Point of No Return

by Olivia Luck

  And then Paige speaks.

  “Overall, the event was adequate,” she says with a twisted smirk. “The only thing I found incredibly unprofessional was you kissing Cam Stone in the middle of the party.”

  I suck in a deep breath as mortification courses through me.

  “Damn. Stella owes me her homemade lasagna. Could you maybe swing by her office and repeat that?” All eyes in the room swing to Blake Campbell, who had mysteriously appeared in the conference room unaware to me.

  “You don’t find her to be classless? This is absurd. She is absurd!” Paige all but cries out.

  “Watch it. You’re talking about my sister,” Dominic jumps in, and despite the chaos around me, I share a smile with him. The full force of Blake’s comment breaks through.

  “Are you saying you and Stella have been trying to set me up with Cameron this whole time?” I ask incredulously.

  Blake frowns in my direction. “I wouldn’t have brought you to this if I didn’t have full confidence you would throw our best gala yet. And Paige, you do exceedingly well in public relations, but event planning is not your forte. Enough with the petty bullshit. I don’t have time for that in my organization.” Paige sits ramrod straight, her face losing its color. She nods curtly. “Violet, I stopped by this meeting to let you know the Chicago Wind needs your services for events in the spring. You on board for that?”

  “Yes, of course,” I answer instantly. “That doesn’t get you off the hook for meddling, Blake.” There’s an audible gasp to my left. Janet’s hand covers her mouth.

  Oh. I forgot my place for a second. I lift my shoulders sheepishly. Thankfully, Blake’s chuckling. “Glad to see that spunk showing up in your personality again. Hammer out the details with Stella.” In his typical curt way, Blake closes out the meeting. “We’re really pleased with the turnout. You’ll be back next year to do it again and maybe some other events in the middle.” He departs the room without anything more, leaving the rest of us to look at each other awkwardly.

  “All right, that’s about it then.” Janet smiles tightly. All I want to do is run out of the room and track down Stella. I push to my feet, shaking hands with everyone in the room, including a limp-handed Paige.

  Dominic tips his head to me a silent acknowledgment. And just like that, we’re moving forward.

  Departing the conference room, I make a beeline for Stella’s office. The door’s wide open and I burst through.

  “Apparently I’m only worth a homemade lasagna?”

  “If I won, he was going to take me back to New York,” she admits sheepishly.

  With an eye roll, I shut the door behind me. “Doesn’t matter if there was a bet, he’ll take you anyway. You want to explain how this all came to be?”

  Stella has the grace to look embarrassed. “Blake stopped by to tell me we were found out. You aren’t too mad, are you?”

  “Not mad. You’ve never had a bad intention in your life. Even if you wanted to push me into dating before I was ready, I know you wouldn’t actually force me to do anything. That doesn’t mean I’m not curious. Explain yourself, woman.”

  Stella nods. “You’re right. I mean, I kind of figured out that Cam was into you a long time ago. He always watched you with so much intensity. But you were with Max and he would never interfere. Then we lost Max and . . . If you would believe it, this was all kind of Blake’s idea. He has that nurturing instinct he tries to deny. We both wanted to see you happy again and we trusted Cam wouldn’t hurt you. So we made an innocent bet. I thought he wouldn’t make a move on you, but it sounds like he did.”

  I collapse into the chair across from her with an overdramatic sigh. “Whether or not this was a setup, Cameron thinks we would have found our way together.”

  “You found your way together?” she asks with a dreamy smile.

  “Not exactly. Sort of. I don’t know.” My elbows hit the desk with a thump and I drop my face into my hands. “We slept together,” I confess, staring at her through my spread fingers.

  “And you’re not together . . .”

  I drop my hands to the desk. “Like a mature adult, I ran out in the morning because I couldn’t deal.”

  “Oh, V. Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Stella says with a sympathetic look. “You need to take this at your own pace. I’m sure Cam understands. He’s only been pining for you forever.”

  “That’s the second time I’ve heard he wanted me long before I had any idea. What’s that all about?”

