Page 20 of Chasing Home

Our conversation just now has confirmed that she feels that something too. Even slightly. And whatever it is that’s in the way of her exploring it, I’m prepared to tear it down.

7

AURORA

It’s hard to be annoyed with Eliza when she’s so damn cute. She’s the type of woman that talks with her hands. Throughout the entire tour of the ranch house, she’s had her hands waving in her face and out in the space between us. I follow behind her and listen as she recounts family memories and every renovation that’s ever been done to the place.

Wade and Brody are her life, with this place coming right after. That much is obvious.

“What about you, my girl? Do you have any happy memories to share with me, or shall I keep yapping?” she asks once we step into the small office space.

It’s painted with soft browns and full of old, aging bookshelves so full of books there are stacks of them on top of the neatly lined rows. Trinkets decorate any and all empty spots and, of course, family photos in a million types of different frames. Anna is in several of them, as if she hasn’t only been here for two years but decades.

I shift away from Eliza and trail my eyes over the bookcase closest to me, taking in all the photos and the stories they tell. It’s a lot. Like I’m living through Eliza’s eyes for some of the most important days of her life. I look between a wedding photo that’s yellowing at the edges and a dark photo with a yellow time stamp on the bottom corner, marking about a time that would make the young boy riding a rocking horse with an oversized cowboy hat on his head Brody. I smile slightly before looking at the golden frame beside it.

My heartbeat stalls.

It’s a photo of a young couple at what looks to be a carnival. Simple enough, but not at all. While the young couple has to be Wade and Eliza, the one beside them . . .

“Who is this beside you?” I ask, my fingers brushing the top of the frame, tracing the grooves along the edge.

“Oh, this was a long, long time ago,” she says, more to herself than me. “That’s Bernice and James Rose. It’s been . . . oh, at least a decade since I’ve seen them last.”

“Did they live here?”

Eliza takes a step closer to me, her gaze burning into my cheek. “Yes. They moved up to Edmonton shortly after their son left town.”

My throat is so clogged I can hardly swallow as I ask, “When did he leave town?”

“Well, I’d say shortly after he met your mother.”

I snap my head to look at her before growing as still as death. “What?”

Her lips part on a soft, comforting smile. “I recognized you the moment I saw you. You’re a spitting image of your mother. My memory isn’t shot quite yet.”

“You knew my mother?”

“Knew of her and saw her a handful of times,” she corrects me. “Everyone here knew about Lee Rose’s city girl from up in Calgary. She spent a couple of years down here with Lee before they both left. Lee came back alone a few months later. We didn’t know why she didn’t come back with him at the time, but maybe . . .”

“It was because of me,” I say, knowing without a doubt that I’m right.

“That would make you, what? Thirty? A year older than Brody and Wanda.” She nods to herself. “Yes, that would line up about right.”

Hearing my half-sister’s name spoken out loud right now is a shock to my system. I’ve heard the name several times during my time in Cherry Peak, but it hasn’t hit as deep as right now. This time, it’s coming from someone who knows my grandparents and more about my father than anyone else does. At least anyone who’s here and willing to talk to me about him.

Fuck, that’s weird to think about.

“Yeah, I’m thirty. Wanda’s only a year younger than me?”

Mom didn’t mention that when she told me about her. My skin crawls at the realization that Lee Rose met another woman he liked enough to have a child with so soon after being with my mom.

If I didn’t already think the guy was a piece of shit for leaving my mom in the first place after she got pregnant with me, I would now.

Eliza lifts the gold photo frame with gentle fingers, bringing it closer to her. “I didn’t bring you in here today for this, Aurora. You have my word about that. This photo has been here for so long that I hardly notice it anymore.”

“I believe you,” I say sincerely. “Would you—could you tell me about James and Bernice?”

She stares at the picture for a moment more before setting it back down and looking my way. Tucking a short silver curl behind her ear, she gestures past the oak desk and yellow lamp toward the two brown chairs tucked into the corner of the office.