The interaction played over and over in my mind. One of the great gifts my anxiety had bestowed upon me was the ability to remember every detail of an embarrassing incident in a photographic way. So the replays were in HD with vivid detail.
Josh.
He was big. A little gruff.
Looked like he’d been carved out of the rock that made up the mountains of Vermont.
When I’d first caught sight of him, all my internal alarms had gone off.
But right away, he’d been respectful and kind to Julian. Gentle, even. It was a surprise, coming from a man who looked like he could bench press a tractor. And from the limited interaction we’d had so far, he seemed like he kept to himself, which was ideal in this scenario.
With any luck, he’d cash my checks and leave us alone. I certainly had no intention of spending more time with him than necessary.
Quiet landlord, quiet new life. That was the dream. But could that dream survive the chaos of my kids? That was yet to be determined.
Our arrival had been predictably intense. The kids had spilled out of the minivan like marbles and scattered. Ellie had complained about anything and everything while Maggie searched the property for horses and Julian vacillated between clinging to me and wanderingoff.
We were sweaty and cranky, but we’d gotten the moving pod—which had beat us here, miraculously—emptied and the furniture staged. Most of the unloading had been done by Gus, who’d proven himself to be my favorite brother-in-law. Never mind that he was my only brother-in-law. He’d quietly carried boxes and assembled furniture while Chloe barked instructions.
He’d put the girls’ bunk beds together in record time and even had time to play a round of Uno with Julian before he left.
I owed them so much. My sister, who for far too many years had felt like a stranger, had shown up when I needed her and saved me. She’d been there on the worst day of my life and she hadn’t stopped aggressively loving me and my kids since. I’d never felt so grateful, yet I’d never felt so alone.
My nervous system was still out of whack, making it difficult to wrap my mind around the events of the last few months. In quick succession, I’d finalized the protective order and the divorce decree and signed the rental agreement. During that time, I had one fresh start that turned out to be not so fresh. From there, I’d headed to Vermont. It was the farthest I’d ever been from him. It was safe. But the fear still hovered, like a shadow.
Yet beneath that fear, something else flickered. Possibility. Hope. That I could have a life that was my own, that didn’t revolve around danger. A life where my kids could be curious and hopeful, and we could all just breathe.
Shaking off my ruminations, I kicked a large piece of gravel and steeled myself for the days ahead. I’d made it. I was fortunate, and my life would only get better from here. But part of me still wondered if I deserved good things.
Unsurprisingly, my kids had made themselves at home. Julian was already building a Lego masterpiece on the floor while Maggie buzzed around the kitchen, her blonde curls bouncing.
“Can we hive sleep tonight?” she asked.
With affection and a little defeat rolling through me, I nodded.
Someday I would sleep blissfully alone. Someday.
Donny had locked the door to keep the kids out of our room. And at the time, I hadn’t argued.
But after all that had happened, we’d needed closeness. Comfort.
So Julian started sleeping with me.
And then, on occasion, Maggie and Ellie would join.
We’d nicknamed ourselves “the hive” because Julian had been super fixated on bees at the time. He’d read all the books about honeybees at the library and had begun teaching us about the incredible creatures. He’d declared me the queen and explained that in winter, a hive clusters around the queen, snuggling to keep her warm.
So on those nights when life got scary, they’d pile into my bed, and I’d read to them from the Shel Silverstein book my mom had given me as a kid.
“I’m hungry,” Julian complained.
“I’ve got dino nuggets, microwave popcorn, and apples,” I declared, thankful I’d popped into a small market on the way.
Ellie scoffed while Maggie declared “a feast!”
The kitchen was far from unpacked, but I’d work on it once the kids went to bed. Chloe and Gus had alreadyhelped with the big stuff, and for the most part, we traveled light these days.
That started when we packed up our family home almost three years ago. All the furniture went to storage, and I’d never been tempted to go through any of it. The last thing I wanted was to relive the memories made in that home.