But mostly agitation.
“And drink more of that.” Mai pointed at the water and slowly stood. She surveyed the kitchen with her hands on her hips. “This is a crazy place, for sure. But I do love working here.”
So did Georgie. And so had Jace.
At the hospital, Georgie filled out forms and got insurance information from her dad on the phone, answering her parents’ questions about what had happened while defending her decision not to come home with Deacon. Her headache had returned full force while Deacon had been stitched up, cleaned, and given a new bandage. Now he was sitting on the edge of the bed, drowsy but ready to go.
Uncle Dar appeared, looking unruffled and in charge, and Georgie gratefully accepted his offer to talk to her parents. She directed them his way, and within a minute, he was fielding their questions on his own phone. She excused herself for a minute, handing the clipboard full of forms to Deacon. “Fill in the blanks,” she said. Then she headed toward the lobby and outside.
Her phone rang, and part of her wanted to let it ring, but it was one of those nights where a phone call might mean something urgent.
She looked at the caller ID, then answered it breathlessly.
“Jace?”
“Reuben called. Are you okay?”
Her emotions began to crumble, and she sank to the curb as she fought the awful tide of fear finally tearing her down. “Yes.”
And then the tears came, and she lowered her head, letting her hair fall over her face. She pressed her phone to her ear and sobbed silently. “Jace.”
“Shhhhh. You did good. It’s over.”
He stayed on the line until she could breathe again.
* * *
The next evening, Georgie knocked on the door to the den.
“Come in,” Dar said.
She pushed the door open and stepped into the room that served as Uncle Dar’s office away from the office. He kept his older textbooks here, law books he didn’t readily use at the firm, and file cabinets, and he sat at a great old mahogany desk, going through a stack of legal-looking papers.
He took off his bifocals. “Hello.”
“Hi.” Georgie was suddenly unsure. “I think I could use your help in a semilegal-counsel way. But I don’t want to make more of it than it is. I want you to tell me how—or if—I should proceed. I’m not after anything, and I’m not sure I’m in trouble for anything, but—”
Dar cleared the stack of papers aside and hurriedly motioned for her to have a seat. “For heaven’s sake, what is it?”
“I should have said that better.” She hadn’t meant to worry him. She sat down and squared her shoulders, determined to be more direct.
“I need your help writing a letter.”
He frowned. “A letter? To whom?”
“Ian’s mother. Shannon Hudson. I’ve remembered some things, important things I promised to tell her. But I think they could cause more pain for Ian’s family. I don’t want more pain for them. I just want to move on.”
Dar folded his hands in front of him, ready to listen.
First she told him about Shannon’s phone call, the veiled messages adding to Georgie’s guilt at the time, then she told him everything she remembered about the night of the accident. He listened silently with a small frown. She ended with the new memory from the night before. “So now I know there was probably nothing I could have done. He chose. Again and again, he chose.”
“And you’ve carried around that guilt for this long?” he asked, clearly concerned.
“I didn’t know my part. I couldn’t remember. Repeatedly I asked myself, what if I hadn’t upset him? What if I’d waited? What if I’d given in? I had been made to believe my thoughts or actions were wrong if they weren’t his. I’d learned that he made me matter. But that was wrong. That was so wrong.”
Dar nodded. “Yes. And so was he. Only you can measure your self-worth. Only you decide who influences it.”
She agreed. So much seemed clearer now. It was maddening, but she’d stopped wishing she could change the past.
“Now I’m not sure what to do,” she said. “Ian’s mom was acting so cryptic on the phone, determined to know why I was going so fast. Why I would have been driving through the canyon like that. She said she needed closure, but . . . what if they decide to throw all the blame on me? Or press charges or something?”
He drew his head back. “Ian was driving the car, was he not?”
“Yes, but—”
“He was driving.”
“But his mom—”
“Georgie, whether they try to pass off a falsehood to elevate their son in others’ eyes or are foolish enough to make some sort of legal battle over this—and they may, concerning the ring, at least—the fact is that Ian Hudson was driving the car. He was driving close to twice the speed limit, and there was no alcohol involved. He was driving. He was responsible for his vehicle, his passengers, his choices. That’s it. That’s the law.”
She sat back, letting his solid, straightforward facts sink in. The knots in her stomach loosened. She felt a lightening of her spirit. “Why didn’t somebody tell me this months ago?”
He took a deep breath and sighed. “My dear, you too were making choices. And, Lord bless you, you chose to remain very silent.”
She nodded. “I did.” She wouldn’t make that mistake again.
“But no one will blame you for that. No one who really knows you.” He smiled.
“Thank you,” she said. “But what do I do now about Ian’s mom? What do I tell her without making things worse?”
He pulled over a yellow legal notepad and picked up a pen. “Well, what is your first instinct?”
She thought a moment. “To tell her that Ian lost his temper and started speeding through the canyon, lost control of the car, and crashed.”
“What if she asks what made him mad?”
Georgie had already gone through scenarios in her mind. She wasn’t sure there was a right answer. She was either honest and threw herself to the Hudsons as the scapegoat for their son’s death, or she lied and lived with that.
