“But you didn’t,” I said, and as she opened her mouth to protest, I added, “because of my dad, and how he probably would have reacted. He could have brought me here, too.”
She gave one of my arms a hard squeeze. “Now, now. Family is complicated. You factor in a loss that’s particularly hard to bear and it just makes it more so. I’m sure it wasn’t your dad’s intent to keep you from us. Being a parent is tough. Being a single parent, sometimes impossible. He was just doing the best he could.”
“Which now is two weeks at the Tides,” I said.
“Hard punishment.” She smiled. “And, as we said, threemiles from here and a place we all are dying to see in person. Good luck keeping us away. You can’t.”
“Bailey was excited when I told her,” I said.
“That child and the other side of the lake. It’s like your mom, all over again. I couldn’t keep her here even if I wanted. And I do, especially after what happened with that boy.”
There was a chime as the front door opened and a tall, slouching guy with a nose piercing came in. “Morning,” he mumbled, more into his collar than to us.
“Morning, Edgar,” Celeste replied. Once he ambled past us behind the counter, she added, “Bless his heart. I’ve never seen anyone move so slowly. It’s like a glacier or something.”
Just then, somewhere, a phone began to ring. Edgar didn’t seem to notice.
“I’ve got to take this, hold on a sec,” Celeste said with a sigh.
“I should go,” I told her. “I have packing to do.”
“All right, then.” She pulled me in for another hug, the phone still ringing. “You come back anytime, you hear? To Mimi’s or the Station or even here. We’ll be waiting.”
“Thank you,” I said. The phone was starting to make me nervous, but she squeezed me again before walking to the door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY and disappearing inside.
Which left just Edgar and me. Outside, a truck pulled in, a bunch of guys in orange T-shirts saying DOT piling out. I was going to slip out as they came in, but right by the door I saw a shelf lined with loaves of bread, which gave me an idea.
I grabbed three of them, then crossed to the coolers lining the wall, scanning the groceries there until I found the tubs of butter. I took one and then, after thinking about it, another, adding them to what was already in my arms as I walked over to the register to pay. When I got home, I’d put it all where everyone at Mimi’s could find it. Like the dishes, they’d notice or wouldn’t. But either way, there would be plenty of toast for a while. Maybe it was the best way to say goodbye.
Gordon swung her feet back and forth on the bench where we both sat, by the Calvander’s office. It was eight thirty a.m. and my dad would be here any minute.
Back at the house, everyone else would be finally waking up and eating breakfast, maybe even breaking into the loaves I’d bought at Conroy’s earlier. I’d had enough of farewells for one day, though, so I’d taken my duffel and the rest of my stuff up here to wait. If it was true what Celeste and Mimi had both said, I wasn’t really leaving anyway, just changing locations. Even so, I hadn’t wanted to deal with seeing Bailey after our argument, preferring to leave as I’d arrived, basically alone. But then Gordon showed up.
She moved silently, like a cat: I hadn’t even realized she was approaching until she was right beside me. She was in a purple terry-cloth romper, her pink plastic jelly sandals on her feet. In her hand she carried an Allies book.
“What are you doing?” she asked, once I’d gotten over being startled.
“Waiting.”
She slid onto the bench beside me, putting the book squarely in her lap. “I will too, then.”
Behind me, I heard the familiar sound of Mimi’s screen door banging shut. I tensed, sure it was Bailey, but when I looked, I saw Jack instead, crossing the grass to his car. A moment later, he pulled up next to us.
“What are you two doing?” he asked.
“Waiting,” Gordon told him.
“For what?”
“My dad,” I said. “I’m leaving today.”
“Leaving?” He raised his eyebrows. “You’re going home?”
“No.” Another car drove by, an older VW, the muffler sputtering. “To Lake North.”
He considered this as Gordon picked up her book. “But you’ll come back to visit, right? I mean, it’s only three miles.”
The was true. But sometimes even the shortest distance can be impossible to navigate, whether you went road or shore or some other route. In all her recovery attempts, my mom had never lived far from us. But sometimes, when someone’s not right there, they might as well be a million miles away.
