The cabin smelled like her. The mountain breeze came through the window, bring the smell of fresh flowers. The whole place felt like a memory that hadn't faded yet. The kettle still sat on the stove. Her boots placed were they had been kept by the door. It first the first my mother did when we got g-ma's belongs back. The couch still dipped on the left side where she always sat when she read aloud from her old journals.
I didn't want to cry. Still wearing the funeral robes, my heart steady. I sat on the couch with the dragon-scale shawl in my lap, the one she always wore when it was too warm for coats but too cold to go without something. Heavy wool. Natural browns. Hand-knit. I looked at the window, I felt a single tear roll down my cheek.
I buried my hands in it. It still held her scent. A million times she tried to teach me to knit but I was always so busy with my studies, what I would not give to know how to knit. I felt my lips quiver, as another tear kissed my cheek and began its journey of rolling down my face. I hate when I cry, I used the selves to wipe the tear away.
The folded cloth from the funeral lay beside me. A white linen, corner-stitched in red thread. Our family sigil emborder on it, a sword and a book in a wreath of leaves and apples. Each name stitched around the edge. Not all of them but g-ma was there. I don't know who put it there or how they did it so fast. I was sure mother know. It is a family tradition mother said, "You need to take this with you, hold it in your hands." I remember rolling my eyes and taking the cloth from her. "how come your name is not in this?" she shrug and said "It is not meant for me, Mom told me to give it to you." So now I have this cloth woo-hoo. I would rather have my G-ma.
At the kitchen table, my mother in her morning robes her hair pulled back into a lose bun, sat with the city clerk wearing a suit, signing the paperwork to transfer the property into her name. They didn't like to wait on those things. Even grief had deadlines, apparently.
I just can't believe what happen, the story we got from the police must be wrong. The police officer said it was the high wind. There had been strong gusts the day she went up the cliff and that she must've slipped. But that couldn't be true.
G-ma was the picture of perfect health. More than that she had great balance. The kind of balance that comes from hiking a trail every morning for two decades and dancing through sword forms like she was still twenty-five.
They recovered her walking staff. I even asked one of the officers if they'd tested it for residue, because I notice a patch of what looked dried blood. He barely glanced at me before brushing it off. "What would a trainee know about forensic evidence?" I heard one of them mutter to his partner. I called Zoe the next day.
She'd already finished training and had just been placed at the 12th District in digital forensics. I asked if she knew anyone, anyone at all, in physical evidence who might take a second look.
She wanted to help. But she didn't have the connections yet.
I get it. She's new.
But these country cops? They don't want to look any deeper. Out here, nothing ever happens. And when something does… they bury it as fast as they can.
The training school had given me a few days off, but I'd have to head back tonight.
Any more than four days and I'd be recycled into the next class.
I stood up, stretching, and headed to my room to change.
Knock knock.
"Who is it?" I called.
"Your mother," she answered. "I told the clerk you needed to get back to the train station for school. He said he'd wait and give you a ride."
I pressed my lips together. Raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah," I replied. "That sounds great."
I moved quicker after that. He didn't have to offer me a ride, and I wasn't about to take advantage of his kindness by dragging my feet.
The clerk waited outside in an old silver sedan, tapping the steering wheel to the rhythm of a song I couldn't hear. I opened the door to the backseat.
I tossed my duffel in the backseat, thanked him for the ride, and climbed in.
The drive was quiet the clerk turn the radio off. Just trees and road and silence.
By the time we pulled up to the station, the sky had started to turn that soft purple-gray that comes right before evening. I thanked him again, stepped out, and start to my way to the platform. "Good Luck Elena." the clerk called out after me. I turn and gave him a nod, then continue to the platform.
The train came five minutes later.
I found my seat near the middle. Window side. The car wasn't crowded, just a few passengers murmuring to each other, one or two with earbuds in. A kid played with a toy dragon across the aisle.
I leaned my head against the window, letting the chill of the glass ground me.
The train lurched.
And then it rolled forward.
I closed my eyes, just for a moment.
I'll rest until the next stop, I told myself.
But sleep caught me faster than I expected.