  Stella shakes her head. “No. That’s for Cam to tell you, not me. I’ll say that he’s found you attractive for a long time. Remember that day we ran into Blake here a couple of years ago? Before he and I started dating, I mean.”

  Searching my memory, I grin. “Yeah, I pretended you had a date with Felix to make him jealous.”

  Stella rolls her eyes in exasperation. “Yeah. That went over well. Anyway, you were so busy tricking him that you didn’t notice Cam standing right next to him. You had your Max blinders on.”

  “I’ve been wearing those Max blinders a long time. I’m getting ready to take them off. And before you ask, yes, I’m sure it’s time. And no, I don’t have any idea what I’m doing. There’s one thing I’m sure of: Cameron and I can’t be together until I figure some things out, so . . . that’s where I stand.”

  Stella gives me her patented look of concern/understanding. “From my viewpoint, you’re standing in a good place.”

  “That makes one of us,” I say wryly. Deep down, though, I’m beginning to truly believe my life is getting back on the course.

  Violet

  Gravel pings underneath the truck as I crunch along the long driveway leading to my parents’ farmhouse. Other cars are parked out in front of the two-story white house, hiking up my nerves another couple of degrees.

  No wonder my palms are sticky and stomach cramps have plagued me for the last twenty miles of the drive. I haven’t been to this house in almost ten years. Nothing has changed in the small town I call home. Still only one stoplight, still no large retail stores, and still no place for me. The car comes to a clean stop behind the unfamiliar cars in the driveway. Lingering in the warm vehicle, I take a few pseudo-calming breaths.

  A few steps later, I climb onto the wraparound porch, pull back the screen door, and rap on the door. There’s no movement on the other side and I wonder if anyone heard the knock. Shivering on the doorstep isn’t my idea of fun and certainly not why I’m here, so I try my luck with the knob. It opens and I shoulder my way inside.

  “Hello?” I call in a stronger voice than I imagined would come out of my voice box.

  To the right of the entryway is the formal living room where my mother holds her women’s club for the church group. Somehow, I forgot that she hosts this gathering. And, of course, on this Sunday, they’re crowded around the coffee table, gabbing away. Too loud to notice a knock on the door, I suppose. Once my mother catches sight of me, her mouth falls open in shock. Shortly after that, the entire room goes silent and all eyes float to me.

  “Violet.” She draws out my name. There’s a flicker of emotion in her eyes. Could it be pleasure from seeing me again? Mother was always good at stifling her emotions if they displeased my father. “How . . . what are you doing here?”

  “It’s been a long time, Mother. I came to see you, of course.” My lips are brittle when I force them upward and manage a stiff smile.

  “You know I have my ladies’ group on Sunday afternoons. This isn’t a good time.”

  If she had slapped me, I would have accepted it. If she had screamed at me, I would have understood. But this soft, wimpy whisper incenses me. Because I wish, so badly, she would stand on her own feet and not hide behind my father’s demands. I clench my glove-covered hands into fists. She hasn’t even asked me inside.

  “Oh, Mary. You haven’t seen her for years. Don’t you want to invite her in?” One of my mother’s friends places a hand on my mother’s forearm. She wears a cajoling look and my
mother stares at her blankly as if making an opinion on her own is impossible to imagine. I take the situation into my own hands then.

  “My apologies,” I grind out. “Is Iris here?”

  A creak on the staircase saves her from responding and I whirl around to find my lovely, two years younger sister standing at the top of the staircase, eyes wide in confusion. Her cornflower hair still falls poker straight, her eyes the same navy blue I see in the mirror. Like mine, they fill with tears instantly.

  “Violet. You came back,” she whispers. Still in my puffy coat, gloves, hat, and scarf, I meet her in the middle of the staircase in a tight hug.

  “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” I repeat into her ear, not bothering to wipe away the tears streaming out of my eyes.

  Through the down of my coat, Iris grips me. “I missed you,” she croaks.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Father’s voice booms, breaking up the reunion. I startle at his yell, but then straighten myself. He doesn’t scare me anymore.

