About Tomorrow... Read online

  “Yep. Movers arrive today,” I said, rolling the suitcase behind me and heading toward the kitchen for coffee.

  “Is Griff not going with you?” he asked.

  “He has classes. Besides the movers will carry everything inside.”

  He didn’t say anything more and I was relieved. I sat my suitcase by the door then went to pour my coffee. When I turned around, I found Creed watching me. It made me feel self-conscious. I wondered if he would still be living here the next time I visited. I hadn’t asked him how long he was staying, but I didn’t think I needed to know.

  “He could have missed a class to get you moved in,” Creed said, looking aggravated.

  I shrugged. “He is in med school. I hear that’s hard,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. I didn’t not want to care that Creed was worried about me. I was blocking that out. I needed to get out of this apartment and away from him.

  I drank the coffee in a few gulps, and luckily, it had cooled enough it didn’t scald my throat. “Well, I am out of here. See ya around, maybe,” I added with a smile and headed for the door. My escape.

  Creed didn’t say bye.

  Portsmouth, New Hampshire

  Nothing had changed, but everything was different. I stood inside the house that had once been the only place that felt like home. It lacked the one person to make it complete. My Gran was my home and she wasn’t here. Tears stung my eyes and I thought I had cried all my tears for her but seeing her things again brought it all back. What I had lost the day she died.

  My boxes were all over the place, and I knew I would have to go through her things and make room for mine but I couldn’t do that right now. I needed to be surrounded by her to get through this day and possibly the next week.

  When the movers had called yesterday to let me know they would, in fact, arrive this morning to unload the truck, I’d been so relieved I hadn’t thought about how this would feel. I had just been thankful to get away from Creed. He was my past and letting him dredge up the memories was bad for me.

  However, I hadn’t realized until last night that Griff wasn’t going to be able to come with me or even come visit until next week. I knew he had classes and his studies were intense, but Portsmouth was only an hour drive. I had expected him to make a few hours for me and I’d been prepared to wait until he could come with me today. He had apologized about not having time today and said he would make it by the weekend to help me.

  It wasn’t unpacking I had needed help with, it was walking in the front door of Gran’s with her gone. Explaining that to him was unfair. He had classes and he was a med student. I got that. I didn’t want to be a needy female. When Creed has asked me why Griff wasn’t coming with me today, I resented him for making me think about it.

  Even after all the months the house had sat empty, it still smelled of Gran. Vanilla and cinnamon had always wafted through her house. She baked so much that she even smelled of vanilla and cinnamon. I loved that smell. She was the only security I had as a child and that scent was comforting to me.

  “I’m back, Gran. To stay. Just like I used to tell you I wanted to do when I grew up. Except you’re not here. You were supposed to be here,” I said the words aloud and smiled even as a tear escaped and rolled down my cheek. I often wondered how someone like my mother came from Gran. They were so completely opposite. I mentioned it once to Gran as I got older and she said that Oliver, my grandfather, had spoiled my mother. They had tried for years to get pregnant and Gran had miscarried so many times they had given up hope. Then she got pregnant with my mother and from the moment my grandfather held her in his arms, he spoiled her.

  Gran had then frowned and said that Oliver treating her like a princess had ruined her. I had to agree with that because my mother did, in fact, think she was a princess. I had never met anyone as self-centered as my mother. If I hadn’t demanded she come up here for Gran’s funeral and threaten never to speak to her again if she didn’t then Mom wouldn’t have returned from Paris in time.

  I didn’t want to think about my mother right now. I had other emotions to get control over. Walking through the house, I looked in each room and inhaled the scent of home. How had I thought I could live anywhere else? It felt right here as if being in this house fixed any problems in the world. I would finally get to have Christmas in this house. As a child, I had yearned to spend Christmas here with Gran…and with the Sullivans.

