I take a seat in one of the eight passenger seats by the window. When the captain comes over to greet me, I ask him where we’ll be landing so I can text the information to my family. I don’t know who is picking me up. It was supposed to be Leah but she has an emergency wedding thing to take care of.
I keep my phone on for the flight as the plane is equipped with wi-fi and wait for Alexander to text or call . . . or something. I suppose I could text him a thank you but I didn’t ask for this, and my stubbornness keeps me from contacting him.
We are two people who were burned by the past. When you have been hurt before it is difficult not to bring the pain with you into the present.
Parker left me for the possibility of something better. How am I not to assume someone else will feel the same way he did and leave me? Alexander loved a woman who loved him only for his money and another who was in love with someone else.
Rascal Flatts wrote a beautiful song called “Broken Road.” It was about how every breakup and broken heart paves the pathway to finding your true love. The verse they forgot to write was about the midnight fight over trust issues.
I understand why he is upset. In a relationship, you should put the one you love first. When it comes to my family, I am having a hard time doing that.
When Parker left me, I was devastated. I put my own desires first. My need for a thrill put Luke in danger. It doesn’t matter he was driving. I egged him on. Too many lives were ruined in the process.
Am I punishing Alexander for Parker’s mistakes? Am I punishing him formymistakes?
My inner monologue on whether to call Alexander or not takes over the entire flight and before I know it, an hour and a half has passed and we are starting our decent to Columbus.
The plane lands and I gather my purse and thank the captain and stewardess for a lovely flight, feeling so awkward for having taken it at all.
Descending from the plane, I see my dad’s Toyota Corolla waiting for me. My dad is standing at the foot of the car watching a man put my suitcase in the trunk of the car.
I walk over to my dad and put my arms around him, embracing him for the first time in months. When I pull back I see he’s staring at the plane.
“Fancy boyfriend?”
I look back at the plane and then meet my dad’s questioning look and shrug.
“He’s a little bit fancy.”
“Serious?”
“It’s a little bit serious.”
“Serious enough to let you take his private plane but not serious enough to bring to your sister’s wedding?” he asks in that way that dads ask questions about boys and their intentions for their daughters.
“Serious enough to leave him home and not have you give him the third degree.” I pull his arms and swing him around toward the car. “Come on, I want to go home and make taffy.”
Dad stops in his tracks and I halt, too, my arm still clinging to his. I turn around and see his mouth is open in surprise but the heavy lids of his eyes are sloped in. “You want to make taffy? You haven’t wanted to make it since—” He stops for a second, and I’m staring at him with my brows piled high, waiting for him to finish his sentence. “Never mind. Lets go home and make taffy.”
“Is that my baby girl?” Mom comes barreling out of the house before I even have a chance to get out of the car. I close the door just in time to get the full body Pamela Paige embrace. She smells like baked ham and cookie dough. Just like my mom should.
I sink into her hug and return it. She pushes me back and holds me at arm’s length to properly evaluate me. Her eyes look for the three things they always do: my weight to make sure I’m eating, my hair to ensure I’m eating right, and my eyes to make sure enough of those foods are vegetables.
My stomach forms knots just waiting for the worrying to start.
“You look good,” she says, and I can feel my eyes widen in surprise. She takes a strand of my hair and holds it in her hands. “You got your hair done. I like it.” Her smile is as wide as my eyes.
I stare at her for a second and wait for the “but” to come but there is none. She has nothing to add. No concerns, no worries.
“I’m making the trays for the rehearsal dinner tomorrow night. Why don’t you put your bags up in your room and rest for a bit. You can come down when you’re ready,” she says but dad steps in.
“Emma and I are gonna make taffy.” His voice comes up at the end as if he is ending the statement in a question.
I turn toward him and then back to my mom, who is looking at him in surprise. “Is that right? Well, there is plenty of room in the kitchen for everyone. Let’s get inside.”
Mom puts her arm around me and I walk with her into the house, dad carrying my bag behind us.
Mom, Dad and I stayed up until one in the morning making dinner and taffy for the rehearsal dinner tonight. I told them stories about the Juliette Academy and my life in New York. Dad shared some of his new lectures with me and mom introduced her newest kitten, Camilla, named for Matthew McConaughey’s wife. I was quite surprised Leah would name a cat after the devil woman who stole her man, but I suppose since she is getting married, it’s only right to let go of her hold on the great McConaughey . . . at least where his marital status is concerned.
