Ashbourne: The Binding

The moving truck rumbled down the winding two-lane road that led into Briar Creek, Missouri, its tires kicking up a thin trail of dust behind it. The road curved through the Ozark hills, rising and falling between stretches of thick forest, open pastureland, and fields that seemed to go on forever. Briar Creek wasn't the kind of town people passed through by accident. It was the kind of place people either came to find or spent their entire lives trying to leave. The town itself was small, spread across miles of rolling countryside rather than crowded into one central area. A few brick buildings lined Main Street, their faded signs hanging above locally owned shops that had been there longer than most of the people walking through their doors. There was a small grocery store with a hand-painted sign, a diner where farmers gathered every morning before sunrise, a gas station that doubled as a place to catch up on the latest town gossip, and a courthouse standing proudly in the center of it all.

The population sign near the edge of town claimed just over three thousand residents. Sara suspected half of them were related somehow. Briar Creek disappeared into farmland and forest beyond Main Street. Houses weren't stacked close together like they were in the cities she'd lived in before. Here, families owned acres instead of tiny yards. Long gravel driveways stretched through tree lines before revealing old farmhouses hidden among the woods. The town was quiet, not empty. Just a few thousand residents made up the entire population. The kind of place where people noticed when a new vehicle came down the road. Where neighbors waved even if they didn't know your name yet. Where everyone knew which families had lived there for generations and which ones were just passing through.

The moving truck turned onto an older county road, leaving the last signs of town behind. The pavement gave way to gravel, and the thick walls of oak, maple, and cedar trees closed in on either side. Sara watched the scenery change through the passenger window. More trees, more land, more nothing. Her mother had called it peaceful, but Sara wasn't sure yet. Peaceful and lonely looked awfully similar from a distance. After several more minutes, the truck slowed as the driveway came into view. A long gravel path stretched between towering trees before opening into a clearing where an old two-story farmhouse waited beneath the summer sun. The house sat surrounded by land, the woods stretching behind it like a wall protecting whatever secrets lay beyond. The faded white paint had surrendered to years of Missouri weather. The wraparound porch leaned slightly, but somehow still held onto its charm.

Sara stared at it. This was supposed to be different. This was supposed to be the place they stayed. She took a slow breath before opening the door.

"So..." she murmured, stepping out of the truck.

Her eyes scanned the unfamiliar property.

"This is home... for now." she added under her breath. The words came easier than she'd expected. Home was never permanent, not for her. Her mother, Lynette, climbed out moments later, brushing long strands of auburn red hair behind her shoulders before smiling at the house with childlike excitement. Standing several inches shorter than Sara, she had warm brown eyes that always seemed to sparkle when she believed life was finally turning around. "Oh, Sara, isn't it beautiful?"

Sara studied the crooked porch, cracked shutters, and weeds swallowing half the flowerbeds.

"It has... potential." Sara allowed, starting to take a second look at the house.

"It has character," her mother corrected with a grin.

Before Sara could answer, a pair of muscular arms wrapped around her mother's waist from behind.

———

"I think she's perfect." Darren rested his chin on Lynette's shoulder before kissing her cheek. Then another kiss, then another.

"Seriously?" Sara groaned dramatically.

The couple looked over.

"What?" Darren asked innocently.

"You've been married six months." Sara pointed out.

"So?" He replied with amusement.

"So shouldn't you be out of the honeymoon phase by now?" Sara snapped.

"I certainly hope not." Her mother laughed.

Darren flashed Sara an apologetic smile. Tall, broad-shouldered, and tanned from years of construction work, he looked like he belonged on the cover of an outdoor magazine. His short black hair was still damp from the summer heat, and his dark eyes carried a kindness Sara couldn't deny. He really did try: He remembered birthdays, asked about school, and showed up to volleyball games. He never tried replacing her father. He simply tried being Darren. Unfortunately, he also couldn't seem to keep his hands off his wife... Ever.

"Come here," he whispered, pulling Lynette in for another kiss.

"Oh, come on!" Sara threw both hands into the air. "We literally just got here!"

"We're celebrating." Her mother laughed against Darren's lips.

"Celebrate after we unload the truck." Sara demanded, exasperated.

"We will." Darren chuckled.

"When?" Sara whined.

"Soon." They both replied.

"...Define 'soon.'" Sara looked at the mountain of boxes inside the trailer before looking back at the two of them. Neither answered. They were kissing again. Sara pinched the bridge of her nose.

"I guess I'll do it."

Grabbing the first box, she trudged toward the front door. One after another: Kitchen, Living room, Dining room, Hallway. She stacked boxes carefully against every available wall. Books, kitchenware, winter clothes, garage supplies. Each trip was followed by another. Every time she walked back outside, Darren had somehow found another excuse to wrap an arm around her mom. At one point they were slow dancing in the driveway. There wasn't even music. Sara stared for a full five seconds.

