A Fresh Start (8 page)

With a warm smile, she settled into one of the seats around the dining table.

“You look tired,” Mr. Seymour commented, putting down his newspaper. “You should’ve let me help.”

“You’re already putting me up and feeding me. Besides, Justin helped me with the painting.” Speaking of Justin, Paige stole a peek at the old-fashion clock with a swinging pendulum.

“He’s a helpful boy to a few selected people,” Mrs. Seymour said as she came out of the kitchen with a plate of bacon and eggs for her. “I doubt he’ll be joining us.”

“Thank you.” She was slightly embarrassed that Mrs. Seymour read her thoughts. She took the plate from Mrs. Seymour and set it down. “I know. Two women came by last evening and he was quite harsh to them.”

“He had a tough childhood,” Mrs. Seymour said protectively.

“I heard.”

“He told you?”

“He told me his mom was an alcoholic.” She cut a strip of bacon in half and folded it. “Where is his mother now?”

“He doesn’t know. She only calls him when she needs money. Other than that, she stays away,” Mr. Seymour answered.

“He rebuilt the house for her, you know. But she didn’t want to come back. She’s afraid that Justin will force her into rehab.”

“That’s sad.”

Paige never knew who her biological mother was and had been blessed to be adopted by the Watsons. They loved her like their own child.
 

Whatever her brother had, she had.

Even Andrew was the best brother anyone could ask for. He was always protective of her. If there were only one cookie left, he would give it to her without her asking.

Compared to Justin, God had been nice to her.

She took a bite of the bacon. Maybe she shouldn’t be blaming God for everything that had happened over the past three years. If God hadn’t given her the home she had, she didn’t know what could’ve become of her.

“He’s lucky to have you,” Paige said.

Justin’s didn’t grow up in a favorable situation, but God didn’t leave him all by himself; he had the Seymours.

“He’s pretty successful now. You must be proud.”

“He’s rich, but he isn’t happy,” Mrs. Seymour said. “Oh, don’t look so troubled.”

Paige didn’t know she had looked troubled. She smiled and poured some milk into her coffee before taking a sip.

“He’s fine.” Mrs. Seymour paused for a moment, turning to her plate of food, then back to Paige. “Who turned up at the door?”

“I didn’t get a chance to ask.”

Mrs. Seymour’s head bobbed up and down, seemingly considering who they could be.
 

“It’s not important.” With his fork in hand, Mr. Seymour pointed at her plate. “Eat.”

Paige walked alongside Mrs. Seymour as they moved through the crowd. She smoothed down her beige colored dress and pulled her cardigan closer together.
 

She was glad she’d picked this dress instead of a comfortable pair of jeans.

All the women were wearing dresses while the men wore shirts with either pants or jeans.

“Hi, Celia.” An older lady wearing a sky blue dress with small floral prints strode over, easily moving past the crowd. “I’m thinking of visiting—” The older lady turned toward Paige and was taken aback for a moment.

“Susan, this is Paige. And Paige, Mrs. Mckay.”

“Aah…The new owner of our town’s haunted house.”

She grimaced. “Yes, that’s me.”

“We’ll talk later,” Mrs. Seymour suddenly said, her eyes staring past Mrs. Mckay. “The vultures are circling.”

“What?” Paige turned to look, but was dragged away before she could get a clear glimpse.

Their short conversation with Mrs. Mckay had brought more attention to her presence. With every passing second, more stares were directed toward her. Everyone whom they passed by studied her with utmost curiosity, some with slight disdain.

She didn’t understand what could’ve caused that look, but brushed it off as her paranoia.
 

Several more people came up to them, trying to pull her away from Mrs. Seymour. But each time, Mrs. Seymour would take her by the wrist and drag her along.

Paige moved along, smiling politely at everyone who was looking her way, and continued into the church with Mrs. Seymour.

Though the walk into church took less than ten minutes, it was enough for her to catch the words ‘haunted house’ and ‘Justin’.

As Paige followed Mrs. Seymour down the aisle, she wondered if the term ‘haunted house’ would forever be linked with her name here.
 

She noticed Mr. Seymour seated on one of the pews and scooted in along with Mrs. Seymour. She had barely sat down when Mrs. Seymour looked around and began introducing Paige to a few of those seated close by.

