Chapter 34
EVERETT
It’s late evening when we land in Boise. I texted Caroline our arrival time so she’d know when to expect us home and got a one-word response—okay. I’ve never tried to dissect four letters more in my life.
“She’ll get past it.” Summer plants a warm hand on my knee as I stare at my phone screen.
Our Uber driver’s GPS announces a left turn onto Harrison Boulevard, and my stomach clenches.
Managing to come up with something to say on the spot to an arena of strangers feels far less intimidating than the handful of important people I kept my disability from.
I wanted to wait to have this conversation.
Explain where I was coming from when I could speak to my in-laws in person.
It’s what my therapist recommended. Now that it’s here I’m nervous.
“I know,” I reply. I glance out the window, counting the illuminated lampposts that stamp my childhood street. Deep down I believe Caroline won’t hate me forever. But I’m disappointed at the notion that we may have taken a step back after the slight progress we’ve made.
When we pull up to the sidewalk, I’m too busy gathering luggage and thanking our driver to notice the missing black vehicle in the driveway.
Anxious to see Quinn, I blow through the front door and dump our bags in the entryway.
I holler her name and turn the corner to find her snuggled up on the couch between the last two people I expected to see.
“Daddy!” Quinn squeals, scooting off the edge of the sofa and sprinting for my open arms.
I catch her, tucking my face in the handful of curls clutched in my palm. The familiar citrusy scent of her detangler slowly dissolves the ache I’ve been carrying around with her absence. “I missed you so much.”
“Me too,” Quinn says, letting go and running to Summer.
My mom pulls me in for a hug. “Surprised?”
“So surprised. What about Paris? London? The rest of the summer?”
“We have the rest of our lives to travel. We couldn’t miss this talent show we’ve been hearing so much about,” she says, letting go so my dad can take a turn.
“Is there any topic you and Emma don’t cover during those phone calls of yours?” I smirk at her over his shoulder.
“Actually, Quinn told Caroline. Caroline told me,” she clarifies.
I crane my neck toward the kitchen, then the back patio. “Where are they?”
“They left after dinner. Both were pretty tired. Quinn couldn’t keep anything down last night.”
“What?” I drop to squat, testing Quinn’s forehead. Why does something happen every time I’m away? I relax when the back of my hand is met with an average temperature and a lack of clammy skin. No fever.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you she was sick. I didn’t want you to worry,” Summer says.
“I fine,” Quinn pipes in before running back to her spot on the couch to finish her Spidey episode.
When I stand and face Summer, she’s biting her lip and squeezing her thumb joint.
Putting herself through another round of self-deprecating silence I experienced in my Denver dressing room.
Choosing to leave Quinn to protect me is not something I’m holding against her.
I part her hands, clasping our fingers together.
“It’s okay. Caroline and Wade were here for her. ”
A hand is thrust between us. “You must be Sybil.”
“Adam!” Mom swats his forearm, scolding under her breath.
“Just lightening the mood.” He winks. “Nice to finally meet you, Summer.”
She laughs. “You too. You have a beautiful yard, Mrs. Dawson.”
“Call me Jane,” Mom says. “And thank you! Your cat sure likes it.”
Summer’s eyes dart toward the backyard. Her pupils dilate, entranced by the multi-pane glass windows that stretch along the back of the house. The view is cloaked by the inky night sky, and it’s impossible to make out anything but shadows.
“Millie’s outside?”
“She’s been out there all day, brushing up against the lilies. Good thing her fur is already orange, or she’d have pollen stripes.”
Summer drifts toward the door.
My mom covers half her face, cringing as she looks at me. “I’m sorry. Were we not supposed to let her out?”
Summer slips outside.
“You’re fine. She was worried Millie wouldn’t find her way back if she got out, but that cat was desperate to be outside. Trust me, you saved yourself a shirt,” I reassure her.
“Now that sounds like a story. Come sit.” Dad pats the spot next to Quinn on the sofa before kicking up his feet on the ottoman and crossing his ankles. I settle beside him in the corner of the L-shaped couch, my mom on the opposite end.
With the newfound silence, I ask what’s been on my mind since I found out Caroline left.
“How did she seem? Caroline, I mean.”
Quinn nestles into the crook of my arm when I drape it around her shoulders.
“She seemed like any good mother-in-law would—worried about you.”
“Really?” I thought she’d be mad.
“Well, Wade did have to ask her if she was okay at dinner six times because she wasn’t talking much,” she admits.
I knew it would bother her. It’s unlike Caroline not to have a say in everything.
“Do you think I should call her?”
“No.” My dad is quick to speak first. “You did the right thing.”
“Wade was encouraging her to go on a girls’ trip to McCall for the week with her bunco ladies now that we are back to help you. I think she just needs a break. She’ll be at the talent show on Saturday. You can talk to her then.”
“Yeah. Okay,” I say, but really I’m clinging to the advice my new therapist offered me during my emergency first session with him in my hotel bathroom while Summer was still sleeping.
When I expressed my fear over Caroline’s emotions in this situation.
Let others acknowledge and process their feelings without allowing yourself to carry the weight, he said.
Their expectations are on them. Your boundaries are on you.
You get to decide how much you let them in and what you’re willing to share.
There’s strength in knowing you define your own happiness.
That reminder helps ease the worries I can’t control, and I hold tight to the little person slumped against my side. In the few minutes since I sat, Quinn has fallen asleep.
“I should get her to—”
“She didn’t leave!” Summer bursts through the back door with Millie curled in her arms. “And she likes it here!” Her smile widens as a gust of astonishment and contentment exits her lungs.
“What’s not to like?” I look at my parents—the two people who raised me in the house I used to resent. If time and memories can heal those deep-seated wounds, there’s no relationship in my life that can’t be mended by them too.
Mom jumps to her feet. “You two must be starving. Can we get you something to eat? There’s leftover pot roast in the fridge.”
“Actually, I’m feeling pretty worn out. But thank you for offering,” Summer says.
“And I should get Quinn to bed.”
“Of course! I’m sure you’re both exhausted. We’ll catch up more tomorrow.” Mom pulls Dad from the couch, dragging him toward their bedroom.
“Good night,” Summer and I say in unison before she beelines for the front door.
“Where are you going?” I scoop Quinn up and stand.
The handle slides out of the top of Summer’s carry-on as she tugs on it.
“I’m going to head out. I can stay at Julia’s…
” Her sentence fades away as she studies a spot where the carpet meets the hardwood floor.
“Now that I’m thinking about it…” She looks up at me, sighing.
“My car is at her house. Is the guest bedroom still available?”
“Summer, my parents aren’t under any illusion that we aren’t sleeping together. You’re staying with me.”
It’s not up for debate, and thankfully, she doesn’t argue. I want her here. Just like I have every other night since she moved in.
After I tuck Quinn in bed and haul our luggage upstairs, I unpack my phone charger, plugging it in behind the rickety nightstand. I’d have missed her message if the device didn’t buzz.
CAROLINE: Thank you for the roses.
Words of encouragement from my dad run through my head. You did the right thing.
I let that be enough for now, climbing under the covers and turning off the light.