Page 14 of Axe Backwards
Dressed in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and with my hair scraped back in a ponytail, I hopped into the car and headed to the food pantry. Fridays were our busiest day of the week, since we weren’t open on weekends. I was weirdly energized, given I’d gotten almost no sleep.
For the most part, I was used to it. Most nights, I couldn’t quiet my brain. I’d lie in bed and repeat all my past mistakes until I passed out or had to get ready for work. And when I did sleep, I was plagued by nightmares.
Last night wasn’t anywhere close to typical for me. It was weird, yes, but it was fun. Soothing a fussy baby and softly singing Joni Mitchell songs to her all night was gratifying. It was nice feeling useful.
And Noah? God, that poor guy was struggling. Normally I didn’t put much stock in town gossip, but the rumors about his reappearance were flying. And last night, he’d given me a tiny glimpse into their situation. His and Tess’s.
I barely knew the guy, but we’d crossed a threshold last night. He’d trusted me with his kid, and I’d helped him out. Maybe it did make us friends.
I wasn’t sure I knew how to be a friend anymore. For years, Graham had isolated me. If I went out without him, he would get upset, and I’d never hear the end of it. After a while, it was easier to not go out on my own.
He was dismissive of the few friends I did have. The only people he wanted to hang out with were those he cared about.
Now I was free to make my own choices. And if that included making friends with the single dad upstairs, then so be it.
The freedom I’d found since my divorce felt better than I imagined it would.
I could eat what I wanted. Watch TV shows I was interested in. Go out, stay in, take up a silly hobby, plan a weird trip. After two years on my own, I was still wrapping my head around it.
How much I’d given up in order to be Graham’s wife.
How I had so happily handed over my autonomy wholesale.
To be aweinstead of ame.
That was now my baby sister’s future. She would soon become Mrs. Graham Whitehall. And she would have his child.
I sipped my coffee as I pulled up to the food pantry. Chip, who’d owned the hardware store for decades and had passed it down to his son a few years ago, led the Friday morning volunteer brigade. This group consisted of mostly men in their seventies who wanted to get out of the house. They called themselves the geezer squad and came equipped with back braces and wrist supports.
And they did a damn good job unpacking the trucks.
As I hopped out of my car, Chip gave me a salute. “Produce is coming from Bangor in ten, boss.”
“Thank you. I need to send an email, and then I’ll be out to unload with you. I cleaned and disinfected the second fridge yesterday.”
He nodded, already gesturing to a group of his poker buddies who were lining up the dollies for the crates of apples, potatoes, and the other produce we’d receive today.
Inside, I hoofed it up two flights of stairs. Aunt Lou had renovated this old mansion on the outskirts of town in the eighties. She’d turned the first floor into an open space where clients could shop for groceries. It was equipped with a check-in station, where they had to show IDs before picking out the items they needed, and wheeled shelving we could easily rearrange. The old kitchen at the back of the house was fitted with refrigerators to store the perishable items we’d stocked for distribution each day.
On the second floor, we stored hygiene items and other household goods. There was a community space up here as well, where we held events. Our offices were crammed into the eaves on the top floor. From there, I took calls, paid bills, and applied for every grant I could find.
The jewel in the crown was the cinderblock-style garage. Last year, with an infusion of cash and some free construction labor, we’d renovated it and repaired the roof. Now it housed our commercial-grade refrigerator and freezer walk-ins. More freezer space gave us the ability to accept more meat deliveries, which had been crucial for many of our clients. We now had long-term storage and could parcel our distributions and plan in advance.
Out front, a large truck pulled up, so I dropped my purse and laptop and shed my hoodie. I was about to get a hell of a workout.
I rushed down the stairs and out the door, smiling at our garage as I passed it. Every time I looked at it—with efficient insulation, proper ventilation, and a shiny new metal roof—I said a prayer of thanks for Owen Hebert. He may have taken mybest volunteer away when Lila moved to Boston with him, but he’d done so much good for the people of this region.
And now I was developing a strange late-night friendship with his brother.
Fucking small towns.
“You look pale,”Lou said, moving her knight.
I shrugged. My brain was foggy. There was no way she wasn’t going to spank me. That shouldn’t have been a surprise. Lou was an excellent chess player, and despite her tutoring over the years, I was mediocre at best.
“Are you taking care of yourself?”
Ignoring her question, I turned up the volume on the Bluetooth speaker. We started out with checkers when I was a little girl and worked our way up to chess. We also dabbled in card games when we needed a change. Naturally, she was great at cribbage too.
