Chapter 8

I rented a single-story house with a courtyard in a small southern town. An old peach tree stood in the yard, its branches reaching up to the second-floor windowsill, shading half the window from the summer sun. On moving day, my cousin came to help. Watching me place my mother's sewing machine by the window, she suddenly sighed. "Evelyn, have you really decided not to go back?" I was repotting the peach tree, my hands covered in new soil. "It's nice here.Peaceful." "Liam had someone ask for your address," my cousin said, kneeling to help steady the pot. "He said... he wants to send you something." The peach tree in the pot was the one I'd transplanted from the old house. Its roots were damaged during the move, and it had lost most of its leaves. My fingers brushed the curled leaves. "I don't need anything." My cousin was about to say more when her phone rang. It was her son, calling out "Mommy" in a milky voice. She laughed, fine wrinkles gathering at the corners of her eyes. A