  Stopping at the kitchen window I could see the neighbor’s house. In the summer, it had been harder to see the Sullivan house from Gran’s because of all the green leaves and plants. However, most of now colorful leaves had fallen and there was a clear view to the Georgian style house that had been built in 1778. It was still a pale yellow. The new owners hadn’t changed the color. Except for the lack of a basketball goal outside it looked the same. Eventually I would go introduce myself, but I wasn’t ready to see someone else in the Sullivans’ home. The memories there were many.

  While the Sullivans’ Georgian style home was three stories and impressive in size, my Gran’s house was smaller. My new home was a simple two-story colonial blue Greek Revival built in 1856. Downstairs was the kitchen, living room, dining room, and a laundry room with a toilet in it. Upstairs was two bedrooms and two bathrooms. The master bedroom had an en-suite; the second bedroom that had been my mother’s then mine was larger but the bathroom was in the hallway at the top of the stairs. There was a small attic at the very top, but it was small. The house had a front-gable roof so that left only a small triangle of space up there.

  Heating was going to be interesting. There was a fireplace in the living room and master bedroom and a wood-burning stove in the kitchen. That was it. No more heat. No central heating and air. The summers here had never been unbearable without the air conditioning I was used to in Nashville. Gran had always left all the windows up and box fans going in the most used rooms of the house. I’d loved it. I wasn’t sure how I was going to love not having a furnace.

  First thing I needed to do was find wood or I would freeze soon. Gran’s woodshed was only a third of the way full, and I knew that she had needed a full shed. In the back of the house, there was a rack that also held a cord of wood that stayed close to her back door. Every August before I left to go home, Gran had already had wood delivered and filled up all her storage for the winter. When I had asked her why, she told me the cold came quick here.

  I wrapped my arms around my body and shivered as I walked upstairs. She was right. The cold was here. I had almost had the movers put my things in my old bedroom, but then I decided I would need the fireplace in Gran’s this winter. I headed to her bedroom at the end of the hallway and paused at the doorway to her room. The same blue and white quilt and white iron bed stood in the center of the room. The fireplace was in front of it, and there was wood already stacked to the side of it neatly in the holder.

  Several pictures of me through the years sat on her mantel and one of my mother. The rocking chair where she had rocked me to sleep when I was little sat to the left of her bed, beside the nightstand with a crotched throw hanging over the back. It was as if she had never left. Her things still the way she would have kept them.

  My suitcase and at least ten boxes worth of my clothing, shoes, beauty supplies and more lined the right wall. I would have to go through Gran’s closet and pack her things up. The small attic she rarely used was about to be full. Tears were starting to clog my throat again when a knock on the front door startled me.

  I turned and hurried back to the stairs, not sure who would be coming to see me. No one knew me really, not anymore. I reached the front door and opened it just after they knocked again. The face that greeted me brought a smile to my face. I hadn’t been expecting this.

  “Well, it’s true. Sailor Copeland has returned to Portsmouth,” Jack Tate said smiling at me. He had most definitely changed. His beard almost threw me off, but when he spoke, I was sur
e it was Jack.

  “Jack!” I blurted out. “You grew up!”

  He laughed at my stupid comment. “Didn’t we all?”

  I nodded. “Yes, we did. How are you?”

  “Great. Married with a two-year-old. Can you believe that shit?” He chuckled then added, “Got a call saying you might need firewood. It’s late in the season to get seasoned wood that don’t cost a fucking fortune, but I can hook you up with three cords for $800. It’s the family special price. I’ll even stack it for you.”

  “That would be amazing. Thank you so much but let me pay you the going rate please. I was just about to figure out where and how to get firewood so you are saving me time and keeping me from freezing to death,” I told him.

  He shook his head. “Not a chance. You pay me $800 and that’s firm. Just don’t tell anyone. I don’t give the family rate out often.”

  “Come inside, let me get my purse,” I said, so relieved and grateful I might cry again.

  “It’s fucking cold in this house,” he said as he stepped in the front door. “You got some wood out there. Why no fire?”