  “Father,” I say stiffly.

  “Ten years ago, I made myself clear,” he says without preamble.

  “Earl–” My mother rises and walks to where he stands at the foot of the staircase. She places a placating hand on his upper arm. It’s the closest she’s come to protecting me from his wrath.

  Father must have forgotten the standing Sunday tradition because he pastes on his professional smile immediately, turning toward the ladies. “Please forgive us. This is a family matter that clearly evokes a lot of emotions.”

  “I’m not a this. I’m your daughter,” I blurt. If the room was silent before, now it’s utterly soundless. “If you don’t want to talk to me, I understand that. I won’t fight you. It appears that Iris does want to speak with me, so I ask you to respect our wishes, as sisters, to talk.”

  “You are no longer welcome in this home. I suggest you leave. Immediately. If Iris decides to speak with you, then that’s her misjudgment,” Father snaps.

  I search my body for a reaction—disappointment, despair—but none of it’s there. “If you got to know me, maybe you’d see that I’m a pretty good person. I still believe in the things you preach about, but I’m living my own way. I’ve come to terms with the idea that you don’t want me. Iris, if you want to talk,” I fish a card out of my pocket and press it into her hand, “call me. I’ll be here.” I wrap my arms around her again and hold her tight. “I love you,” I say softly.

  With my head held up, I walk out of the house, not bothering to give my father a second glance. I’m not sure what I expected out of this confrontation, but I’m surprised to find his words don’t have power over me any longer. The family I was born into didn’t have a spot for me. That would burn if I hadn’t made my own family. One that loves me for exactly who I am. With that comforting thought, I’m smiling a tiny bit when I trek back to the truck.

  “Wait!” The shriek makes me turn around and I find Iris running after me, struggling to knot a scarf around her neck. My chest fills with warmth. She doesn’t hate me.

  “Let’s talk now,” Iris says when she skids to a stop in front of me.

  “I’d like that,” I say. “How about The Diner?” When I drove through town, I saw the institution was still standing from when I left ten years ago on the corner of Main and Oak. It’s the only restaurant in town that will be open on this Sunday afternoon. Iris agrees and I beep open the car locks.

  “This is weird,” I blurt the moment I’ve backed the car out of the driveway.

  Iris flashes me a patient smile. “Is it? This is the most right I’ve felt in a long time.” With synchronized movements, we reach across the space separating us to clasp our hands together.

  “I missed you,” I croak through a suspiciously tight throat. “That needlepoint you made came with me everywhere I went.”

  “And I haven’t taken this off since you left.” Iris pushes back the sleeve of her jacket, revealing a gold bracelet linked around her dainty wrist. The jewelry was my gift to her on Iris’s sixteenth birthday. My chest warms in response.

  “Where’s Porter?” I’m finally able to ask.

  “Father gave him away to a family in the congregation after you left.” Her head moves back and forth slowly. “At least we know he got a good home.”

  “Yeah,” I sigh. At least there’s that.

  We choose a booth in the back at The Diner. After we’ve ordered coffee, I take in our surroundings. “This place hasn’t changed a bit, huh?”

  “No, but you have,” Iris says sagely. Then it’s her turn to look uncomfortable when she says, “I Google you every now and again.”

  My jaw almost hits the table. “Father bought a computer?”

  She giggles, a musical sound. “Of course, not. There is a library in town and I’m not technologically illiterate.”

  “No, of course not,” I rush to say. “Kind of figured I screwed up our relationship for good when I left and didn’t look back. You have to know, Iris, you were always on my mind. I missed you so much, needed you more than I can really express. Fear kept me from coming back. I thought you’d hate me.”

  The waitress interrupts, placing two steaming cups of coffee in front of us. Iris tosses me a sugar packet and I show her a sign of appreciation. She remembers the way I drank coffee in high school when I hardly needed it but thought I was mature enough for daily caffeine jolts.

  “That’s funny because I thought you’d hate me for not coming to you. Probably thought I was a wimp for staying at home with our parents,” she says forlornly.

  “Never,” I say vehemently.

