Coming Home to the Mountain: Complete Edition

8. Abby

CHAPTER 8

Abby

L eaving the hardware store, it's hard to not let my insecurities flare up. I know Rye doesn't like me. I heard as much last night when I was at his parents' house. I'm not sure what he was telling Bartlett just now, but it wasn't good. The moment I walked into the hardware store, he walked out.

Right next door to Hammer Home is the Mystic Shop and I pause, looking in the store windows. The display is beautiful. It's full of crystals and tarot card decks. There are luscious ferns and beautiful velvet curtains.

"What do you think, Hijinx?" I ask, tugging on my dog's leash. Though he can't see anything, I wonder if he can sense the aura changing here, the energy. It's sure a lot better than the energy Rye left behind when he saw me and stormed out.

I twist my lips, wondering if I should go into the crystal shop and see if there's a palm reader in there. When I was with my parents in the circus, there were a few fortune tellers over the years. One of them in particular, Lucinda, would always take my palm in hers and trace the lines down the center of it, telling me I would live a long and happy life. I think she told most people that, because no one wanted to hear a tragic story when they were out for a little bit of fun.

I always wondered what she would tell me if she were really going to give it to me straight. If she'd tell me my life was always going to be hard. Because it's felt like that. It's felt like it's always been a struggle. My parents have always looked at me like I am their golden ticket. The final act in their show. Never like I am their daughter, someone they care about.

I keep walking down the street. I cross Warm Way and I see the edge of the Rough River. Sitting on a park bench, I cross my legs and take in the view. I can see my breath. It’s so cold out, but I have gloves on and I pull Hijinx up on the bench next to me. He rests his head in my lap and I pet him, taking a deep breath in, letting it out slow.

He has always been my center. For years. Last night at Red and Annie's house, it was hard to imagine what it would be like to really be in a family like that. Growing up around a table where there was always another seat pulled out, welcoming a stranger in.

My parents were always so secretive. So on edge. It was always about keeping people away. Shielding the dark corners of our circus tent. My dad's drinking. My mom's affairs. Me, cast aside.

I'm lost in these thoughts when Bartlett sits down next to me, two paper cups in hand.

"I thought you might like some coffee to warm you up."

I smile, taking the paper cup from his hand. "Thanks," I say.

"I wasn't sure what you liked. I know it's not Christmas anymore, but I was hoping you might like a peppermint mocha."

I smile. "Who doesn't like a peppermint mocha?"

He grins and takes a drink of his.

"Thank you," I say.

"Of course," he says. He leans back on the bench, his arm wrapping around my shoulders like we've done this dozens, hundreds of times, not like this is the first. The first time we've sat on a bench looking out at the river together.

"So you were thinking something pretty heavy. I could tell," he says, and his voice is deep and clear. Just like that river. And I wonder how a man like him, whom I've just met, can see straight through me so damn well.

"How could you tell?" I ask.

He gives me a half smile that rends my heart in two. "You looked sad out here. I was wondering if maybe you heard more of what Rye was saying than I thought."

"I know your brother doesn't like me," I say, twisting my lips.

"I'm sorry. Rye doesn't really like anybody."

I nod. "I gathered that. He's a little bit of a grump, huh?"

"He's been alone too long."

"He's never been in love?"

"Not once."

"Not even with Plum?" I say. "Surely that girl could even melt the burliest mountain man's heart."

Bartlett laughs. "She was my first love, that's for sure."

"Your first?" I ask. We haven't gone deep enough to touch on his past relationships. "And your second?"

Bartlett's eyes reach mine. He swallows. "I feel like I'm falling for you," he says, "in the space of a day. Rye would probably call me crazy, but I think there are crazier things than knowing what you want and giving someone a chance."

My heart pounds at his vulnerability. "I don't deserve that," I say.

"Deserve what?" he counters.

"The truth."

"Everyone deserves the truth."

I bite my bottom lip. "Do you want to talk about why Rye was so mad?"

