01
THE CRISP AUTUMN AIR kissed, and pinched at her plump freckled cheeks as the blonde leaned her head back, basking in the warmth of the imminent sun. She hummed softly, her eyes fluttering open as a small smile began to grace her face. She would miss this; the feeling of the sun as its warmth engulfed her body. Eloise would miss the sound of the rushing waves crashing against the shoreline—mixing, and finding peace against the sand that awaited the ocean’s embrace. She would miss the sound of the wind whistling and whispering as it coated the autumn leaves that fell gracefully to the dew-covered ground. Wiping the sweat that had begun to accumulate above her brow, Eloise rose slowly from the mixture of sand and dirt below and wiped her palms against the blue jean shorts that covered her pale legs. Sighing deeply, the brunette started down the dirt path that led away from the secluded beach. Her grandparents home sat a little way down the road, in the shade, hidden by a crowd of trees and shrubs. As she continued to walk, Eloise concluded that she would miss her grandparents the most, probably much more than her mother.
“The food is getting cold,” Her grandmother’s voice rang out over the whistling wind. “come on in, now.” the small woman beckoned, “It’s getting cold.”
The blonde met the withered, and worn eyes of the older woman who leaned against the doorframe of the paint-chipped house where she had spent most of her childhood in. Nodding, Eloise made her way up the creaking steps of the home, placing a gentle kiss on her grandmother’s cheek. “Sorry Nana,” she spoke sheepishly. “the ocean was very distracting.”
“None more distracting than an empty stomach.” the elder woman responded, “Go on ahead. Get inside before the wind picks up.” Margot shooed her.
Eloise huffed, as she made her way into the quaint home. The familiar smell of tobacco, and Grandma Margot’s famous chili filled her nostrils as the blonde crossed the threshold. She shook her head at the elder man who sat at the head of the table, a cigarette in one hand, and the television remote in the other. Her grandfather had been smoking for as long as the young woman could remember—the persistent tap and the fall of the ashes etched into the forefront of her brain. Oddly, the smell had become a comfort.
A tinge of sadness slithered its way into her body, clenching at her heart. She would miss this. The autumn air, the smell of tobacco, and the ever-persistent hint of Pine-Sol that lingered from the floorboards—Eloise would miss the never-ending cold and rain that never seemed to relent. Oh, she would miss the rain. The smell, the candescent patterns that it left on the window. Washington was home. It was peace, it was serenity bottled up.
When the blonde had agreed to make the move to Montana, the young woman had done it out of mere emotional need, as well as a hell of a lot of persuasions from her Grandmother. Sailor Ridge was a small town in Montana population, well, simply too low. It was the kind of town so easily driven in and out of. Eloise had spent most summers there with her cousins for years growing up but, after her father’s death, she simply couldn’t find it in her to return.
It was hard—the memories; even the familiar smells laid weight on her soul. It was all too much in the end. Montana had been a home away from home for the blonde; a haven from the storm that was ultimately her estranged mother. Stephanie Harper was a thunderstorm. Contained, and then unhinged, all whilst waiting to consume everything in her wake. Eloise loved her mother in a different sense. It was the kind of love that was intricately thought out and applied at certain moments throughout the day.
“Them thoughts of yours are gonna leave you restless,” the raspy voice of her grandfather fluttered past her ears, shaking the green-eyed woman from her stupor. “Y’know you’ve always got a place here,” he said. “This is always going to be home.”
His emerald eyes were worn thin. Crinkles kissed the corners of his eyes—his face tired, and his beard as white as snow. He was the sun bottled up and contained into that of a human. Johnathan Harper was eccentric and electric. The sound of his voice bounced across the walls and resonated in the very crevasses of the heart. Eloise figured she would miss him the most. She would miss his warm smile, his tobacco-stained clothing, and his full belly laugh.
The blonde smiled softly, nodding before tucking a loose thread of hair behind her ear. “Those are going to kill you one day,” Eloise pointed to the packet of cigarettes on the table. ”well, that is, if Nana doesn’t get to you first,” the joke felt like a goodbye when she spoke it. “which is very likely.” the blonde ended.
Johnathan pursed his lips at her words, rolling his eyes as he sat up in his seat. “C’mere,” he gestured to the seat beside him, “let me look at those green eyes of yours one more time before you leave me.”
Eloise felt her disposition crumble, the soft ache in her chest returning at the man’s words, “M’not leaving until tomorrow—and it’s not forever either Papa. It’s just a small trip that’s all.” the blonde wasn’t quite sure who she was attempting to convince more—her grandfather, or herself. “I promise.”
