Violet Evergreen's Arc

Chapter 10 of 11

Violet sat with the mug until it went cool in her hands. Danny had gone upstairs to find her a towel. The house was quiet. She looked down at herself. Her jeans were stiff with dirt at the knees. Her sleeves were wet. She had no toothbrush, no clean shirt, no comb. In the morning she would come down the stairs looking like she had slept in a garden bed. She would sit across from him at breakfast in the same clothes. Every awkward silence they had already survived would come back at once. She set the mug down and got up. Her keys were still in her coat pocket. Her overnight bag was in the trunk of the car, packed for the motel and never unpacked tonight. Danny came down with a folded towel. "Second drawer in the bathroom has a new toothbrush," he said. "Megan left extras." "I have a bag in the car," Violet said. "I'd like to get it." He handed her the porch key. "Watch the step. It's ice already." She went out. The cold hit her lungs. She opened the trunk and pulled the small duffel she always kept ready. Fifteen years of running a greenhouse had taught her to keep a change of clothes in the car. Mud happened. Rain happened. She had never been so glad for the habit. Inside, she took the bag to the spare room. He had turned down the quilt. There was a lamp on and a glass of water on the nightstand. She shut the door. She unzipped the duffel. Clean jeans. Socks. A soft pink tank trimmed with lace at the neck, folded on top. She had thrown it in weeks ago without thinking. It was not a nightshirt. It was not what she would have chosen to be seen in over coffee. But it was clean, and it was hers, and it fit. She washed her face at the small sink. She brushed her teeth with the new brush from the drawer. She changed into the tank and the clean jeans and hung her dirty shirt over the chair. In the mirror, the lace sat soft against her collarbone. She looked like a woman who had planned to be here. She opened the door. Danny was in the hall with an armful of folded sheets he did not need to be carrying. He stopped when he saw her. He looked at the pink lace for a second longer than he meant to, then at her face. "There's coffee in the morning," he said. "Whenever you're up." "I'll be up early," she said. "I want to check the beds before the sun hits them." "Okay." She went back into the room and closed the door. She sat on the edge of the bed. Tomorrow she would walk into his kitchen as herself. That was the thing she had come here to learn how to do.