I was nervous as I approached the house. It had been a long time since I'd been here. A lifetime, in fact. I'd been intentionally avoiding coming by since I'd moved in last week.
“June.” Mr. Austin set down his watering pitcher and put a hand up over his eyes to shield them from the sunlight. Walking down the front steps, he greeted me in the dirt driveway. “Welcome back. So you’re my new neighbor now.”
He brushed his hands on his jeans before awkwardly reaching out to shake my hand, then pulled me toward him in a hug.
“Hi, Mr. Austin.”
“Oh, stop with the 'Mister' bit,” he said. “You’ll make me feel old. It’s Stan.”
“Stan.” It sounded funny to say it. He'd always been Mr. Austin to me.
“Come on up, we’ll have a glass of - lemonade? Coffee?" He paused for a beat. "Beer? It’s probably too early for beer, huh?”
I laughed. “Coffee would be great.”
“Here, we’ll stay out on the porch. It’s a nice day for some porch-sitting. I’ll bring out the coffee.” He gestured to the rocking chairs on the deck, and I sat, the rhythm of the rocking peaceful, hypnotic even. Bailey meandered across the lawn, finding her way over to the porch and making herself comfortable in a patch of sunlight.
Closing my eyes, I reveled in the silence of this place. No honking horns, no hum of cars passing incessantly. Just birds chirping, the hush of the wind rustling the leaves in the trees, and the tinkle of the wind chimes on the porch. It was idyllic. I wanted to believe that this place could be my refuge again, like it was when I was growing up. It was a silly idea, the realist in me knew that. But I wanted to hang on to that fantasy as long as I could.
“Here you go, dear.” Stan handed me a cup. “I’m afraid it’s not the best. Molly used to say it was more like jet fuel than coffee, but I’m old, so there’s no use changing it now.”
“No, I’m sure it’s fine,” I said, taking a sip, then choking. “Oh. You’re right. That is awful.”
Stan laughed, the sound deep from his belly, and I couldn’t help but join him. “Can’t say I didn’t warn you. Although, if you were in the Navy, your tolerance for piss-poor coffee should be better than that.”
I took another sip. Nope, still bad. “It is. And that should tell you exactly how bad this coffee is.”
He bellowed. “I reckon that’s about right. Well, goes to show you how much company I’ve had lately, since Mrs. Crawford passed on.”
“I heard about Mrs. Austin passing too, Stan,” I said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
He nodded. “Cancer,” he said. “No, I didn’t figure you would know, not after everything that had happened. Figured you would want to be as far away from this place as possible.”
“I did, for a while.”
“I heard about you joining the Navy. Cade kept track of you for a while there.”
“He never got in touch.”
Stan shook his head. “No, I don’t think he would. He couldn’t forgive himself for what happened.”
“It wasn’t his fault,” I said, surprised.
Why would he think it was?
“No,” he said. “But that wouldn’t stop Cade from accepting responsibility for it.”
“You know I never blamed him," I said. "Or you. Right?"
Stan was silent, sipping on his coffee. “It’s good of you to say that, June. Your sister, she was a good girl. You know we loved you both.”
I tried to swallow the lump forming in my throat. “She was. But she was also headstrong, reckless."
“If I'd have been looking out more, if I’d have made sure I knew what was going on -”
I held up my hand. “My sister was eighteen and wild. You had no way of knowing what would happen."
Stan shook his head. “It was an awful thing, June."
“Yes, it was.” I was beginning to feel uncomfortably warm. I didn't want to continue talking about this.
“After your sister ki - died,” he said. He started to say killed herself. No one ever used the actual word. They always said my sister died, like it was from natural causes. Or they lumped her death in with my parents, with their accident. The accident that my sister caused.
“We wanted to take you in, you know that,” he said.
“It was better for me, going to live with Margaret.” It was easier to forget, to be taken in by my aunt, to leave the past behind. I didn't want to be surrounded by memories.
“I just wanted you to know.” He cleared his throat. “So you’re back now, taking Mrs. Crawford’s old place?”
“Yep,” I said. “Going to open a bed and breakfast.”
“Now what’s a Navy doctor doing, coming back to West Bend, opening a bed and breakfast?”
What was I doing? That was a good question. “I needed some time off, I guess, after the deployments and things.”
Stan was quiet, studying his mug like it was filled with something interesting. “I thought the same thing would happen with Cade. Thought he would eventually find his way back home.”