There seemed to be a selected group of people whom Mrs. Seymour would speak to. Some, she introduced with great alacrity. Others, she would merely grunt or give a curt nod before turning away.

From all that she’d heard from Justin, from all that the Seymours had done for her, she was surprised to find an unfriendly side to Mrs. Seymour. Paige had assumed she was this nice to everyone.

She looked over at Mrs. Seymour and smiled. Whatever reason Mrs. Seymour had, Paige was sure that she wouldn’t go wrong by following her lead.

A buzz from her phone startled her. She smiled sheepishly when she saw Mrs. Seymour staring at her. Pulling her bag from the back of her chair, she placed it on her lap and leaned back.
 

She took out her phone and read the message from Justin.

Did you get dragged to church?

Her smile grew wider, and she shook her head. She was about to reply when she felt a strong sensation of someone staring at her.

She looked up and turned toward the person sitting next to her.

The woman with bleached blonde hair, probably slightly younger than Mrs. Seymour, stared intently at her phone. She was one of those in the greeted-by-a-grunt group.

Paige frowned and waited for the woman to look up from her phone.

It didn’t take long. The woman noticed Paige’s gaze and quickly turned her attention toward the pastor, pretending as though nothing happened.

Paige scooted a little closer to Mrs. Seymour and typed a reply.

They didn’t drag me, I went along.

She looked up again and found another pair of eyes on her phone. This time, it was Mrs. Seymour.

“That boy, always skipping church,” Mrs. Seymour whispered. “Tell him to join us for lunch.”

Really? You didn’t want to stay in bed on a Sunday morning after a day of painting?

Paige pushed her hair behind her ears.
I’m not lazy, and you’re summoned for lunch.

I’ll be there. And for what it’s worth, maybe you can find the answer to your question. See you later.

“Is he coming?” Mrs. Seymour asked.

Mrs. Seymour had probably seen his reply, but Paige answered her anyway. “Yes. He’ll be there.”

She turned her attention to the pastor and tuned out the stares she felt on her back. If everything happened for a reason, if there was an explanation for all that had happened, she wanted to know.
 

She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath.
Lord, I’ll settle with knowing that you remember me.

“Jesus knows the number of hair on your head. He cares about you so much that He takes an interest in every area of your life, even the ones that you don’t think matters,” the pastor said.

Then why did you let all this happen?

“We may not know the answer to everything, but that doesn’t matter. God made it simple; all we have to do is trust. Trust that if the devil throws lemons at you, He will make lemonade out of it. Trust that the plan He has for you is a good plan.”

She sighed softly. Trust. That was easier said than done.

Once service was over, the woman beside her leaned over and said, “So, you’re the one who bought the haunted house.”

Paige cracked a smile. “I—”

“Come on, Paige. I’ll introduce you to some of the neighbors.” Once again, Mrs. Seymour’s hand wrapped around her wrist and dragged her away. “Stay away from that vulture.”

Paige bit down on her lips to stop herself from laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Mrs. Seymour asked with a hint of suspicion.

“Nothing,” she quickly said.

Mrs. Seymour arched her brow, but spared Paige of any further questions.

Mrs. Seymour introduced Paige to many of her friends, giving her a background on who the person was. Most of the people Mrs. Seymour introduced were long-time friends who had volunteered in church.

Whenever they went up to someone, the person would stop whatever he or she was doing and greet her affectionately, welcoming her to town.

Her brain churned while she shook all the hands and smiled warmly at everyone. She tried hard to remember all the names, silently thanking God for all the improve-your-memory books that she’d read.

She never imagined herself having to describe after church mingling as fast-paced, but being pulled around and given all the information about the various people were slightly overwhelming.

“And this is Jane, Jane Cassells,” Mrs. Seymour said, moving her closer toward a woman. “Jane, this is Paige Watson.”

Jane gave Paige a small nod, adjusting her black metal spectacles. Her copper-brown hair was tied back in a low ponytail with her fringe pushed aside, hanging just below her brows.

“Hi, Jane,” Paige said with a bright smile.

