Eternal

TANA

“This is Reduced Fat Sour Cream,” Penny says with a bright smile. “Don’t mind him, he’s very friendly despite his appearance.” She indicates a cat of epic proportions perched on her guest bed like an ancient miniature lion. And he wouldn’t be wrong because good God, that’s the biggest cat I’ve ever seen. He’s got a larger than average head and a massive bulky body with fur the color of toasted cream. “I call him Creamy. Dreamy Creamy. Mr. Cream Puff. He won’t bother you unless you don’t like snuggles. If that’s the case, I’ll put him in my room. Better yet, why don’t I do that now?” Penny rambles. She tugs at her wild brown waves and gives me a nervous, but friendly smile.

“No, I don’t mind at all. I could use the company.” I take a seat on the bed next to the big cat, who immediately ambles over to me and begins to purr. Sifting my hands through his soft fur, I try not to think about the cat I left at Alec’s. I miss her already. “Thank you again for letting me stay here. I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t sweat it! No one uses this room except my mom when she comes to visit a couple times a year. It mostly belongs to Creamy and the occasional foster cat. Or racoon. Or squirrel. You get the idea.”

“How long have you worked at the rescue?” I ask.

Her pixie-cute face screws up with concentration. “Oh, going on five years now, I guess. I started volunteering there during college. Then I guess I never left. Once I got my degree, I sort of just took over from Mrs. Bixby, the lady who ran it initially. I’ve always loved animals and it drove my parents crazy that I would always bring home strays, but I could never turn down an animal in need. They wanted me to be a doctor,” she adds with a look of disgust.

“I can’t picture you as a doctor,” I say.

She gestures wildly. “Right? But tell them that. Thankfully they moved to California a while ago, so I don’t have to listen to that constantly.” Penny is a ball of wild energy. I don’t think she’s stopped moving since I showed up on her front doorstep. She paces from bookshelf to dresser, to desk touching keepsakes, rearranging books, and picking at chipping paint.

Creamy settles onto my lap, a big overflowing cat loaf, and I’m grateful for him and the conversation to distract me from how utterly miserable I feel. “So you grew up here in Battleboro, too?”

Penny smiles, a huge friendly grin. “Uh huh! I was a couple years behind you and Alec, though. I was a year behind Jax—the guy who works with Alec. Anyway, we’ve been best friends for years although I’ve had a schoolgirl crush on him for most of my life, not that he’s noticed.”

“He’s the younger one, right?” It’s been a challenge keeping all the names and faces straight, but it’s starting to get easier with practice and time. That’s promising at least. Maybe my memory—or lack thereof—won’t always be the obstacle that it is now.

“The rookie, yeah. Totally gorg, right? Alas, I don’t think he’ll ever see me as anything other than his kid sister.” She makes a face and shakes it off. “Story of my life. No one really takes me seriously. I’m pretty sure he still sees me as the knobby twelve-year-old with braces and a lisp.”

I give her a once over while shaking my head. Penny is a knockout in a girl next door sort of way. Wavy brown hair the color of pine bark, soft, kind green eyes and an energetic, friendly nature you can’t help but feel endeared to. “Is he blind?” I ask emphatically, causing Creamy to jump and stretch a little at the increase in volume.

Penny gives a warm, full laugh. “He’s a man. So naturally he can’t see what’s right in front of him.”

“I don’t know him well, or you know at all, but I think he’d have to be crazy not to be completely in love with you.”

“That’s what I’m screamin’!” she says. Then she does a little hop and claps her hands. “You know what we need to forget all our troubles?”

“Wine?” I say, thinking of how my last foray with alcohol went and feeling dubious.

“Something even better!”

“Is there anything—”

“Kittens!” she exclaims.

Ten minutes later, we’re sitting on the floor of her spare bathroom with a pile of kittens in each of our laps. “Okay, yeah,” I say with a laugh. “This is so much better than wine.”

“Gemma has a game today. She’d like you to come.”

I close my eyes against the yearning that squeezes around my heart the moment I hear Alec’s voice. It’s been less than a week and already I miss him and the girls so much it nearly hurts. I don’t know if it’s because I’ve grown to care for them in such or short time span or because part of me already knows them, loves them, that has me feeling their absence so intensely. Either way, I think about them pretty much constantly.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I gnaw on my thumb nail. “I thought we’d decided after your conversation with Paisley that we should give them some space.”

“We did. I think it’s been space enough.”

Side-stepping the question, I say, “What did their therapist say?”

“Dr. Teatree said it’s natural for there to be an adjustment period. It’s going to be hard for the girls for a long time, but that it’s important for us to be consistent for them. The last thing they need is more upheaval.”

Penny steps into the doorway, then pauses when she finds me on the phone. I make a “one minute” gesture and she gives me a thumbs up. “Doesn’t that mean we should give them time to adjust to me before we have me move back in? Maybe we should take this even slower for them. Give everyone time to process that this is the right thing.”

