Chapter 1: The winds of change can lead you home, right?

            Something needs to change.  Something needs to be different.  I need a new job.  I need to move to a new city.  I need to buy a new wardrobe.

            She sat cross-legged on her old blue couch, drumming her fingers mindlessly on the faded arm.  She was feeling so incredibly flustered and she couldn’t put her finger on exactly why.  It was almost like an itch at the back of her mind that was sending her warning signals for no apparent reason.

            It was well past eleven o’clock by now.  She really should be in bed… she had an early start in the morning… and yet here she sat drumming her fingers in the silence of her apartment and feeling like she needed to DO something.

            That TV is all wrong.  It really should be moved.  But where?  I could slide it into the corner, and move the love seat up against the wall, but if I do that I would have to move all the pictures because they would be un-centered.  She liked the collage she had hanging.  It was one of the few things she liked about the room now days.  There was a time when she loved this room… back when it was freshly arranged.  Now, it was stagnant.  She couldn’t afford a new wardrobe, she wasn’t dating anyone, obviously, she couldn’t change her job, so the only thing left within her control was the furniture in her living room.  Hopefully, her neighbors downstairs wouldn’t mind.

            After mentally visualizing where all the furniture would move to, and moving it back a hundred times, in a hundred different ways, she finally settled on an arrangement that would freshen the room and give her creative itch some relief.

            She started by carefully dragging the TV stand to its new location, wiggled the couch by lifting one end and inching it a foot, and then lifting the other end and inching it in the new direction, effectively “walking” it to its new spot.  Once the furniture had been rearranged she pulled the pictures off the walls, carefully laying them on the floor in the exact same way they had been hanging so she wouldn’t forget how the clusters had been arranged, and moved them to their new spots.  Her favorite collage that had been centered between the TV and the door would be moved a foot to the right.  She was so proud of the way she had found all the mismatched frames, some ornate and some oddly decorated, repainted them all to a single teal color, and hung them in a pleasing pattern.  Little projects like that made her tiny apartment feel so much more homey, it required very little money, and pleased her creative-self.

            Once she was finished with her project, she flopped down on the faded blue couch in its new location, and breathed in a very satisfied breath.  This is better.  She instinctively glanced at the old wooden clock her father had given her ages ago, but of course it wasn’t there anymore.  She had decided to move it and now that spot was blank.  I might have to rethink that.  I’m going to feel so lost.  She remembered laying it next to the loveseat where it was going to eventually hang between the window and the closet.  When she stood up from the couch to glance at the clock’s new resting place leaned up against the wall, she realized it was after one in the morning.  Ugh.  I have to be up in five hours.  She suddenly felt the heavy exhaustion come crashing in on her like a rogue ocean wave.

            She flipped off the lights and staggered into her small bathroom tucked away directly behind the kitchen.  It was too late to bother with taking off her makeup.  She would rather skip her nightly routine in order to have thirty extra minutes to sleep.  She popped out her contacts and zombiely staggered from the bathroom the four feet toward her bedroom door.  She took a moment to pause at the doorway and glanced into the small living room blanketed in darkness and only silhouetted through the closed blinds by the streetlight illuminating the parking lot.  She smiled to herself as she took in a relaxing breath.  The creative tickle had been soothed- for the moment- and she could rest peacefully tonight.

At six AM sharp her alarm cheerfully began singing to her, “Good morning!  Good morning!  Good morning!  It’s time to rise and shine!  Good morning!  Good morning!  Good morning!  I hope you’re feeling fine!  The sun is just above the hill!  Another day for us to fill!  With all the things we love to do!  I’ll plant you here!  It’s calling you, doodle-de-do, doodle-de-do, doodle-de-do!”  In the middle of the second round of good mornings she hit the snooze button and let her face fall back onto the pillow with a grunt.

            A moment of silence.

