Chapter One

Aubrey Becking's childhood home was located in a small town on the edge of Washington, a twenty hour drive from her home in San Clemente, California. Looking upon it now, with its white siding and the chipped blue paint on its shutters, she could sort of feel the small town appeal. It was a tiny house and only two stories, but it was more that what most people had. Her grandparents on her fathers side had spent their whole lives fixing it up. She briefly remembered spending one summer when she was five painting the now faded white picket fence after Poppy and Mimi had spent weeks digging and placing the posts into the wet ground.

She walked on the gravel, away from the car that had been her mothers, and up the chipped paint steps and onto the porch of the house. Even the smell was a thousand times different. Earthy and wet, but she remembered her love for it, no matter how comfortable she had grown to the sunny and warm beaches of San Clemente. She stood and gazed at her home for a long moment. The soft drizzle of constant rain had made a screened in front porch a necessity, and inside it sat a pair or white worn rocking chairs, and she remembered all the nights on a porch swing while her grandparents rocked away for hours.

Slowly, she tugged the hood of her light navy blue jacket over her head and headed towards the house, away from the black 2008 Nissan Altima with her backpack secured to her back. She had spent months saving for it years ago, and even years later it was still her baby. Inside she saw a shadow flicker past the curtain, and she braced herself as she winded up the stone path. She hadnt been back in eleven years. She hadnt seen anyone in eleven years.

She hadn't come back when Poppy died or when Mimi was sent to a home. She stayed in California when Beatrice was admitted into the hospital for a psychiatric stay and when she was discharged. She didn't even consider it when her father finally finally subcombed to hanging himself. She stayed in California with her mother and maternal grandmother. She didnt dwell to think of what had been. Years of therapy after moving to San Clemente had taught her that.

She walked onto the porch and opened the creaky door slowly, hesitating. It wasn't to late to turn around and drive back to San Clemente. It wasnt to late to just call the whole thing off and tell Bea nevermind. Tell her she wasn't interested in the studio.

But she knew if she stayed in San Clemente, she'd be swinging from the rafters of their now torn down childhood home, just like her father, 8 years ago. While his was a loss she was glad to see, she didnt want herself to be the same way. With no one caring.

She shakily reached up, hesitating. There was still time. She was going to get back in her car and go back to-

She cut the thought off, knocking softly. Back to what?

Bea was at the door in a fraction of a second, and throwing her arms around her younger sister even faster. "Oh, Aubrey, you're here!" Bea gasped as she squeezed her sister. "You're actually really here!"

Aubrey laughed, wrapping her arms around her older sister. Bea was taller than Aubrey, by half a foot atleast, but then again, Aubrey was only a measley five foot. But while Aubrey was shorter, she was more muscle from years of dance.

Aubrey turned back, her hands resting on her sisters shoulders. "Wow, Bea, you're so..." she frowned not being able find the right words.

Bea didnt sense her sisters displeasure, and just smiled broadly, grabbing her hand and leading her inside the old house. "So excited to see you!" She said happily, and Aubrey softly shut was door behind herself. She didn't comment on her sisters statement, just stared around in amazement. Everything was different.

The old shag carpet was ripped up and now dark oak wood floors were in their place. The walls were painted dark grey, and all the furniture was white and prestine. The old cottage had been completely revamped. It wasn't the home Aubrey had been looking for.

Aubrey hadn't even realized Bea talking until she said her name, and Aubrey's attention snapped back to her fragile sister. Bea's long black hair seemed thinner than she remembered, not as shiny, her tanned skin was pale, and pulled acrossed her frail boned. In years past, she looked like their full blooded father. Not anymore. "Aubrey? Did you want a bottled water?"

"Oh. No thanks. I'm not really thirsty."

"Okay. How's the old hag doing?" Bea said halfheartidly as she took a seat on the white sofa, curling her feet underneath her. Aubrey knew the question wasnt about their mother. Clara Fromata, formaly known as Cara Beckings, had abandoned Bea after she picked to stay in Morganton. A few years later, Clara had remarried to a much younger man who owned some sort of internet start-up, and She disappeared from Aubrey's life as well.

Some people weren't meant to be parents, and Clara was one of them.

"Grandmother is doing fine. She sends her love." Aubrey said as she forced a smile. The first part was the honest truth, but they both knew the second part wasn't to far from a lie. Grandmother had her own thoughts and feelings about things.

Beatrice rolled her brown eyes, and fiddled with the hem of her jacket. "Im so glad you agreed. Im so glad you're home." Bea smiled wide at her chocolate haired sister. While Bea resembled their father, Aubrey resembled the stunning, wild, and curly haired brunette that had come from Edmonds and snatched his attention. "Under the circumstances..." she added as a second thought, seeing the twinge flash through her sisters hazel eyes.

Aubrey hesitated, looking down at her hands. "Its nice to be home." She smiled weakly at her sister, before crossing her arms and heading to the staircase. "Which room is mine? Im pretty tired."

"Oh." Bea said as she pushed herself off the couch, her excitement falling off her face. "Its the one we used to share. At the-"

"End of the hall." The younger sister finished the sentence without a moments hesitation, heading up the stairs.

Bea leaned against the couch, small and tired, her shoulders slumped as she listened to the sound of their old bedroom door slamming.

The inside of the room was alot different than what it used to be. For starters, the old wood paneling had been removed and replaced with new drywall that was painted a grayish blue color. The pictures taped to the walls were removed, along with the old wood bunkbed that used to be pressed against the far wall.

Now, in the center of the room sat a new queen sized bed with a black iron head and foot board, the bed was made neatly with an extra blanket at the foot. On tbe opposite wall was black dresser and vanity mirror, freshly folded towels and rags sitting on top.

Other than those two things was a window with its curtains open, overlooking the same forest view it always had. Hanging from a tree in the back the same ratty tire swing swung gently in the soft breeze. Time had passed but how much had really changed?

Aubrey gently set her bag on tbe ground beside her before walking to the bed. She gently laid down on her stomach, eyes fixing on the rain splattered windows and the tops of the emerald green trees outside.

XxXxXx

"Allen. Quit!" Aubrey warned, trying to sound stern, but a wide smile spread acrossed her face. They were in Allen's white camaro, and the headlights shinned brightly on the dark landscape, illumimating the late summer trees.

Allen glanced over at Aubrey innocently, his hand still nestled inbetween her thighs. "What?"

"You know what, mister." She attempted stern, but couldn't quite pull it off. He was sending her stomach into swirls, as he had been since the moment she laid eyes on him at her first recital for the Brome Theater, three years go.

"I love you, Aubrey Beckings." He said suddenly serious, grey eyes hidden in the dark of the car. Aubrey smiled softly gazing at his dark form.

"I love you, Allen Richmond."

She didnt even see the bright lights on their side of the road until it was to late.