Coming Home Read Free Page A

glanced at the now motionless keys. Turning off the engine, she stared at the ruby-red-slipper key ring closely, as if trying to remember something long forgotten. Yet knowing instinctively that pondering this further would be like recklessly pulling the thread in an expensive Berber carpet only to witness the entire floor come undone.
    In her smoldering, claustrophobic Honda, locked in with a relentless barrage of torturous thoughts, four years of empty memories and friendships barely begun, the past became painfully clear. She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes, whispering the obvious truth, the truth she conveniently ignored most of the time: The past is your future, kiddo. Have you noticed yet?
    Suddenly she became aware that she’d been pressing the heel of her hand against the steering wheel, and her wrist flared painfully. She released the wheel and sat there for another minute.
    Right to Denver. Left to Colorado Springs.
    She picked up her cell phone from the passenger seat and dialed her old number. She had to concentrate, the number already fading from her memory. Darlene answered on the first ring and sounded surprised. “Jessie?”
    “I just wanted to … uh … I forgot to tell you that, uh …” she struggled. “I’ll let you know when I get there.” She must have sounded absurd.
    “Oh, Jessie. I’ve been—” Darlene paused long enough for Jessie to feel another pang of regret—“I’ve been worried.”
    “Would you consider visiting the West Coast in the fall?” Jessie asked, closing her eyes, wincing again. Surely by now Darlene would have washed her hands of this unsatisfying friendship.
    “I’d love to, Jessie. So we’ll keep in touch, then?”
    “Let’s” was all Jessie could manage before saying good-bye again.
    She tossed the cell phone over to the passenger seat and felt weak and vulnerable. Starting the engine, she pulled out of the parking lot, continuing north on I-70. She set her jaw and pursed her lips with new resolve.
    But five miles later she reconsidered again. I’ve been running my whole life. I’ll never be this close to home again—
    “It’s not home,” she corrected herself. “Going back won’t solve anything.”
    Brandon’s cruel words echoed again: “What happened to you, Jess? How did you get this way?”
    At the next turnoff she gritted her teeth again and switched directions, heading south. By now her hands were shaking. Her stomach hurt, churning an indigestible sandwich. She knew once she reached the outskirts of Colorado Springs, she would take Highway 105 directly to Palmer Lake. The thought nearly unnerved her.
    Eventually she regathered her composure, wiping her eyes clumsily with her shirt sleeve. Fine then. I’ll face the boogeyman, and the boogeyman will disappear. I’ll look under the bed with a flashlight and discover only dust bunnies, because monsters don’t exist.
    Then I’ll drive to paradise… .

Chapter Three
    TRAVELING SOUTHWEST, the mountains loomed before her, rising slowly from the horizon, and a sense of dread rose within her, as well. When she reached the outskirts of the city, she saw the turnoff for 105 and headed directly west. The road was poorly marked, difficult to follow, but soon enough she found her way, finally crossing Highway 83.
    After another few minutes she reached Monument, a reformed truck stop, now obviously inundated by the northern expansion of Colorado Springs, twenty minutes to the south. Jessie took a breath. Palmer Lake was just two miles away to the northwest—situated in the foothills.
    I’ll just drive through, she thought. Minutes later, she was surprised by the sign that appeared a mile before what she had always considered to be Palmer Lake proper. To her, home had been the little hamlet built on a gradual incline, like a miniature Swiss village. Instead, she now realized the place called Palmer Lake encompassed the whole range of sparsely populated land along the Front Range. Not so