Five

I sighed, sinking onto the couch beside her. “Susan was… she was like a second mother to me. When I had no one else, she was there for me when the accident happened. She helped me grow into the person I am today.”

Natasha’s eyes widened. "And you haven’t heard from her in years, and now she just sends you this letter?”

I nodded. “She sent it two years ago, Nat. I don’t even know if she’s still alive." The thought plagued me as deeply as knowing Betty might still be at the diner. The realization hit me anew. “She’s dying, Nat. Or maybe she’s already gone. She has cancer. She sent me this letter, and with it…” I paused, pulling the deed out of the envelope. “She gave me a building. She bought it for me to have my own bookstore.”

Natasha blinked, her shock evident. “Wait, what? She bought you a building?”

I nodded again, my fingers trembling. “It’s in Pittstown.” The room had gone quiet then. Natasha stared at me, clearly grappling with what to say. Finally, she asked the question that had been looming over me. “Are you going to go back?”

I had shaken my head at first, my voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know. I want to see her. I need to know if she’s still alive. But going back there… It’s terrifying.”

Natasha leaned back, sighing deeply. “I get it. But Annabelle, you loved Susan, didn’t you? And if she’s asking for you, it means she needs you. Maybe this is your chance to face the past and finally let go.”

I rubbed my hands together, the chill of fear spreading through me. “I just don’t know if I’m strong enough.”

She reached over and squeezed my shoulder. “You are, Annabelle. You’ve been strong this whole time. And you’re not doing this alone. I’ll help with Henry, and you know I’ve always got your back. I’ll come with you.”

Tears pricked the corners of my eyes as I nodded, managing a small, grateful smile. “Thank you, Nat. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She smirked. “Luckily, you’ll never have to find out.”

I let out a shaky breath, then cleared my throat. “We need to make plans. Henry’s school, how long we can stay, the business… and I need to call my mom.”

Natasha arched an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Yes. She may know exactly what happened since I left Pittstown.”

“But she’s a bitch.”

I laughed. “Well, yeah, but still.”

Natasha groaned but threw up her hands. “Okay, okay. Go call. I’ll see if I can get someone to cover for me at work.”

Once Natasha was out of earshot, I picked up my phone and scrolled through my contacts until I saw Mom. She picked up on the third ring, or rather, Eugene did.

“Hello, stepdaughter.”

I closed my eyes. “Don’t call me that, Eugene. We’re almost the same age.” He laughed. Then I heard my mother’s voice in the background. “Who is it?”

“Annabelle,” he called out. A pause. Then, “Hi, sweetie.” I swallowed. “Hi, Mom.”

“What’s with the call? Is Henry alright? You know he can’t be in the sun too much - his skin is so pale.”

“Mom, stop,” I cut her off. “Henry’s fine. That’s not why I’m calling.” I exhaled, bracing myself. “Mom… do you remember Susan from Pittstown?”

“Susan…” My mother hummed. “Oh! Pretty little thing. Why?”

I squeezed my eyes shut. “I just got a letter. From her. Which stated that you told her where I lived after I left.”

“Oh. Yep, I remember now.” She clicked her tongue. “Oh, honey, I forgot to tell you - she died. I think I wanted to tell you, but you know how I am. Poor memory, dear me.”

I could see her in my head, placing her hands on her face in some dramatic display of forgetfulness.

“And you couldn’t tell me? In fact, how in the hell do you forget something like that?” I snapped, my voice rising. Tears stung my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.

“Well, I wasn’t close to her,” my mother said, utterly unbothered. “And I am grateful that she took you in after the whole thing with your father, but it wasn’t really my business. Even her son called, but I didn’t have much to say.”

My stomach dropped. Her son. Patrick had called. Oh god.

The phone felt slippery in my grip. My breath came out ragged, like I'd run a marathon, as my heart hammered.

I pressed the phone tighter against my ear. “Mom. What did you do?” She sighed, like I was exhausting her. “I simply told him, my girl’s done. She isn’t coming back.”

The line went dead as I hit the end call, my breath coming in short, shallow bursts. Then I cried like a child, curling into myself as the past I tried so hard to leave behind crashed over me like a wave.

But that had solidified my decision. I have to go back. For what, I don’t know. But I need to see.