Don't Look Back: sequel to He Loves Me Not (Lily's Story, Book 2) by Christine Kersey Page A
Authors: Christine Kersey
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help but watch the cars around me, fearful that he would somehow know I was in town and find me.
I pushed him out of my mind and drove on to Lovelock. When I arrived at my house I was ready for a break and happy to have gotten there. Everything looked as I remembered it. I took Greta inside and she went to work thoroughly exploring. I brought in our belongings and sat on the couch. A plume of dust filled the air, making me cough.
As I looked around, I could see it would be a big job to get the place ready to sell. I had left minimal utilities on - I hadn’t wanted the pipes to freeze - but there was no Internet access here. I found the phone book and searched for a cleaning service. Using my cell phone, I arranged to have someone come out the next afternoon and do a thorough cleaning.
My next task was to decide what to do with the furniture and Dad’s belongings. Fortunately I had already packed up most of the house in the few months between Dad’s passing and me heading off to the University in Reno. Walking around the house and looking at the furniture, I realized it was mostly old and not in the best condition. Money had been tight and decorating the house hadn’t been high on Dad’s priority list.
I thought about Mary and her generosity in giving me the furniture that was now in my house. I thought it might be nice if I could do the same for someone else. Grabbing the yellow pages again, I looked up a charity that advertised their willingness to pick up goods. When I called, they said they had a cancellation and could come by the next morning. I hoped they would be gone in time for the cleaning people to come over.
With a notepad and pen in hand, I walked to each room, writing down which pieces of furniture to donate and which to have shipped to my place in California. By the time I was done, there were very few items I wanted to keep. I had decided to keep the new television, some linens, and all of the photos.
Next I went out to the garage, where I had stored all the boxes I’d packed up the previous summer. I had been careful to label each box. I divided the boxes into two groups; those that I would keep and those that I would donate. Since I had very little storage space at my California house, I wanted to minimize my “keep” pile.
After working for thirty minutes, I looked over at Greta, who had curled up in a corner of the garage, and smiled. She had been very good while I had worked and I was pleased. Deciding to take a break and reward her, I brought her out back and threw the ball for a while. Then I gave her a good scratch and she seemed to smile with pleasure.
Hunger pangs reminded me it was time for lunch, but there was no food in the house. I needed to go to the grocery store and buy enough food to sustain me for the few days I’d be here. Debating whether to trust Greta to be left on her own in the house or to take her with me and leave her in the car, I decided to leave her home. I hoped that our little play time had tired her out enough that she would behave. I had brought her pet bed into the house, so I encouraged her to lay on it, then grabbing my purse, I went out the door.
Within thirty minutes I was back and found Greta waiting for my return. It didn’t appear that she had bothered anything. When she saw me, she ran over for some attention. “You’re a good girl,” I said, scratching between her ears. Her tail wagged happily.
After fixing myself lunch, I took the food out back and let Greta spend some time outside while I ate. Fifteen minutes later I called to Greta, “Okay, girl, time to get back to work.” When I opened the door she raced to be the first inside and I patted her as she pushed past me.
I spent the next two hours finalizing my decisions on whether each item in the house would stay or go. By the time all was said and done, I had very little that I wanted to keep. I realized that the things I really wanted were at my apartment in Reno. Things like the kitchen
I pushed him out of my mind and drove on to Lovelock. When I arrived at my house I was ready for a break and happy to have gotten there. Everything looked as I remembered it. I took Greta inside and she went to work thoroughly exploring. I brought in our belongings and sat on the couch. A plume of dust filled the air, making me cough.
As I looked around, I could see it would be a big job to get the place ready to sell. I had left minimal utilities on - I hadn’t wanted the pipes to freeze - but there was no Internet access here. I found the phone book and searched for a cleaning service. Using my cell phone, I arranged to have someone come out the next afternoon and do a thorough cleaning.
My next task was to decide what to do with the furniture and Dad’s belongings. Fortunately I had already packed up most of the house in the few months between Dad’s passing and me heading off to the University in Reno. Walking around the house and looking at the furniture, I realized it was mostly old and not in the best condition. Money had been tight and decorating the house hadn’t been high on Dad’s priority list.
I thought about Mary and her generosity in giving me the furniture that was now in my house. I thought it might be nice if I could do the same for someone else. Grabbing the yellow pages again, I looked up a charity that advertised their willingness to pick up goods. When I called, they said they had a cancellation and could come by the next morning. I hoped they would be gone in time for the cleaning people to come over.
With a notepad and pen in hand, I walked to each room, writing down which pieces of furniture to donate and which to have shipped to my place in California. By the time I was done, there were very few items I wanted to keep. I had decided to keep the new television, some linens, and all of the photos.
Next I went out to the garage, where I had stored all the boxes I’d packed up the previous summer. I had been careful to label each box. I divided the boxes into two groups; those that I would keep and those that I would donate. Since I had very little storage space at my California house, I wanted to minimize my “keep” pile.
After working for thirty minutes, I looked over at Greta, who had curled up in a corner of the garage, and smiled. She had been very good while I had worked and I was pleased. Deciding to take a break and reward her, I brought her out back and threw the ball for a while. Then I gave her a good scratch and she seemed to smile with pleasure.
Hunger pangs reminded me it was time for lunch, but there was no food in the house. I needed to go to the grocery store and buy enough food to sustain me for the few days I’d be here. Debating whether to trust Greta to be left on her own in the house or to take her with me and leave her in the car, I decided to leave her home. I hoped that our little play time had tired her out enough that she would behave. I had brought her pet bed into the house, so I encouraged her to lay on it, then grabbing my purse, I went out the door.
Within thirty minutes I was back and found Greta waiting for my return. It didn’t appear that she had bothered anything. When she saw me, she ran over for some attention. “You’re a good girl,” I said, scratching between her ears. Her tail wagged happily.
After fixing myself lunch, I took the food out back and let Greta spend some time outside while I ate. Fifteen minutes later I called to Greta, “Okay, girl, time to get back to work.” When I opened the door she raced to be the first inside and I patted her as she pushed past me.
I spent the next two hours finalizing my decisions on whether each item in the house would stay or go. By the time all was said and done, I had very little that I wanted to keep. I realized that the things I really wanted were at my apartment in Reno. Things like the kitchen
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