"You two are ridiculous."

"We're in love," her mother answered proudly.

"I can see that."

"No," Sara sighed, lifting another heavy box, "I really can."

By the twentieth trip, sweat clung to her forehead and her arms trembled from exhaustion. She glanced at the truck still half full. She looked at Darren. He was pointing at birds while holding Lynette's hand. Unbelievable.

"You know," Sara called, "these boxes don't magically move themselves."

"We're coming," Darren replied.

He wasn't. Sara rolled her eyes so hard they nearly disappeared. She'd learned years ago that adults often meant well. Actually doing what they promised... That was another story.

———

While Sara carried box after box upstairs, Darren and Lynette worked together to bring in the bedroom furniture from the moving truck. The bed frame came first, followed by the mattress. Together they carefully maneuvered it through the doorway before setting it against the wall beneath the window. Next came Sara's dresser and matching nightstand. Finally, Darren carried in the tall wooden bookshelf that had followed Sara through every home she could remember.

"Where do you want it?" he asked, setting it down.

Sara looked around her room before pointing to the corner beside her desk.

"There." Darren slid it into place while Sara nudged it a few inches until it looked just right.

She smiled as she looked around. The room had gone from an empty space with bare walls to something that already felt a little like home.

"Looks good," Lynette said.

"It does," Sara agreed. "Now I just have to fill it."

Lynette and Darren left Sara to her own devices and went back downstairs for more furniture. She picked up another box labeled BOOKS, eager to give the empty shelves a purpose. Her bedroom wasn't large, but it overlooked the woods stretching behind the house. Sunlight filtered through the trees, painting soft patterns across the hardwood floor. It felt... Quiet. She liked quiet. Setting the first box down, Sara caught her reflection in the bedroom mirror. Tall. Almost five foot nine with bright green eyes. She'd inherited that from the father she'd never known. Everything else seemed borrowed from her mother. The vivid red hair. Though unlike her mother's long flowing hair, Sara kept hers cropped into a pixie cut that framed her face perfectly. It was practical after years of moving, easier to manage, and impossible to ignore.

Friends used to tell her it made her look fearless. If only they knew. She brushed invisible dust from her shirt before beginning to unpack. Clothes went into drawers. Books onto shelves. Her favorite blanket landed across the bed. Small keepsakes collected from towns she barely remembered found places on the windowsill. Then she reached the final box. It wasn't marked, it didn't need to be. Inside, wrapped carefully in an old blue t-shirt, rested a single wooden picture frame. Sara lifted it with practiced hands. The photograph inside had faded around the edges years ago. Jonathan Ashbourne smiled back at her. She'd spent countless hours studying every detail. The strong jaw, the kind eyes, the easy smile. She'd often wondered if she laughed like him or if she'd inherited her humor from him. Maybe her stubbornness too. She placed the photograph gently on the nightstand before sitting on the edge of her bed. Outside, she could faintly hear Darren and her mother laughing. She smiled despite herself. They were happy and they deserved that. Even if they drove her completely insane. Her attention drifted back to the photograph.

"I wish I remembered you."

The words barely escaped in a whisper.

"I don't even know what your voice sounded like."

She traced the edge of the wooden frame with her thumb.

"Mom says you were a good man."

A long silence settled over the room.

"I know she's right."

Sara leaned back against the wall, holding the frame against her knees.

"I don't know why we keep moving."

Another pause.

"Every time I start making friends... we leave."

She looked into his frozen smile.

"Maybe this one sticks." She listened to the steady hum of cicadas filling the trees surrounding the house. The sound was unfamiliar, but strangely comforting, like the slow creak of a wicker rocking chair on an old wooden porch.

"I guess we're really in the country now." She set the photograph back on the nightstand. Sara turned away from the window, but something caught her attention before she could climb into bed. Between the gaps in the trees, hidden beneath the moonlight, she noticed something she hadn't seen when they first arrived. A narrow stretch of water cutting through the woods. A creek. It was barely visible from her window, just a silver line winding between the trees, but something about it pulled at her curiosity. She had always loved exploring new places. Maybe because she had spent so much of her life leaving them behind. A new town meant new streets, new corners to discover, and new secrets waiting to be found. Tomorrow, she decided. Tomorrow she would walk down there and see where it led. But tonight... she was exhausted. After a day of lifting boxes, pretending not to be annoyed by her mother's endless affection for Darren, and trying to convince herself that this place could actually become home, sleep felt like the only thing she wanted. Sara crawled beneath the blankets, the unfamiliar room surrounding her with a strange sense of possibility. For once, she wasn't worried about packing again or how long they would stay. Her eyes drifted closed and somewhere beyond the trees, beside the quiet waters of the creek, something watched the farmhouse settle into the night.