Love, Dot
Lark
“Where is Avery?”
“She has school run.” Lark looked around the attic, mentally formulating a plan of attack.
“Isn’t Peyton old enough to drive?” Hannah asked.
“Almost at least. But I think Avery likes doing it.”
Hannah frowned. “I think that’s something I would not enjoy.”
Lark shifted. “No. Probably not.”
She kept her eyes on Hannah as Hannah scanned the room and she could almost see the mental to-do list her much more organized sister was building as she took a quick inventory of everything stacked in front of them. “This is a lot of stuff.”
They’d gotten a massive furniture delivery today, and Lark couldn’t even be annoyed because the rich velvet chaise, the beautiful four poster beds and plush sectional were exactly what Lark would have chosen if she’d been consulted.
It was always weird to her, when the three of them had taste that crossed over.
“I was thinking about it last night,” she said, quickly. “If we start taking things over to The Miner’s House I can sort through it during slow times. I know Gram’s bedroom is still completely filled with her things. I peeked in there last night but I couldn’t quite bear going in.”
Hannah looked down. “Yeah, I...don’t think I’m quite ready for that.” She frowned. “Do you feel guilty? About how little we visited?”
“I always at least came for Christmas and the Fourth.”
“Better than me. I was down to Christmas, and only after the holiday concert series ended in Boston.”
“We both saw her last in the same visit,” Lark said. “Remember, she said your hair was looking too ordinary.”
Hannah grabbed hold of the end of her ruby hair. “Yep. Too dull for Gram.” Sadness lowered her features. “She wanted me to sit and needlepoint with her and I didn’t want to.”
“Well, you’re here now. You’re moving over here tonight, right?”
“Yes.”
“We can have a slumber party.”
“Are you staying here for the whole renovation?” Hannah asked, her brow pleating.
“I was planning on it.”
“I’m not sure if it’s going to be hugely livable.”
“I’m very comfortable with camping, Hannah.”
Hannah’s lips pulled down into a frown. “You think you’re going to walk to the creek and bathe?”
“Sure. Why not? We used to skinny dip in the creek all the time.” At least they had until Hannah had gotten too busy to hang out with Lark anymore.
Until she’d gotten consumed by her music, and then there had been Josh—until Hannah had cut even him out. And between him and music there hadn’t been time for her to devote a breath to anyone else. Let alone an afternoon with her sister.
Hannah laughed. “True. I remember being scared boys were spying on us. Then a couple years later I was a lot more worried they weren’t spying on us.”
“Yeah I think the boys were mostly ignoring us, to be honest.”
One boy in particular. But thinking about him was like a series of chain reactions, and Lark didn’t want to step down that path. So she didn’t even put one foot on it.
“In a month or so I’ll work on finding a house to rent here,” she said. “And until then I guess we’re roommates.”
“Oh wow,” Hannah said, looking a bit stricken. “It’s like being kids again.”
“Except we have our own rooms. This place is plenty big.”
“You think that your craft business is going to make enough money for you to rent somewhere else?” Hannah asked.
“I have money,” Lark said. “Don’t worry about me.”
Her sister paused. “You have that kind of money?”
“I had some successful projects,” she said, feeling a little defensive and hating to be put in that position.
She’d decided a long time ago that it was powerful to be fine, thank you very much, and have no one else be able to quite pin her down.
But now that she was looking at proximity with her sister for some time, it was annoying.
“You never say,” Hannah said. “I keep everyone posted on what’s happening with the orchestra. But why are you coming back here?” Hannah’s tone dripped with disdain. “Why are you... Changing everything?”
Lark couldn’t seem to shift the deep sadness that welled up inside of her. Six months ago she’d been hit with an overwhelming realization that what she was doing wasn’t what she loved. Not anymore.
That in some ways it was keeping her broken, not healing her.
And once she had realized those things, it had felt like a slog to finish the project she was contracted for. And she...she was not a precious artist. She was a commercial artist.
She enjoyed making art that she could be paid for, art that met her admittedly meager needs. She could enjoy art in any variety, and enjoyed the challenge of adapting to different styles, and different directives for different projects. But once it was gone, it was gone, and once the sadness had taken hold it was too much like old memories.
And every time she picked up a pen she felt like she was sitting in them. The entire point of staying away from Bear Creek had been outrunning bad memories. But it wasn’t working anymore. They’d been ankle deep for years, and now she felt them creeping up, higher and higher and she worried soon she’d drown in them.
So when Addie died, and had left her this place, she had figured...might as well wade right in.
“You know me. I like to...follow my feet and see where they lead me. I was itching for something new.”
“Just like that?”
“It’s not really like being first chair in a major symphony orchestra,” Lark said, touching her sister’s hand. “I get contracts from a lot of different companies and publishers. I can easily step back in.”
“I don’t know how you do that. Just... Move. Change things. Assuming that you won’t lose any ground.”
“I don’t know
