Chapter 17 Dearer Than Gold #2
“No, I’m not going back to school,” I said a bit more curtly than I really needed to be. “I, um, got married, and he lives there. In Boston.”
This time, the silence on the other side of the line was deafening. A thunderstorm of absolutely nothing.
“Dad?” I ventured after a full minute had passed. “Are you there?”
“I—yes, Laney. I’m here. I guess I just don’t know what to say.”
The background sound of his car suddenly died, and I recognized the shift between being on speaker and him talking directly into the phone. He’d pulled over. I’d finally shocked him into giving me his undivided attention.
“Tell me everything,” he said in a tone I hadn’t heard since I was seventeen and scraped all the paint off the side of his Subaru against a parking garage pillar.
He didn’t sound like my buddy. He sounded like my dad. And the crazy thing was, I liked it.
I pulled my knees up to my chest and rested my chin on them while I spoke.
“His name’s Ronan Black. He’s a businessman, but he studied Classics, like me.
He’s from a big Irish family that owns a big corporation, and he now he heads it all up.
Third of four kids. He’s…” I found myself taking another deep breath.
Trying to explain everything Ronan Black in a nutshell was harder than I thought.
“He’s funny and smart and kind and generous.
We met in Vegas when I was there for Megan’s bachelorette party and got married on a crazy whim.
But then we realized that maybe we really liked each other, so when he asked me to give it a real try, I said yes. ”
“You got married in Vegas on a whim two weeks ago?”
“Almost three,” I corrected him lamely. As if that made it any better.
Now he sounded more concerned than hurt. “Laney, that’s not you.”
He wasn’t wrong. That night, I was Not Laney. Right now, I was… well, maybe I wasn’t the daughter he knew either. Then again, I wasn’t sure he had known me for a while now.
“Maybe it’s not,” I said. “But I’ve made my decision. I just wanted you to know before you saw it in the papers or someplace. His family is kind of a big deal in Boston, so there’s going to be a formal announcement or something like that once I get there. I didn’t want you to be surprised.”
“Didn’t want me to be… Laney, this is insane. Marriage isn’t a whim. And it’s not something you ‘try.’ It’s a serious decision you make when you are absolutely sure that person is the one you want to be with. It’s a lifelong commitment.”
“You mean like the one you made to Mom before she died? Before you left for Arizona?” The words flew out of my mouth before I could stop them.
I was being unfair. It’s not like he left her.
Still, I didn’t take it back.
Again, the line was quiet for a very long time, though I could hear him breathing hard.
I waited for him to argue with me. To scold me. To tell me I was being ridiculous and that he was coming to Seattle on the next plane and that he expected me to be there so he could talk some sense into me. Maybe there would even be a “young lady” stuck in there just to show me he meant business.
The weird part was, twenty-seven or not, I just might have listened and stayed.
Instead, he just gave a long sigh. “I see.”
That was it.
“Dad—”
“I suppose congratulations are in order. If you and your husband ever make it down to Arizona, let me know. I’ll take him out on the golf course.”
I frowned at Mom’s gravestone, blinking away threatening tears. He just didn’t care, did he? Not enough to fight for anything anymore. “I—sure, okay. I’ll see if he plays.”
“Is this permanent, the move to Boston? Or is that part of ‘trying things out’ too?”
I swallowed thickly. “We, um, agreed to six months to start. We’ll go from there.”
“Six months.” There was another long pause. “Well, your mother would want you to be happy.”
I drifted my fingers over the A again as a tear slipped down my cheek. “I know, Dad.”
“And she’d want to know you’re taking care of yourself.”
I nodded, though he couldn’t see me. “I know. I am.”
“Okay, then. I guess that’s all there is to say.”
My voice was starting to shake with the effort of concealing a sob. “Yeah. I, um, have to go.”
“Laney—”
“I’m sorry you weren’t there for the wedding,” I blurted suddenly. “I’m sorry he didn’t ask you for my hand or even get to meet you first. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before now.” My voice cracked so hard it hurt. “But this is happening. I just thought you deserved to know.”
