Page 4 of Finding Home

I’ve been staying with Cass and Quinn for a few weeks, and they have been so supportive. Surprisingly, I don’t feel like a bother, but I’m itching to start my new life. With that thought in mind, I’m sitting at the dining table with a job application on my screen when Quinn and Cass come in. They’re both grinning ear to ear like twin Cheshire cats.

In the short time I’ve been here, I have come to realize that when these two are ginning too big they are up to something. On the third day I was here, Cass walked in giving me a toothy grin, Quinn right on her heel, stifling an ornery smirk behind her hand. Cass asked if I was having any pregnancy cravings yet, to which I responded, just anything sweet. Quinn busted out laughing as Cass did a little shimmy and pulled a cake from behind her back. It was shaped like a penis and said, Sorry you got knocked up, next time just eat dick!

Cass laughed until she was wheezing. Quinn at least had taken a pause from laughing to ask if it was too far, and to say that she told Cass it might be too much. Cass had no problem throwing Quinn under the bus when she told me Quinn was the one to do the writing on it. Gosh, in such a short time, these two have made me feel more a part of their home than my parents ever had.

“What are you two up to?” I query, eyeing them warily.

“We have a solution to all your problems, Harper! It’s brilliant, and so perfect, and I’m so excited,” Cass spouts, her enthusiasm infectious as she bounces on her toes like all the excitement is about to burst out of her at any moment. I’m already prepared to agree and haven’t even heard what it is yet. Though Cass could talk a nun into taking shots of tequila, I swear. I hadn’t appreciated her powers of persuasion when she lived in Maine, but after a few weeks together, I can’t deny her superpower is legit.

“Easy does it, tiger,” Quinn murmurs and pats Cass’s shoulder. The way they touch and move with each other so effortlessly has me wondering if there’s more than friendship going on here, but I don’t push or ask. I figure if they want me to know, they’ll tell me. Cass’s mom would straight up disown her if she was with a woman, and I have no clue about Quinn’s family. Still, deep down, I hope there is something there. They fit together so seamlessly and are always in sync. Every once in a while, I’ll catch them in a quiet moment together, and the way they look at each other squeezes my heart with longing to be with someone who watches me like that.

“You tell her, Quinn. It was your idea, anyways.” Cass wheezes, hopping foot to foot now.

“I was talking to my mom this morning. She owns a spa in a little town called Juniper Falls outside of Salem, about an hour and a half from here. Her main masseur just put in her notice. She’s getting married, and her husband-to-be is in the military, so they’ll be moving soon after. Anyways, I mentioned your situation, and she said she would hire you and pay for your training if you wanted to move down there. It’s the cutest little town. A slower pace than here, but safe with great schools, and the people are really loving, if not a little nosey. Plus, an added bonus, rent is much cheaper.” Quin describes the town and a few, as she says, key people, painting a picture in my head of a place I’ve never seen.

Listening to Quinn talk with such fondness about Juniper Falls causes hope to swell in my chest. I ran away, desperate for a new start, searching for a home. Something in my gut tells me it might just be in Juniper Falls.

One video chat with Shaina, and a week later, I’m on the road to Juniper Falls in my new Honda CR-V, which I bought outright, plus a year of insurance thanks to selling my BMW before leaving home. Cass and Quinn offered to come with me, but I felt like I needed to do this on my own. The clouds and promise of rain have the temperatures dropping into the seventies. I roll down my windows, crank up some music, and sing my way to Juniper Falls, ready for the future that awaits me and the little life growing inside of me.

Chapter 5

Harper

Four Years and Six Months Later

“Happy birthday, dear Lizzie, happy birthday to you!” the small group gathered in my backyard sings, as Lizzie sits grinning while covering her ears. Her eyes are glued on her Sofia the First themed birthday cake with a big number four candle in the center, the tiny flame dancing in the light breeze.

“Make a wish and blow out the candle, Lizzie,” I call, tears nearly choking me. Lizzie actually does it. Last year, she just grabbed the still lit candle and tried to shove it into her mouth. It’s a wonder what one year and a great therapy team can do. At three, Lizzie wasn’t speaking, avoided eye contact, struggled with eating, and had difficulty sleeping through the night. By the time we got in to see the developmental pediatrician, her autism diagnosis came as no surprise.

I remember my best friend, Bree, asking if it was hard to hear the diagnosis. It had been easy to answer that, no, it wasn’t hard. If anything, it was a relief. I’d been wondering and researching until I was sure I had earned my Google MD by that point, so it was a weight off my shoulders to finally, officially, have a diagnosis. It didn’t change the way I saw my baby, and it hadn’t mattered to anyone that was important in our lives. What it had done was connect us with amazing occupational and speech therapists that were invested in helping my daughter achieve all her goals, however that looked. They have been such a gift. Lizzie still isn’t talking, aside from a few approximations of words, but we are discussing some new options to give her means to communicate, and she tolerates food and sounds so much better these days.

