Aunt Stella and Henry lived not far from the Minnesota border in a small town where older houses clustered around the downtown area and newer ranch homes spread along the outskirts. Their house was within walking distance of Main Street, a stretch of road lined with a few shops and restaurants.
I’d lived in Castleford for a little over five years and left the minute I turned eighteen. Few things in the town had changed over the years.
When I arrived that afternoon, Stella had a lunch of baked ham and potato salad ready. She’d been older than my father by eleven years, and she rarely spoke of him or their parents. Her skin was weathered, her faded blond hair cropped close to her head, her mouth set in a perpetual slash.
She had always treated me with distant courtesy, though if she resented being saddled with her brother’s daughter, she never showed it. When I first came to live with her when I was thirteen, Stella laid out her expectations of me with the precision of a general planning a military strategy.
I would go to school, do my share of chores and housework, behave well, earn good grades, attend church and related functions, and contribute to the household with income from a part-time job. I would not smoke, drink, sleep around, or miss curfew. If I caused a hint of trouble, Stella and Henry would reconsider their decision to let me stay.
I gave them no reason to reconsider anything. I could not have met their expectations more perfectly if I’d written them myself.
“Classes are going well?” Stella asked me, as she forked a slice of ham onto my plate.
I nodded and told her about the courses I was taking, what it was like living in Madison, my job at Jitter Beans. Henry came in halfway through lunch, on a break from his work as an electrician, and gave me a nod of greeting.
Even though I’d lived with them for almost five years, Henry and I never had much of a relationship. He was a short, sinewy man who liked working outdoors, drinking beer, and hunting. He had grudgingly agreed to let me stay when I first came to Castleford, but made it clear he wanted little to do with me.
I was glad about that. Henry ignored me, I avoided him, and it was one less thing for me to deal with.
“Rummage sale starts right after services tomorrow morning,” Stella told me as she began washing dishes. “This afternoon we need to collect donations, then go to the church to help set things up.”
“Just let me know when we need to leave.” I brought my travel bag upstairs and into my old bedroom at the back of the house. I sat on the bed and called Dean on my cell phone.
“What’re you doing?” I asked, after assuring him I’d arrived safely.
“Just got back from the gym,” he said. “You?”
“I’m on rummage sale duty this afternoon.” I thought about telling him I wished he was here, but decided against it.
“So what are you doing tonight?” I asked.
“Thinking about you.”
“Oh, please.”
“I’ve been wanting you to hear you say that.”
I giggled. “Well, it’s true you’re not all that easy to resist, professor.”
“I’m trying very hard not to be.”
I flopped back on the bed and looked at the ceiling, the phone still pressed to my ear. I knew he wanted me. I knew one day he’d have me. I just didn’t know why he’d chosen to wait for me.
“Hey, Dean?”
“Hey, Liv.”
“Why are you waiting for me?” I asked.
“Because you’re worth it.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do.”
“How?”
“I’ve been around. I know when something’s good.”
My throat tightened a little. “What if you’re wrong?”
“I’m not wrong.”
A knock came at the door, followed by Aunt Stella’s voice. I sat up.
“I have to go,” I told Dean. “Call me tonight?”
“I will.”
I ended the call and hurried to join Stella. We drove around town picking up promised donations for the rummage sale, then went to the church’s fellowship hall where volunteers were setting up tables. We were given a lecture about the organization of the goods, and then Stella went to sort clothing while I hauled boxes in from the foyer.
I didn’t mind being among Stella’s friends—they were mostly older women whose children now had children, and I only remembered them from church and occasional town functions. They knew me as Stella’s nice, quiet niece, and they were all pleased to hear about my move to Madison and enrollment at the UW.
I spent the afternoon sorting books, toys, glasses, and dishes while the other volunteers put price stickers on everything and fussed about the best placement for certain items. We took breaks for coffee and cookies, commented on the usefulness or quality of cookware, dresses, and handbags.
It was an agreeable and satisfying way to spend the afternoon—helping out these ladies who believed in their church and community and who had always been kind to me.
Stella and I ate leftover ham for dinner, then I excused myself to go and study. I took a quick shower and changed into comfortable clothes before sitting at the narrow desk in my bedroom.