Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Elizabeth
T he day with Kenny had been so emotionally challenging, I debated canceling on my dad.
Then I gave myself a pep talk and got over it.
Because I’d had a wonderful time with Kenny. I couldn’t think of another time in many, many years when I’d felt so happy, comfortable, emotionally safe, and yet also excited. Like around the next corner, there might be some surprise.
The surprise, though, had been the man next to me and every gesture he made to show me around town. The quiet, gorgeous overlook of Silver Ridge had provided the most poignant moment for me, but I didn’t stop feeling both delighted and dismayed by him until he dropped me off back at the apartment.
Even then, I replayed much of the day and felt the same dissonance. He was honestly so wonderful, and yet it unsettled me.
I couldn’t tell why, exactly, and mystery wasn’t something I liked in my personal life. There was enough about my work that naturally remained unknown. I liked order, predictability, routine, and clarity in my day-to-day, my personal interactions, and even in my thoughts.
Kenny Carmichael had thrown all of that to the wolves.
Mixed up in my angst about being shoved out of my job, and all the frustration and maybe even grief, I was realizing that there was this sense that so much else around me was good. Too good.
Despite this troubling mental state, I recognized how the choice to cancel on my dad would be hazardous to our relationship. In the last six months, we’d had some hard conversations. We were repairing the years of damage and distance, most of which honestly came down to my refusal to engage with him. I’d been gone and purposefully evasive and distant for so long that showing up had become unnatural.
So here I stood, stomping the snow off my boots on his and Jane’s welcome mat, bracing for impact.
The door flew open as I reached for the doorbell.
“Elizabeth, so glad you could come.”
I was supposed to meet my dad around lunch. Somehow, my call to enquire if that time was okay morphed into an invitation to dinner at his place.
Jane’s warmth extended out to me via her smile, and she stepped back, gesturing me inside. She wanted to hug me. She was a hugger by nature. But she held herself wrapped up tight for my benefit.
I both appreciated and loathed this. Part of me was relieved not to feel obligated to hug anyone but Jojo, but another part wondered what might happen if I just unwound a little. If I let my mind and body be at ease instead of vigilant all the time.
You were at ease with Kenny…
Not a helpful thought, so I shoved it away.
“Thank you for inviting me. I’m glad to be here,” I said, hoping she could tell I meant it, even if my voice stayed mostly even.
Maybe Kenny could teach me how to get that tail-wagging enthusiasm imbued into my voice like he always had.
And maybe we can go for a full ninety seconds without thinking about Kenny, hmm?
Once we reached the kitchen, I found my dad with an apron and mitts removing what looked to be a roast chicken from the oven. It smelled amazing and I would’ve done a double take if we hadn’t talked about how he’d learned to cook after the divorce. My mom had always done the cooking and he’d expressed regret he hadn’t helped her more.
It was small, but a helpful note. Apparently, he’d told her this, too. I knew they didn’t talk often, but knowing he’d said something reparative had warmed me.
“Welcome, welcome. Everything’s ready so we’ll just serve from over here. Keep it casual.” My dad spoke over his shoulder as he turned off a burner on the stove and Jane reached for a stack of plates and handed me one.
“Here you go, honey.”
I accepted the plate, enjoying the informal nature of things. I hadn’t expected something grand, but I’d wondered if we’d all be sitting in stolid silence, only occasional forks scraping on plates. This wasn’t how any interaction with them had ever gone, but my mind had wrapped as much negative potential around the evening as possible and that was one scenario.
In a few minutes, I’d loaded my plate with roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, haricots verts, and a salad of field greens. Jane set a woven basket with a beautiful teal cloth in the center of the table and pulled back the edges to reveal steaming rolls.
“These are a little gift Sadie sent over. She wanted to make sure we got our bread portion for the day.” She snickered.
“I think if I live here for too long, I’ll end up being ninety percent bread made by Sadie.” In no instance would I turn down homemade warm rolls and fresh butter. I might be a badass who would have to pass a physical fitness test upon my return to work, but I was also human.
“I love my daughter-in-law no matter what, but I can happily say I deeply love her baking skills.” Jane bit into a roll and closed her eyes as she chewed.
“I’m very happy to have inherited so many wonderful step-children and grandchildren,” my dad added as he bit into his own roll.
My chewing faltered for a moment. Step-children. I’d heard and thought the words before, but it hit me differently. Painfully even, as I was the only child without a partner. Jo and Adam weren’t married yet, but it was only a matter of time. They wouldn’t wait long to tie the knot.
