Haunt Your Heart Out

Chapter 20

CHAPTER TWENTY

A 7 A.M. flight meant up at four, to the airport by five, and an hour of security and sitting around in the tiny Burlington airport, sipping drip coffee and wishing for breakfast. But flying and I had never gotten along. An empty stomach was the best option, especially if I was sharing a row with James, experienced traveler and all-around brave soul.

Except for where ghosts were concerned, obviously. I’d resolved to point out his fear of the paranormal if he so much as smirked at my green-tinted face.

We’d packed light: a carry-on each and no checked baggage. Buying gifts once we landed would save on baggage costs and meant less lugging in general. Lulu stayed with Julian, though I’d tried to convince James to bring her along. A long-haired, boisterous dog was exactly the kind of thing my parents would have hated to see bounding up their walkway. They’d hate it even more when she scrabbled across their hardwood floors and into the backyard—and, heaven forbid, into their in-ground pool. The hair in the filter, the hair on their furniture, the tracked-in dirt. It was their idea of hell.

I started the deep breathing exercises early so I’d have enough calm built up for waiting on the tarmac, and takeoff, and the flight. Landing would never be easy, so there was no sense in trying to keep my cool that long. James’s shirtsleeves were the only thing keeping my fingernails from digging into actual flesh.

The cost and the parents hadn’t been the only things keeping me from visiting California: flying was also a nightmare. I hated the feeling of not being in control. At least I knew where I stood in my career, with my parents, with my friends. I could sit back and let someone else drive because I knew how a car worked. I knew the mechanisms, and I knew enough about car maintenance that I could jump in and change the oil or fix a flat if I had to. If the plane broke midair, that was that. See ya later, alligator.

Flying felt an awful lot like being in a new relationship. Launching myself into the great unknown and hoping aerodynamics—or at least shared interests—were enough to keep us afloat.

Once we reached cruising altitude, James’s breathing slowed and a tiny snore took up residence in the space between us. I focused on the rhythm of his breaths so I could ground myself, regain my calm. I’d never had a bad flight, but when did fear ever make sense? Instead of dwelling on what could go wrong, I focused on the way the water rippled in the plastic cup resting on James’s seat-back tray and counted seconds—up to ten, down to one … then up and back down again.

I stole a peek as James napped and wondered how he could be so relaxed. It was unfair that he was so laid-back about everything—including how quickly our relationship had progressed. He threw his whole self into everything—friendships, filmmaking, dog ownership, adventures, our relationship—no need for a toe-dip to test the waters. He was all in , no hesitation. Maybe our kindred nature was what made this comfortable instead of terrifying for me.

He was easy to be with, easy to trust, easy to … love?

No, not yet. I wasn’t there yet, but I could be someday.

Unfortunately, not being ready to label it didn’t mean the fear of losing him wasn’t still hanging on.

The documentary was so close to being finished, and I wanted to ask what would come next—but what if the answer was that he was leaving? Then again, if he wasn’t serious about us, he wouldn’t have hopped into a cigar-shaped metal tube to hurtle across the country to meet my family.

James stirred in his sleep. When his eyes blinked open, and his dreamy, unfocused gaze landed on me, the stress melted away. He patted his shoulder, and I took the invitation, leaning in to rest my head in the crook of his neck. I resolved to bring up “the future” when we got back home. One big moment at a time was all I could handle.

The layover and second flight were uneventful, which is really all you can hope for when it comes to flying—especially on December 23. The flight arrived fifteen minutes ahead of schedule and by some miracle, James and I caught an Uber without much of a wait. The sixty-degree difference between Vermont and southern California was always a shock to my system. I couldn’t have moved there; I’d never have survived the climate.

“So, here’s the deal. If you want to survive my parents, the key is to not show weakness. Don’t need anything. Don’t ask for anything. One time, I asked to borrow a quarter for the meter when I was seventeen, and I swear I am still working off that debt. Pick your battles because you’ll only win one—if you’re lucky—and don’t look them in the eye because there’s a solid chance you’ll turn to stone. Are you ready?”

“They sound as warm and caring as my parents. In essence, I was born ready.”

“Glad one of us is confident.”

We rolled through the cul de sac and into the driveway. The car stopped but I didn’t budge.

The drapes in the huge front window shifted and my mother’s face peeked through the crack. She dropped the drape back into place and her silhouette crossed the room to the front door. She pulled it open, then waved us inside.

“Can you fake the doors being stuck or something?” I asked the driver. James climbed out of the car, grabbing both of our bags, and offered a hand to help me out.

“Traitor,” I whispered. I accepted James’s hand while the driver eyed me in the mirror without a word.