“Hi,” Jane replied, her hand moving to push her fringe further to the side, then tugged at her ill-fitting long sleeve shirt.
 

“Jane works in the library,” Mrs. Seymour added.

“What a great place to work. Quiet and relaxed.”

“Celia!”

Paige jumped, gasping, and turned to see another copper-hair woman waving Mrs. Seymour over.

“You girls talk.” Mrs. Seymour turned to Jane. “I’ll see what your mom wants.”

Paige drew in a deep breath through her nose, glad for the break from meeting new people. She glanced over at the copper-hair woman and back at Jane. “You look just your mom.”

“Short and pudgy.”

“You’re not pudgy, you’re petite. The type that guys will want to protect.”

Jane adjusted her spectacles again. “If only.” Her tone wasn’t rude. In fact, it seemed inclined toward some deep-seated despair.

“Are you all right?” Paige blurted.

Jane blinked, looking right into Paige’s eyes. Then, her brows drew closer and her hands moved over to adjust her spectacles.

“So, what you do at work,” Paige continued before the atmosphere got more awkward.

“I’m in charge of returning the books to the right place, checking the system to make sure that books are returned on time. Basically everything.”

“That’s quite a lot of work.”

Jane opened her mouth to reply, but her eyes flickered over Paige’s shoulders and she suddenly turned mute. Jane’s hand moved to rub down one of her arms while tilting her torso away.

Paige looked over her shoulder and saw the woman who was sitting next to her in church trotting over. Next to that woman was one of the two younger women who had turned up at her house.

“Hi again,” the woman greeted her with a wide grin and raised brows. Her affability seemed forced and insincere. “I’m Jaslyn Bradley, and my daughter,” she moved her hand behind the golden blonde, “Gloria. I believe you met her yesterday.”

“Yes, I did.”

Paige couldn’t help noticing Gloria’s long acrylic nails adorned with crystals. Just looking at her nails felt heavy.

“So, I heard Justin is working for you?”

Though the older Bradley had made it sound like a question, it felt somewhat like an accusation to Paige. “He’s helping Travis out.”

“You know his story, right? His mother was an alcoholic and a complete…well, she was basically the town’s whore,” Gloria whispered, as if she was letting Paige in on a secret.

Paige’s eyes widened. That was a rude thing to say. Even if it was true, there wasn’t a need to bring it up after all these years.

“He used to get up in the morning and roam the streets in search of his mom.” Bending her torso forward, Gloria continued softly. “There was this time his mom passed out drunk on our lawn and I saw him checking her pulse before dragging her back,” Gloria said and rolled her eyes. “How pathetic, right?”

Paige shook her head. She couldn’t imagine what life was like for Justin. No wonder he didn’t miss home. Those memories, the life he had as a child…

Gloria took a small step closer. “He’s always been a loner even since he was in school. Doesn’t speak to anyone, except when picking a fight.”

Mrs. Bradley took a step into the tiny circle they had formed. “And I heard Justin had followed in his mother’s footsteps,” she said. “You’ve better be careful. You don’t want your roof falling over you while you sleep.”

Clasping her arms behind her, Paige took a step back from the mother and daughter. “He isn’t like that.”

She hadn’t spent much time with Justin, but each time he was with her, she felt safe.
 

He was quick to observe everything that was wrong in the house, even deducing that she was from New York and was hiding from someone.

There was no way someone as alert as he was could be a drunk.

“Do you know that the Webbers are divorced because of his mom? They weren’t the only ones,” Mrs. Bradley continued as if she hadn’t noticed Paige’s disgust with them. “And they say he was out with a different woman every night while he was at Cheyenne. Someone saw him.”

Paige couldn’t help rolling her eyes. “There’s always a
they say
, but 99 percent of those aren’t true.”

Mrs. Bradley laughed dryly. “I’m sure this is the one percent. Trust me. For someone with such a rotten mother, he won’t be far behind.”

No wonder Justin and Mrs. Seymour didn’t like them.

She pinched her lips into a thin line, drew in a deep breath, then continued. “I don’t know him very well. All I know is that he’s been extremely helpful. He has shown gratitude those who was there for him. And he’s big-hearted enough that despite what you say of his mother, he still rebuilt his old house for her.”