Page 78 of Henhouse
“Why?”
“Because then we have to admit that we were the only thing keeping us from it all along.”
Effie nodded, eyes drifting to the bowl of fruit. At first glance, it was pristine, almost too good to be true. Until Effie noticed the bruise on one of the peaches, the chip in the bowl on its lip, and the stain on the napkin that was draped beside it.
It was messy and blemished on close inspection, but when she took in the whole picture it was absolutely perfect.
Hope forgot how annoying moving was. Not that her single room at Thatcher house had enough space for too many belongings, but combing through bookshelves and cabinets in their shared spaces for her favorite novels, photo albums, and boxes of memorabilia from high school and college had been a monumental task.
Effie had been right, she had never moved away without some thought that she’d eventually wind up back within the walls of 53 Austin Street. It was bittersweet to box her yearbooks and college sweatshirts to carry on to her forever home.
As for the crib and changing table Brayden had set up in her room, they’d been disassembled and brought to the attic for storage.In case someone else needs them soonGrams had said. Hope was on the cusp of donating them but couldn’t argue that they were in better shape than Louisa’s crib that had been handed down through the generations. It would be retired as soon as Hazel was old enough for a big girl bed.
Time moved too fast.
Hazel already talked and walked and would soon be three. Hope wondered who would be next to need the crib or if it would gather dust in the attic for years to come.
Brayden interrupted her thoughts with a rap on her open window. “You ready?”
“I thought you used the front door now?”
He ducked into the room from his perch on the roof. “One last climb, for old time’s sake.” Brayden came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, kissing the side of her forehead. Hope sighed, a pang of sadness at the emptiness of the room around her.
The twin bed remained, stripped of the purple duvet. The wallswere bare, dark squares left behind where Hope’s photos and framed book covers had hung on her wall. The small closet was empty, and the space felt enormous without her large armoire. Hope assumed someone else would take over the room eventually. Maybe Hazel, if the upstairs great room with its private bath stopped serving the little tot and her mother.
Brayden must have sensed the sadness in her heart because he whispered in her ear. “We’re a few blocks away. You can come home anytime.”
“Home is with you now,” Hope replied but it still felt odd to strip her house here, her family, of that title.
“It’s wherever you want it to be, Hope. I saw a tea towel at the market yesterday that said home is where your mom is. Other people say it’s where your heart lives. I say it’s where you’re always welcome to be yourself, and that can be applied to more than one place.”
“Or person,” Hope said, spinning in Brayden’s arms to face him. She leaned into him for a kiss, her lips lingering for a long moment.
He mumbled against the bow of her mouth, “The movers are going to beat us there.”
“Will you go ahead?” Hope asked. “I want to walk with Effie.”
Brayden kissed her forehead. “I’ll see you over there.” He made for the window and Hope couldn’t help but smile. He saluted her before scaling down the porch banister. Hope shut the window behind him and locked it tight.
Hope found Effie in her room, an embroidery hoop in hand. “I have one type of fern finished already for the baby’s room. Halfway done with this one.” Effie turned the oversized hoop to face Hope, an olive-green thread danced along the linen fabric in the curves of woodlandgreenery. “Thank you,” she said.
The quiet pause triggered Effie to ask, “Time to go?”
“For now,” Hope mustered. Effie rose from her seat by the window where she preferred to work in the sunlight and walked to Hope’s side.
“For good,” she countered but her words weren’t angry. “Yes, you’ll come by often, but you’re moving into your new life, and it’s okay.”
She looped her arm through Hope’s and led her across the hall, down the stairs, and out the door into the humid summer heat. Effie wasn’t telling her that she was shutting them out completely, but that she had to close the door on her chapter at 53 Austin. It was okay to let it live in the past because she needed to give herself fully to her new life with Brayden, her new house. Her whole bright future.
They walked in silence for a bit, the sun threatening to burn Hope’s delicate cheeks when Effie finally said, “We’ll have to institute Saturday morning breakfasts at the house or something. Easy enough since you can walk over.”
“I like the sound of that,” Hope uttered, the anxiety about moving out for good rounding out into the picture Effie painted. It was just as she’d told Effie on the patio, things were fuller and better. The move was growth, not an ending. It felt much better to view it that way.
They reached the white fence, and the new flowers Hope picked sat in their pots ready to be planted where she’d laid them out. She looked to Effie who took in the large house before them, the fairy tale come true. Her face turned solemn, but it wasn’t the house she looked at.
It was the motorcycle parked on the street by the driveway.
“I told Brayden you were coming today,” Hope said a bit angry that he’d ask Theo to help without consulting her first.