  I picked up my purse and took my wallet out, before looking back at him sheepishly. “Uh, I was going to get to that.”

  He looked me over then and noticed my coat, gloves and scarf. “Sailor, do you know how to start a fire?”

  I took out eight one hundred dollar bills then pressed my lips together in a tight smile. “Not exactly,” I admitted. “I was going to Google it.”

  “Google? Fucking hell. Come on, girl. Let’s go get some wood and warm this place up.”

  He took the bills from me and stuck them in his back pocket without counting them. I followed behind him as he headed for the woodshed. He began to tell me how to get kindling and wood then we went back inside so he could teach me how to start a fire. He did the one in the living room then he had me do the one in the bedroom while he watched. I was so happy with my success; I clapped my hands like a kid in a candy store. The wood burning stove in the kitchen was easier than I thought.

  After he had told me all the steps I needed to do to keep the fire going, he headed for the door. “I’ll be back in a truck before four. Me and my guys will stack the shed and the backdoor cord. Here’s my number if you have any issues. Creed would never forgive me if I let you freeze.”

  That name caused me to pause as I reached for the card he was holding out to me with his number on it. “Creed?” I asked.

  He gave a nod. “Yeah. Creed. Who’d you think called me to get me over here and set you up with wood?”

  I said nothing, and he just smiled. “Glad you’re back, Sailor. Hated seeing Bee’s house sit empty. She’d love knowing you’re here.”

  I nodded and I think muttered another thanks before he walked out the door and closed it. I stood there staring down at the business card in my hand. Creed had called him. My chest tightened and I hated the emotion I didn’t want to acknowledge. Why did Creed care if I froze to death? I wanted him to not care. Didn’t I?

  eight

  October 31, 2019

  This was Gran’s house and my moving in was going to be a slow process. I needed time before I moved her things to put mine in their place. Instead of unpacking my boxes, I went out to buy pumpkins, carve the pumpkins, decorate the front stoop with said jack-o- lanterns, take pictures of it all and roast the seeds. Apple cider had been made using Gran’s recipe from her recipe rolodex that sat on her kitchen counter. I had also made apple pie, candy apples, and pumpkin bread. All vegan of course. Luckily the health food store in town had the vegan butter Gran had listed in the recipes.

  Candy filled a black cauldron I had found in the attic along with a witch’s hat, orange lights and a large fake spider and its web. My front door was now lit up and festive. I was ready for trick-or-treaters. This was a first for me. My mother didn’t take me trick-or-treating when I was a kid. She thought the idea of going to people’s houses to “beg” for candy was ridiculous. It was obvious my Gran did not agree.

  The living room fire and the wood burning stove were keeping the downstairs warm, but I was still wearing a Vanderbilt hoodie and a pair of black leggings with fur-lined boots in the house. A “Spooky Tunes” CD I had found in the Halloween decorations was laying on the CD player Gran kept in the living room underneath the television.

  I was winning Halloween this year. Gran would be proud. Picking up a candy apple, I went to go sit on the front stoop and watch the street prepare for the night when my phone rang. Taking my phone from my hoodie pocket, I saw it was Griff and a smile spread across my face. He had been busy studying for an exam this week and I hadn’t heard from him in two days. He’d sent a few texts but nothing more. Tomorrow night he was coming to stay for the weekend. I couldn’t wait. His lack of communication was worth it, knowing I would get to be with him soon.

  “Happy Halloween!” I said cheerfully into the phone.

  “Since when do you celebrate Halloween?” he asked with an amused tone.

  “Since three days ago. My Gran did it up good every year it seems, so I am doing the same. I even carved pumpkins and roasted seeds. That is not as easy as it sounds either,” I said, thinking about my first disastrous attempt at carving a jack-o-lantern.

  “I take it you’re giving out candy too,” he replied.

  “Oh yes! I also have candy apples to give out. My Gran’s recipe.”