Mrs. Shaina is bustling about like a proud grandma, cutting the cake, and directing everyone to form a line. Warmth floods through me as I watch her and Lizzie together. Knowing without her, my life would be so different. At nineteen, I showed up at her door scared, pregnant, and alone. She hugged me and took me under her wing, giving me a job, and supporting me as I found my way through some of the hardest times in my life.

“Elizabeth Quinn, you come on over here, you get the first slice, birthday girl!” she shouts over the den of voices gathered around the table.

Lizzie squeals, hopping up and down, bouncing on her toes as the excitement of the day pulses through her. I smile as I walk over, hugging my girl and chuckling. Only Shaina calls her by her full name, but no one can blame her. When I was just hitting my ninth month of pregnancy, Shaina’s daughter and Cass’s roommate, Quinn, had been in a car accident on her way to pick up dinner and didn’t survive.

Shaina was all sorts of riled up when she heard I went into labor and hadn’t called, not wanting to impose during a time of so much grief. She bustled into the hospital room, hands on her hips, ready to tell me off. Which she proceeded to do until she saw the name on the board along with the date of birth, height, and weight: Elizabeth Quinn Murphy.

“Quinn brought us together and gave me a life I love. There was no other name for my girl,” I whispered, handing a sleeping Lizzie to Shaina. We cried and held each other for a long time, sharing our grief, pain, and hope for the future together.

Wiping a tear brought on by the memory from four years ago, I kiss my daughter and get her settled in her seat with a slice of cake. She’ll only eat the frosting and little candies on the top—cake’s not really her thing, but she seems happy and content, and that fills my soul.

I really wish Cass would have come down, but she doesn’t visit often. Her grief over Quinn nearly drowned her. She pulled away in a deep depression for over a year. I regret how little I was aware of her struggle while I was too deep in new single motherhood. After that first year, we started talking weekly and reconnecting. Cass ended up going back to school and became a nurse, then signed on as a traveling nurse as soon as she graduated. Even though she’s traipsing all over, we still make time to talk weekly, and the rekindling of that relationship was such a balm to my weary heart after my family turned me out.

Glancing up at the sky, I sigh, relieved that Oregon weather cooperated and allowed us to hold the party outdoors. In fact, Oregon had shown up with sunshine, a light breeze, and temps in the sixties, so basically a perfect day in the Pacific Northwest. The rest of the party is a whirlwind of bubbles, balloon animals, and a bouncy house that I know I will have to drag Lizzie out of for her bath tonight. She loves jumping and will do it for hours if I let her. The day had been everything I could have wanted and more, and watching my girl surrounded by so much love had me on the brink of tears all day.

Shaina and Bree stayed for a while after the party, helping me clean up and getting Lizzie settled for the night. Knowing our night routine is crucial in setting her up to hopefully sleep through the night, they sent me inside with Lizzie, and by the time I came out, most of the cleanup was done.

“Y’all did too much!” I sigh as we make our way to the porch, drinks in hand. I lean back in my chair and take a deep breath. Lizzie had been exhausted but fidgety through bath and story time, which usually doesn’t bode well for the night, but I’m hoping all the bouncing and excitement is enough to combat the overstimulation let down. Time will tell…and that time is usually around two in the morning.

“Well, I think that was one successful birthday.” Shaina sighs, settling in the rocking chair she always commandeers when she’s here.

“It was, and Lizzie looked so happy!” Bree gushes her hazel eyes bright with excitement, looking almost green in the fading light. She fiddles with her hair, trying to force it into a claw clip, but her black tresses aren’t cooperating. In a moment of boredom, she had walked into a salon and told them to cut it all off. Now she is constantly trying to contain it and get it out of her face. It makes me chuckle every time I see it.

“She was. I can’t thank you both enough for being here and helping, and Bree, you outdid yourself with that cake. It was perfect.” I cried when she showed up with it. Knowing Lizzie is more of a candy girl, Bree had ordered lavender chocolate candies to make Sofia's gown out of, ensuring Lizzie had plenty of candy, while still giving her the birthday cake moment; which, let’s be honest, was more for me. For our, just the two of us birthday treat, I made her a Kit Kat pyramid, so it was purely a Lizzie delicacy.

“I wouldn't have missed it for the world. You know I love Lizzie like she’s my own,” Bree says, and I know it’s true. These two women are the only people, outside of Cass, that I trust with my daughter. Their love and friendship have been the greatest blessing of my life outside of Lizzie, of course. I slump in my chair, trying to relax my already aching back after all the time in the bouncy house. Suddenly, I feel so much older than twenty-four.