Out of Focus #SYTYCW15 Top10 Finalist! [COMPLETED]

9| Pushing Buttons

Between the responsibilities of work and home, it wasn't often that Eva had a spare afternoon of respite to indulge and relax. And when she did, she tried to make the most of them. Since Lottie had wanted to take her girls in to Salt Springs for ice cream, Eva decided to catch up on a bit of shopping in the local market.

A cheat, she knew, since buying groceries for the coming week wasn't exactly how most would choose to spend an hour of precious freedom.

But one of the best things she loved most about Haven was the weekend Farmers Market with rows of stalls filling the heart of Centennial Park; the largest on the Island. Every Saturday, Monday and Wednesday, from Easter to Halloween, the farmers brought the very best in produce and homemade wares, from beeswax candles to jarred jams and jellies.

Potters and woodworkers, body lotions and jewellery. From time to time even Lottie set up a table to sell her handcrafted bird houses, made from beach wood, moss and scraps of bark.

A tidy little hobby that kept her hands busy and heart full. The tourists and locals alike all loved them, and it wasn't uncommon to meander through a park or walk by a neighbouring yard and find one hanging from tree. A happy little home for a family of swallows, blue jays or chickadees.

Eva had four.

Lifting a crate of blueberries, Eva breathed in the sweet perfume and smiled. The berries were plump, lush and, after sampling one, bursting with juice and flavour. So unlike the bland sort from an inner city grocery store, shipping in crates over land and sea.

For three dollars a pound, who could resist a bargain? The blueberries would be great for tomorrow's breakfast of oatmeal, and she could freeze the rest for smoothies later in the week. Heck, she might even try her hand at making a pie.

Trailing her little buggy behind her, she haggled and negotiated with vendors, loading up on hearty kale, gorgeous array of rainbow carrots and large heirloom tomatoes.

When she wasn't stuffing her nose into the stands, breathing in the smell of ripe produce, as she strolled and meander from stall to stall, ever the artist, her eyes captured and appreciated and envied. Today was nothing but blue sky and dazzling sun, driving people from their homes and into the park, surrounded by a dense copse of trees and summer flowers.

One day, Eva vowed, she and her girls would be as much a part of this place, this community, as the streets and trees and buildings. They would belong. And, sighing, imagined a day when she would walk into town and be met with knowing smiles and waves, would entertain idle conversation instead of always looking to keep to the periphery of things.

Cutting out of events, ducking and dodging and steering clear of company and people and questions. Because that's what always happened when striking up a chat or entertaining the possibility of building friendships: people asked questions.

Who are you? What's your name? Where are you from?

Simple, easy and innocent for most. But in Eva's case it meant reinventing herself, her past. Every story, circumstance and experience had to be recreated, reshaped and god, lying on such a massive scale, trying to keep all the facts straight, was exhausting.

From nosey neighbours to well-meaning meddlers, Eva walked a dangerous line every time she opened her mouth. All it would take was small slip of the tongue and the house of cards that was her life would tumble into ruin.

Two years on the island and the only people she knew with any certainty were the Davies, only because Lottie had refused to be brushed off. And managing even only that small circle of trust had been a feat of near Herculean proportions. How many times, she thought, had she'd almost stuck her foot in her mouth in those early days?