Chapter 3: I Need a New Beginning
Emma's POV
Day one. I drive for sixteen hours straight through Pennsylvania and Ohio, stopping only when the gas gauge hits empty. At a station somewhere in the middle of nowhere, I buy coffee and a sandwich, eating in the car while the tank fills. The food tastes like nothing. I get back on the road.
Day two takes me through Indiana and Illinois. The temperature drops. Around midnight, I pull into a roadside motel and sleep for three hours. The dreams are bad. Adam. Sarah. Their hands intertwined. When I wake up, it's still dark outside. I'm back on the highway before dawn breaks.
Day three blurs into Iowa, Nebraska, Wyoming. The landscape opens up, becoming emptier and emptier. My phone rings a few times. I don't look. Just keep driving, hands on the wheel, eyes on the endless road.
On the morning of day four, I see the sign: "Welcome to Oregon." I take a deep breath. Almost there. A few more hours and the trees start appearing, thick and towering on both sides of the highway. Then through gaps in the forest, I catch glimpses of blue. The ocean. I slow down, wanting to see it better.
That's when the car makes a sound. A rattling, grinding noise that gets louder when I ease off the gas. The temperature gauge on the dashboard creeps into the red zone. I pull over to the shoulder and try restarting the engine. Nothing. The car is dead.
I sit there staring out the windshield at the empty two-lane road cutting through dense forest. My phone shows one bar of signal. I'm about to call for a tow truck when I hear another vehicle approaching. A large RV slows down and pulls up beside me. The driver's window rolls down, revealing an elderly man with kind eyes.
"Need some help?"
"Car broke down," I say.
"You out here alone?" A woman leans over from the passenger seat, her face creasing with concern.
"Yeah."
"Tom, we have to help her," the woman says.
"Of course we do." Tom is already climbing out. "Pop the hood."
He spends a few minutes examining the engine, then straightens up with a low whistle. "How long have you been driving this thing?"
"Three days."
"Three days straight?"
"I stopped for gas."
He shakes his head. "No wonder it gave up on you. Overheated, and looks like you've got some other issues too. You'll need to get it to a shop." He glances down the road. "There's a small town about five miles up. We're heading that way anyway. Martha and I can tow you there if you want."
"You'd do that?"
"Sure thing." Tom is already walking to the back of the RV for his tow rope.
The town is exactly as small as promised. One main street lined with low buildings. The repair shop sits at the far end, a faded red sign reading "Wilson's Auto Repair" hanging above the garage door. Tom honks the horn. A woman emerges from inside, mid-thirties with short hair, wearing jeans and a flannel shirt with grease stains on the sleeves.
"Hey, Tom. Martha." She waves at them before turning her attention to me. "Who's this?"
"Found her stranded on the highway," Tom explains. "Engine died."
The woman walks over and extends a hand. "Lisa. Lisa Wilson."
"Emma Gray."
Lisa pops the hood and examines the engine, her frown deepening with each passing second. "How long were you driving?"
"Three days."
"Jesus." She wipes her hands on a rag. "You really put this car through hell. It's overheated, oil needs changing, and there are a few other problems. I can fix it, but I'll need to order parts from Portland. Three, maybe four days."
Four days. The number hangs in the air between us.
"Where are you staying?" Lisa asks. "I can drop the car off when it's ready."
"I don't know yet."
"There's an inn in town," Martha pipes up. "Bay View Inn. Very clean. The owner's a friend of mine." She scribbles the address on a piece of paper and hands it to me.
"Since you're stuck here anyway," Tom adds, "might as well enjoy it. This place is beautiful. The sunrise over the ocean is something special. Real healing."
There's that word again. Healing.
Martha studies my face like she can see straight through to the exhaustion and heartbreak underneath, but she doesn't pry. "Take care of yourself," is all she says, patting my hand.
After they drive off, I stand in front of the garage, suddenly aware of how tired I am. "You heading to the inn?" Lisa asks.
"Yeah."
"Two blocks up, the red house. Can't miss it." She pauses. "I'll get your car fixed as fast as I can."
"Thanks."
I'm turning to leave when a voice calls out from inside the garage. "Mom, where's the water?"
A teenage boy walks out, maybe seventeen or eighteen, wearing coveralls and holding a wrench. He stops when he sees me.
"Oh. Customer."
"This is Emma," Lisa says. "Her car's going to be here a few days."
The boy nods and disappears back inside. I notice Lisa's bitter smile when she looks after him.
"Your son?"
"Yeah. Ethan. Good kid." Her voice carries something heavy. "Too good, actually. Works three jobs. Here, a fast food place, and down at the docks."
"Three jobs? Why?"
Lisa is quiet for a moment. "He thinks he doesn't deserve it. Won't take money from home. Because of his father." Her voice drops. "His dad's in prison. Financial fraud. Stole from a lot of people, including my family."
I don't know what to say to that.
"I remarried," Lisa continues. "My husband's good to Ethan. But Ethan carries his father's guilt around like it's his own. Just got into Stanford too. Can you believe that? He wants to earn the tuition himself."
I look toward the shop where the boy is moving boxes. He works with the efficiency of someone much older.
She shakes her head. "Anyway. You should go rest. You look exhausted."
The inn is as described, small but clean. I drop my bag in the room and lie on the bed, thinking I should sleep. But my mind won't stop racing. After twenty minutes of staring at the ceiling, I give up and head out.
The walk to the beach takes less than ten minutes. The sand is mostly empty, just a few people walking dogs in the distance. I take off my shoes and let the cold water lap at my feet. The ocean stretches out forever, gray-blue and constant. I start walking along the shoreline, losing track of time and distance until the town disappears behind me.
A trail leads up toward the cliffs. I follow it without thinking, climbing higher as the trees close in on both sides. The path splits several times. I choose right, then left, not really caring where I end up. That's when I see it through the branches.
A house. Glass and steel, perched on the cliff's edge facing the Pacific. I push through the undergrowth to get closer. The structure is modern, all clean lines and floor-to-ceiling windows, but clearly abandoned. The glass is filthy, weeds have taken over the yard, and part of the deck is rotting. But the location is breathtaking. Standing here, you can see nothing but ocean and sky, stretching to the horizon.
I stay there for a long time, watching the light change on the water.
When I get back to town, I head straight to the repair shop. Lisa looks surprised to see me again.
"Something wrong?"
"That house on the cliff," I say. "The glass one. Who owns it?"
"You mean the Wilson Estate?" Lisa wipes her hands. "It was supposed to be a resort development. Developer went bankrupt, so it's been sitting empty ever since."
"What's happening to it now?"
"Bank's foreclosing. They're auctioning it off next week."
"Can I participate in the auction?"
Lisa stares at me. "You want to buy it?"
"Yes."
"That place is expensive, Emma. And the repairs would cost even more."
"I know."
"Do you?"
I nod, feeling more certain than I have about anything in days. "I need a new beginning."
Lisa studies my face for a long moment, then slowly smiles. "Alright then. I'll find out the details for you."