She shook her head. “I don’t know. Most of me doesn’t want her to know why Ian was so upset. But that feels dishonest.”
“You’re protecting yourself, and that’s understandable.”
“What if . . . what if in the letter I say, ‘After the wedding reception, we had a serious talk. It was decided that we should call off our engagement. I gave Ian back the ring. It was upsetting for both of us, and he chose to accelerate through the canyon, picking up enough speed so quickly that he lost control of the car.’ It will still be hard to hear, but it’s not a lie. At least it’s enough of the truth that I can live with it.”
He nodded, glancing over his notes. “That might do. It is certainly kind to Ian.”
“I think . . . I’m okay with that.”
He studied her for a moment. “Good for you,” he said.
Slowly she smiled.
Chapter 24
Georgie took Thursday off work. It was Deacon’s last day. He’d recovered pretty well, though he still wore a large bandage over his injury. Mai had visited a few times, and they even had a standing date for the next time he came into town. But now it was just Georgie and him. He had a late afternoon flight out of SeaTac, so he and Georgie left early and spent a couple hours at the Boeing Museum of Flight. Deacon geeked out at the space exploration exhibit. Then they grabbed lunch at the Wings Café, with a clear view of Boeing Field.
Then it was time to go.
Deacon hefted his suitcase onto the scale. After glancing at the weight, the airport attendant added it to the conveyor belt. Deacon turned, gave Georgie a look of resignation, then took her arm, and they walked slowly to the security lines.
After a week of leaning on Deacon, Georgie had to let him go back to his life. Stitches and all.
“You were kind of a lifesaver this week,” she said.
“Don’t be so dramatic,” he said, but he smiled l
ike he owned some of the truth in her statement.
Georgie took a deep breath, then put her arms around him, and he held her tight.
“You’re going to amaze and astound,” he said.
“You have to say that because I’m your sister.”
He laughed. He pulled away and squared her in front of him. “I have one more for you.”
She looked at him questioningly.
“Per aspera ad astra.”
“I don’t know that one. Something with the stars?”
He nodded. “You can look up the rest.” He glanced at the time. “I’ve got to get going.”
She kissed his cheek. “Thank you for everything.”
He smiled and hefted his backpack over his shoulder. “I hope you figure things out with Spock.”
Georgie frowned. “He’s not—”
“Shh.” He laid his fingers over her mouth.
“Heef naw Sfock,” she said behind his hand.
Deacon only grinned. “Love you, Boss.” He turned and joined the end of the security line, already slipping off his shoes for the plastic x-ray bucket. He turned and gave her a last salute, with his shoe to his bandaged head.
She laughed, but she felt a fresh little hole inside her. Some good-byes did that.
Before she left the parking garage, she took out her phone and looked up the Latin phrase he’d given her.
Per aspera ad astra.
“Through hardships to the stars.”
Back at home, the grown-ups were winding down. Georgie helped Faye shuck the clams they had dug the previous morning, and Dar peeled potatoes for the chowder.
Tru had come home from her job at the retirement center and disappeared to her room. Dean Martin crooned from the stereo as Faye hummed along.
Georgie smiled, a little bit sad, a little bit not.
Suddenly Tru came charging into the room. They all froze as she stopped and waited.
Tru straightened herself up and spoke loudly. “I have a friend who works with me in the kitchen at the retirement center. His name is Tommy Castallano, and I’ve asked him to Sunday dinner.”
The silence was punctuated by Dino’s song ending.
Faye shook out of her stupor. “That’s wonderful.”
“Yes. It is,” Tru replied. “He’s got a crooked tooth in the front, but he’s very nice. I’m making gumbo. Because he’s never had that. And my biscuits. And Georgie’s going to make Jace’s chocolate cake.”
“Bu—” Georgie began, but a sharp look from Tru silenced her.
“So,” Tru said, “that’s gonna happen.” She set her shoulders, then turned and walked back out of the room.
“Knock me down with a feather,” Faye whispered.
Georgie glanced over at Dar, who was in a fit of silent laughter, gripping a potato and the peeler as he collapsed against the counter. He wiped at his eyes, grabbing a breath. “I guess . . . you better get that recipe, Georgie.”
Georgie quickly looked at Faye for help. Faye stared back, wide-eyed, and then burst into laughter as well.
“You guys are a lot of help,” Georgie said, then went back to shucking the clams, her heart pounding over Dino singing, “Everybody loves somebody sometime . . .”
The last time Georgie had spoken, sort of, with Jace was the night at the hospital when she’d broken down. He’d called her, and she’d heard his voice for the first time in weeks. And yet he hadn’t called again. Neither had she. Maybe he was busy at the diner. Maybe she was chicken. But a text was easier. And she still needed easier as often as possible.
Hi. It’s me. Tru invited a friend to dinner. She says I have to make the flourless chocolate cake. I have no idea how to make it. Could you send me the recipe? I understand if you can’t.
Also, where do I get candied oranges?
She set the phone down and sighed, wondering what he would think of her request. Baking was not something they’d done together. She knew how to make cookies, but something told her the cake was a far cry from cookies. She picked up the new novel she’d chosen from Faye’s shelves and continued to read.