  We share a look then and it reminds me of a moment with Dominic at the Scrapers meeting earlier in the week. That’s the thing about siblings; a lot can be communicated without every speaking aloud. With Dominic, I felt rather than heard his support. And now with Iris, our unbreakable sisterly bond is more prevalent than ever.

  “Tell me about your husband,” Iris requests.

  A tug of sadness pulls at my heart, but it’s a different emotion than in the past. Instead of drowning in missing Max, the melancholy comes from the loss of a truly wonderful man who I had for only a short period of time.

  “Ah, from Google, huh?”

  Iris nods but catches the quiet response. Her gaze flicks to my empty ring finger.

  “Max was a firefighter.” At the past tense was, Iris gasps. Her hand lifts from where it curls around the coffee mug to cover her lips. “He was a really good man and I loved him deeply. Um,” I clear my throat. This is never easy to say. “There was a fire at an apartment building and he was climbing a ladder. He fell off; maybe the smoke got to him, or he lost his orientation. I never was strong enough to ask those questions. It didn’t really matter to me, I lost him either way.” This is the first time I’ve ever told this story. Speaking the words aloud is surprisingly therapeutic.

  “Oh, Violet.” Only two words, but they convey a world of compassion and love.

  “For a long time, I couldn’t tell that story out loud. He died a little over a year ago. I’m finally at the point where I can say I’m coming to terms with his death. Oh, Iris, I wish you had met Max. He was such a wonderful man. Cared for every single person he met. Wouldn’t say a bad thing about anyone and always wanted to pitch in and help. That’s why he was a firefighter. He believed in making a difference in his city. Anyway,” I shake my head, “enough about that. I’m way more interested in you.”

  Iris shrugs. “Nothing’s changed, just like you said. I’m working at the church, got my Associate’s Degree in business administration. And I’m completely bored. I don’t want to stay here forever, Violet. Father is trying to marry me off to one of the congregant’s sons. It’s completely antiquated and terrifying.”

  “What—like an arranged marriage? He’s off his rocker,” I grumble. “What do you want to do if you’re not going to live here?”

  Iris looks at me shyly. “I was thinking of moving to Chicago.”

  “Ho
w long have you been thinking about this?” I ask carefully.

  “Months,” she confesses, suddenly looking worried. “Do you think I’m crazy? I know I’m not nearly as brave as you are, but still, I want to give big city living a try.”

  “Crazy?” I scoff. “Of course, not. Moving into a place with millions of people will be extremely overwhelming,” I explain. “Not saying you can’t do it; it’s just maybe you want to think about visiting me first. There are ten years to make up for and even if you decide that you don’t want to stay in Chicago, I want us to be close again. I can’t live without you being a phone call away. You’re too important to me, Iris.”

  “That makes two of us.” She waves to the waitress and orders a plate of fries. “Clearly my dating life is lackluster, but what about you?”

  It’s impossible to hide the very physical reaction I have to her question. My cheeks heat and I can’t meet her gaze.

  “What’s the story here?” Iris asks eagerly.

  “I met a guy. A once-in-a-lifetime, blow-my-mind, steal-my-breath kind of guy. He accepts me for where I am in my life. Unfortunately, where I am is not a place to be with that kind of man. While I’m trying to figure my stuff out, Cameron says he’ll wait. I don’t know how long it’s going to take for me to be back on track and ready to date a man that magnificent, so . . . we’ll see.” Putting the blossoming relationship with Cameron on hold isn’t the thing I want to do, it’s what I have to do.

  “Mature decisions aren’t always the easy ones,” Iris says.

  I lean into the red back booth and smile sadly. “True. Maturity hurts sometimes.”

  “In the past ten years, I’ve learned the importance of patience. I stayed under Father’s thumb, knowing that one day I’d get the courage to leave and have my sister back in my life. That time is here for me. And, from what you say, Cameron understands being patient, too. If he’s not there when you’re ready, he was never worth your time in the first place.” Iris says the words with conviction and part of me believes her. Part of me is still scared.