Page 7 of Lies and Lullabies
“Mommy’s home!” my brother said.
“We got cheese,” Vivi said. “And crackers.”
“Thank you, Uncle Adam,” I managed. My brother was my bedrock. Without him, the last few years would have been impossible.
“What’s wrong?” he asked quickly.
I just gave a little shake of my head. “Later.”
“You didn’t beat us here,” he pressed.
“I know. I ran into someone. I’ll get our stuff now.” I ran back outside toward the car, still feeling unsteady. Out of sight of my family again, I parked my backside against the car and bent to brace my shaking hands on my knees.
Breathe, I coached myself. It had been several years since I’d had a panic attack, but one threatened now. I straightened up again, drawing a slow breath. The trick was to lower my heart rate, which would break the cycle.
A rapid heartbeat convinces your brain that something is wrong, a therapist had explained to me years ago.And in turn, your brain tells your heart to get ready to flee. Which elevates your heart rate even more. Fear begets fear, in other words.
At twenty, I’d needed someone to help me learn to control my panic. At the time, the worst mistake I’d ever made was simply to walk through the wrong parking lot at the wrong hour of the night. I’d paid for that mistake.
But now, at twenty-five, I had quite a few more mistakes under my belt.
And now I would pay for those, too.
To calm myself, I counted the pine trees across the road. There were nine of them. Between their straight trunks, flashes of Nest Lake sparkled in the distance.
I’d grown up here in this house, where only glimpses of the water were visible. If my father had purchased a house on the other side of the road, with lake access, his property value would have risen tenfold.
But that’s just how life worked. Sometimes the distance between wealth and scraping by was as thin as a country road.
After a few minutes, I was breathing more easily. I lifted our overnight bags out of the car and pulled them into the house. I would need to put my game face back on so I could make it through the family ritual here in my father’s house. Even though my mind would be a quarter mile away at the general store. Everything had begun there.
The first night he’d come into the store, it had been right before closing time, and I’d been working alone. And since John had worn soft sneakers, and was kind enough to prevent the door from slamming, I hadn’t heard him approach. When he’d greeted me, it had startled me so badly that I’d dropped a full mason jar of pickled onions, breaking it on the floor.
“I’m so sorry,” he’d said before helping me clean up the mess.
I’d been so flustered that I hadn’t gotten a good look at him that first night. I’d sold him his first meat pie and a soda to go with it, my heart pounding with unnecessary fear.
Even if I had gotten a good look at him, I wouldn’t have recognized him. I wasn’t the kind of girl who paid a lot of attention to rock songs on the radio, or the people responsible for them.
But after that disaster, he’d always whistled on his way into the store. Whenever I’d heard the first part of “You Are My Sunshine” drifting down the street, I’d known he was on his way over for supper.
After a week, I’d felt comfortable enough to tell him I appreciated the warning. “You have no idea how much that helps. Last fall I was mugged. And even though it’s been almost a year, every time someone walks up behind me, I jump.”
His turquoise eyes went wide with surprise. “Shit, I’m sorry. You got muggedhere, in Nest Lake?”
I laughed. “Can you imagine? No—this was in Boston, in a parking lot at the university.”
John rubbed his whiskers with the knuckles of one hand, his chiseled face still full of concern. “That sucks.”
“It really, really did.” I changed the topic. “I made whoopie pies today. Do you want one for dessert?”
“Hell, yes. Whatever that is. It sounds naughty.”
That made me blush, because my crush on him was already blooming. “You don’t know whoopie pies? The official treat of Maine? They’re everywhere. Mostly, they’re dreadful, but you didn’t hear it from me.”
“You want me to eat something dreadful?” Those bright eyes twinkled.
“I said they weremostlydreadful. Mine are exquisite, naturally. You should know this.” I surprised myself by flirting with him. It had been so long since I’d felt flirty with anyone.
