— Hyacinth on the Madeline & Hyacinth Live!
Chapter Twenty-seven
Gemma
She arrived home on a Sunday afternoon. Forty-four hours after she left Port Fressa.
A delay at LaGuardia was followed by a flight cancellation which stranded Gemma until Sunday morning.
They’d just started boarding the eight o’clock flight to Nashville when the gate agent announced the toilets were broken so they were going nowhere soon.
Couldn’t they all just hold it for the two-hour-and-forty-minute flight? Anyone ever stood in a line to ride Space Mountain during the height of Disney tourism?
At least, praise God, she made a twelve-thirty flight—back row, middle seat—and when she rolled her luggage through Nashville’s airport to catch an Uber ride home, she paused to kiss the ground. Literally.
Good news though. During her layover at LaGuardia, she’d rented a shower and washed the lacquer from her hair. Two hours, five bottles of travel shampoo, and a thousand gallons of hot water did the trick.
When she returned to her gate, her skin beamed like she’d spent a week on the beach without sunscreen.
At an overpriced women’s store, she purchased a change of clothes. Then she paused at the bookshop when an interesting-looking novel caught her eye. Back at the gate, she curled up with a sandwich, chips, and water ready to get distracted from her life with a good story.
But after an hour of reading the first paragraph over and over she gave up. Tired, unnerved, restless, and shamed, she just wanted to go home and hide. Home and hiding worked for her. Even if she only had her home for a few more weeks.
During the long flight over the Atlantic, she ate about ten mini bags of nuts and pretzels and slept fitfully. Yet twice she fell into a deep sleep where she dreamed of dancing through the lights in the Heart of God while wearing a gown of swan’s feathers, a handsome, glorious prince watching in the distance. Just as he reached for her, a bump of turbulence jolted her awake.
While awake, the whole mess was a nightmare. She couldn’t stop thinking about it. Couldn’t stop imagining the prince’s reaction. She grabbed for another bag of snacks every time.
What must he think? Did he watch it? The whole thing? Was there any room for her to explain? To tell the rest of the story? How she fell from the stage because of swaths of bright lights and shadowy darkness. How she hated what she was doing so much she’d mentally checked out.
On the flight to Nashville, she began to prep for the family. For her friends. What would,couldshe say to them?
“Oh yeah, I filmed a risqué show in Vegas. Anyone up for pie at Ella’s?”
When the Uber driver, Burt, turned onto the farm’s driveway, Gemma felt as if time had stood still. As if the hour was the minute before she left with Scottie. As if the past week hadn’t happened. As if there was no video. As if there was no shock and shame.
Mama and Daddy greeted her with enthusiastic, in fact, overly enthusiastic hugs, and escorted her inside where the old stove had managed to bake a lasagna.
Over salad Daddy announced he’d fixed the leak in the bathroom sink.
“The Kingstons will probably gut the place but at least they’ll know it was in good hands with you.”
Over lasagna, Mama regaled them with housekeeping tales from the Hearts Bend Inn.
“The man left a pile of sunflower shells six inches high beside his bed. Just left it there! Can you imagine?”
Over dessert—cherry pie from Ella’s—Imani talked about school, volleyball, the upcoming basketball season, Justin and Penny, and her bid for Junior Class President.
“I’m running against Blake Gooch and everyone says he’s the best-looking guy in our class. But I’ll crush him during our debate.”
That’s when she dashed to her room and returned with a set of debate-crushing three-by-five cards.
Afterwards, Mama cleaned up while Daddy and Imani insisted on taking care of the herd.
“You just rest. Long trip home,” Daddy said.
Not once did any of them ask about Port Fressa, Prince John, living in a palace, or the magic of attending a royal ball. Though Gemma could see a thousand questions looming large in Imani’s hazel eyes.
But any story of Lauchtenland led to questions about the video. Not to mention the secret even social media couldn’t dig up.
