“Out of your mouth, your heart will speak,” I repeated, my voice blending in with Mom’s as we recite together advice she always gave me. Time and time again.
“Be positive,” she said, a motherly attempt to encourage me that I desperately needed. “Speak it out and it’ll come true. Look for the positive and you’ll be surprised at what you find.” She squeezed my hand before returning hers to the wheel.
We were getting closer. The welcome sign to Bervie Springs, New York was just up ahead. It was known as the garden town and even before you passed the welcome sign, you could see why. Rather than fields of grass along the side of the highway, old wooden fences covered in climbing vines and flowers invited you to come and stay for a while.
I’d be more than happy to stay as long as they would have me.
“This just might be what you need,” Mom said, “a fresh start in a town where nothing happens.”
“You know small towns are just as bad as cities, right?” I snuffled the sarcasm as best I could.
The look on her face said I didn’t do a very good job.
“Less opportunity, how about that?”
I shrugged. My plan, if this all worked out the way I needed it to, was to spend my days at work then lock myself in my room at night. No bars. No shopping trips. No walking the streets where I’d meet those I shouldn’t. Keep my nose clean. My hands spotless. My feet planted.
“Do you need to check in with the local department here?” There was a smile in her voice but I caught the slight tremble too. She needed me to remain safe just as much as I did.
“It’s probably a good idea.” I wasn’t sure if it would be a requirement for employment or what, but the drop of Mom’s shoulders told me I’d said the right thing.
“Did we leave ourselves enough time for coffee? Maybe walk around a bit? Unless it’s too hot. If it’s too hot, you don’t want to start sweating. Maybe we should just find a cafe and have a coffee.” Mom’s nervous energy was about to make me go crazy.
I reached a hand across and grabbed a hold of hers.
“I did a Google search on your laptop last night. There’s a bakery close by which claims to have the best coffee in town and there’s an outdoor sitting area too. Let’s go there.”
She nods and lets out a deep breath. “I’m not sure who’s more nervous. Me or you?”
I give a small laugh, the kind that answers the question without having to say the words.
“That’s what I thought,” she said, giving my hand a soft squeeze.
We remain silent as we coast into town, her slowing down to match the speed limit. The town should be called Bervie Gardens. From one flower bed to the next, it was like living in the Land of Oz but instead of a yellow brick road to walk on, this town offered a flower lined street to drive down.
There were flowers baskets as far as the eye could see, hanging from street lights. The bridge we’d just drove across had been covered in trailing ferns and geraniums. Every single lawn in front of every single house had a garden either beneath the front windows, beside the front porch or along the front walkway.
“I’m thinking you might be a little busy,” Mom mumbled.
“Is this the garden capital of New York state?” The window was down on my side and it was too much for me to keep my head inside the vehicle. I was like a golden lab in a truck, head sticking out, tongue flapping in the wind. Except, my tongue wasn’t flapping, but my mouth was gaping.
After being in prison for four years, this was heaven. Instead of steel bars, steel fences and grey walls, I had mirage of colors, textures and smells and I loved it.
Even before knowing the job was mine, I’d fallen in love with the town.
It wasn’t long before we pulled up into a parking spot on the Main Street.
Bervie Springs was one of those towns with two main roads that met up in the middle. The street we were on, was covered in shops, restaurants, bars and a grocery store. The cross roads led to the hospital, police station and chicken farms, or so the signage said.
A quick glance at my wrist watch said I had fifteen minutes until my scheduled appointment. I was to meet Donald Dixon in his office at Town Hall.
“It’s right there, on the corner, across from us.” Mom must have caught me looking for the building.
“You should go early. It looks better if you do,” Mom said, her purse slung over her shoulder. “I’ll be here, waiting.” She indicated to the outdoor patio of Springs Bakery.
The bakery itself carried that small-town curbside appeal the reviews I’d read talked about. Quaint, family run, homemade baked goods, welcoming from the moment you approached. The signage outside invited customers with books to read to join them, receiving a ten percent discount on coffee if they show their book. That should make Mom happy. She never went anywhere without a novel to read.
Mom looked from me to the building across the street then back to me. Her smile faltered somewhat before it became a full-fledge Mom’s-got-your-back, type of smile. With a heartfelt hug, meant more for her than me, I was pushed toward the building where my life was about to change. Possibly. Hopefully, for the better.
9
Meet Your Fairy God-Father
I was shown into a corner office where the windows stood wide open.
No bars. No barbed wire. No armed guards.
Must be nice to have a view where the only thing you see are dozens of garden beds along a stone lined walkway.
I’d take it any day.
“Starla Bishop, I can’t tell you how happy we are to have you here.” A voice boomed behind me. I jumped, turned and raised my hands, palms out, ready to block whatever came at me.
“Nice view, isn’t it?”
If he noticed my reaction, he didn’t say anything.
“I had a hand in designing the garden space,” he continued, standing at by my side at the window.
His size dwarfed me. His stature intimidated me. His voice soothed me.
I didn’t know how to feel, what to think as I stood there.
I liked to measure up my opponents, discover their weaknesses, see where I could needle
them, push them, work them.
I couldn’t do that here.
I expected him to invade my space, put his hand on my shoulder or even on my back, an attempt to display dominance right from the beginning.
He did none of those things. He stood beside me, leaving space between us, hands clasped behind his back, his gaze straight ahead.
“Know what I love about Bervie Springs? It’s a safe place for reinvention.” He looked at me then, the full force of his dark brown eyes peering into mine. “Of all the applications we received, I figured you could use that chance.”
“So you decide my fate?” The words came out before I could stuff them in.
He chuckled, hand reached out in greeting.
“We haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Donald Dixon. Consider me your…” he glanced outside for a moment, “your fairy god-father.”
He didn’t smile. Neither did I. This wasn’t a joke. It wasn’t a gab session. It sure as hell wasn’t a casual get-to-know-me session either.
There were two possible ways to handle this conversation.