Page 2 of Secrets That Bind Us

Verity

Present Day

“I thought you said there was gonna be Wi-Fi?”

I hold in a groan as I stare up at the imposing, dilapidated two-story Victorian farmhouse with partially eroded pillars holding up the wrap-around porch.

It’s the house I grew up in– the one my now-deceased mother left me in her will.

A house of nightmares silently sitting stoic on ten acres, a clear blue sky behind it.

I glance over my shoulder at my oldest, my daughter, Savannah, wearing her black and blue headphones over her ears.

As always, she’s staring down at her phone with a frown on her face.

I hear the sound of the car door closing and smaller feet crunching across the gravel just before– “No, Mommy said she has to get it ‘nected .”

I smile at my youngest, Noah, as he rounds the back of the car and joins us, the large sphere holding his was-a-hamster-but-we-figured-out-he-was-a-gerbil, Clifford , in his arms. “Yeah, the electricians are on their way to verify all the wiring in the house is alright, and then we’ll see about getting Wi-Fi once all of that is said and done. ”

Savannah groans. “Can we just get back to the hotel? This place sucks, and it smells weird.”

The smell she’s talking about? Open country fresh air.

Okay– maybe it’s also a tiny bit of manure from the cows seven acres over on the Abernathy property.

Or maybe the horse manure from the Hicks property a mile down.

I heard the Hicks’ eldest son, Jason, is the fire chief now.

If memory serves me right, he’s the third chief of his surname.

I look up at the house, barely breathing.

“Not right now. Your Aunt Zoey and Uncle Evan are meeting us here, along with the contractors she’s been working with while we were on our way down from New Haven. We need this place up and running before school starts in August and the barn ready for the wedding.”

“Can we at least go inside? It’s hot as balls.” She replies with disgust.

They aren’t used to the already sweltering, muggy late-May heat.

And that’s my fault. I never brought them to Texas– not even to visit.

They’re used to eighty-degree summers in New Haven, Connecticut, not this sauna-like state.

Good thing I’ll be installing a pool. The real question is, will it be done before summer is over?

Noah, my six-year-old son, finds his big sister hilarious . “Balls!” He parrots.

I hold in my own smile because… well, aren’t I supposed to be the grown-up?

“Testicles.” I say instead.

Savvy groans. “Fine, whatever. It’s hot as testicles out here.”

This time, I do laugh along with Noah as the sound of an engine roars down the only two-lane country road in this town, seventy miles south of Dallas.

I peer behind us justin time to see a matte black 4X4 Jeep Wrangler with teal accents– soft top and doors missing– making its way toward us.

It slows as it turns up the long gravel driveway, only to speed back up, dust rising in its wake.

The mere sight of it makes me buzz with old memories of going mudding and camping under the stars.

We had some really good times in that Jeep.

“That’ll be Zoey now,” I say, just as she and the blaring early 2000’s alternative rock music, abruptly stop in front of us. Noah almost drops Clifford.

“I’ll make him grow, Mommy. I’ll love him so much, he’ll be so big he won’t even fit in his cage.” He said the day he got him. Clifford didn’t exactly grow the way Noah wanted him to. He grew alright– into a gerbil . A fat one.

The bride hops out of the Jeep arms stretched to grab my son.

“Well looky here. Seems I found me some wild Huntingtons.” Zoey laughs, swinging Noah up into the air, careful not to drop Clifford, causing Noah to squeal.

Evan jumps out of the old Wrangler, clad in boots and Levi’s, sporting a beard.

Another blast from the past. He’s hardly changed one bit from the boy Zoey and I found in the barn one blazing summer day petting my dad’s old draft horse while his daddy talked to mine about an upcoming auction out in Austin.

I’d never seen Zoey go still and I’d never seen Evan blush so hard his brown cheeks turned red. They’ve been together ever since.

“Zoey! Savvy said, ‘it’s hot as balls!’” He giggles.

“Well, she ain’t wrong, kiddo!” She replies with a laugh as she props him and Clifford on a hip and kisses me on the cheek.

“Hey, Bookworm.” Evan greets and gives me a kiss on the other cheek.

“Hey, Tall Guy.” I greet with a smile, looking up at the friendly face of my best friend’s on-and-off-again, soon-to-be-of-average-height husband.

But to me, that’s still tall. Evan and I have just about two things in common: 1) Our love for Zoey, and 2) We both stopped growing during our freshman year of high school.

Their upcoming nuptials are the other reason we need this place up and running before December.

They want to have the wedding here, where they met.

And then… I’ll be selling the home, the land, and going back north– to finally put all of this behind me.

Something I still haven’t told Zo, but I hope she’ll understand.

“Hey, Zo. Hey, Evan.” Savannah greets, putting her phone in her back pocket and lowering her headphones to her neck– a grand gesture for her.

“Hey Sav. Are you doing okay?”

“It’s hot here, and it smells weird.” She reiterates, giving my best friend of seventeen years a barely-there side hug.

“Can’t smell as bad as the hot garbage in the city.

” Zoey murmurs. She’s still mad I left to live in New York City, and instead of coming back, settled in Connecticut.

But there were reasons for that. Things she doesn’t know.

“But anyway, are y’all ready?” She asks, lifting her aviators and setting them atop her faded blue hair.

We all turn to face the farmhouse in the tiny town I swore I left behind thirteen years ago.

Faded navy shutters, peeling white paint, vines crawling up the wrap-around porch.

And again, those eroding pillars holding up the matching wrap-around terrace.

The loose black shingles flap in the hot breeze, and I catch the distinct stench of…

death . Whether it’s cattle or the remnants of my past, I’m not sure.

I sigh, and Zoey takes my hand, squeezing it gently. “As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”

Together, we march forward, and as I open the door and we step through the threshold of the creaking door, it’s like being shifted back into the past.

One I swore I’d repressed entirely.