“Having our family together is the right thing.” He pauses for a long time. “Unless that’s not what you want.”

“Of course it’s what I want,” I murmur, my heart squeezing.

“Then come to the game. We can start slow if you want, but we want you there. Please.”

I wage an internal battle for all of three seconds before I cave. Who am I kidding? I’ve missed them—missed him so damn much. “Okay, fine. What time and where?”

He tells me the location. “Five. I can pick you up.”

“No, that’s okay. I have to help Penny close up tonight. I’ll have her drive me and we can meet you there.”

“See you then,” he says.

“Bye, Alec,” I whisper.

The conflict must be written on my face because Penny leans across the front counter. “That Alec?” she asks.

“Yeah. Do you mind driving me over to the rec field? Gemma has a game and they want me to go.”

“Hell yeah. I love me some concession stand food.”

“Penny, you are one of a kind.”

“Damn straight.”

After spending the week working at the rescue with Penny, I officially know I won’t ever go back to the business before-me used to own. I love working with the animals too much and have no desire to lead the face-paced lifestyle before-me had to have to run all those social media accounts. I made the announcement a few days ago with a short life update video on my Instagram and YouTube. To say my followers were disappointed was an understatement, but most were pretty understanding, considering. The outpouring of kindness was unexpected and appreciated. But it was also like a weight lifted off my chest to make that distinction.

After-me likes my privacy and solitude. She likes kissing Alec, and cooking with the girls. After-me likes going for long walks in the woods and binging true crime podcasts and documentaries. I plan to donate most of before-me’s clothes, at least the ones I know I’ll never wear, and I plan to keep the more casual stuff. I’ve come to believe that while those clothes are nice and beautiful, I like being comfortable more.

My last checkup with Dr. Rennan cleared me of physical therapy. While he was disappointed my memories hadn’t yet returned, he was pleased I hadn’t had any further side effects so far and was confident my recall would only improve more with time. As much as I wanted my memories to return, now I’m not so certain. I’ve finally come to terms with the me and I am now and I’m happy with the direction my life is taking.

After my first few days at the rescue, I asked Penny if she needed any help and though I didn’t need the money, she accepted enthusiastically. The pay isn’t anything special, but I love working with the animals, with my hands, and Penny is a riot. There hasn’t been a dull day yet.

“Penny why are you putting traps in your truck?” I ask after we finish closing up.

Penny pauses from loading the cages we use to trap stray and feral cats and winks. “Just in case.”

“Are you expecting to run into a colony of feral cats?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Of course not.”

Penny’s rental house, the one she runs her rescue from, is smack dab in the middle of one of the biggest feral cat colonies in Lake County. When she moved in, she set to work trapping, curing, and fixing all the cats she could. The ones she could tame got adopted out and the others she keeps a watchful eye on. Her family and friends may think she’s flighty and eccentric, but I don’t see how. I’ve only known her a short while and she’s the most dedicated, passionate person I’ve ever met.

The recreation field is packed with cars when we arrive a short while later. Penny fights off a mom in a Karen haircut for a parking spot nearest the softball fields and cackles with glee as she puts her truck in park. Nerves jangle anew in my stomach at the prospect of seeing Alec again in front of all these people. It occurs to me he may have some sort of big scene planned, like a Jumbotron equivalent, but he wouldn’t do that, would he? That’s something before-me may have liked, but the last thing I want now is more attention.

We get a few side-eyes every now and then and I touch my bangs to make sure they’re covering my scar. Then I realize it’s because Penny is waving or talking to nearly every person we meet and not because of my scar at all. The tension in my stomach loosens a little.

The metal stands are packed with people at each field, colorful jerseys of parents supporting their kids dot the crowd in a kaleidoscope of color. Teens hawk treats and gear from the concession stand as Penny stops for a veritable feast of grease and sugar. With her goodies in tow, we find Gemma’s game in progress at the field next to the concession stand.

“Do you see them?” I whisper to her anxiously.

“Not yet—oh! Yes! There they are right behind home plate. Excellent. We’ll have a good view.”

Shouts and screams break out amongst the spectators as a bat cracks against the ball. The parents of the batter jump to their feet and they wave and clap as the little girl makes it safely to first base. Parents from the other team mutter and gesture, but the umpire waves the next batter to home plate.

But I don’t notice any of it because I finally spot Alec. And it’s like my body knows. My heart knows. I simply come to life at the mere sight of him. A fireworks show grand enough for the Fourth of July takes place in my stomach, zinging across my nerve endings and causing my heart to pound wildly in my chest and ears.

He’s standing behind two chairs with his arms crossed over his chest as he studies the field. Paisley and Tracy are in front of him on the edge of their seats. All three of them have DORRAN #7 on the backs of their matching purple jerseys. It hits me like a foul ball to the head. I want this. I want to be a part of their team. I want the Meatball Mondays, the sick days, the late-night emergency calls, the stolen moments in the kitchen, and the chaotic birthdays. I want it with this man, and I want it with these girls.

But the question is: do they still want it with me?