Page 3 of No Turning Back
As I step back into the house, Mari lets out a loud squeal. That’s my cue. I pick her up and sit on the floor with my back to the wall. I’m facing the slider door that looks out onto the backyard. I can put in a swing set, and maybe an above-ground pool when she gets a bit older, after I make sure she has swimming lessons.
Hours later, Mari is asleep on the floor in the spare room while I move around her. The movers have left, and there are boxes and furniture everywhere. They helped me set up her crib and my bed, along with some of the larger pieces of furniture. There is a box I forgot in the back of my car that I need to get.
Opening the door, I look out and take in the neighborhood. There is more activity now that it’s evening and people are coming home from work. I quickly move to my car and open the hatch. Once I get the garage cleared of boxes, I’ll keep my car in there.
I didn’t know I had so much stuff in storage, but only a few things are from South Africa. I kept a storage unit here and would have a friend deliver stuff to it as I needed from my travels. I can’t wait until Lydia can drive out and see me. It’s been years, but we’ve tried to keep in touch. She is the one who helped me get my job. I lean over into the back of my car.
“Hello,” a soft voice with a Southern accent says from beside me.
I jump and scream, stumbling a bit on my ankle that’s still not fully healed.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m Wrenn Munson. I hope my husband, Beck, and his friend didn’t bother you with their bikes earlier. He said he saw you.”
I turn to see a beautiful blonde a couple inches taller than me. A niggle of something, like a memory, hits me, but I can’t place it right away. While her name is uncommon, it’s almost familiar to me. I realize she’s smiling at me waiting for me to say something back.
“Um, hello. I’m…” I pause. I’ve been hiding who I am for months, but my attorneys have assured me that I should be safe to use my real name now. “I’m Sydney Parrish. No, the bikes didn’t bother me. If they aren’t doing that at all hours, it shouldn’t be a problem. My little girl isn’t used to the sound of motorcycles, but she didn’t seem scared earlier.” I realize it’s true. Mari wasn’t scared by the loud pipes. She just watched them.
“A baby?” Wrenn’s smile grows bigger, and a memory hits me hard. I’ve seen that smile before. Her hands go to her stomach, which is quite round.
“When are you due?” I ask, trying to be neighborly.
“February. We want to be surprised, so we’re not finding out what we’re having.”
“Can we move over to the house?” I hold up my box and then wiggle my hip, showing the baby monitor clipped to it as, Mari makes a noise.
“Of course. Let me help.” She reaches into the back and pulls out the other box.
We move to the porch, and I step through the door as Mari lets out a noise, letting me know she’s awake now. I enter the spare room that will be my office and find Mari kicking and cooing.
Wrenn follows me in with the box.
“Just set it there.” I point to a group of boxes. These boxes are from South Africa and can wait. I don’t want to go through them now because the memories are still too raw.
Wrenn sets it down and then kneels next to Mari. “Oh, she is just beautiful. How old is she?”
“She’ll be four months on Monday.”
“She is just so precious. I can’t wait to have ours.” Again, her hands go to her belly.
“Can I ask you a question?” I can’t help it, I need to know. What would be the odds?
Wrenn stands up and looks at me.
“Sure, what?”
“It’s about your name. I lived here a long time ago when I was a kid. I knew a Wrenn Williamson…” I bite my lip to keep from saying more.
“Williamson is my maiden name.” She laughs, and the memories of all the times we had sleepovers or played at her parents’ house roll through me. “I was wondering if it was you when you said your name too. I can’t believe it’s really you, Sydney. My mom said she saw you when you came home for your grandma’s funeral, but you only stayed for a night.”
She pulls me into her arms for a hug. I hold my body still for a moment until the memories flood me. I wrap my arms around her and hold on. I need a friend, but I can’t confide in any of them.
“Wrenn,” I say her name and the tears start. She was my best friend until I moved away before seventh grade. “I tried to stay in touch, but life happened.” I had fought the move because I was sure I wouldn’t have a friend like her again.
“I know. I got a few letters, emails, and then postcards. But they stopped about six years ago.”
“Yeah, college.” We giggle as she nods in understanding, and Mari releases a yell. “Come sit with me. I need to nurse Mari. You can tell me about your sisters and parents and husband.”
I pick up Mari and we make our way out to the living room. I sit on the sofa and curl my legs under me to relieve some of the pressure on my ankle. The doctors said I would always have issues with it. They couldn’t repair every part that was destroyed. I reach into the diaper bag and pull out a nursing cover since we have company. Mari settles in my crossed legs, letting me know she’s hungry as I slip the cover over my head.
