strain around his heart increased, suspending his next breath while he weighed her support against the corrosion of his father’s criticisms.

Always demanding. Never satisfied.

Maybe Chip did have more than most, yet it was never enough.

But rather than dwell on that, rather than bore her with any kind of denial, he asked another question. “So, if you did travel, would you return to Harlow afterward?”

“Of course, where else would I go?” She gave a carefree shrug. “Harlow’s home.”

His stomach inexplicably tensed and he stared at her a while, to some extent searching for any signs of doubt where there appeared to be none. Releasing his unwarranted disappointment, he nodded to the bus stop. “Seems we’re here. I should let you go.”

He slipped her bag from his shoulder and held it out to her, but she merely blinked at him, the bag left dangling in his hand.

“Chiiiiipppp!”

Her stare snapped to her right and in the direction of whoever called the elongated version of his name. Meanwhile, he wasn’t so quick to look away, his focus held to the touch of orange sunset on her skin, that same light setting her eyes to a sparkle.

Time wasn’t his friend here, and so he switched his attention to Mrs. Egan advancing his way on a wobbly sort of jog.

“Oh, boy. Look at you!” Velma Egan outstretched her arms, quick to wrap him in a tight embrace, her strength impressive given she wasn’t much taller than 5’1”.

Even when she did let go, she stayed close enough to extend a gentle pinch to his arm, her light-brown eyes glinting up at him to express her desire to check that he really did stand before her. “Why, when Ally told me you showed your face at the ballgame, I practically kicked myself for staying home that day, dontcha know. Just look at you. Such a strapping young man.”

Heat rose in his cheeks, although the earlier weight from his exchange with Ally slipped away. Seeing Mrs. Egan brought nothing but good memories. He turned to Ally, her palm pressed over her eyes as though too embarrassed to witness this scene.

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