Chapter 7: The Locket and the Goodbye

Suddenly, I felt a little nervous, but luckily Mrs. Thompson just smiled and waved it off:

She gave me a reassuring look, squeezing my hand beneath the table. Her calm was contagious, settling the nerves prickling under my skin.

“Oh, nothing—just girl talk.”

She said it with a wink, making everyone laugh. The tension broke, replaced by the gentle hum of party chatter.

“But you, how come you have time to drop by today?”

Her voice was light, teasing. Caleb shrugged, trying to play it cool, but I could see the weight he carried.

Caleb had come to say goodbye. There was flooding up near the Missouri River. The local council was a mess, and the disaster relief money kept getting siphoned off. Barely a tenth had gone toward fixing the levees.

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration visible. “Dad’s got me driving out to the county line. Half the relief fund disappeared before it hit the books. I have to make sure the money actually helps folks this time.” His voice was tired, older than his years.

The mayor was furious and sent Caleb to oversee the work. He’d be gone at least a month.

Everyone at the table exchanged worried glances. Out here, the weather ruled our lives—a bad flood could ruin a season. The mayor’s word was law, and when he was angry, the whole town felt it.

Mrs. Thompson didn’t say much, but after the party, she gave me a package to deliver to the Thompsons’ house. I knew she still didn’t really believe I’d let go.

She pressed it into my hands, her eyes searching mine for reassurance. I could see the unspoken question—was I really ready to move on? I nodded, hoping it was enough.

The lights flickered in the hallway. Since our last fight, I hadn’t spoken to Caleb for days. Now, facing each other, neither of us knew what to say.

The air between us was thick with unspoken words. The old house creaked around us, shadows flickering on the wallpaper. I traced the pattern with my thumb, wishing I could find the right words to fix things, or at least say goodbye properly.

Caleb reached out to take the package from my arms, then handed me a box, his face unreadable:

He held the box out, avoiding my gaze. There was a tremor in his hand—a sign, maybe, that he was as nervous as I was.

“Take it.”

I hesitated before accepting, unsure what to expect.

I opened the lid. Inside was a delicate silver locket.

The locket caught the hallway light, glinting with a familiar shine. My stomach twisted. Part of me wanted to throw it back at him. Another part just wanted to cry.

Caleb’s voice was gentle, almost coaxing:

“It’s just a locket. Was it really worth fighting over?”

His tone was softer, almost pleading. It was the first time in days he sounded like the Caleb I remembered—the boy who used to sneak cookies from the kitchen and leave half for me under the porch swing.

Caleb had seen that locket before. When I first came to Maple Heights, I got picked on by the other girls. They called me a hick from the sticks and took my locket to mess with me.

The memory burned—taunts of ‘cowgirl’ and ‘farm trash’ ringing in my ears. The other girls had torn the locket off my neck, daring me to take it back. I’d run home in tears, certain I’d never belong.

It was Caleb who got it back for me and said:

He’d found me hiding behind the woodshed, knees scraped raw. He handed me the locket and sat beside me in the dirt, not saying much, just being there.

“If anyone picks on you again, just stand up for yourself.”

The words had felt like a lifeline. I’d believed him, holding onto that promise every time I faced another whisper in the hallway or another sideways glance in church.

Seeing I was still scared, he blushed and added softly:

“You’re the mayor’s future daughter-in-law. If anything happens, I’ll have your back.”

His cheeks had gone pink, his voice barely above a whisper. It was the first time I’d felt truly safe in this town.

But when I actually did what he said, he was the first to call me out.

Now, the irony stung. The same boy who told me to be brave was the one punishing me for it. The line between right and wrong blurred in my mind.

Looking at the locket in the box, my hands and feet went cold.

My fingers shook as I traced the delicate engraving. The chill spread up my arms, making me feel rooted to the spot.

Maggie, standing beside me, gasped, her voice shaking:

“Caleb...”

She reached for my arm, concern etched on her face. The old house seemed to hold its breath, waiting for my reaction.

I didn’t let her finish. Shoving down all my feelings, I forced a smile:

“You’re right, Caleb. It really isn’t worth it.”

The words tasted bitter, but I made myself say them. I slipped the locket back into the box, letting the lid click shut. Some things you had to let go of, no matter how much they meant.