“Do you know when you have to go back?” Jane asked, pulling me from my thoughts.
“No later than end of March.” Maybe sooner.
I tried not to feel the anxious energy this thought created, but another one followed .
Maybe never.
In my dreams, maybe. But not returning and facing what’d happened wasn’t an option. I didn’t run from my problems, and I wouldn’t have left now if my supervisor hadn’t forced me into this sham of a sabbatical.
In what universe do you not run from your problems?
I huffed, not appreciating the reality check. Because in truth, I’d been running for years. I’d run from the messy family dynamic when I left for college, left the uncertainty of youth for an all-encompassing career that took over my life and made all my decisions for me. And now, I’d run away from work.
Granted, it had been a bit of a forced thing, but I needn’t have come this far for my leave.
We chatted about all manner of things having to do with Jane’s sons and their spouses and children, the activities coming up in town, and a signing the bookstore would host. They kept their questions about Saint Security surface level, which told me they’d learned how to navigate that with Wilder and Adam.
“You two stay and talk. I’m on clean-up crew,” Jane said, collecting our dessert plates with the industrious energy I’d come to associate her with.
“I don’t mind helping,” I said, feeling awkward after being served so much delicious food and now not even cleaning up.
My dad’s hand covered mine where it rested on the table. “It’s okay. You don’t have to work in exchange for food, we promise.”
He winked in a way he used to do when I was a kid—it’s always reassured me and made it feel like we had a joke together. Something inside and special that Jo and my mom didn’t even know about .
But this also felt pointed. Like he could see how uncomfortable it made me to simply accept the meal without offering something up. There was no exchange here, and I lived my life on the premise that knowing what someone wants and figuring out how to give it to them would unlock doors for me. I’d done it for years—it’s how the spy world worked—and here he was, just laying it bare.
“I know it’s hard after the way you’ve been living, but I want you to just relax here. Just be here and take this time. I wish I’d done something similar.”
The concentrated expression in his eyes made my throat tight. “What do you mean?”
He shook his head slightly, gaze wandering before it made its way back to me. “I got so wrapped up in work, I let my whole life implode. Before I knew it, I was divorced and had one daughter so distant she hardly lived at home, and another who was so tenderhearted and hurt…” His lips pursed. “I wish I’d taken a break and allowed myself to stop. To think about whether my job actually meant as much to me as I acted like it did.”
“Explain.” The demand slipped out between my clenched teeth, my whole body tight with recognition.
“I loved my job for a lot of years, but I also hated it at times. I think that’s normal. When I look back, I don’t wish I’d worked harder or more—I wish I’d worked less. I wish I’d showed up for you and Jo more, and even your mother. I don’t regret our divorce so much as how we all functioned after it. And I deeply regret that it took me over sixty years to allow myself to be really, truly happy and not feel guilty about it.”
My heart rate climbed, and my jaw must’ve been wired shut because I couldn’t open my mouth to speak right now for all the money in the world. My dad seemed to sense this and exhaled softly, patting my hand again before sitting back.
“Forgive me if this is too much, my Lizzy, but I only want your happiness. And I worry deeply that you haven’t been happy in a long time. I’m all too familiar with what that life looks like, and I hate the thought of you missing out on more.”
I nearly choked as I coughed, my throat finally defeating the dam of emotions. “And what is more? A husband and kids? Is that what it’ll take to make you believe I’m happy?”
His eyes shut and his neck bent—a defeated expression so stark it slapped at me from a foot away.
“No. No. It’s not about what I believe, Elizabeth. It’s about what’s true for you. If you want a husband or wife or children, then have them. If it’s a job change, have that. If it’s staying in the same job and working your way up, do that. But please, do me the honor of believing I want the world for you, and I don’t want you to feel stuck if what you’re doing now won’t give it to you.”
I nodded, incapable of words. Some small flame of hurt and shame and hope and fear had been blown into a bonfire by this conversation and his well-meaning words. He’d touched on exactly my fears—that the pull towards Silverton and the people here, my family here, was telling me something real. It wasn’t just the frustrations piled up with this mess for now —it was hinting that the life I’d made for myself wasn’t much of one. And if that was true?
If I’d failed so spectacularly at making a meaningful life for myself, then what had even been the point of all of it? Of living away and missing out on time with Jo and even missing my parents, changed as they were?
Jane interrupted and I used the intrusion to excuse myself with a mumbled thanks and followed an agonized, stumbling path to the car.
I want the world for you.
What did that even mean? How was that attainable? And what was next? The moon and stars?