Me:
Helping Riggs again. Be home in a few days. Can someone come get the food I have set out for family dinner tomorrow night if I’m not back? There’s enough to feed an entire squadron. Don’t let it go to waste.
My youngest is surprisingly the first to reply.
Lizzy:
Sure thing. We’ll host at my house either way. I’ll swing by and pick everything up while Milli’s at a friend’s house this afternoon.
Before I can respond, another text comes through.
Lizzy:
Love you. Safe Travels.
Me:
Roger that. Love you all.
Suddenly, my schedule is cleared.
Just as I return home and slow to a walk, I notice a woman in a baggy cardigan and leggings bringing out the trash to the end of the driveway next door. She’s struggling with the can as it gets stuck in a rut.
I almost offer to help, but the can crests the hole just as I approach.
“This can will be the death of me,” she grumbles and shakes her head.
Unable to help myself, I joke, “I think it’s the driveway’s fault, not the can’s. Clearly, the pothole is the culprit.”
When she looks up, her jaw drops, and her eyes blink rapidly.
“Mark Lancaster… is… that you?”
Recognition hits hard, and my heart races as if I’ve just sprinted a marathon. Electricity zips through my spine as she scrutinizes my features.
Faye Ames, my high school sweetheart, stands before me, and I feel like a fish out of water, floundering for what to say.
“Yeah… it’s me,” I whisper in disbelief. I’ve always wondered what happened to her. We were thick as thieves for the longest time, but after graduation, we parted ways, and I haven’t heard from her since. “What are you doing here?”
A perfectly sculpted brow arches as she smirks. “I should ask you the same thing. I thought you were off saving the world… at least, that’s what Mom says.”
Well, that piques my interest.
“You’ve been asking about me?”
Sighing heavily, she grins as she shakes her head. “Not you specifically, but my mom, as well as yours, filled me in on a few things over the years when I’ve visited.” She winces, then quickly adds, “I’m so sorry to hear about your mom, by the way.”
Even though it’s been a few years, “Thank you” comes out as a rote response whenever someone mentions her.
Rubbing a hand down my face, I admit, “Mom never mentioned anything about keeping up with you.”
“Probably because I asked her not to. Jane was one of my favorite people. When I stopped in to visit Mom, Jane and I always took the time to catch up.”
A lot is packed into that ramble, but one thing hits clear.
“You… Asked her not to?”
Shrugging guiltily, she sighs. “It seems stupid now, but you leaving for the Air Force hit hard… So, I left early for college… Then you got married… And it was just best to leave things alone. Eventually, too much time had passed, and I didn’t think it would matter.”