  He laughed and the sound made me happy. I loved his laugh. “Sounds like you have been busy.”

  “Very. I’ve made apple cider and apple pie, oh, and I’m wearing a witch hat to give out candy! I found it with Gran’s Halloween things.”

  “I hate I will miss all that,” Griff said.

  “I’ll save you some of everything for this weekend. I can even wear the hat for you if you want,” I teased. “You are going to love this place. I had forgotten how magical Portsmouth is.”

  There was a pause on the line and I wondered if I had said something wrong.

  “About this weekend. Sailor, I have a paper on medical ethics due and the one I had originally written I let Chet read. He thinks it’s too weak, and he’s right. I wasn’t focused enough writing it. I need more research behind it. I just, I can’t come this weekend, babe. I am so sorry. This paper is very important.”

  My festive mood was zapped just like that. All week, I had been thinking about seeing Griff and showing him Portsmouth and having him here at Gran’s. We had barely had time to talk or he had barely had time. My schedule was wide open. I was also very alone here, and I missed him.

  “You can’t work on it here? There’s a second bedroom that you can lock yourself away in and work.” I just wanted him here. Didn’t matter if I saw much of him.

  He sighed. “I wish I could. I need the library resources here. Besides, the travel there and back is just more time that I won’t have to work on this paper.”

  It was only an hour I wanted to point out but didn’t. He was set on this. I knew that. I could hear it in his voice. I resigned myself to the fact this was going to happen. He was in medical school. “When do you think you can come?” I asked him.

  “Next weekend. I promise. I’ll be sure to have it all done and I will be free to spend every minute with you.”

  “Next weekend,” I agreed.

  We said our I love yous and byes then hung up. I started to put the candy apple down but decided I needed it. Grabbing a fleece throw from the sofa, I headed outside to sit and try and get back in the Halloween spirit.

  I had just gotten wrapped up and seated when I saw the neighbors’ front door across the street open. Six years ago, the Thompsons lived there, but I wasn’t sure if they still did. Then I watched as Margie Thompson walked down the front three steps of her Greek Revival home, similar to Gran’s in everything but color, proving that they were, indeed, still living there.

  I watched Margie
cross the road, carrying something in her hands, and realized then she was headed for me. Gran had been friends with the Thompsons. Their sons were about ten or more years older than me. I barely remember seeing them when I was growing up. When Margie was close enough, I could see she had a pie in her hands and a big smile on her face. I stood up as she walked down my driveway.

  “It is so good to see this house lit up and alive again,” she said as she reached the bottom of my stoop.

  “Hello Mrs. Thompson,” I said. It was nice to see they were still there. At least that hadn’t changed.

  “It’s Margie. You’re all grown up now. Here, I made you a Marlborough Pie. Now it isn’t vegan like your Gran made, but it is delicious. I promise.”

  I took the pie and thanked her. She then waved a hand at the decorations. “Bee would be so proud of this. Just seeing the smoke coming from the chimney makes my days brighter. It is good to have you back, Sailor.”

  “Thank you, Margie,” I said. “It’s good to be back. It’s not the same without Gran, but it still feels like home.”

  Margie nodded her head. “And it is! This is your home. This house has belonged to a Hobbs since it was built in 1856. The bloodline must live on here.”

  “Thank you,” I said, not sure what else to say to that.

  “Henry is coming over to wrap your outdoor faucets later and he’s called Mike at the tire shop to come get your car and get snow tires put on. When Creed called Henry yesterday to ask him to help you get those things done, I thought how kind that boy still is. We are happy to help. Henry is retired now and he has nothing to do unless Dan brings his kids over for us to watch.”

  Creed again. The warmth in my chest came as if on command.

  “Creed asked you?” I had heard her but I wanted to clarify.

  She nodded. “Of course he did. Fine young man he’s become. Now, I have to get back home and prepare for my two grandbabies to visit before they go trick-or-treating. You call if you need anything. Come on over and knock whatever.”