And I was, I thought on Friday as I knuckled my mother’s truck through traffic. I really was.
The departure lane at the airport was clogged with people leaving town for New Year’s Eve. Or maybe going home after the holidays—back to work, back to school, back to bases across the country. The curb in front of the terminal teemed with soldiers with duffel bags, students with backpacks, gray-haired seniors in wheelchairs.
I found a spot behind a black SUV and parked. Amy pulled her suitcase from the backseat.
“Got the key?” I asked.
“Of course.”
“Text me when you get there.”
“I will.”
“I’ll see you in a week.”
“I might stay a little longer.”
I sighed. “Just don’t be stupid, okay?”
She smiled crookedly. “I love you, too.”
She kissed me on both cheeks—very French—and strode away through the sliding doors, her boots tap-tapping on the sidewalk. The walkway teemed with suitcases and families saying good-bye. A woman in camouflage hugged a toddler tight, her cheek to the child’s hair. A mother reached up to hold her son. In the space ahead of me, the SUV’s doors swung open, and Eric got out.
My heart lurched.
He saw me, and the pleasure on his face slashed me like a razor. “Jo! You are on my flight? To New York?”
“Uh... No.” Disappointment made me dumb. “I’m here to drop off my sister.” I waved vaguely toward the terminal. “Amy.”
“Ah.” He turned to the two lanky teenagers standing by the curb. “My sons. This is Miss March.”
I flushed. “Jo, please.”
“Hey. Bryan.” The tall one in the red jersey, with the straggling chin patch, shook my hand.
“Nice to meet you.” He had his father’s watchful eyes.
He nudged his brother, who started forward. “Alec.”
Dinosaur sandwiches,I remembered. The boy shot a startled look at Eric. Oh crap. I’d said it out loud. “Sorry,” I mumbled. “Your dad mentioned when you were little, he used to cut your sandwiches into, um, dinosaur shapes.”
The confused look melted into a grin. “Cool. Yeah, that’s right.”
Such lovely boys. They went to open the back of the SUV, leaving me standing with their father on the curb. So awkward.
“Thanks for the book,” I said. “And... and everything.”
“Thank you for the link,” Eric replied politely.
“You’ve been here? All this time?” Without seeing me.
“There is a soccer tournament. In Florida.” He gestured toward his older son. “We are back yesterday. And you? You return soon?”
I risked a look at his expression. Did he want me to return? “No. No, I’m staying. To take care of my mother.”
“How is she?”
“She’s good. Better,” I amended. “Her surgery went well. She’ll be in rehab for a couple more weeks. I’m helping out until then.”
