Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 104657 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104657 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Christmas comes and goes with texts from friends and family. Not once does my mom mention getting together. I have to believe she’s finding exactly what she needs. And Leah has the family she made.
Maren, Ozzy, and Lola.
Jamie and Fitz.
Everyone has someone. I have strangers in small towns offering me cordial holiday greetings. Bell ringers. Lights. But no snow.
Everything is different this year, and that’s okay. Without my father, I’m different.
By February, I find myself back in Missoula, staring at the half-finished barndominium next to the Airstream. After trudging through the fresh layer of snow to the barndo, I cup my hands next to my face and peer through the window. It doesn’t look much different from the last time I saw it. There’s a Jeep next to the camper, so I knock on the door.
“Hi,” a young woman with short blond hair beneath a pink beanie says.
“Hey. I’m looking for Everleigh Reichart.”
“Oh, she’s not here. Who are you?”
“I’m a friend. Is she in Baltimore?”
The woman shakes her head. “She’s in Key West.”
“Vacationing?”
“Not exactly. I mean. Maybe. Sort of.”
This woman is no help, so I frown.
She wrinkles her nose and shrugs. “We swapped houses for a year. But it’s only been two months.”
“What?” I shake my head. She’s mistaken. “Dr. Reichart? Are we talking about the same person?”
She rolls her eyes. “I don’t think she’s a doctor. That would be weird. Come inside. It’s cold out.”
I bang the snow off my boots and step onto the mat. My gaze immediately goes to the bed that I spent time in with Everleigh. I can still see the defeated look on her face as she took off her clothes, probably despite her better judgment.
“Why do you think I’m talking about a different Everleigh? And why do you think she’s a doctor? Do you mean a PhD?” the woman asks.
“I mean psychiatrist.”
She shakes her head. “That doesn’t track.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because she’s like in her twenties and working at a café.”
Is this girl high? “She’s working at a café?”
“Well, not just any café. They sell key lime pies. It’s a big deal. They’ve been listed in national publications and have won all sorts of awards too. They have more than just pies. Candies. Jellies. Breakfast and lunch.”
I tune her out somewhere between awards and candies.
“What does Everleigh do there?”
She shrugs. “Works behind the counter.”
I’m nauseated. Did I do this? Why isn’t she at Hopkins? Why isn’t she practicing psychiatry? It makes no sense.
“Would you give me her new home address?”
She shakes her head. “Sorry. I don’t know you. I’m sure you’re a nice guy, but . . .”
“It’s fine. I appreciate the information. Sorry to have bothered you.” I open the door, desperate to figure out what’s going on.
“No bother. Bye.” She closes the door as soon as I step outside.
I stare at the barndominium. “What are you doing, Everleigh?” I mumble.
Chapter Forty-Three
Twenty minutes later, I pull into Fitz and Jamie’s driveway. After two knocks on the door, Jamie answers. She has a little baby belly and a huge smile.
“Oh my gosh!” She throws herself into my arms. “William,” she says with a long sigh.
“Surprise,” I say, releasing her and sliding off my jacket while I step inside and remove my boots.
“You’re the best surprise. How have you been? Fitz just ran to the grocery store, but he’ll be back soon. Sit. We have so much catching up to do.”
She takes the cream-colored rocking chair that looks new, and I sit on the sofa.
“You look amazing. Dare I say glowing?”
Jamie blushes. “I’ve never been happier.” Her smile fades a bit. “I’d like to see my friend, William Landry, find this kind of happiness.”
“I’m afraid I can’t get pregnant, so I’ll have to settle for something less glowing.”
Jamie strokes her chin. “The beard is new.”
I nod. “It’s a little unkempt from spending so much time in the wilderness. I’ve never grown a beard before now. Firefighters can only have mustaches.”
“Well, it’s ruggedly handsome on you.”
“Aw, thanks, Jaymes. You’re the best.” My gaze drops to her hand rubbing her belly. I couldn’t be happier for my friends.
“How are you?” she asks, drawing my attention back to her face as she curls her dark hair behind one ear. Her head cants to the side. It’s more than a courteous question to spark idle conversation. I can tell from the little creases in her forehead that she’s concerned.
“I’m good. Genuinely.”
“Genuinely good sounds . . .”
“Good?”
She chuckles and nods. “Yeah. Maybe you found yourself, this new, hairier version of yourself”—she winks—“in the process of getting a little lost in the woods. I once overheard Everleigh telling a patient’s parents that what might look like a step backward, a slight regression, is actually necessary to move forward. She told the dad to stand tall and, without bending his knees, jump. Of course, he couldn’t. Her point being that he had to go down before he could go up.”