“Go home,” she said. Two words. It is amazing how much pain two words can hold. Thank God they weren’t long words or the pain might have killed me. 

     I want to say, “I don’t have one.” She would roll her eyes and call me a liar. In the sense that she means, I do have one. I have a place to go, but to me, it is not home and it never will be. So I place my tongue firmly between my teeth and nod, fighting to hold in the tears until I can reach my car. I grab my jacket, throw it over my arm, and balance the last load of laundry on my hip as I walk out into the cold, dark night. I am leaving, but I’m not going to the ‘home’ she means, not tonight. Tonight I can’t. Tonight I won’t. Tonight I want to feel warm and safe.

     I get into the car and at the end of the driveway I have a choice to make, right goes towards the house, left goes someplace else. I go left and I smile for the first time in what feels like forever, I am free.

     The tank was full and I drove all night, turning when it felt right to turn. Around dawn, I pulled into a little hole in the wall diner for breakfast. The building looked ready for a wrecking ball, but the parking lot was full. My daddy always said to look for a dump with a lot full of cars and you’ll find good food. It almost always works. 

     I ordered coffee, a veggie omelet, and home fries and hoped for the best. The coffee wasn’t good, but it wasn’t terrible either. I sipped the coffee and pulled up the maps on my phone to see where I was. There were twenty-seven missed calls on my phone, I ignored them. The maps wouldn’t load, no GPS signal. That made me smile, I had apparently found the middle of nowhere.

     The food was good, extremely good. I filled up the tank and kept driving, I wasn’t tired. I couldn’t wait to get to wherever it was I was going. 

     Around four I felt it. I was driving into a small town and I was home, just like that. It was a quaint little town, my town. I rolled down the window and smelled the sea and smiled. The sense of belonging was so strong and I didn’t even know the name of the place. I continued taking seemingly random turns until I ended up in front of the cutest little brick bungalow I had ever seen. There were two palmettos in the yard and dozens of azaleas. I wondered what color they would be when they bloomed. The front door was oak with iron hinges and a heavy iron knocker. It was arched. My soul felt such peace sitting out in front of it. Then I saw the best part of all, the ‘For Sale’ sign.

     I looked at my phone, fifty-two missed calls, and one hundred twenty-seven text messages. No one wanted me around until I left. Their loss. I called the number on the sign. 

     “Yes, I’m calling about 127 Orange Street. I was wondering if I could make an appointment to look at it.”

      “I would be happy to set that up for you. When would you be available?”

      “Any time tomorrow.” ‘Or any day, really…...,’ I thought.

     “I will call the owners and set that up right now. Can I call you back at this number?”

     “Yes, that’s fine. And is there a bed and breakfast or hotel here in town that you could recommend?”

     She gave me the names of two B&B’s and gave me the name of a restaurant for dinner. I thanked her and called the first number. They had a room available for the week and it was close by, so I told the lady that I would be there later to check-in. First, I needed food and a suitcase. It wouldn’t do to check into a B&B with a laundry basket for luggage. 

     I found the bar and grill that the agent had suggested. It was harborside and walking distance from ‘my house’. It also had some of the best food I had ever tasted.

     After a wonderful dinner, I headed to the supercenter for a suitcase and toiletries. I packed my bag in the parking lot and headed back to the B&B. I had an appointment to see my house at ten the next morning

I had never touched the money my dad had left me, not a single penny. It had never felt right, but I would now. I was going to buy that house tomorrow and start over here from scratch. I felt so ridiculously happy and free, I didn’t realize how miserable I had been until now. 

     The B&B was beautiful and the owners were charming. They were an older couple and very gracious. I sat in the parlor sipping wine with them until nearly midnight. 

     I woke up to the aroma of coffee and bacon beckoning me. I showered and dressed quickly before joining my hosts on the screened porch for breakfast. The food was spectacular and plentiful. The bacon was thick and chewy just like I like it, made to order veggie omelet, home fries, and biscuits. And there were blueberry muffins. 

     “That was the best breakfast I think I have ever had," I sighed.

     "I'm so glad you enjoyed it," Mrs. Helms said, as she cleared the dishes. “Will you be back for lunch?” 

     "No, ma’am, I am going to look at a house at ten and I plan to make an offer, so I should be tied up for a while. I’ll just grab something, but I will be back for dinner."

     “Where is the house?” she asked.

     “It’s not far from here. It’s on Orange Street, a brick bungalow….”

     "That's why you look so familiar! Are you Martha's granddaughter, wait, no. It would be her great-granddaughter?"

     I stared at her for a few moments. "Martha who?”

     "Martha Lewis, Ben, and Martha. They built that house. You are the spittin’ image of her when she was young."

     "I don't know much about my dad's family. He died when I was little. I lived in Indiana...Continue Reading