When We Let Go by Delancey Stewart (read with me .txt) đź“•
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- Author: Delancey Stewart
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And on that theme, I’d done a lot of thinking about Jack, too. Despite the fact we were divorced, that he was engaged, he still seemed to find lots of reasons to harass me. I wondered if it had just become some kind of habit for him. Maybe Annalise didn’t provide as easy a target I did. Regardless, his evil plans and ideas were not going to take up valuable space in my mind anymore.
I didn’t want to even admit that I’d considered the idea of cashing in on Connor’s misfortune with a photo as Jack suggested, but part of me had. But I wouldn’t anymore. Maybe the woman Jack created would have taken advantage of someone that way—easy money was something she’d grown used to, and small inconveniences, like other people, didn’t always matter to her. But I didn’t like that woman very much, and I didn’t want to be her anymore.
Somewhere during my rumination I remembered snapping the photo at Connor’s house without thinking about it, and I pulled out the camera and played back the photos, determined to erase the few I’d shot of him. But when his face appeared on the tiny screen, shadows exaggerating the broody sadness of his features and his hair lit up from behind, I found myself startled. It was the best photo I’d taken in a long time. Maybe ever. There was so much emotion visible in that shot, and if I had the chance to get it into a proper editing program, there was no telling how incredible it could become. My finger hovered over the delete button, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. It was an amazing photograph. I had to keep it. I’d never do anything with it, but it was too good to delete.
At some point, huddled under the heavy blanket of the very late night, I came up with a vague plan, some parts of it genuinely horrid, though it did not involve me having to sell photos of someone with enough problems of his own, so that was a bonus. I would trade in the Jag. As much as I loved that ridiculous car, there was no reason I should be sitting on a car that cost more than the trailer I lived in. I could get something reliable, something that would handle snow well. Something that would probably be about half as much fun to drive, but would get me out from under the car payment with cash to spare.
The second part of the plan was much worse, but it was quickly becoming the only viable way to get out of most of the problems hanging over my head. And as I decided on how to enact it, I realized I might not have been excited to be stuck up here in a trailer, but I did love the mountains. And I would miss them. Almost as much as I would miss the idea that one day my brother might speak to me again. And if I went through with the second part of my plan, he definitely would not.
Staying awake late into the night didn’t do me any favors the next morning.
“You look awful.” Adele’s sagging jowls waggled while she talked, and her beady eyes narrowed at me.
“I’m fine,” I responded automatically. “Though actually, I could use the afternoon off. I need to drive down to the valley.”
“You can have it, Princess. Work the morning, and then you can go. Gonna be dead in here today.”
I looked around. She was right. There were a few locals sipping coffee or poking at eggs, but most of the tables were empty, and not many people lingered out in the parking lot or on the street beyond. Kings Grove was getting ready to tuck in and sleep for the winter. And it was barely even fall.
The morning dragged on, as my mind turned over potential options for pulling together the money I’d need to get out of the mess I was in. Lower car payments would help. And I needed to call my lawyer.
“What’s with you?” Miranda asked, breaking me out of my thoughts. She had ketchup bottles lined up the counter, waiting to be refilled. I pulled another rag out in preparation for the inevitable mess.
I shook my head. “Nothing.”
“Something.” Her eyes were intense, and I knew she could see more than I was willing to tell her.
“I’m a little sad today is all. I’m trading in the car.”
“For what?” She looked adorably confused, her blond ponytail swinging behind her as she cocked her head to one side.
“For a cheaper car with smaller payments.”
Her face fell a bit. “You? Without the fast sporty car? How will you maintain your fancy?”
“I think my fancy is out of place here anyway. And I’m more worried about maintaining my ability to afford food. And my heat.”
She nodded. Miranda still lived with her parents, so I was pretty sure she had no idea what I was talking about. “Did you hear the latest?” Her voice was a harsh whisper as she dropped her head toward my ear and leaned in, and though she seemed to think she was being discreet, her dramatic change of posture actually called Adele’s attention our way. Miranda stood up straighter and pretended to arrange the ketchup bottles on the countertop until Adele looked away.
“What are you talking about?” Something in my stomach clenched. I knew this would have something to do with Connor, just by the look on her face.
“Amanda Terry has gone missing.” Miranda’s eyes were wide.
I froze and my mind started spinning. “What?”
“Yeah. She disappeared two days ago. Her parents were in here, handing out flyers.” She pointed to the bulletin board behind Adele near the door. There was a picture of a young girl with big eyes in the center, with the word “Missing” centered above her.
“Oh no,” I breathed.
Miranda nodded out the window, where a police cruiser sat. Another dark car idled next to the cruiser. “I told you Connor Charles was creepy. He’s probably got her chained up next to the other woman in that big house up there.” Miranda was shaking her head. She’d already convicted him.
“He does not,” I snapped, not willing to tell her that I had pretty solid proof there was no one in that house except Connor. I felt sorry for him. Miranda was certainly not the only person willing to blame him so easily.
Miranda had the grace to look embarrassed as she muttered, “Yeah, you’re probably right. I’m sure it’s something else.”
I worked the morning, my eyes wandering repeatedly to the “missing” sign and my mind turning over every word Connor had said to me the evening before. It didn’t make sense—anyone who’d talked to him, who’d felt the almost tangible loneliness and sorrow that clung to him wouldn’t believe he was capable of anything like this. But it wasn’t my business, and aside from hoping for the girl’s safe return, I needed to put it out of my mind.
As the few lunchtime diners finished up, I told Miranda, “I have to go.”
“Hey,” she said as I grabbed my bag from beneath the counter.
I turned back around.
“I don’t know what’s going on with you, but it’ll get better, Mads.”
“Thanks.”
I drove to the valley and swapped my car for a reliable mini-SUV with four-wheel drive and minuscule monthly payments, and then headed to the RV shop when the weather forecast alerted me to the fact that a cold storm was coming to the Sierras. The man at the RV shop had smiled brightly when I told him I needed materials and advice on winterizing the trailer. I think he saw dollar signs when he figured out that I didn’t have the first clue what I was doing.
I walked out with a huge winterization kit and a few suggestions on how to install it all. And as I drove up the hill again in the gathering darkness, watching the temperature drop on my dashboard thermometer as fat raindrops began pelting the windshield, I realized that it was probably too late. At least for this storm.
By the time I reached my lot, the rain was sheeting down and the temperature had dropped another fifteen degrees. I hauled the huge plastic-wrapped package out of the trunk, thinking I’d somehow get it started tonight, but as soon as I got near the door I realized that there was no way I was willing to figure it all out in the pouring rain. I dropped the kit next to the picnic table and dashed in, wringing water
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