I slipped off my shoes at the body scanners. Anxious, I waited as the people in front of me took out laptops and tablets, unclasped watches, and dumped loose change into bins, all of it slower than theSerendipityleaving port. A man set off the scanner when he forgot to take off his belt, wasting precious time. Each second was agony.
Finally, it was my turn, and I breezed through the body scanner without incident. I snatched up my purse and shoved my feet into my shoes, finally in the terminal. I looked at my phone, and my pulse quickened. I only had three minutes.
Gate C11 was one of the farthest from security, of course. I broke into a run, earning scornful looks from travelers as I ran down the terminal, narrowly avoiding crashing into a few of them. Before long a stitch nagged at my side, making me wish I’d kept up the marathon training.
Just when I thought I could run no more, I arrived at the gate, frantically searching the crowd for Mia and Kitty. The boarding process had already begun, and I hoped they weren’t among the passengers already on the plane. Even though I’d know Mia and Kitty in an instant, I gave any teenage girl a double take. But it was no use. I was too late. They’d already boarded the plane.
I sank into an empty seat at the gate. All this trouble, the money Alex had spent on my ticket, and nothing. The girls would leave without even knowing I’d tried to get to them. They’d think I didn’t want them to stay. I’d have to take off work and book a flight to Raleigh. And how long would that take? How many more hours would Mia walk around thinking Samson’s death was her fault? How many days would Mia and Kitty spend thinking they’d ruined my summer?
And then I heard Mia’s voice.
I looked up, and sure enough there they were, racing to the gate with iced coffee in their hands. They didn’t see me at first. Out of breath, they stepped into the crowd beside the gate.
“I told you we didn’t have time to get coffee, Kitty.”
“Obviously we did have time, because—” Kitty caught sight of me as I approached. “Aunt Jo,” she said, her eyes immediately welling up with tears.
Mia’s face went through the same ripple of surprise as Kitty’s. “Jo? What are you—”
“I texted you,” I said. “I called a million times.”
“I didn’t want to talk,” Mia said. She glanced at the line of passengers boarding the plane, many of them staring at us, and tugged Kitty’s sleeve. “We have to go.”
“Don’t go,” I said. “Please. This is all my fault.” I thought of all the times Mia and Kitty had tried to talk to me about Samson, and every time I’d deflected them. “I’m sorry I didn’t—”
“No,” Mia said. “I ruined everything. Your summer, your—”
“Are you kidding? You didn’t ruin my summer. This summer would’ve been the worst of my life if you hadn’t shown up.”
Mia looked down at her shoes. Kitty, who’d started crying as soon as she saw me, cried even harder.
“But your list,” Kitty said. “We ruined it. You had to cancel your trip.”
“The list, the blog, it doesn’t matter. Look at all we did! There are only two items left, and I promise, if you’ll forget about getting on this plane and come with me, I’ll walk into the first tattoo shop we pass on the way home. I’ll get one right now. Twenty-nine items out of thirty is an A-plus. And are you really going to make me celebrate my birthday alone?”
“You won’t be alone,” Mia said.
“But if you leave, I won’t have you. I won’t have any family with me on Samson’s birthday.”
Only a few passengers waited to board the plane now, and Mia glanced at the line again. “Kitty, you should stay,” she said. “But I can’t.” Tears slipped down her cheeks, and she gave me a watery smile. “Thanks for everything, Jo, really. But I...” Her voice trailed off as the tears came faster, and she shook her head, unable to speak. She turned to go, but I caught her by the arm.
“Mia, it’s not your fault Samson died.”
Mia turned to me, her face pale. Kitty’s eyes widened as she looked between the two of us.
“I know it feels that way, but—”
Mia’s expression clouded over. “How can you know? You can’t possibly know.”
“Has your mom ever told you about the day our dad died?”
“Of course,” Mia said, swiping at her tears. “But I don’t see how—”
“Did she tell you I was the one who found him?”
Mia stilled. “No.”
“I was twelve,” I said. “Your mom and grandma weren’t home. He asked if I wanted to watch a movie with him—some opera he’d shown me a million times. I said no and went to my room. I don’t even remember what I was doing. I found him when I went downstairs. Do you know how many times I asked myself what would’ve happened if I’d just watched that opera one more time? I’d give anything to watch it again. I didn’t kill him, but I always felt it was my fault.”