The elder man knew far too many promises that had been broken, he wouldn’t hold her to one built on nothing but remorse, and heartache. Wither eyes met pain-filled—shared emeralds that seemed to find a home within one another. A small smile rose upon his face as the man ran the soft pad of his thumb over the small scar above her eyebrow. Eloise had gotten it when she had fallen off her bike at the age of seven. Shaking his head, as if remembering the long-aged memory, Johnathan pressed a small, but tender kiss to the young woman’s forehead. One, and then another, if only for old times’ sake—to remember.
“Don’t be a stranger, ya hear?” his voice faltered. “The second you feel homesick, you come back.”
Tucking a loose hair behind her ear, the blonde sighed deeply, shaking her head. “Papa,” she uttered his name like a lasting goodbye. “it’ll be alright.”
“Promise me, bug, that one day you’ll come back.”
Clasping his hand in her own, the woman sent him a smile—though wobbly in its attempts, it was a smile nonetheless. For weeks, the blonde had rehearsed moments such as these, sending them rushing about her head in a whirlwind but even then, Eloise couldn’t seem to find the words to convey her feelings—not now. She thought of moments missed, moments lost in the wind with these two that would never be gained again once she left. She felt no peace in knowing that. Eloise was far too aware of what she might lose in this—memories that might be tainted.
There wasn’t much more that she could do besides nod. The older man left no room for objection, and Eloise wasn’t quite sure she wanted to object in the first place. Montana had once been a home away from home. But that had been years ago, and things had changed since then. Her father had died, and her mother had abandoned her—there wasn’t much tying her to either place quite frankly. Eloise knew nothing about Sailor Ridge. It was torn and withered, broken and fabricated memories from an adolescent mind that could know no wrong. Sailor Ridge was as distant in her mind as it was far in miles. All that she remembered was a horse named Chestnut and the pungent, ever-relenting smell of cow manure.
“Enough of that,” Grandma Margot interrupted. “how about we take this chili outside?” she offered.
Sending the older woman a grateful smile, Eloise pulled back from her grandfather. “I thought you said that it was far too cold outside.” she said, jokingly.
“None of that,” the woman patted her hand, “I know how much you like the stars this time of year. I figured we ought to give you one more night beneath these stars before you leave.” her grandmother explained. “Now go on, go get the blanket.”
Eloise had always craved the simplicity of life; longed for the small, mindful things that were intricately thought out. She figured, Sailor Ridge was simplistic enough—rugged at best. From what the young woman could remember about the small town there wasn’t much to see besides grass, trees, and well, more grass. The closest store was an hour away and the local shops were as to be expected. Though, there was the community aspect that always interested Eloise from the small amount of time she spent there as a kid. There was a closeness amongst them—always helping one another out, chipping in when needed; it was something she’d not had much growing up. But, when she visited as a child it was comforting. Someone was always extending a hand of kindness whether it be freshly baked muffins or the occasional summer barbecue—there was always someone to count on. Always someone to care for.
“What if they don’t like me?” Eloise’s voice cut through the thick evening air. “I hardly know any of them anyway. Besides, the last time I was there was years ago. Pretty sure I still had braces too.” she muttered, stirring the spoon mindlessly in the bowl.
“Your father would’ve wanted you to know them.” Margot shook her head, placing her bowl down, “it’s what he always wanted. He always talked about it. If Stephanie hadn’t been so persistent on North Carolina at the beginning of their marriage, Christian would have moved you to Montana—raised you there. Would’ve been better for you that’s for sure.”
She glanced up in confusion, “North Carolina?”
“It was before you were born, before the separation.” her Grandmother explained, “After the split, your mom moved back to Tacoma—partially because she wanted to raise you around us, not that she was much of a mother to you anyways—”
The blonde visibly flinched at the woman’s choice of word. It was enough to know that her mother didn’t want to care for her or love her but, to hear it from someone else—Eloise figured that pain was far worse. It was embarrassing. Almost disgraceful.
Rubbing a hand down his face, Johnathan sighed, “Margot—I’m sure that’s enough sweetheart.”
Eloise chewed on her bottom lip, her gaze averting to the ground. Stephanie Harper was a storm. A tornado leaving and wreaking havoc in her midst. Her mother had left when she was ten years old. The memories of her were blurred—flashes of blonde hair here and there. A small beauty mark on her upper lip and the faint smell of tobacco filled Eloise’s lungs and clouded her cries. Stephanie Harper was a ghost. No more real than the boogeyman or another fairytale horror icon. There was no relationship only calls, a birthday card—sporadic visits that consisted of her mother commenting on how small, and thin she was. But only after offering helpful advice and insisting that if she were ever going to attract a man one day, she’d need an extremely good plastic surgeon.
