She didn’t want him to need to text her. She didn’t want him to go. Didn’t want to feel this panic clawing through her body at the thought of Luke dying in a burning plane. She held the phone away from her mouth as she pulled in a deep breath. “Yes,” she managed to say. “Please.”
“Listen, Faith.”
Here it comes. The “let’s forget about yesterday and be friends” speech. She braced herself.
“When this is over, can we talk?”
That was somewhat better than being friends, but what was with this “when this is over” nonsense? Would this ever be over? How long did he expect her to wait for this talk? And what if he died today?Pull it together.“Sure. I’d like that.”
“I have to go. But one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“I miss y—.”
The call disconnected. Should she call him back? Had someone turned on some sort of jamming signal? Had he said “I miss you?” What else could it have been? “I miss yesterday?” Highly unlikely. Although “I miss the way we were yesterday before five in the afternoon” would have been acceptable.
“What did he say?” Hope reached for the phone, and Faith handed it to her.
“They’re going to the funeral.”
“I got that.”
“And he wants to talk.” She put air quotes around the word talk. “Whatever that means.”
She’d already told Hope everything this morning. The kiss. The argument. The hurt.
“Sounds to me like he wants to talk.” Hope patted her arm. “The real question is whether or not you want to hear what he has to say.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“He has some childhood trauma—”
“I have my own childhood trauma. He hardly has a corner on the market.”
“But you’re angry with him for his childhood trauma, and the biases and attitudes that come with it, while you continue to cling to your own. Do you see the inconsistency there?”
“Our father had no reason to leave.”
Hope waved a hand over her wheelchair.
“Your accident was his excuse. He couldn’t handle it. And I don’t think he loved Mom anyway. It was the excuse he needed to convince himself that it was okay to sleep around and eventually to start over. And Mom didn’t stop him. It’s not the same. Luke’s father was put through hell. Tormented by accusations and loss, none of which were his fault and all of which he was helpless to fix. His death was a tragedy. Our dad’s disappearance was because of his own selfishness. I don’t know how you can even tolerate him.”
Hope tilted her head to one side. “When’s the last time you talked to Dad?”
Faith had no idea. “Sometime last year maybe?”
“Try three years ago.”
“I’m not counting.”
“He is.”
Faith turned on Hope. “Don’t you dare try to make me feel guilty. He’s the one who messed up. He’s in the wrong. Not me.”
Hope didn’t flinch. She had her lawyer face on. Impassive. Thoughtful. If Faith’s words had hurt her, she didn’t show it. “Fine. Don’t talk to Dad. But don’t block Luke over something our dad did fifteen years ago. Luke’s a good guy. He messed up. He wants to talk. I think you should hear him out, especially since you’re in love with him.”
Faith spluttered but couldn’t get a real word out of her mouth before Hope continued. “Don’t try to argue. You melted when he called. And you lost your mind when he told you he was getting on an airplane.”