            She loved her alarm.  She had shopped a long time before finding something that didn’t shock her awake and nearly make her have a heart attack day after day, but some mornings even her cheery alarm was too much for her.  It’s just so freakishly happy.

            After rubbing the sleep from her eyes she turned off the alarm before the snooze period ended and the darn thing started singing to her again.  Oh, I stayed up waaaay to late.  It took a moment before she was able to roll herself out of her wonderfully warm, heavenly plush, and incredibly seductive bed.  It was one of those little miracles that drives a person crazy.  She could find a million things wrong with the mattress, the pillow top, her pillow, the sheets, of the comforter when she was trying to fall asleep, and yet every morning it transformed into the most wonderful cloud she had ever been enveloped in.  She patted the sheets as she threw her feet over onto the floor.

            “Until we meet again,” she said out loud.  Is it weird that I talk to my furniture?  She didn’t think so, but then again there was no one around to be weirded out by it.  Personally, she thought it was cute, but what did she know?  As long as the furniture didn’t start talking back she saw no harm in it.

            Back when she had a roommate she would talk to her.  They would continually throw random observations out and the other would laugh or make a snide comment.  It was like having your own personal sounding board.  They had roomed together in college, and when they both ended up with internships in the same city they had gotten an apartment together, but those days had ended a while ago.  They had grown up.  Her former roommate had found Mister Right, gotten married, and now had an actual house outside of town.  And, where was she?  Still in the same place she had always been.  Not much had changed.  When her roommate had moved out she had downsized to a one bedroom apartment, but aside from that everything was exactly the same.

            After a quick shower, she put on her makeup, dried her long brunette hair, and dressed.  By now she was feeling more awake and alert even though it was only a little before seven.

            She was very pleased with her newly arranged furniture in the living room.  It still gave her that “fresh” feeling even in the light of day despite the walls being blank.  That little project would have to wait until later.

            She picked up the duffle bag she had packed the night before- long before rearranging her living room and just before she THOUGHT she would go to bed- and bounced down the steps outside her apartment to her car and drove the two hours to her parents’ house.

            It always gave her a very pleasing feeling in the pit of her stomach when she drove past the ‘Welcome to Belgrove’ sign in her sleepy little town.  It was a quaint place known for its selection of Antique stores, craft fairs, real country music, and rural landscape.  There was absolutely nothing around.  Being nestled a half hour’s drive off the interstate in the foothills of the Smokey Mountains, it wasn’t generally a place you simply happened to pass through.  It was a place you had to intend on finding, and people did… they came from all over the country to experience the simple living that was Belgrove.  The tourists came in their fancy cars or on giant buses.  They made reservations at the Shady Hill bed and breakfast, or if they couldn’t afford that (or simply hadn’t planned far enough ahead) they rented a room at the Hampton Inn that was within walking distance of everything in town, but that wasn’t saying much.  EVERYTHING was technically within walking distance in Belgrove.

            Tourists walked the strip wandering from store to store.  During the summers people enjoyed live music at the festivals virtually every weekend, they bought ice cream at the Sun Café, and they went horseback riding at Blue Sky Farm.  During the winter the town was decorated with millions of lights.  There were parades, caroling, a life size village children could walk through that was built exactly like Santa’s at the North Pole (or someone’s idea of what it might actually look like if it actually existed) more craft and music festivals… it was a regular old wonderland.  It was so perfect that she couldn’t wait to get out of there.

            She made sure her college was in a big city where she would meet normal human beings and not the happy-go-lucky tourists on vacation who were always so insanely happy about visiting her little town.  During her college career she had visited home only when it was absolutely necessary- birthdays, holidays, and such.  Belgrove was too quiet, too small, too… PERFECT.  It wasn’t until after she had been hired on at a design firm in Knoxville, after her roommate got married and moved out, that she began missing her little town.  The people in the town were real.  Perhaps a little simple at times, but there were very few fake personalities.  Everyone had known everyone their entire lives, so pretending to be someone you’re not was pointless.  The residents of Belgrove were genuinely happy to live there and it showed on their faces.  They were content being shop owners, festival organizers, street cleaners, or bed and breakfast managers.  It was a quiet contentment that she hadn’t understood until she had been away from it for a while.