I could practically feel him thinking through the speaker. “Okay,” he said finally. “If this is what you want.”
“It is.”
God, I hoped that was true. It had to be. Otherwise, what was I doing?
We hung up after trading platitudes and promising to talk, even though both of us knew we wouldn’t. Then I sat there, staring at Mom’s grave until the tears stopped flowing.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered again and again, not sure if I was speaking to her or myself or Dad.
In my lap, my phone pinged.
I looked down, expecting a text from Dad. Instead, there was an email from a now-familiar address.
From: rblack@
Subject: Don’t hate the Catullus, hate the game
If anything happens to one who desires it, and wishes
and never expects it, it’s a special delight to the mind.
Likewise, this is delight, dearer than gold, to me,
that you come back to me, Lesbia, in my longing.
come back, desired and un-hoped for, give yourself
back to me. O day marked out with greater brightness!
Who exists more happily than me, or can say
that he wishes for any life greater than this?
It was similar to other emails he’d sent containing nothing but whatever text he wanted me to engage with.
This wasn’t the first Catullus poem that had come my way, mostly because he knew I wasn’t a fan (my chief argument was that Catullus had the emotional intelligence and sexual obsessions of a fifteen-year-old boy, which of course prompted Ronan to send me his bawdiest poems).
This one, however, was different. One of Catullus’s odes to Lesbia, his singular obsession, and one that anticipated her return to him with unflagging joy.
It wasn’t hard to figure out why exactly he had sent it.
I couldn’t help but smile.
Below the poem, in smaller text, were the details of an unfamiliar flight to Boston, followed by the only real email Ronan had ever sent me.
Skyservice
Seattle Boeing Field to Boston Logan
Passenger: Delaney Fisher Black
Date: July 8, 11:00 AM
Aircraft: Gulfstream G650
Don’t kill me, but I canceled your flight reservation. Sent the jet instead because my wife deserves better than commercial. It’s been two whole weeks. I’m not waiting for you one second longer at a fucking baggage claim.
A car is picking you up at your apartment at four.
Your husband,
R
P.S. If you’re not packed, I’ll buy you whatever you need. Your clothes won’t be necessary when you get here, anyway.
I stared at his promise for a long moment while goosebumps erupted over my skin. Yeah, two weeks had seemed like a long time. And he’d been very good at teasing me about it, too.
I blinked and checked the time. It was already six o’clock.
Time to go.
At exactly four o’clock, I fed Pita for the last time, dead bolted the back door that led up to my apartment, and rolled my suitcases out to meet the car that Ronan had sent.
True to his word, another big black SUV was idling at the curb.
I looked back at the little brick building that had housed my mother’s dreams and sighed.
“By Mom,” I whispered. The turned to face my future.
“Mrs. Black.” The driver took my bags and opened my door for me.
I frowned. I wasn’t sure about the whole taking names thing. “It’s Fisher.”
The driver nodded and handed me a manila envelope. “Of course. Mr. Black sent this for you to review on the flight.”
He shut the door behind me and rounded the car to stow my bags. Moments later, we were on our way.
I watched the shop that had been my life for the last year until we rounded the corner onto 15th Avenue, and it disappeared from sigh..
Just like that, I was driven away from everything I knew in Seattle. My life in Seattle was about to vanish. And a new one was coming, far faster than I’d imagined.
I clutched the envelope bearing my name with both hands, but before I opened it, my phone pinged in my bag. I pulled it out.
Ronan
Did you get the email?
I chuckled and replied.
Catullus was not the way to convince me to change my flight.
His reply was nearly instantaneous.
Ronan
He’s not all bad. Sometimes his adoration is kind of adorable. Like me, right?
I suppose.
Ronan
Don’t keep me in suspense. Did I make it in time or were you out having a picnic with an orca at the top of Mount Rainier or some shit that makes it impossible to make the flight?
I grinned just at the idea. And again at the idea of toying with him a bit more.
One thing had to be said about Ronan Black—he was never boring.
I decided to snap a picture of myself in the backseat with the driver’s head clearly in view.
I’m in the car now. See you in a few hours.