Fitting in

Chapter 33

Brett pulled a knit cap down over her head, and stared at the azure cottage in front of her. A verdant garden wrapped around the yard; it was filled with all sorts of wild flowers and plants even in the winter. The mailbox was a crisp white, and had painted hand prints imprinted on the side. It was as if the home was from a movie, not a part of the life she could have had.

Swallowing a lump in her throat, Brett walked up the stairs to a patio, and noticed a wind chime hanging from ceiling. Actually, the whole ceiling was covered with wind chimes: wooden chimes, metal chimes, glass chimes, they jingled in a slightly pleasurable cacophony when a gust of wind blew through.

Brett stared at the door in front of her, and considered turning around. The woman would never know she even came to visit. She could turn around and tell her father she hadn’t wanted to see her, and everything would be okay. Pivoting on her heels, Brett turned to quickly sprint down the steps. She walked along the stone path, and froze when an old white 1966 Ford convertible turned into the driveway.

There was a woman in the front seat, and she stopped when she saw Brett. Her face was pallid and shocked, as if she’d seen a ghost. Brett fiddled with her hat and scarf, and stared at the lady. She had silver white hair and a wizened face with a pair of bright blue eyes in the middle. If the woman were younger, Brett could have passed as her twin.

She got out of the car, staring at Brett the whole while. She didn’t once remove her eyes from the girl, even as she took a bag of groceries out of her car. Brett gave her rental car a furtive glance, considering the benefits of turning to leave now. The woman began to smile as she walked closer to Brett, and Brett noticed there were tears in her eyes. Feeling a little uncomfortable Brett glanced at her car again, and took out the manila folder from her bag. She held it in front of the woman like a barrier, and motioned her to take it.

“I came to return this.” Brett lied. After the mishap in the art studio, Brett’s father had suggested now would be the time for Brett to visit her grandma. The woman lived all the way in Connecticut, and before Brett could blink, she was on the next flight across the country.

“Oh you did,” the woman said wrapping a wrinkly hand around the folder, “you didn’t open it?” she asked.

“No,” Brett sighed and closed her eyes, listening to the wind chimes, “I was just leaving.” She opened her eyes to look at her grandmother, and almost changed her mind when she took in her broken face. Her neat white eyebrows were knit with concern, and her lips were pursed with thought. She blinked twice, then managed to hide the disappointment on her face.

“At least let me give you one of them.” She said motioning to the chimes. Brett glanced at the rainbow of colors hanging from the woman’s ceiling, and smiled slightly. 

“Okay.” She said putting her hands into her coat pockets.

The woman smiled slightly and motioned Brett to follow. At the door, she struggled to unlock the door with her groceries, and Brett volunteered to take the bags. She smiled, and gave Brett the bags. The woman fiddled with the lock, and finally managed to push the door open to reveal more wind chimes hanging from the ceiling.

Her grandmother led her to the kitchen where Brett dropped the bags on the counter, and listened to the chimes jingle in delight, as if they were welcoming their owner home.

“I’ll just be a minute, you can have a seat there if you’d like.” She said pointing to a wooden chair in front of a four-legged table. Brett sat down, and looked around the room, gasping when she noticed a picture hanging across the room. She looked outside to where her grandmother was fiddling with pieces on a table, and stood up to walk across the room.