Field of Daisies

Chapter 17

Charlotte and her son Danny live a short drive away in a cute neighborhood even closer to the coast. Her husband is a fisherman, out at sea for a few more days, and her other son has begun his training as a Producer, something with land preservation. Danny is a fourth year who is learning about his Field of Commerce and working evenings for his mom. From the family portrait, they all have the same dark hair, light brown eyes, and warm smiles.

We're greeted by a fluffy orange cat upon arrival in the converted summer home. It weaves between my legs before stopping under Charlotte, who picks it up.

"This is Marlo," she says rubbing the top of his head as he begins to purr. "He's a harmless old fellow, I promise. If he gives you any trouble just let me know and I'll make him sleep with me instead of Danny as a punishment." A look of horror crosses her features. "Forgive me! Are you allergic?" She must have noticed my hesitance when Marlo crossed my path.

"No, I am not allergic. I've just never had a pet. My last run in with one did not go so well," I say holding up my hand for emphasis. "It was a dog that got my hand though."

She coos at him, "You'll be a good boy, won't you, Marlo? Be nice to Emily or so help you." Charlotte puts Marlo down, who immediately goes in the direction Danny went. I follow Charlotte into the kitchen and am handed a phone. "Go ahead and call your mom, but tell her to pick you up or get you a ride tomorrow. It's late. You live far away." I told her I'm from Stowe. "You're staying the night."

Since I can't call my mom, I call my own old number instead, knowing it will go to voicemail. It does. My phone is tucked away in a box somewhere in our attic, I'm sure, waiting to be tossed away once my parents finally decide to discard the last of my things. They won't disconnect the number until the phone is gone with it.

I leave a message, pretending to be having a conversation. I talk slowly and pause between sentences for the effect: "Hi, Mom?... Yeah, it's Emily.... I'm okay... He followed me... I got away... Yes, I'm okay... I found a little shop that was open and the owner, Charlotte, is letting me stay with her tonight... No, she insists... I'll meet you there... Thank you, Mom... I love you too... Bye."

Saying that out loud makes me realize how much I miss my family. Mom and Dad may have thought of their plants as an extension of the family, but they always made a point to spend time with Charlie and me individually too. And Charlie was my closest friend, beside Nyl. I had plenty of people to talk to at school, but no one to really spend time with outside of it except the two of them.

Charlotte's mom senses light up as she notices my new wave of emotions. "Why don't you go take a shower now. I'll leave you some of my old clothes and have some tea waiting for you after. Is chamomile okay?" Again, what a saint.

I'm not particularly a fan of chamomile, but I don't care to be picky. I can't be picky with the generosity I'm being shown by a stranger. I can't actually be picky anyway with the whole charity case thing I have going on. Charlotte points out the bathroom and I gratefully clean myself up, paying extra attention to scrubbing my hair. The scabs on my hand glare back at me, but I'm glad to have use of it, at least enough to have used scissors. Nice try, Baxter. I clean away the notes I had scribbled on my calf, making a mental note to write down the final parts about hiking. I know I have to go to Sugarloaf and hike the Appalachian Trail, then follow a fork or a brook.

The clothes Charlotte brought me are soft orange flannels and fuzzy blue socks, something Charlie would love. Combing out my hair is much quicker than usual with this new cut, which will take some time to get used to, but I like the feeling of the weight lifted with it. I feel more like myself without the meaning behind wearing it long holding me back more. My hair curls up way more than it ever has, which must be due to the shortened length not weighing it down as much. I can definitely see the resemblance to my mom.