"Not really," Bartlett says, "but I will." He runs a hand over his jaw, takes another drink of his peppermint mocha. "He says you weren't on the train manifesto." Bartlett shakes his head. "He has a buddy who works at the train station. He was able to get the records, I guess, of everyone who came through on the trains the last few days and there was no Abby. I told him that maybe you had hopped the train, you know? That Jack Kerouac shit we talked about. Maybe you didn't have a ticket. Maybe–"

I take his hand. "That's not why I wasn't on the manifesto," I say, shaking my head, exhaling. "My name isn't Abby."

"It's not?" he says, looking at me like I'm a stranger.

"No, it's not. It's–" I groan, dropping my head back. "My name is a lot worse than Abby. It's Abracadabra."

"What?" Bartlett looks at me like I'm literally crazy.

"Don't laugh," I say. "I mean I–"

"Did you say your name's Abracadabra ?"

"Hey, your mom named you after food. I don't think you get to judge me." I groan again. "Oh my God. This is mortifying, but my family... We're in the circus. We are the circus. That's why I've been here before. Remember, you told me the story about when you were a little kid, how you remember the year the circus came to town. Well, that was my family. We're a traveling circus show. And my parents thought they were so clever when they named me, their only child, Abracadabra. I've only ever gone by Abby. But my license," I pull it out of my coat pocket, showing him my ID, "look, Abracadabra. Officially, yep, that's me." I hold the picture next to my face, grinning like a dork.

Bartlett cracks up. Like actually cracks up. Knee slapping, belly laughing. "Oh my God," he said. "I never could have imagined that." He pulls out his phone and begins scrolling through texts. "You are Abracadabra," he says. "Fucking Rye. That guy thinks he's such a fucking know-it-all. I told him I didn't care what the manifesto said or what he thought."

"Really?" I say. "You told him you didn't care what he discovered? This horrifying truth about me, the liar." I blink at the realization that Bartlett stood up for me. He believed in me.

"Yeah," he says, taking my hand. "I feel something here. Real. Something really real with you, Abby– I mean, Abracadabra."

"I always hated my name," I say, pressing a finger to his lip. "But somehow when you say it, it doesn’t sound so bad. But still, it’s not something I go spreading around."

"I think it’s cute,” he says, giving me a kiss. Then he grins again. “It was on the papers," he says, "and your driver's license. I don't think it's quite as secret as you think."

"I never tell anyone my real name," I admit. "But now you know."

"Yes," he says. He shows me the phone. "Look," he tells me, "your name is right here. You came in on the train yesterday at 2:30."

"Yes, I did," I say. "Ever since I was here when I was a little girl, I’ve wanted to come back. I was only here for a few nights with my family doing that show, but I thought this town was magic. And now I feel like it's magic in a whole new way."

"Why is that?" Bartlett asks, cupping my cheek, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear and looking at me like I am precious.

"After meeting your family and seeing how much they care about you, how much they want you to be happy – even Rye, his intentions were good – it just reminds me that my family, they don't care about my happiness at all." I tell him about my parents. How I'd asked to leave the traveling show for years and they wouldn't let me. "I had to save up money behind their backs so I could go. They want me to marry this guy, Ricky. He was one of the performers in the show. They love him. And for all the wrong reasons. Mostly because he's my dad's drinking buddy. And I knew if I stayed any longer, I'd end up with him. And I couldn't let that happen."

"That's why you ran."

"Yeah. That's why I ran. They've been calling me," I say. "I got these voice messages this morning, after I got my phone charged, and," tears fill my eyes, "I hate it, Bartlett. It's hard to not be bitter, you know? I just want to be happy. That's why I came here. Because I'm just aching for a fresh start. I thought maybe if I came Home, maybe I'd get one. But I'm scared that they're going to find me and take that happiness away."

Bartlett wraps me in his arms, holding me tight. "As long as I’ve got you, no one is going to take you anywhere."