With cement-heavy feet, I trudged up the walkway, past Jordan’s car. I dragged a fingertip through the thin layer of dust that clung to the side of the vehicle, drawing a X_X face, then made the trek to the door where my mom waited.

“How do you get anything accomplished at a pace like that?” she said by way of greeting.

“Hello, Mother. My flight was as terrifying as ever, thanks for asking. Yes, it’s wonderful to see you too.”

She clicked her tongue. “Jordan and the children have been here for two days already—you just missed them, they walked to the library for cookie decorating and story time. They’ve claimed the guest house. Lucas will be here tomorrow. He took a few extra night shifts to give the other staff a break, isn’t that wonderful?”

“ER doc,” I whispered to James. “Mom, meet James. James, my mother.”

“That was selfless,” James said. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. McCall.”

“Yeah, selfless. That, and he appreciates the shift differential he earns for his ‘good deeds.’” I lifted an eyebrow.

“Life is different out here, Alex. You can’t live on a shopkeeper’s hourly wage. Which you’d understand if you’d come out of your bubble.”

“I’m not having this argument again, Mother. I’ll show James to our room.”

“Rooms.” She swished her index fingers away from each other, slashing an X through the air.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Mom. I’m an adult.”

“And both guest rooms have a single twin bed now because your nephews don’t share a room anymore. I’d think that would be uncomfortable, but by all means, squeeze yourselves into a bed made for a child. I’m not the prude you wish to believe I am.”

I pressed my lips together and the corners of my mouth pulled downward in disbelief. “Sorry, I thought I was being judged for my decision-making skills again. Guess I was wrong.”

“Oh, honestly, Alex. The way you go on. We’ve given you nothing but freedom to make your own decisions.”

“And this is where I excuse myself from the conversation so we don’t fight the entire time I’m here. Thanks, Mom, we’ll settle in. I’m taking James out for some last-minute shopping, so we’ll find lunch while we’re gone.”

James grabbed both of our bags, slung his over his shoulder, and carried mine by the handles. “Thank you for your hospitality, Mrs. McCall.”

“You’re very welcome, James. Alex, see if you can learn some manners from your guest.”

“Way to make me look bad,” I whispered, squinting and wrinkling my nose.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you,” James promised, one impish eyebrow hoisted high.

I swung the door open to the first guest room, the one I usually stayed in. I tossed my bag onto the tiny twin-sized bed and scanned the space. Nothing had changed, aside from the bed size. The queen must have been moved to the coveted guest house.

James was leaning in the doorway, his bag slung over his shoulder as he eyed the art on the walls. Most of it belonged to the kids. Stick figures and dinosaurs, cats and houses and sunshine. The only photo on the walls was one from their last visit to Vermont. I’d taken the kids to try sugar on snow, which was a hit. We sat at a long picnic table covered with a plastic red and white checkered tablecloth. The tray in front of us was mostly empty, with only remnants of the feast remaining: sticky syrup cups and balled up napkins. Jordan had called to the kids, “Thing One, Thing Two, say ‘cheese!’” She snapped the photo just as I’d swiped a dab of maple onto each kid’s nose, so we were giggling. Better than cheesing, any day.

“Looks like you’re the fun aunt.”

I was, and it was a point of pride. “They like coming to visit. They’re all about the yard, and the farm next door, and the snow. I think they like the snow better than they like me.”

“How often do they visit?”

“Once or twice a year. They get a hotel in Burlington, and we meet up a couple of times. I keep the kids for a night while my parents, Jordan, and Lucas go skiing. Mom won’t let the kids learn to ski. She’s more protective of them than she was of me. I spent my summers running feral through the streets, and they’re in private school where only organic food is served. Your room is this way.”

James stepped aside to let me pass, then fell into step behind me. He examined the art on the walls as we walked to the next room. A portrait of my sister, a giant wedding photo, a gallery wall dedicated to the kids, and my senior portrait—tiny in comparison. “They seem … proud of their family.”

“Jordan can do no wrong. Her kids are the light of my parents’ life. And then there’s me.” I gestured toward my senior portrait. “The last time they were proud of me was the day I graduated from high school with loads of small but prestigious merit-based scholarships. That was before I dropped out of college and ruined their opinion of me forever. I’m pretty sure I sealed my own fate there. I didn’t think I needed them because my grandfather had left me that house. I figured I’d find some career that paid enough to show them that I could do just fine on my own.” I waved the train of thought away. “Anyway, that’s enough of the sob story. Shall we? I’m starving.”

We grabbed lunch at my favorite sushi place. It was the only reason I looked forward to visiting my parents. Vermont had maple and cheese going for it, but when it came to good sushi, it was a barren wasteland. Every visit to my parents’ required a long sit at the sushi bar where ordering omakase was a must.