            There was nothing she regretted about the life she had chosen, her career, or her cozy little apartment.  However, driving past that ‘Welcome’ sign, rolling down her windows to allow the sweet-smelling air into her car, and waving to the familiar faces made her miss her perfect childhood.  She longed for it again.

            She avoided Main Street because it was always congested with cars that had license plates from all over the country.  Instead, she followed the side streets that wound through neighborhoods of pleasant little houses that all had high pitched roofs, front porches, and fireplaces.  Most had fencing around the front yards and lovely landscaping.  Some had vines draping off iron rod fencing while others boasted an abundance of sweet smelling rose bushes.  The trees were mature, the sidewalks were lightly cracked, and the entire place felt like stepping back in time.  If it wasn’t for the Chevys and Toyotas parked in some of the driveways, a person could easily be confused about which decade they were in.

            She turned down a small side street that guided her back toward the main strip and parked behind a row of two story brick buildings that had been renovated not too long ago in an effort the town made to keep up the integrity of the original structures.

            It was nine in the morning when she walked around the building to Main Street and pushed opened the tan door with wavy glass for the windows and was greeted by the familiar clanging of the brass bell above her head.  The heavy smell of wax swirled in her nostrils and almost made her head dizzy with nostalgia.  The shop was still cozy.  Every wall was lined floor to ceiling with shelves that proudly displayed hand carved, decorative candles.  She loved how the wooden floor creaked below her feet as she took the first few steps in.  The front of the store was nothing but glass windows lined with glass shelves filled with candles of all different sizes and all different colors, but all crafted by hand with love.

            “Good morning, sugar!  You’re here earlier than I expected!” her father said with a brilliant smile.  He stepped out of the back room and wrapped her in a bear hug.  When he kissed her firmly on the cheek his blonde mustache scratched against her skin.

            “Did you have any traffic troubles on your way down?” he asked as he released her from the hug.

            “Not a one,” she replied as she glanced around the store.  “I like this new collection,” she said pointing up at the group of white candles on the shelf behind the counter.  The elegant swirls and cuts in the wax had revealed soft pastel blues and yellows.  There were at least fifty candles of varying sizes all with the same matching color pattern.

            “A customer from Texas ordered those last week for her daughter’s wedding.  I was just about to start boxing them up so I can ship out today, hopefully.”  He returned to the back room and came back with a flattened box, packing tape, cardboard dividers, and a stack of waxy craft paper.  “Mother is at the house getting ready,” he stated as he went to work delicately wrapping each candle.

            “I figured.  I just wanted to come by and say ‘hi’ before I headed that way.”

            “I’ll take a ‘hi’ anytime I can.”  He came back around the counter and wrapped her in another hug.  He quickly kissed the top of the head.

            “Okay, I’m headed that way.”

            “Oh, stop by Ms. Mildred’s will you?  She said she had something for Callie.  Mother didn’t have time to pick it up yesterday and I really can’t either since I need to get these to the post office.  Would you mind?”

            “Nope, not a bit.”

            “Thank you, sugar.”

            She gave her father a smile and pulled open the wooden door once again as the brass bell clanged above her head.  She smiled at the couple just outside the door and excused herself as she stepped aside to allow them to enter her father’s store.

            “Good morning, folks!” she heard him greet the customers before the wooden door closed between them.

            It was a quick walk one block down to Ms. Mildred’s gift shop, Something Different.  Anyone looking for a unique or unusual item typically found what they wanted in Ms. Mildred’s store.  She was an odd little woman who loathed technology and insisted on running her business solely with a hand-crank cash register and good old fashioned book keeping.  She ran her store with an iron fist.  When customers picked items up and put them back on a shelf other than the one it had originally been on, Ms. Mildred was always there to discreetly put the item back where it belonged, which was strange seeing as how the store seemed cluttered to the naked eye.  There didn’t seem to be much rhyme or reason to it, but there was logic to Ms. Mildred.

