A different mailbox.
The oak tree was still there.
That was all.
I stood at the edge of the road after the man closed the door.
For a moment, I did not know where to go.
Then I walked toward town.
Cedar Valley had changed.
There was a coffee shop where the laundromat used to be.
The pharmacy had a new sign.
The old diner had become a bank.
But some things were the same.
People still watched strangers.
And some remembered me.
I saw it in their faces.
A woman coming out of the post office looked at me twice.
Then whispered something to the man beside her.
A mother near the bakery pulled her little boy closer.
At first, I told myself I was imagining it.
Then someone said my name.
“Rebecca Miller?”
I turned.
An older man stood near a parked truck.
I recognized him.
Mr. Dalton.
He had been my high school history teacher.
“Hello.”
His expression changed.
Not exactly fear.
More like discomfort.
“I heard you were getting out.”
“Apparently everyone did.”
He looked embarrassed.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“It’s okay.”
He asked where I was staying.
I lied.
“With family.”
He seemed relieved.
People like simple answers.
I kept walking.
At the old grocery store, I went inside because my stomach hurt from hunger.
I bought a banana.
A bottle of water.
A packet of crackers.
Seven dollars and forty cents.
I counted the money twice.
A girl was stocking canned soup nearby.
She looked about twenty.
I asked if she knew the Miller family.
She did.
Everybody did.
“Elvira Miller?”
“Yes.”
“She moved.”
My chest tightened.
“Where?”
“Other side of the valley.”
“Do you know the address?”
She shook her head.
“But her sons live over there too.”
“My brothers?”
“Yeah.”
She smiled awkwardly.
“Nice houses.”
That hurt more than it should have.
“Both of them?”
“I think so.”
“What about Lily?”
The girl frowned.
“Who?”
“My daughter.”
Then recognition came.
“Oh.”
She stopped stocking.
“You’re Rebecca.”
I nodded.
Her entire posture changed.
She looked around.
Then lowered her voice.
“Lily lives with your mother, I think.”
“Still?”
“Maybe.”
“I’m not sure.”
“Do you know where?”
She shook her head.
Then said.
“You could try the church office.”
“Pastor Elaine knows everybody.”
I thanked her.
Outside, I sat on a bench and ate half the banana.
I saved the rest.