As we plucked the chef’s choice from the bar in front of us, I closed my eyes and savored each bite. James’s grin grew. “You’re worldlier than you’ve let on.”

“What, just because I know how to order sushi in the city, I’ve lost my country girl label? Don’t tell anyone, they’ll take away my ‘Local Super Hero’ badge.”

“I didn’t say that.” He sucked air through the tiny O of his lips and closed his eyes tightly. “Wasabi,” he said, shaking his head as if to shake away the burn.

“One would have assumed that a well-traveled man such as yourself could handle a little wasabi.”

“I’m not usually distracted by such fine company.”

I rolled my eyes at him. “Spare me.”

His lips curved into a cheery smile and the dimple appeared on his chin like a beacon. “It’s the truth.”

“Inadequacy has a habit of sneaking up on me. Something about being the second-born, disappointing child who didn’t live up to her parents’ expectations. My travel experience is limited—car trips down the East coast, flights out to Cali every now and then. Nothing like your travels.”

“A few trips hardly count as traveling the world.”

“I know, I know. Sorry. It’s just that being here, with my family … It’s rough.”

He turned on his bar stool, pointing his knees toward me. “I get it. The desire to prove yourself, the … the whatever. But have you ever stopped to wonder if you’re the one putting the pressure on yourself?”

I was surviving under the pressure, not creating it. I narrowed my eyes. “It’s been there since birth, and my sister refused to take part in any sort of rebellion. That’s why she’s a doctor, and I’m too chicken to speak up when Charles shoots down my ideas.”

“But when you buy the store, you won’t need to go through Charles anymore. It’ll be your ideas or bust.”

“The bank called yesterday and said I didn’t meet their eligibility requirements.” I’d avoided telling him so I could hold onto the false hope just that much longer. The way his face fell made me want to take it back to spare him the bad news. “I’m just worried that since I didn’t get the business loan, I’ll end up in the same position all over again with a new owner. Sometimes it’s difficult to separate everyone else’s wants from my own.”

“Then what do you —Lex, and only Lex—want?”

“For the people in my life to quit leaving.” Shit. So much for saving that conversation for home. A sushi bar counter wasn’t where I wanted to have this discussion, but now that it was out there … I rocked my tea cup back and forth on the bottom ridge of the glass, then ran my fingertip along the textured enamel finish. “Everyone either leaves or dies.”

He took my hand in his and squeezed, just a bit. “Everyone?”

I nodded, not meeting his eyes for fear of what I’d see there. “Everyone.”

“Natalie’s parents aren’t going anywhere. Natalie’s sticking around. You’re fixing up that house you love so much, a little at a time.” He popped the last of his sushi in his mouth and reached for his wallet. “And, I’m fond of your weird little town’s creaky used bookstores and creepy covered bridges. I can’t go anywhere until I’ve seen everything.”

I swallowed. Hard.

“I don’t mean to assume, but I’m hoping that’s a plus?” His voice was tipped with caution that replaced his usual confidence. He tucked a crisp bill beneath the check and set his tea cup on top of it.

He wants to stay. How long, I couldn’t be sure. Months, years, he hadn’t confirmed, but sticking around was on his mind—and that was just enough to replenish my hope. “Add a big check to the pro column, please.” I swirled the last sip of tea, then tipped it into my mouth.

“Preference noted.” He stood, tucked his corduroy jacket over one arm, and offered his opposite hand to me. “Now, if I remember correctly, I was promised a city tour.”

“You’ve been here before, what do you need a tour for?”

“Because even though I’ve seen this city a dozen times, I’ve never seen it through your eyes. You have a habit of opening up entire worlds for me, Lex. I’m bound to discover at least four new reasons to love it here.”

I rolled my eyes. “You give me too much credit.”

James rested an elbow on the counter and leaned in to look me in the eye. “I think it’s just enough.”

A prickle of goosebumps raced across my arms and my chest warmed as he gazed at me. I lifted my chin, giving him plenty of room in case he went in for a kiss. Instead, he ran a fingertip along my jawline, then pressed himself away from the counter. “Where to first?”

“Bookstores, obviously.”

“Stores, plural?”

“Absolutely. This isn’t Stowe. We have options. A whole new world of books, a completely different demographic, and fresh possibilities for book inscriptions.”

“Okay, but how many books can you fit in your carry on?”

I smirked. “Amateur. I’ll ship a box home. Cheaper than checking a bag, and less to haul through the airport, too.”

He shook his head, but the grin beat out the exasperation. “Lead the way.”