“Same as ever,” she replied, thinking of how quiet everything was and had been. After her talk with her mother on the balcony, they hadn’t crossed paths since. Her mother was always running off to some breakfast, brunch, lunch, or dinner date, and there was always a party or a play or some other event going on that kept her away.
Nothing had changed.
“How are you?” she asked Gretta, thinking of her health and worrying how she was getting along without her to help in the kitchen.
“Fine,” she said with a sigh. “But I sure do miss having a second set of hands in the kitchen. Didn’t realize how much those boys eat me out of house and home!”
“They sure do eat a lot,” Vivian agreed. Meals at Gretta’s house were as big as the holiday spreads in her family, which only came along a few times a year.
“All except one.” Gretta waited for Vivian to follow up, but she didn’t, already knowing who she was referring to. “Nash ain’t been the same since ya left. He hardly eats. I’m worried about him.”
“He’ll get over it,” Vivian told her. Although she sounded uncaring, she cared more than ever. Just hearing his name caused her pain, and that just wouldn’t do. They were over before they’d truly gotten started. It shouldn’t be this way.
“I think you’re wrong there,” Gretta insisted. “When I make a match, it’s always a good one, and you two are a perfect fit. Now if only one of ya would stop being such a stubborn ass, we could get this fixed right up and move along.”
“He had to hear the truth from my ex’s ears,” Vivian reminded her. “Doesn’t matter if I’d only just learned of the mistake, Nash didn’t want to hear it. He feels betrayed, and rightly so. I won’t harass him just because I care about him.” Besides, he had enough heartbreak already to last a lifetime without her adding to it.
“Mules,” Gretta muttered. “Fine, then let’s talk about something else.” She changed the topic to the more titillating, telling her how the rumored sex shop owner, Jenna, had just purchased more retail space downtown, and Gretta and a few other ladies were nearly certain it was going to be the town’s first R-rated store.
It was the biggest scandal they’d had since the Jones boy ran his daddy’s tractor into the pond the previous summer during an unsolicited tractor race with a few of his friends in the middle of the night.
“So when are you plannin’ to come home?” Gretta asked as their conversation wound down.
“You mean to the farm?”
“Well, I sure wasn’t talking about Canada.”
Vivian hated that they were back to this. “It’s not my home, Gretta. I don’t have a home right now.”
“Nonsense,” she scoffed, and Vivian could picture the woman brushing her hand through the air. “Your home is where you have people who care about you and want you around.”
Vivian considered this. If that was true, then the city and her parents’ apartment certainly wasn’t her home. They couldn’t care less if she was around. As long as they knew she existed in the world and she was falling in line with their own plans, it seemed to be enough.
Unable to formulate a response without risking offense, Vivian said, “I’ll be hitting the road in the morning. I’m thinking I’ll head west, see if anything speaks to me.”
“If you find yourself passin’ through, stop by for a cup of tea, eh?”
“I sure will,” she promised.
Sadness filled the silence, and Vivian couldn’t hold on any longer. “I’ll talk to you soon. Take care of yourself.”
“Always do.”
The moment Vivian ended the call, the tears began to roll. Turning onto her side, she let all of the hurt from the last several days—maybe even months—out. Every betrayal, every disappointment, every loss and broken dream soaked into that nice, expensive duvet in a mélange of taupe and rose and black mascara that the poor dry cleaner was going to have a hell of a time getting out, but Vivian didn’t care.
When a heart was full of sorrow and pain, one way or another, it had to come out or risk complete and total destruction.
TWENTY-FOUR
It took a good week for Vivian to reach her destination, but she knew even as checked into the hotel that it wasn’t her final stop. Kentucky was beautiful. At least, what she had seen of it so far.
She’d stopped to tour a couple of state parks, exploring a cave and visiting a waterfall, before moving on to check out a local museum and then touring some grand neighborhoods where she’d felt as if she’d stepped back in time.
It was all so pretty, exciting, and new…but it didn’t have that special something she was missing.
She hadn’t factored stopping to see Gretta into her plans. In fact, she’d actively avoided it, using the GPS to take her due south, so she wasn’t lying when Gretta called to check in, and she told her it was too far off the path to even consider. She’d been disappointed, but she seemed to understand.
Guilt was a constant companion, as was loneliness and a certain amount of longing that went with missing her friends. What was it about that place that made her miss it so much?