Page 28 of Chocolate Cherry Cabin

“You don’t need a car,” she replied absently, picking up Calvin’s list again.

“Dad wants it.”

“He already has a nice car.”

Because he made more money than a day care worker did. Because he’d taken care of himself by getting a degree, instead of quitting like she had, floating along, assuming he’d always be there. And now he wasn’t.

She plunked herself down at the table and shoved her hands in her hair. She was a grown-up and couldn’t afford the same things her former partner could, even though they’d been hip to hip all their adult lives.

Maybe going back to school would be smart, even if challenging for her and the family.

Her phone beeped with a text from Calvin, saying there were no used pianos online in the area, and that maybe the concert’s organizing group could sort something out in time.

Hannah put her phone down, wanting to ghost him by not replying. Instead, she picked it up again and sent him a thumbs-up emoji, hating the way she was letting him off the hook, but very aware that she was preventing a fight, which was probably what Louis had been angling to create.

Hannah shifted her chair closer to Thomas’s, clutching her phone as she reminded him to put spaces between his words so Santa could read the letter easier. She wondered what Louis had asked Santa for at this age.

And how had nobody known that his mother was sick while he was in high school? How had his family managed to keep that private in a town like Sweetheart Creek? And why did that tidbit of his history feel connected to the way he’d judged her and her life choices back then?

Had Hannah messed up in her assessment of Louis somewhere along the line? But then why had he judged her so harshly for wanting to start a family with Calvin, when today his eyes had softened when talking about kids?

Again, she was getting the puzzle instead of the toy in the chocolate egg surprise that was Louis Bellmore.

4

Hannah kept waving even after her former father-in-law turned the corner, driving Wade, Thomas and Calvin to the airport along with Calvin’s mom. Finally, Hannah lowered her arm, letting her shoulders sag. She swiped at her eyes with her middle fingers, frustrated that her plan of wearing non-waterproof mascara hadn’t worked to keep the tears at bay. She was going to end up looking like a racoon with her smeared makeup.

Obi nudged her thigh with his nose as she sniffed back the tears.

“I know,” she said, her voice wobbling. The temptation to shove items into a suitcase and follow her kids to the airport was far too great.

She inhaled deeply. She no longer belonged with Calvin, and they were no longer a family unit. Calvin’s mother was going on the reconnaissance trip to act as chief caregiver for the boys while Calvin was in meetings. As Cassandra had said, Calvin and the boys wouldn’t always be front and center in Hannah’s life, and in this moment the fact had never felt so true.

She needed to stand on her own two feet, starting right now. She stared at her house, the urge to make an instant move down the path of significant life changes itching like mad. She still hadn’t heard back from Athena about admissions into the education program, and until she knew more about going back to school she didn’t want to tease herself with dreams of a career change. Maybe she could do something less extreme and finally paint Wade’s bedroom. He hated the beige color the former owners had chosen, and he wanted blue.

Forcing her feet to move, Hannah headed back to the warm house. Inside, she kicked off her shoes and stared at the black TV screen in the living room.

Tonight was movie night. She and Calvin had a deal around movie night and Steakfest. She got movie night even on his week to have the boys, and he got what he, his dad and the boys called Steakfest, where the four of them went out for steak and acted like cavemen. Well, maybe not cavemen exactly, but whatever it was, Calvin’s dad promised it would put hair on the boys’ chests, something they were quite enthused about.

Hannah dropped heavily onto the couch. She hadn’t missed a movie night with her sons since they’d moved in, a year ago.

No. No feeling sorry for herself. This was an opportunity for all of them. The boys would gain some independence while seeing more of the world, and she would watch something rated higher than PG tonight. Hannah could curl up in bed with a glass of wine and a movie, or she could eat junk food on the couch. She could even turn the music up too loud. No rules. No mommying.

She nodded to herself, feeling bolstered. But then began to shake her head. The house was too quiet. Too...dull and lifeless. She got up and plugged in the Christmas tree. Pretty. She waited for the spirit of the holidays to envelop her with its warmth and cheer. Instead, the cold reality of loneliness crept in.

This was exactly what Cassandra had been warning her about.

Outside. She needed to go outside.

Hannah hustled to the door and pulled on her jacket, stuffing a thin pair of gloves in her pocket. A brisk morning walk would clear her mind and help her find much-needed Zen head space.

“Walkies!” she called to Obi, and he came scurrying around the corner, his nails clacking on the floor.

Hannah clipped the leash to his collar and in moments they were out in the sunshine as it crested the oaks that encircled the town of Sweetheart Creek. The morning rays set the town aglow with a magical, ethereal feeling. She hurried down the steps and headed south, hanging a left at the high school, then continued out of town, where the road turned to gravel. Hannah released Obi from his leash as they passed Violet Granger’s place, which was an old B and B called Peach Blossom Hollow. After that the road narrowed, weaving past Old Man Lovely’s chapel on the hill, and soon Hannah was trailing after Obi along a grassy path that skirted the edge of the creek, heading toward the swimming hole.

Twenty minutes later, huffing and puffing, Hannah took the worn wooden steps up the slope to the slow moving water that spilled into the pool. She stopped short in front of a tall metal gate ladened with small locks, ribbons and charms that glittered in the morning sun. She’d forgotten about Lock Gate, and how it had once been part of a large fence to keep kids out of the swimming hole. In the 1980s a teen had drowned during a late-night party there, and the community had barricaded the area. Originally, padlocks had been fastened to the gate along with a ribbon and a prayer for the young man who’d drowned. Over the years the rest of the fence had fallen or been knocked down, reopening the swimming hole. The gate, however, had remained, now heavy with locks, wishes and prayers that extended well beyond the fallen teenager who had started it all.

When Hannah was a teen, folks had said that fastening two locks together on the gate meant their owners would become lovers for life. So Calvin and she had taken the combination locks from their lockers out to the gate on the last day of high school. But when Calvin had opened his backpack, his padlock was gone.

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