Page 57 of Finding Yesterday

Probably because she was more like me.

It’s weird, but this is almost like finding a letter from Mama. To me, it is. It’s how she related to me when she was alive, and how she’s always spoken to me since her death. And now, it’s like she’s comforting me at a time in my life when I need it.

I run my finger over the rough surface of the thick paper, the gaping hole inside me shrinking ever so slightly.

But where are the rest of her cards? Like those chocolate chip cookies we made that day? Daddy says he doesn’t remember her having a recipe book, but Daddy doesn’t notice things like that, and now I see that my memorywasright. They must’ve just got lost, which rips my heart into tatters.

But I do have this one.

We’re having a family dinner next Sunday—me, Daddy, Emma, Nate, and Dylan—and now I know what I have to make. It’ll be one they all surely haven’t had, not for at least eighteen years.

I study the recipe. Mama’s scribbled handwriting is hard to read, but I think I can figure it out.

Glancing outside, I see that the storm is winding down. I’m breathless as I grab my purse.

I have to head to the grocery store, then there’s someone I have to visit.

* * *

IT’S PAST DARKby the time I get here.

I know most people think being in the middle of a field at night is scary, but I don’t. It could be dangerous, possibly, but I’m not worried about that much here in Blue Vine.

It’s the perfect time to visit Mama, with no other eyes around. I’ll get to talk to her under the stars, with the croaks of the frogs in the distance. I could go to the cemetery and visit her like the rest of my family, but for some reason, I always think of her as being here, still at the mine.

It just seems like much moreherplace—there are rolling hills, wildflowers, and a breathtaking view. These things encompass Mama more than a creepy cemetery.

Which is why I’m here now, with a candle, a jacket, and a warm tea. It’s a cool night, a rarity in summer, but the thunderstorm brought in unusually chilly air.

I stopped back at home to drop off the groceries and pick Winston up, so he’s here with me wearing a sweater I knitted for him. But I’m not a skilled knitter, so the thing is crooked and already unraveling, but it doesn’t matter because Winston’s growing so fast he’ll need a bigger one soon anyway.

I put a blanket over the wet ground before I sit, ready to catch Mama up on all the new things in my life, which is…well, a lot of new things.

With the candle flickering at my side, I introduce Winston to Mama, telling her that I finally got my pet pig. Then I continue with, “I’m confused, and I was hoping you could give me some advice.” I look around. “I, um, kinda love it here in Blue Vine, but if I want to open a vegetarian restaurant, I can’t really do that here. There are not enough vegetarians to support it. If I want to follow my dream, I have to go back to Atlanta.”

I stop, looking up. It’s such a pretty night, the moon bright and yellow, almost full, with scattered clouds around it. The stars peek through, twinkling.

I love I can see so many stars here, the sky full of them. I missed this. I didn’t get to see them in the big city.

“I was hoping you could help me figure out how to have my dream and stay in Blue Vine? I know, a pretty impossible request, huh.” I look at my hands, which are turning blueish in the cold. I pull the sleeves of my jacket over them.

“And I have another impossible situation. I like someone, Mama. He seems to like me too. But it’s way too soon to like someone after I just called off my wedding.” I bite my lip. “And also, this guy’s my boss. Which actually doesn’t matter because he’s returning to San Francisco soon. He’s got a restaurant in the city, and his parents are near there too.”

I sit quietly, waiting to see if something strikes me, but nothing. Closing my eyes and taking in a deep breath of crisp air, I continue, “I mean, I guess the only solution is to let him go. There’s plenty of fish in the sea, as everyone always says. But I kind of hate that saying. I don’t want a bunch of fish, I just want this one specific fish, who’s unique, bright, and beautiful. And one of the smarter fishes, as fish go.”

I smile, touching the wooden cross that was placed in the ground to remember Mama and Hannah. It’s weathered and tipping sideways. Behind it is a barbed wire fence. The mine, carved into the rocky hillside, was closed after the accident, so no one is supposed to go past the fence. The entrance is boarded off too, but neither have ever stopped me or many of the townsfolk from going inside.

In fact, so many people kept entering—probably out of morbid curiosity—that the county put stabilizing beams in front of where it collapsed to keep everyone safe.

The mine was excavated in a search for rubies in 1840 and closed almost a century later when there wasn’t anything substantial left to collect. It continued to be a big part of the town’s growth through the 1920s.

I’ve been inside too many times to count. I always hoped it might lead to some answers about what happened to Mama and Hannah that day.

It never has. There’s just rocks and dirt.

“But I guess if he’s an ocean fish and I’m lake fish, then we just can’t be together, no matter how pretty and perfect I think he is. I’ll just have to catch and release.”

I rub my head, hoping I’m not turning into Daddy with his corny jokes.

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