was hitting on you. That was an invitation to call him when you’re in town or something.” Her mother dropped her purse on one shoulder and took her armful of bags from Avery.
The wave of people heading for the line flowed around Avery while she processed what her mother had said. “Hitting on me? No way.” She wasn’t dead but she might be half a step away. It had been months since she’d applied mascara. “What man in his right mind would be hitting on me?”
Once upon a time, that had been a common occurrence. She never would have missed Chuck’s interest at twenty. Then she’d fallen in love, gotten married, and that all stopped.
She was technically single again, but how could the world tell?
After she’d lost so much weight that her wedding rings had slipped on her fingers, Avery had taken them off and put them safely away. Did she need to find them again?
“Any man who likes smart women would be hitting on you, sweet girl. That hasn’t changed.” Her mother wrapped a hand around her arm to urge her into the boarding line. “And that won’t be the last time, either.”
“I’ll get my rings resized, put them back on. That’ll help.” It hadn’t stopped every flirt through the years, but she’d lost the knack of understanding a man was flirting and the ability to answer properly. Chuck had deserved a better conversation than the one he’d gotten. She still wouldn’t be calling him for a date, but she could have given him his card back without a trace of guilt.
She wasn’t in the market for Chuck or any other man.
“Not to come back to life, it won’t,” her mother snapped before graciously handing a member of the gate crew her boarding pass.
Avery did her best to respond to the attendant’s pleasant greeting and then nodded in a friendly manner at Chuck as she passed. He tapped his phone in a nonverbal signal that she should call him. Once all the bags were stuffed overhead and her mother had settled with her neck pillow, her blanket and her magazine, Avery tipped her head to say, “I’m perfectly fine without a man in my life for now.”
“Thing is, you better not lose something that will make you happy because you got your head buried under a pillow.” Her mother pursed her lips. “Grieving is important and only you know how to do it for you. It’s been two years, and I love you too much to let you grieve yourself right on into the grave.”
Avery closed her eyes and inhaled slowly. “This isn’t grieving. This is...”
“...being confused.” Her mother turned to catch Avery’s stare. “I get it. I’ve been there. Let me tell you something. The more time you lose figuring out what you want, the harder it is to go for it. Once you stop, it’s hard to get started again.”
“I’m not confused. I’m sad, Mama. Heartbroken. I can’t even believe this conversation.” Avery yanked open the magazine she’d picked up off the stack, the cute-dogs one, and flipped it open to study the table of contents, a weak sizzle of anger fizzling quickly.
Her mother cared even if she didn’t understand.
The short flight to Knoxville was so easy that Avery had to sit back and think how long it had been since she’d flown. At least seven years. Maybe her first step should be a real trip, one without her mother. She did not want a weeklong lecture about the dangers of foreign toe rot.
The Knoxville airport was easy to navigate, but Avery was breathing hard and feeling the strain all through her body by the time she and her mother made it through baggage claim and to her mother’s small SUV. With the last push of her strength, Avery loaded the bags and staggered around to the passenger side to flop down in the seat.
Her mother, instead of showing signs of fatigue, was perking up. “Want to eat before we head home?”
“No.” Avery covered her forehead with one hand. “Let’s pick something up, if you want.”
If she had to get out of the car anywhere other than her mother’s driveway, she’d stumble. Her mother didn’t need to deal with that scare right now.
As they left the city behind and the road wound through the rolling hills toward the Great Smoky Mountains in the distance, Avery breathed deeply and memorized the dense forests, the running streams and the way the mountains rose behind Sweetwater all over again. If there was any place in the world that would feed her the energy that had been slowly drained over years of distance and struggle, it was this one.
“Need some rain. Fall color’s off, all the dry, dead leaves,” her mother said, “but it’s still the prettiest place on the planet.” Avery had loved so much of Chicago, but it was impossible to argue with her mother.
Avery turned on the radio and the country music that flowed out of the speakers made it easy to relax through the curves that her mom handled like a race-car driver. Whatever came next, this was the right decision.
“Thanks for coming to get me, Mama,” Avery said softly. She might have stayed in that house until they’d kicked her out and in Chicago until she faded away. Already Avery could feel the color in this world.
“I should have come sooner.” Her mother’s lips trembled and she flapped her hand in front of her face like she’d done anytime tears threatened for as long as Avery could remember. “And I want everything for you, Avery, all you ever wanted.”
“I was fine. I’m fine.” Avery had assured her mother she was coping with every phone call.
Her mother’s snort was easy to understand. “You’re not fine, honey. But that’s okay. You will be.” The grim set of her lips was worrying, but Avery didn’t have the right words to convince her otherwise.
And the way she felt, she needed to conserve her energy. They passed the tourist draw of Gatlinburg and wound north before turning off to stop outside Sweetwater. As her mother drove down the lane to her farmhouse, Avery was relieved that almost everything outside was the same. “What happened to the oak?” It had once been home to a rope swing and the beginnings of a tree house that her father had started but never finished.
“Storm came through. I told you that.” Her mother waved a hand as she slid out of the SUV. “Maybe not. I thought it might depress you.”
And we both know I don’t need to be any more depressed.
“Had to call in a tree service. Sammy was too concerned about how close it was to the house to try to take care of it himself.” Her mother yanked open the back of the SUV and started unloading the bags. “Plus, it was in the park’s busy season. Kid works as many hours as he can.”
Kid? Samuel Blackburn was exactly Avery’s age, definitely old enough to have outlived “kid.” He’d been the thorn in her side growing up, but his mother was still Janet Abernathy’s best friend.
“After we get you settled, I’ll run over and let Regina know I’m home. She’s been watching the place for me.” Her mother hustled up the four steps to the wide front porch and unlocked the front door. “Need to get you a new key made. Had the locks replaced after I had the renovations done.” She paused in front of the grand entryway and said, “The new foyer.”
“It’s lovely.” The old wallpaper was gone. Gleaming hardwoods were stained dark, and the front room was done up in grays and blues. “I could spend all day