            The door closed behind her with a bang as she stepped into the store’s interior.  Glass wind chimes jingled with the vibrations.  There were tiled tables crowding her as she stepped in.  She spotted Ms. Mildred up on a ladder hanging expensive mobiles made with crystal white beads on the right-hand side of the store.

            “Evelyn Remington!” Ms. Mildred exclaimed from her high perch.  “Good Lord, it’s been ages since I last saw you.  Let me get down from here and I’ll give you a proper greeting.”

            Evie cringed as the elderly woman shakily descended the ladder.  She hurried to Mildred’s side and held out her hand in case she fell… not that the hand was going to prevent her from getting hurt during a fall, or that she even knew what to do to help her other than calling an ambulance, but the gesture made her feel better.

            “Should you really be up there by yourself?” she asked.

            Mildred was now only two rungs above ground level now which made her a little more than eye level with Evie.

            “I’m old, not dead,” she snapped.

            Mildred was a petite little woman with white hair, beady blue eyes, and skin that seemed to hang from her bones.  When she walked, her back was slightly hunched, but she was a speedy little thing.  Keeping up with her pace could sometimes be challenging.  Once she was safely on the ground, she took Evie’s left hand in both of hers and patted it with her wrinkly one, “Let me take a look at you.  It’s so good to see you.  Your mother talks about you all the time and about your life in the fancy big city.  How have you been?”

            “I’ve been doing good.  Just working and keeping busy,” she said.

            “Have you found yourself a nice boy yet?”

            Oh, Ms. Mildred.  Always straight to the point.

            “Not yet, but I’m still looking,” she managed through a forced smile.

            “Well, he’s out there.  One day you’ll look up, and there he’ll be!  You’re going to wonder why you didn’t see him earlier.”  She was still rhythmically patting Evie’s hand with every other word, I guess to emphasize the point.  I wish you would let go of my hand now, she thought to herself.  She hated to wriggle it away from the old woman, but this was starting to become awkward.

            “Dad said you had something for Callie.”  She was desperately hoping to change the subject.

            “I do.”  She released Evie’s hand and sped off toward the checkout counter in her spindly, hurried steps.  Her back was perhaps a hair more hunched than the last time she had seen Ms. Mildred.  The woman grabbed a box wrapped in purple and gold paper with a crimson red bow tied around it.  So Mildred.  She handed it to Evie with a gnarled hand.

            “I hate that I won’t be able to make it tonight, but my evening help needed off and I can’t justify closing the store early.”

            “We understand, Ms. Mildred.”

            She made small-talk for a few more minutes, thanked Ms. Mildred for the gift on behalf of Callie, and pulled open the door which seemed unusually heavy.  She remembered the loud bang it made when it slammed shut when she had come in.

            “I think your door needs some work,” she said as she heaved it open.

            Mildred threw both her gnarled hands in the air and rolled her beady little eyes.  “I had that Nole boy look at the spring on it ‘cause it had gotten to where it wouldn’t close properly, and he replaced the whole darn thing with this shiny new one that’s done up too tight.  I don’t know why he couldn’t just fix up the old one instead of wasting money on a new contraption that’s worthless.”

            Evie was beginning to regret mentioning it.  “Well, as long as you’re aware of it.  Bye, Ms. Mildred!”

            She was just skirting out the door with the purple package and crimson ribbon in her arms when Mildred said, “Give my best to your mother and Callie.”

            Evie let the door rest uncomfortably against her foot as she turned and told Ms. Mildred that she would.

            “I really hate to miss it.  I think Bessie and Cora are going to be able to be there.  I ran into Cora at the grocery store the other day and we were talking about it.  Have you been by to see her?”

