The fire in our hearth
Aveline BOOK 3
Chapter 1

Ani was in the bulk section, right in the middle of pouring chickpeas into her bag, when she stumbled. The dried beans scattered across the floor, clacking and rolling, the sound echoing in the quiet grocery store as though Ani had spilled a bucketful of dried beans rather than a few handfuls.

She sighed and closed her eyes, letting her shoulders slump a little before she bent down to start picking them up. She had only managed to grab five or six before two of the store employees arrived. Ani straightened to find Sheldon, the store owner, and Lucy, a part-time worker, staring at her. Sheldon was much taller than Ani, with black curly hair, an embroidered satin vest, and a purple fedora. Lucy only worked at Green’s when she was called in. Usually, she worked at the Aveline Cafe, so Ani had had more than a few conversations with her while looking over the menu. Lucy was a short, middle-aged Thai-American woman whom Ani had liked right from the first.

The tiny grocery store was well-staffed. Ani should have known that the commotion wouldn’t go unnoticed.

“Sorry,” she said, making a face. “My leg gave way a bit when I was filling my bag.”

“Don’t worry about cleaning them up,” Sheldon said. “We’ll get a broom.”

“You should see what happens when toddlers play with the spouts,” Lucy said. She made a sweeping motion with one hand. “Candy everywhere.”

“And here I am, nearly thirty years old and still spilling things,” Ani said. She looked at the beans scattered everywhere. “I want to keep the chickpeas.”

They both stared. “The ones in your bag?” Sheldon asked.

“The ones on the floor,” Ani said firmly.

Lucy was frowning at her now. “It’s okay,” she said. “We don’t make people pay for spills. Even though sometimes I think we should, especially if Trinity cannot keep her eyes on her toddler, and it happens every single time she comes in…” At a look from Sheldon, Lucy stopped talking abruptly.

Ani stood a little taller. “No, I want them. I try to never let food go to waste. If you had seen the things I have seen…well, those beans are in better condition than many I’ve eaten in my life. I’ll just wash them well when I get home.”

Sheldon nodded slowly, swallowing once. 

“You’ve got it.”

After they had finished gathering the scattered chickpeas and putting them in a bag for Ani, Lucy rang up Ani’s groceries without commenting any further on the spill. Ani was lost in thought about how she always managed to make an impression on people in the weirdest ways. She almost didn’t hear the older woman’s question.

“I’m sorry?” Ani said. “I missed that.”

“I said that I haven’t seen you in the café lately. Don’t be a stranger.”

“Oh,” Ani said. “I guess I’ve been really busy with work.”

“Well, if it’s my shift, I’ll give you a free scone.”

“Thanks,” Ani said, smiling as she lifted her bag to her shoulder. The bell rang out as she left, grinning as she remembered the looks on Sheldon and Lucy’s faces as she tied up the bag of dusty beans to bring home. They had been rendered speechless. Knowing Ani did that to people sometimes. They always thought they could get a read on her, and then she went and did something that surprised them. Or depressed them. 

She tipped her face up to the early spring sun as she began to walk home with her grocery bags. The weather hadn’t turned hot yet, and the sun was pleasant after the chilly store. 

People in this town would get used to her sooner or later. And as soon as they did, Ani would be gone, on to the next place that was sponsoring refugees. Her smile wavered and dimmed. It was the life she had chosen, but it hurt to always be the one leaving.

Ani knew that the loss of place was just one way that she identified with the refugees she served. It seemed as though the world was constructed of two sets, two different realities, and Ani danced between the two of them. The world was dim with loss. The world was full of good things. The movement between the two was dizzying, and her own intensity because of her knowledge made it hard for her to find friends. Not to mention a boyfriend.

She was limping slightly. It was time to get home and get her leg elevated, but she had one more stop under the black oaks of Main Street before she could go home. The postmaster had texted to let Ani know she had mail and needed to come in and sign for it. It was the packet she had been waiting for all week—the complete dossier of information about the refugees who would arrive in Aveline in two months. Ani was looking forward to reading about the Syrian families who would be moving to Aveline.

The sponsorship program was still relatively new. Ani had worked with three other sets of refugee families after training in Canada with a non-profit that specialized in this type of sponsorship. Those assignments had only been two families at a time in big cities, and this time with four families coming to the small university town of Aveline, the work felt different. It was both more and less intimidating. These families would have a significant impact on the structure of idyllic Aveline, and Ani knew it could be a beautiful, compassionate change. She only hoped others felt the same way.

Ani’s last families had been from Syria also. She could still see the photographs they had shown her of their decimated homes after bombings. She should show them to Sheldon and explain how they had spent a year at a refugee camp, washing bugs out of rice. Maybe then he would understand why she had to bring the chickpeas home. Her heart fluttered as she got closer to the little building that was Aveline’s post office. She couldn’t wait to open the packet and see the first photos of the families staying in refugee camps, ready to come to their new homes.

She took a breath as she walked into the post office. Every wall was plastered with posters of the cosmos: constellations, planets, and colorful nebulas. She knew it was the postmaster himself who had put all the pictures up on the walls. The effect was like walking into a moving, shimmering galaxy. If she squinted.

At the front counter, the man gave her the large manila packet. Ani grabbed it and hugged it to herself, smiling at him. She knew she should remember his name, but it had disappeared into the mass of new things she had been learning since arriving in Aveline.

He was looking back at her. She liked the way he looked, with hazel eyes, brown hair streaked with blond, and a beard, not too long and not too short.

“This is all the information about our new refugee families,” Ani told him. She glimpsed his name tag. Daniel. Right, that was familiar. “Where they come from, their names and ages.”

“They don’t send it by email?” he asked. His voice was surprisingly soft yet deep. He looked down when he talked, then glanced back up at Ani.

“No,” she said. “We have emailed back and forth about the general details—how many families, what region they’re coming from. But today is the day we learn the specific families. I love this part.” She cut herself off suddenly. She was rambling to someone she only knew from seeing around town.

But he didn’t seem put off. 

“When will you open it?”

“Right away. I’m going to go home, make a cup of tea, put my feet up, and then spend hours reading the whole thing.”

He had an interesting way of meeting her eyes for a moment and then looking off behind her or at his hands. 

“What kind of tea?” he asked. “Do your feet hurt?”

Ani was taken aback. He seemed genuinely interested and very direct with his questions, but his directness didn’t make her feel strange or imposed upon. It was refreshing. It was like the way her family talked.

“Right now, I’m going to make mint tea like my mom would make. If it was earlier in the day, I might make Persian tea. Have you ever had it? Do you like tea?”

“I like many things,” Daniel told her, “especially when it means learning and trying things from other places.”

“Well, I’ll have to make you Persian tea sometime.” She glanced down, feeling the steady ache from her right calf, knee, and hip that told her it was well past time to get home and off her feet. “One foot hurts,” she said. “You’ve heard of polio?”

“Yes, of course,” Daniel said.

“I had it as a kid in Iran. I know. It’s eradicated now but still lingered back when we were kids. I was one of the last, I think.” She smiled a pained smile. “Lucky me. My mom told me it’s because I was meant to be special.” She stopped herself again. Unbelievable! How had she gotten to the topic of her mother?

He was nodding and looking at her intently, as though he might ask questions about polio.

“I should go,” she said.

“Yes,” he said.

“See you around,” she said.

“I’ll be at the meeting next week,” he told her.

“Oh good, I’ll see you then.”

Ani was blushing slightly as she left, but she also found that she was smiling, and that the smile lasted all the way home.