Her lips part, and momentarily, I’m frozen in place, studying their pink shade and every crevice that lines them. I think I’m asking the question more for myself, because it has only been a few minutes and my brain is flustered from being around Raine again. However, I hate the idea ofnotbeing around her more.
So much unknown is etched on her face as her mind ponders my question until she finally answers, “No.”
There it is, the slightest twitch around her eye that always gave away her lie. It’s a good thing her grandparents never figured it out when we were teens, because we would have been busted on plenty of occasions when doing something we weren’t supposed to do. But I picked up on it when I was fifteen.
I decide not to call her out on it. Instead, I enjoy the fact that I just witnessed a piece of the old Raine underneath her professional exterior. Maybe pieces of her are still there after all.
She looks down at her phone and then back up at me before exhaling in defeat. Her heels click as she makes her way back up the steps and sits back down at the table across from me. Her eyes return to mine, a silent question behind them.
I need to stop staring at her, so instead, I scan the table, noticing a few notebooks, pens, an appointment book, and a laptop sitting to the side of her. “Working remotely?” I ask.
“Yeah, at least until the renovations are complete. I’ve felt guilty for not being much help to Papaw and Mamaw over the years, and when Papaw explained how he couldn’t be here anymore, I knew I had to help somehow, and before I knew what I was doing, I volunteered to take over the renovations.”
“Like Katniss,” I proclaim, remembering how much she loved readingThe Hunger Gamesbooks in high school.
She chuckles, her nose crinkling just like I remember. “Yeah, I volunteered as tribute.” She smiles, a sense of nostalgia hitting me before she takes another sip of her coffee. “Thankfully, my boss is okay with letting me work remotely starting Monday.”
She’s staying.
Relief fills my lungs, helping me to inhale a little deeper. My stupid smile betrays me, and I try to hide it by looking away. I turn my attention toward the barn and see that the chickens are already out and scratching the ground, the sheep are loose in the field, and Daisy is barking and guiding them.
“Are you staying here?” I ask.
“I’ve been at Olivia’s, but I probably need to. It would make doing the chores a lot easier. I just… I haven’t gone inside yet,” she admits, and for a second time her leg bounces nervously.
I wonder if she needs a little encouragement to go inside. The place doesn’t look like the same home, and maybe the changes will bring her some comfort—I hope, anyway. I point behind me toward the house.
“Would you like me to come with you? I can show you some of the changes we’ve made.”
You’d think I asked her to hit a beehive like a pinata with the expression she gives me. She fights through her discomfort and pushes to stand, giving me a nod of approval. I do the same and make my way to the front door. I catch the smell of vanilla drifting off her as she walks inside before me, and I take a deep breath, hoping she doesn’t notice, before following her.
What was once a small hallway leading into the living room is now completely open. Raine inhales quickly, and a shocked expression washes over her face. She places a hand on the walls, which haven’t been painted yet, and walks into the living room.
“It’s been months since I've come to visit. Before the renovations started.” Her words are laced with embarrassment, and I can see a hint of pink forming on her neck. Her eyes aretraveling over every change that’s been made. “It doesn’t even look the same.”
The living room and kitchen furniture were covered in protective plastic and carried off to the barn for temporary storage a few weeks ago. The carpet was ripped up recently, revealing hardwood floors underneath that I haven’t had the time to refinish just yet. There was once a wall separating the living room from the kitchen, but that has been removed, revealing one giant living space that allows for more natural light to filter in.
“Ryland,” she whispers, and I can hear the emotion that she’s trying to hide. She coughs, regaining her composure before continuing. “I can’t believe this is the same house. It looks like something Chip and Johanna would design.”
I beam proudly as she walks over to the built-in bookshelves and the shiplap that lines that wall as well as the fireplace. Everything is primed for paint. “It’s beautiful. You’re amazing. Who would've thought that you would take over the family business?”
My smile doesn’t reach my eyes, and I know there’s a trace of sadness in them that she catches onto when she returns her gaze to mine. “Pops did.”
“Yeah, I guess he did, didn’t he? He would be very proud of you.”
The sting of grief is familiar. The fact that it’ll never end is exhausting to comprehend. It may become softer over time, more gentle, but some days feel sharp. Grief lasts as long as love does.Forever.
“Yeah, he was,” I reply.
She walks into the kitchen and places her hands onto the newly installed granite countertops, shaking her head softly as she studies the white farmhouse sink Earl and I installed a few weeks before.
“I wish she could enjoy this.”
I come up behind her and lift my hand to place on her armbut pull away. How does it feel so natural to want to reach out and touch her even after all this time?
Keeping my hands to myself, I stand next to her and follow her gaze toward the small window that sits above the sink. Outside, we can see the white fence that lines the forest area, the sheep are grazing softly, the sun beginning to touch the top of the trees. It’s breathtaking.
“I wish she could too,” I add, feeling the ache in my chest, longing for the ones we’ve lost. “But she’d be thrilled to know that you’re here and able to enjoy it.”