            Evie goaned inwardly but continued forcing the smile, “I’ll be sure to look for them.  I haven’t seen Ms. Cora, but it sounds like I will tonight.”  This might be a long and challenging exit.

            “Tell Callie I’ll see her tomorrow.”

            Evie continually let the door close a little more, “I will.”  Eventually, it would shut completely and Ms. Mildred wouldn’t be able to give her any more well wishes.  She smiled to Ms. Mildred and Mildred gave her a quick wave before Evie completely removed her foot and let the door slam shut—BANG!  Evie jumped lightly at the sound.  She really needs to get that fixed.

            Evie pulled into the driveway of her parents’ house and parked behind her sister’s car.  There was a good chance she wouldn’t be going anywhere for a while, but if she needed to for some reason Evie could always move it later.

            She grabbed her duffle bag out of the backseat and pulled Ms. Mildred’s purple and gold package with the red ribbon out as well.

            She loved her childhood home nestled on the outskirts of town and on the side of one of the Smokey Mountain’s rolling hills.  This was where she had grown up.  The house was white sided with grey stone accents.  There were mature bushes and trees scattered around the small front lawn and a cobblestone walkway leading from the driveway to the front door.  She had considered going in through the garage, but the front door was open she could see, so she chose that route instead.  When she was a child she had always pretended she lived in the cottage from “Goldilocks and the Three Bears,” and in a way she sort of did.  The house wasn’t too big, or too small, it was just right.

            She pulled open the storm door and let herself into inviting entryway.  The door on the left lead into her parents’ bedroom, the living room was on the right, and an L shaped staircase directly in front of her lead up to her sister, Callie’s, bedroom and her old room that had been converted into a guest bedroom done in tans and teals.

            “Hello,” she called out as she let the storm door gently close behind her.

            She heard her mother coming long before she saw her rounding the edge of the doorway under the stairs leading to the kitchen.  Her mother was wearing heels and created a distinct “click click” as she walked across the hard wood floors.

            “Oh, Evie!  Callie!  Your sister’s here!” she called as she classily walked toward her daughter with open arms and a giant smile.  She wrapped Evie in a huge hug.  Callie was right behind her, standing awkwardly with her toes splayed apart and rocked back on her heels, and when Evie’s mother let go, she followed in her mother’s footsteps.

            “How was the drive?” her mother asked.

            “It was fine.  No traffic what so ever.”

            “That’s good to hear.  Did you stop by to see your father?”

            “I did.  Oh, here,” she held the purple and gold package with the red bow out toward Callie.  “Ms. Mildred sent this for you.  She said she is very sorry she won’t be able to attend the shower tonight.”

            Callie smiled as she accepted the gift.  Looking at Callie was like looking in a mirror.  The sisters had been born five years apart but had looked almost identical.  Sometimes, guests would look at their childhood pictures on the wall and say, ‘How old was Evelyn in this picture?’ or ‘My, Callie was so adorable,’ only to have Mother smile politely and say, ‘That’s actually Callie, and she was six,’ or ‘Yes, Evie really was adorable,’ and they were always followed up with a brief moment of reminiscing on how wonderful both her girls were and still are.

            Callie clutched the oddly wrapped package and smiled widely, “That’s so sweet of her!  I wonder what it is?  Did she tell you?”

            “She did not.”

            Mrs. Remington was standing, looking perfectly beautiful as she always did, watching her daughters interact.  “I’ll put that with the others,” she said as she held out her hands for the package from Ms. Mildred.  “Evie, have you had breakfast?”

            “Not exactly.”

            “What can I make you?” she asked as she headed back through the doorway into the kitchen.  She made a turn to the right and set the package on the dining room table along with all the others, and walked back into the kitchen, “clicking” the whole way.

            Evie dropped her duffle bag at the bottom of the steps and followed her mother and sister into the kitchen.

