Chapter 30 December 21 #2
I stand in the living room, unsure what to do with myself.
There are meals for the week, Dad’s handling the clinic, Millicent’s going to keep Mom entertained and comfortable, and Amelia and I cleaned the house top to bottom yesterday.
Also, my family still believes I’m heading back to the city tomorrow. On that note, so does Austin.
“What time are you leaving?” He’d asked the night before when I finally called. “You must be going stir-crazy. Any sign of the ‘Harmony Hills rash’ yet?”
Austin had laughed at his own joke, which, sure, was my joke.
He once asked, very early in our relationship, if I ever imagined myself moving back here.
I see now he was testing things, trying to decide if this was a relationship worth investing in.
Like I’ve said, small towns held zero appeal for him.
I’d replied, “Doubtful. I’m a city girl.
Probably allergic to small-town life now—a few days too long might bring out the hives. ”
“No, no rash,” I’d replied last night, irked but trying to conceal it. “Sorry, what was the question?”
I knew it was what time I expected to leave Harmony Hills, but I was stalling. Unable to say what I needed to, which was… Austin, I’m not coming with you to L.A. It’s over. I’m sorry to do this over the phone, but I need to let you know.
A barely audible sigh. “When do you hope to get away?”
“Um… first thing, I hope.” Another lie. I bit my lip, guilt blooming. “But things are up in the air right now.”
“Oh? How come?” Austin asked.
“Well…” I started. “It’s complicated.” Understatement. “But I’m not sure I can get away, Austin.”
“What does that mean?” Now he was irked, his words clipped. “We have a flight in less than forty-eight hours, Elizabeth. The tickets are nonrefundable, too.”
Hearing him call me Elizabeth, after a week of everyone referring to me as Libby, was off-putting. Yes, I knew the tickets were nonrefundable (he had told me more than once)… but I also knew the trip wasn’t about me. What did it matter if I was there or not?
“I know,” I replied, giving in because I wasn’t sure what else to do. Pushing the problem away for another day. “Don’t worry. I’ll be there. Leaving crack of dawn, day after tomorrow.”
“Okay, that’s good. We can order in before heading to the airport. Thai or Indian?” Austin sounded pleased the plan was shaping up as expected.
“You choose,” I replied, my voice monotone. I hated being this person—the sort who swallowed what needed to be said.
“Thai, then.”
I rolled my eyes. He always ordered Thai—the same exact dish, green curry chicken—though, I had no right to be annoyed. He had asked me my preference, after all, and I had volleyed it back to him.
“Did the flowers arrive? How’s your mom doing?”
Austin had a gorgeous bouquet of flowers delivered the day after my mom’s fall. It was thoughtful, and yet it also reminded me of what Helly said. How Austin didn’t show up for me in the way I needed him to. Like offering to drop everything and drive to Harmony Hills as a gesture of support.
I would have told him “Thank you, I know that isn’t possible, but I appreciate it” because said gesture would have wreaked havoc with his surgical schedule.
Plus, it would have been overkill for the situation.
Mom was okay, Dad and I could handle the medical side of things easily, and Austin would merely be another person in the house to keep Mom company.
To fluff pillows, or get her a glass of water when it was time for her pain medications.
But I knew that wasn’t what Helena had been getting at—Austin was great with the thoughtful deliveries, and words of support, but he wasn’t here with me, or for me, in the ways that mattered.
Mom insists Amelia and I get out of the house. “I can handle only so much hovering,” she says pointedly.
“Maybe we should get the tree for the clinic? At Liam’s farm?” Amelia suggests, when it’s clear Mom won’t take no for an answer. “Didn’t you say he offered, Libby? I know Miss Betty would appreciate not having to pick one up herself.”
“He did offer,” I reply.
A tingle of excitement courses through me at the thought of seeing Liam again—it has been days.
He texted immediately once he heard about Mom’s ankle, and then made a fresh bread delivery—including three loaves of cinnamon bread.
But unfortunately, I missed him because I was with Mom at the fracture clinic in Westhaven.
“Becks is at the farm, too,” Amelia says. “She’s doing a checkup on the goats, I think.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Mom says. “Enjoy the day! It’s too beautiful outside to waste.”
“I’ll text Liam to make sure it’s okay from his end.” I reach for my phone, but Amelia’s already typing out a message.
“On it,” she says. “I let Becks know we’re on our way.”
A text comes in from Liam, and I smile. “How’s the sawing arm?”
“Is that Austin?” Amelia asks. It’s fair to assume—in Christmas past—that receiving a text from my then boyfriend would make me smile.
“Yep.” I swipe up to get rid of the text screen. “He’s hoping Mom’s doing better today.”
“That’s sweet of him,” Mom replies. “Please thank him again for the flowers, Libby.”
“I will.” I’m flustered, hating my dishonesty.
But how can I explain any of this, let alone the fact that Austin is actually my ex-boyfriend?
“We’ll be back for dinner. Can’t miss that ham-and- pea casserole.
” Miss Millicent beams, pausing briefly as she deals the cards into neat piles on the coffee table.
“Oh God, is it the hot mayonnaise casserole?” Amelia whispers as we head out the front door.
“The very one,” I reply. I shut the door behind us. “Maybe we should stop off at Season’s Eatings?”
“Good idea,” Amelia says, nodding. “But are we bad daughters if we leave Mom and Dad to suffer alone with that casserole?”
I shrug. “Dad said it’s not bad. Apparently I used to like it, too?”
“Ha! You hated it.” Amelia hits her key fob, unlocking the car doors. “You used to hide it in your napkin, then slide it under the table for the Muellers’ dog.”
She pauses, hand on the door. “What was that dog’s name?”
“Rascal.” I haven’t thought about Rascal—the Muellers’ three-legged rescue mutt—for years. I start laughing so hard I’m leaning on the open car door, trying to catch my breath. “He was so chubby, that poor dog.”
“You certainly didn’t help things,” Amelia said, before getting into the car. She turns it on, and Christmas music streams from the radio. I buckle my seat belt, as my sister pulls away from our parents’ place, heading towards Liam’s farm.