Brush of Shade Read Free Page A

there was a
competition. He winked and hopped into the car.
    All four pumps
were being used and yet not one person had eyes for anything else but me. I
climbed into the car. “Aunt Claire, everyone is staring at me.” I slunk lower
in the seat.
    “Nonsense. Have you taken your anxiety medication today? Oh
dear, you look exhausted. After the wake tomorrow, you’ll be able to move
forward.”
    “Mom and Dad
died back in May. I don’t want to hold a wake here with strangers. The memorial
in Washington . . . it was awful. All those people wouldn’t leave me alone.”
    “Your father was
a well-respected diplomat with many friends and colleagues. A large function
couldn’t be avoided. At least here you won’t have to deal with visiting
dignitaries and the press. Folks here genuinely care deeply for your family.
You’ll see. Before you know it, Spring Valley will feel like home.”
    “I don’t want it
to. You had no right dragging me out here. I had a life. I had friends.” I
reached for my earbuds and the music that would wash
over me.
    “Had, past tense. You pulled away from that life. You
dropped out of everything. You weren’t even returning JoAnna’s phone calls, and don’t get me started on how little school work you were
getting done.” She turned off the highway, bypassing the town. Her fingers
tapped the steering wheel. “I didn’t come to this decision without careful
consideration. Dr. Martin’s agreed a drastic change was necessary to snap you
out of your listlessness. Take this gift of a fresh start far away from painful
memories. Spring Valley is special. It won’t let you down.”
    ***
    My role during our
first Saturday in Spring Valley was easy enough. It required little out of me
beyond short sentences and expressions of gratitude. With that in mind, my goal
was simple. I was determined to face this particular day with dignity while
clinging ferociously to normal. I planned on ignoring all references to
anything peculiar.
    The sweet smell
of gardenias and roses from the early morning wedding still permeated the
simple church with its white-washed walls and steeply sloped ceiling. According
to the minister, Pepperdines had been christened and
wed here since the valley was settled. I’d wanted to ask if I’d been christened
here as well, but my aunt had stepped forward, needing a word with the minister
before the service. Strangers filed into the pews set aside for the family.
Stories were recounted in hushed voices that I couldn’t help but overhear.
Someone made an offhand comment about the crowds spilling out across the front
lawn. Too many people, I shuddered. Apparently even here my father had quite
the circle of friends and acquaintances. As for my mother, I’d learned from
those hushed voices that she’d never lived in Nebraska. All these people with
their kind, solemn expressions owned pieces of my parents’ past. The fact that
neither of them had been inclined to discuss the days before their marriage had
never bothered me, until now. Questions that I’d never get the chance to ask
squeezed my throat tight.
    Aunt Claire
stuffed a tissue into my hand as she stood to leave. “Don’t take too long.
People are waiting outside to offer their condolences before our private
reception at the manor.”
    Let the mourners
wait. They didn’t know my family, and they had no right to the pieces I
carried, I thought, shredding the tissue between my fingers. This was just a
temporary posting. Next year I’d be at college. Nothing here mattered, no
matter how much Aunt Claire said otherwise.
    Muffled voices
faded as the last of the mourners stepped outside to enjoy the unseasonably
warm October weather. Finally, I had the sanctuary to myself. I propped my
crutch against the post for the low railing that extended in front of the first
pew. With my clasped hands hovering above the rail, I was able to stand with
only a slight wobble. My physical therapist back home would be pleased with