            “I’m not really that hungry.  I can wait.”

            “Are you sure?  We will be heading to the church before long and I can’t say when we will finish decorating.”

            Callie had waddled back to her spot at the kitchen table in the breakfast nook area and was reopening a bottle of champagne colored nail polish to continue painting her toes.  She was wearing the familiar white “fluffy robe” as Callie called it, even though her hair was done and her makeup was on.

            “I’m sure,” Evie said as she pulled out a chair across the table from her sister.

            “How about some tea?”

            “Tea would be fine.”  She watched Callie delicately and expertly slide the paint on.  “I still can’t believe you’re getting married!”

            Callie looked up from her work with another huge smile, “I know!  Me neither!  Oh my gosh, it felt like it would never come, and now it’s here!”

            The two sisters giggled together and talked until Mrs. Remington set a piping hot cup of tea on the table in front of Evie.  Her mother knew exactly how she took her tea.  Four cubes of sugar and a dash of milk.

            “Still having a little tea with your sugar, I see?” Callie teased.

            “Hey, back off missy.  Not all of us can be as sweet as you are and we need a little more help.”

            “We need to leave in about twenty minutes.  Can you both be ready?”

            “I’m ready now,” Callie said as she blew as best she could on her toes to help them dry faster.

            “No you’re not,” Evie added.  “You’re still in your robe.”

            “All I have to do is change into my dress.  Easy peasie.  It’ll take two seconds.”  She shrugged off her sister’s remark.  “What about you?  Are you going like that?”

            Evie glanced down at her denim skirt and white top.  “What’s wrong with what I have on?”

            Callie looked from Evie’s outfit, to Evie’s face, and then to her mother.

            Mrs. Remington jumped in, “I think Callie’s just asking if you would mind changing into something a little more dressy for the rehearsal.”

            “Oh of course, but that’s not until this afternoon.  I’ve got plenty of time to change.”

            Her mother smiled, “Thank you, Evie,” as she “clicked” out of the kitchen and into the master bedroom where her steps were muffled by the plush carpet.

            Evie sipped on the hot tea and savored these very last moments of being in her old house when things were just like they had always been.  Perhaps, this was why she had been so incredibly on edge last night.  Her life was still the same while her little sister was starting a new chapter in hers.  Shouldn’t it have been me?  Of course it should have been her.  It almost WAS her two years ago, but that chapter had closed in her life and now it was Callie’s turn.  She tried to block Josh and all his memories out.  It still cut her to the core.  She couldn’t let herself feel this way.  Today was about Callie and Nathan… not what used to be her and Josh.

            “Where’s Nathan today?” she found herself saying as she took another sip of tea and tried to shake away the bad feelings that were slipping in.

            “He’s supposed to be getting tables set up for the reception.  I’ll see him when we get to the church to decorate.”

            “Are you guys going to see each other before the wedding tomorrow?”

            “No!  Of course not!  It’s bad luck,” she smiled.  “I want him to be blown away when he sees me for the first time in my dress with everything perfect.”

            Evie smiled across the table at her beautiful sister.  “I know he will be.”

            Callie pushed the nail polish bottle aside and stared at her sister with pity in her eyes.  “How hard is this for you?  You know, since Josh…”

            Why on earth would you bring that up!?  Not that I wasn’t thinking it already, but WHY!?

            Evie took a couple more sips of her tea in the suddenly uncomfortable silence.  She swallowed against the lump growing in her throat and forced a smile.  “It’s in the past and I’m ready to celebrate your new future.”

            They could hear their mother coming as she crossed the wooden entry and clicked her way into the kitchen.  “Would you girls mind helping me get these decorations into the car?”  She started to turn away before realizing Evie was still sipping on her tea.  “Oh, I’m sorry.  Evie, stay.  Callie, do you mind?”

            “I’m good,” Evie yelled as she sucked down what was left in her cup.  “I’m coming.”