“It’s getting late.” Margot stood. “I’m going to clean up before the sun goes,” she smiled softly, a hidden and withered smile before turning on her heel and retreating inside. The screen door rattled against the base of the home, leaving silence in her reprieve.
Frowning, Eloise set her bowl aside, “I upset her.”
“You did no such thing.” Johnathan scolded her.
“I have too upset her. All I’m doing is reminding her of the past she tries to forget. Nana misses Mom, it’s obvious and I’m just a reminder that she’s gone, that she doesn’t care to come back either,” she said, standing from her place. “I should finish packing.”
“Stephanie doesn’t get to hold you back,” he said, halting her moments with a comforting. “it isn’t fair to you, or anyone else. This is your chance Eloise, to finally start over, and to make this life your own.”
Far easier said than done, she thought.
Sending the elder man a weak smile, Eloise slid out of his grasp, and retreated into the home. She moved slowly across the wooden floor, before taking place beside her Grandmother. A silence settled between them much like the one from previously. It helped that Eloise could feel the love radiating from her grandmother, otherwise, she’d assume the elder woman was angry. Margot’s pale hand reached out to grab the porcelain plate from the younger woman.
“How about you wash, and I dry?” the blonde suggested. “It’ll probably be much faster that way.”
Shaking her head, the older woman shooed Eloise away. “I wash and dry, while you finish packing.”
“But Nana, you’ve been on your feet all day. Besides this is the last time I’m ever going to do dishes here. At least let me dry them for you.”
“Go on now,” the elder woman shooed her once more, “we both know you haven’t finished packing a single thing. It’s getting late, Eloise, and your train leaves early tomorrow morning.” her tone was firm.
Margot Harper was strong. Resilient. But that didn’t hide the fall of her face at the thought of her daughter—didn’t make the wince from the never relenting pain in her hips disappear into thin air. Pain was a signature their family knew well. Pain was tattooed on their hearts—etched and drowned in their very DNA sequence. He was a longtime friend.
Pictures lined the walls, surrounded by chipping paint and creaking floors. The photo of all three of them was embedded in Eloise’s mind. She figured if she could, she would embed the memory in her heart as well. If love was so beautiful, simple, so intricate—then why did it pain her so? If Grandpa is right, she thought, if this is it and this is my chance—why does it hurt so bad? Did it pain the fallen leaves to see her go as well? Did they break at her long-time farewell?
Making her way into the room, Eloise sighed, bending down to retrieve the thrown shirt she had lost in her haste earlier. A dull pain began at her temple, as the blonde let out an annoyed groan. Nana was right, she thought, taking in the bedroom,
she was nowhere near done.
The house was eerily quiet as she toed down the long hallway. Evening had engulfed the once cerulean sky, and the birds had retired their song. Eloise clung to the woven blanket wrapped around her shoulders and made her way toward the front door. She inhaled a breath. One more smell. One more inhale. One more taste of the home she had come to love so dearly. It was the end of a chapter, a long-awaited goodbye. In a few hours, Tacoma Washington would become a memory swept away in the wind. She would say so long to the broken porch swing that held on by a thread—goodbye to the old oak tree that covered her from the sun’s harsh rays.
Eloise found herself feet submerged in the ocean. Her toes dug into the sand and as the wind picked up, the blonde leaned her head back taking in the last moment of sincerity, basking in the overhead light of the moon. She hummed softly, her eyes fluttering closed as a small smile began to grace her face. Eloise would miss the sound of the rushing waves crashing against the shoreline—mixing, and finding peace against the sand that awaited the ocean’s embrace.
She would miss her Nana’s homemade chili, and her Grandfather’s kind eyes. But it was within that moment, that minuscule of a second, that Eloise concluded that perhaps change was what she needed after all. Perhaps, life could—and would change for the better. Sailor Ridge was a chance to make it better. Life was only as complicated as you allow it to be—that was the last thing her mother had said to her. Unfortunately, the complication in question was Eloise but, regardless, the words stuck with her.
Life is only as complicated as you allow it to be, she thought. So let’s make it uncomplicated then.
The moon hung lowly in the sky overhead, and the wind whistled softly, whispering sweet nothings around her ears. The once cerulean impasse had darkened into a woven, blue-black blanket, and as Eloise took in the darkness before her, she concluded she’d miss her grandparents most. She would mourn the memories here in Tacoma, and the smell of the ocean breeze. But she would take her grandfather’s kind eyes with her—grandmother’s withered, and worn smile would be tattooed, and carried within her heart. Imprinted, and embedded for as long as she could keep them both there. This wasn’t the end but rather a new beginning. So, as the dark sky called to the moon and the stars, Eloise took a fleeting step. Each seeping into the sand, and dirt mixed below—each taking her towards her new beginning.
