Page 5 of All the way home

“I know,” Rena says, because she’s had this entire day planned down to the minute for weeks, in easy steps:

7 a.m.: Up, run with Lucas.

8 a.m.: Finalize packing and last-minute details.

8:30 a.m.: Have Lucas’s sister, Eloise, drive to pick up Kieran at U of C, accounting for the usual 10-minute delay in Local Kieran Time.

9:30 a.m.: Drive to the airport.

10:15 a.m.: Check bags.

10:30 a.m.: Go through security.

10:45 a.m.: Get to the gate.

11:10 a.m.: Board the plane.

11:30 a.m.–­4:30 p.m.: Have a safe flight, bon voyage, all that.

5:30 p.m.: Arrive at the lake house and get the inevitable catastrophe over with.

6 p.m.: Get the hell out of Dodge and seek asylum with Oscar and Siobhan.

Naturally, she hadn’t even made it two items into the list before it had gone off course.

“You’re going to be so uncomfortable in dress shoes,” she’d told Kieran while they were packing over FaceTime. “Come on. You could wear sweatpants and no one would judge you.”

“Sweatpants, Irene?” He’d looked deeply and personally offended. She rolled her eyes and hung up on him, only realizing a moment later that she’d fallen right into his trap.

On the drive to the airport, she’d asked again, just to be certain. “Are you sure you don’t want something a little more comfortable?”

“Comfort is not the point.” Kieran sniffed like she was missing something obvious. “What if I need to impress someone?”

“Yeah, the shoes’ll be the deciding factor.” She rolled her eyes when he flipped down the passenger sun visor, observing his reflection with a crease in his forehead.

For as long as Rena can remember, Kieran’s been vain, but it occurs to her now that his posturing probably hadn’t been vanity. She knows Kieran better than anyone.

He’s nervous.

Rena’s nervous too—her careful planning hadn’t accounted for a freak blizzard on the day of travel. But Kieran’s always worn anxiety like careful indifference.

Still, she knows the prospect of going home can’t be easy. Even though they’ll be at the lake house, not home where it happened, Mum will fret, and Dad won’t want to talk about it, and Kieran won’t want to talk about it, and nobody will mention that the anniversary of the worst day of their lives is only three days away.

Even if their flight isn’t delayed, they still won’t get in until just after 5:00 local time, and probably won’t get to the lake until at least 6:00, and is Rena really going to be able to bring herself to leave Kieran in the dust storm that will inevitably follow?

Gnawing the inside of her cheek, Rena observes him.

He seems fine, but that rarely means anything.

“Hey.” Lucas nudges her arm. “Isn’t that Sahar?”

Rena glances over, preoccupied. It obviously isn’t—the chances of running into anyone from home are slim to none, but—

Standing and staring up at the flight board, Sahar Fahkouri looks lost in thought. Since Rena saw her last, she’s cut her hair short, shaved at the sides, styled into spikes on top. She has a long, puffy jacket slung over one shoulder, the webbed lines of a new tattoo crawling over her forearms.

It’s really her.

Rena clears her throat and turns away so fast, she almost loses track of her carry-on, then starts walking faster.