Several minutes later, her phone buzzed.
Jace had taken a photo of the recipe in his notebook. Of his notes in his own writing. They were clear, and he had even scribbled where to find the oranges.
Good luck!
Seeing his notes pulled at her. A good pull. Thank you, she answered.
He replied immediately. You’re welcome. How are you?
Oh, you know. Completely normal.
She paused over her phone, biting her lip. She was tired of the way they tiptoed over their words. Texting like they were balancing on the edge of a high-rise and the wrong phrase could send them hurtling.
Time to strap on those wings and see if they still worked.
I remembered the accident. Everything. It wasn’t my fault. I want you to know.
She sent the text and set the phone down. She wasn’t going to stare at the screen and wait for a response with her heart pounding out of her—
The phone buzzed, and she jumped and grabbed it.
Thanks for telling me. I don’t know much about what happened, but this sounds important. Happy for you.
Okay. Okay, good.
That wasn’t enough for her.
It is important. It means—what did it mean? Dang it. It meant moving on and being able to trust a little bit and then a little bit more. To accelerate instead of always checking her blind spot. To hope. To be herself and be comfortable in herself and have others be comfortable with her.
She couldn’t write all that.
“Ugh, why is this so hard?” She flopped back on her bed.
It is important. It means I’m not so afraid anymore. And I wonder about things. I wonder about being brave.
Georgie paused, not sending it. She thought of Tru inviting Tommy Castallano to dinner. She thought of going to culinary school and seeing if it was part of her. She thought of what she’d just come through and not forgetting it but using it to see the world around her more clearly. She saw Jace pretty clearly.
She touched her finger to the keyboard.
. . . I wonder about you.
She hit send and held her breath.
And she realized she wanted it. Everything it should be. Everything in those stupid, lovely books she used to read mixed with what was real. What was hard. What she could hold on to and believe in and work for. She didn’t need it to be whole. She wanted it . . . to see where it could take her. And she wanted it more than she’d let herself believe. To want something like that wasn’t weakness. To want that, after everything, through everything to come . . . was courage.
Her phone buzzed.
Do you wonder about us?
Yes.
* * *
Jace grabbed the luggage and carried it back to his parents’ room as the rest of the family greeted his mom and dad. Liev had entered the front door of his home, sunburnt, limping, and cranky.
Jace rubbed his hand over his face and told himself it didn’t matter. Everything would work out. It had to. He returned to the room as Dan was ushering their boys out the back door to play with Kit. He gave Jace a doubtful look, and Jace shrugged in answer. Maybe now wouldn’t be a good time to bring up a coup on the diner, which was what it suddenly felt like.
The others had sat in the front room.
“Jace.” His mom reached for him, and he bent to give her a gentle hug.
“How are you feeling, Mom?”
“Wonderful,” she answered, patting his back.
She looked in much better spirits than Dad, who was grumbling to Dan about a misstep on the pool deck and tweaking his ankle.
“Second-to-last day. The boat doctor had to look at it. I don’t even want to guess how much that bill is going to be.”
“Liev,” his mom said, “it was less than forty dollars for the visit to the infirmary and the ankle wrap.”
“How do you know?”
“I asked. You were very sma
rt not to break anything. Then it would have been something astronomical. You told me just this morning it was feeling better.”
“I did not.”
“Yes, you did. I asked you if it was feeling better, and you grunted. I took that as a yes.”
She turned and winked at Cassi, who, Jace noticed, was watching all this with a sort of greenish color in her face.
“But did you have a good time?” Jace asked.
His mom’s face lit up. “We did. We laid in the sun. We swam. Your father is such a good swimmer. And until he hurt his ankle, we danced every night.”
“You danced, Mom?” Cassi asked, showing some hope.
“I did. As well as I was able. Your father made sure I felt like I was floating on air.” She smiled at Liev, and Jace found it interesting that his dad simply reached for her hand and held it, making no argument or complaint.
“It was heaven,” Jace’s mom said. “Such beautiful places and wonderful food. We were so spoiled.” She grinned at her husband, and he gave in to a half smile.
“The bed was too small,” he said. But he patted her hand. “But it was a good trip.”
Cassi seemed to release her breath as though she’d been holding it. “Perfect,” she said.
“Well,” Jace asked, “would you do it again? A vacation like this, I mean?”
“Maybe,” Dad said. “That depends on whether or not Cassi’s ever gonna to get up the nerve to take over my diner.” He raised his brow at Cassi, who gaped with her mouth open.
Mom clasped her hands together and grinned. She peeked at Jace, who leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Thanks, Mom,” he whispered. “I knew you could do it.”
Step three.
Later Jace heard a knock on the door to his room.
“Come in.” He folded a pair of jeans and added them to the pile on his bed.
His dad entered.
“Hey, Dad. Have a good nap?”
“Sure.”
Jace nodded.
“I know what you did.”
Jace paused and turned. “What did I do?”
His dad simply raised his brow the tiniest fraction.
Jace turned back to folding his clothes.
“You really like it out there, don’t you?” his dad asked.
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