August, Present Day
Maple Ridge
Late Tuesday afternoon,I power off my work computer and click Bailey’s leash onto her collar. “You ready to go to the festival committee meeting?” I grab my purse from the bottom desk drawer.
Troy texted a few minutes ago that he was detained at the job site due to a water main problem on the street. He has to wait until the town’s emergency work crew deals with the issue, but since the marketing committee meeting is at the library, Bailey and I can easily walk there. And because she’s wearing herService Dog in Trainingvest, she’s allowed in the building. The members of the committee know that I’m training her and they know I’ve been diagnosed with complex PTSD—but until news about my past was recently leaked, they hadn’t known what had led to the diagnosis.
I step through the main doors to the building, and my stomach sinks. Several reporters and camera crew swarm around the entrance.
Fuckers.I’m surprised it’s taken them this long to track down my place of employment.
“Savannah, what are your thoughts on the petition to have you removed from Maple Ridge?” a woman reporter yells out.
Someone actually created a petition to force me out of Maple Ridge?
This is my home. My new start. Why can’t people accept I’m not the monster they think I am? Why can’t they give me a chance to repair the life someone else tried to destroy?
I push past the reporters. The protesters didn’t follow them here. Thank God for that small miracle.
Bailey and I walk to the library. The sky is cloudy, the rain shower from earlier having left the ground speckled with large puddles, but the threat of a late afternoon storm looms overhead.
The reporters trail us like a gaggle of geese hoping for a scrap of bread. I want to scream at them to leave me alone. Haven’t they done enough damage? They stole everything from me—my privacy, my safety, my dignity. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were another reason Craig didn’t want me in my daughter’s life—albeit a short-term reason.
Tears blur my vision. I blink them away before the reporters can notice them. I don’t want to give the protesters any satisfaction when they watch the evening news.
Bailey and I go into the library and head straight to the small meeting room the committee booked for today.
The meeting is private, which means I get to have a short reprieve from the reporters. If I’m lucky, they’ll grow bored and leave before the meeting ends.
Evie turns her head to me as I sit in the empty chair next to her. Her black chin-length hair with purple streaks swings against her jaw. “Hey, Jess. I heard about the protesters and reporters. I can’t believe anyone can accuse you of any of that stuff.”
“That’s because those idiots don’t know Jess like we do,” Amy, who used to be in my yoga class and who is the committee’s secretary, declares from across the table. “The protesters would never say stupid things like that if they did.”
Evie narrows her eyes at Amy. “Isn’t your friend, Katelyn, one of those people who’s been spreading mistruths?”
God, what lies is she telling about me now? I haven’t noticed Katelyn with the protesters outside my house, but that doesn’t mean she hasn’t found other ways to make my life more difficult.
Amy cringes. “I’m sorry, Jess. I’ve been trying to convince her to stop. She knows you’re nothing like what those protesters are claiming.”
“It’s not your fault.” It’s not like Amy can control what her friend does. Katelyn is probably still annoyed that Troy is with me and is pissed at her for trying to manipulate him to get what she wanted. Him.
The door opens and more committee members stream into the room, including Simone and Avery. While they get settled, I check my emails on my phone. I’ve received two new ones since leaving the office. Both from newspapers I’d queried to see if they would publish my articles about PTSD and the festival.
I click the first one open and read it.
To: Jessica Smithson
From: Colleen Faith
Subject: re The Forgotten Heroes
Dear Ms. Jessica Smithson,
Thank you for your pitch regarding the article “The Forgotten Heroes.” The subject matter was interesting, but it’s not what we’re currently looking for. Please keepOregon Livingin mind for future articles.
This isn’t the first time I’ve received rejections, but this one smarts because it isn’t for a class assignment or my career. The article highlights the purpose for the festival and how it will benefit families in the area.
I check the next email.
