Haunt Your Heart Out

Chapter 24

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

The next day, I loaded a prepaid postal box with books, gifts, and souvenirs, slapped my address on it, and tucked it beside the door where my mother promised she’d remember to send it with the mail carrier. They were sorry to have missed saying goodbye to James before his flight, but were surprisingly apologetic for the moments leading up to his early exit.

Bags packed and the previous few nights’ dinners and pies—and heartache—still weighing me down, another Christmas was finished. My parents hugged me in a two-parent sandwich and thanked me for the visit. It felt a little forced after our conversation the night before, but I wasn’t complaining. I had hope. Isaac and Levi hugged me too, then disappeared into the kitchen to dig into the leftover pies while nobody was watching.

Lucas was scarce, but he offered a double-fingered wave from the doorway as I climbed into Jordan’s car.

The car ride was quiet, aside from Jordan humming along to the music and drumming her fingertips on the steering wheel. At the airport, she pulled into the drop-off zone and put the car in park.

“Hey,” Jordan said. “Thanks for coming. I think Mom and Dad were happy to see you.”

“Oh, even if I am a failure who would rather chase dreams than find success?” I flashed a smug smile.

“You know they don’t believe that. Stop. Listen. I think you were right. About Lucas, I mean.”

“Which part? The him being an incredible tool?”

“No.” She leveled an exasperated glare in my direction. “I confronted him. I told him I was leaving, and he agreed to call off the affair.”

“And you believe him?”

She pressed her lips into a line and lifted her shoulders. “I said you told me he’s not worth my time—”

“That’s a loose interpretation of what I said.”

“And that I trust you because you’re the smartest, strongest person I know—”

“Wow, someone’s been hitting the eggnog a little early, huh?” I smiled.

She rolled her eyes. “I’m being really nice to you right now, Alex, and I swear if you don’t just smile and tell me you know it’ll all work out, I’m going to throw you out of this vehicle.”

I smiled. “I know it’ll all work out.”

She wiggled in her seat and pulled her shoulders back. “Thank you. He asked about couples therapy but wasn’t willing to consider any counselors that I suggested. He kept steering me toward the guys he knew from his frat days, so we all know that wouldn’t have worked in my favor. I told him I wasn’t interested, since it seemed to be his goal to win rather than to heal, and that I hoped our divorce would remain civil. Anyway, I’ll text you later if you’re cool with that?”

She’d never texted me for anything beyond business. It was either a new leaf or those holiday feels that disappeared as soon as “Auld Lang Syne” ended and launched you into a new year. “Make sure you get the house in the divorce. I can’t live without that backyard. Fight him for it, okay?”

“You’re ghastly. Get out of my car, or you’ll miss your flight and I’ll be stuck with you until the next one.”

As I climbed out, she tucked a card into my hand. “Oh, wait, I nearly forgot. This is from Mom and Dad. They said not to open it until you’re on the plane, so you know what that means. It’s probably going to piss you off, and they want you where you can’t get to them easily.”

She wiggled her fingers through the crack in the window and pulled away from the curb. I watched until her taillights were completely out of view.

The airport was packed with the usual post-holiday crowds, everyone scurrying back to their lives after promising to call more, text more, visit more. But, once they unpacked, they’d fall into the same too-busy routine.

As promised, James didn’t show up at the gate for our flight home. I did get a text: Ghost Guy: I’m home. Be safe.

I began the long flight home watching movies, which distracted me from my location above the ground enough that my heart rate remained semi-normal. But still, I fisted the cuffs of my sweatshirt in my palms and squeezed. The fidgeting had nothing to do with turbulence or the little screen in the back of the seat ahead of me that proudly declared we’d be in the air for too many hours, at too many feet above sea level. This time, I was hoping the pressure would take my mind off the fact that I’d hurt James. Hurt him enough that he left. Not for dreams and not for opportunities, but because I’d pushed him away. I’d messed up. Big time.

I tugged my book from my bag and disappeared into the pages of Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman. I’d read it before, and I had a well-used paperback at home, but this copy had called to me from the shelves of the first store I’d dragged James into. I had flipped instinctively to examine the first pages—and was rewarded with an inscription: “Let these pages be a lantern held high as you set forth into the uncharted, exploring worlds where ordinary is left at the door and hushed whispers turn to a chorus of wonder.” The worn-soft edges of the pages were perfect for mindless fiddling while I read, and if that couldn’t keep me from worrying, nothing could.

I dragged my thumbnail across the pages, lost in the words as Richard faced the third trial: the monotony, the repetition. Day in and day out, everything the same.

James had lived in half a dozen states in fewer years. His life was adventure, whim, and excitement. When it came down to it, I knew James would also feel the draw of London Below—or just anywhere but Stowe. Especially now that I’d ruined everything and pushed him away.

When I hit the final page, I hugged the weathered paperback to my chest, then tucked it into my bag. It jammed up against the card from my parents. The envelope—a hefty paper with a subtle sheen, their return address embossed on the back flap—was from their personal stationery set. The good stuff that they used for sending party invitations and congratulatory messages. Not the plain envelope they usually mailed with lengthy missives. That didn’t mean it would be good news, but perhaps it wasn’t quite as rough as their usual notes.

I picked at the corner of the flap. Open it, or let it rest? Was it better to be frustrated now, in a tiny tin can hurtling through the air, or at home where I could destroy the peace of being surrounded by my belongings?

The tearing was big and noisy against the white noise of air vents and the hum of the plane, but nobody so much as glanced in my direction. I pulled a couple of pages of their fancy stationery from the envelope. Tri-folded, with perfectly crisp creases.

Alex,

We regret that our opinions regarding your choices have caused such harm in our relationship. We are impressed by your drive and dedication to your little store. You’ve taken the initiative in Charles’s absence and seem to have found where you truly shine. It’s not every day someone can build a career based on what they love—you are lucky to have found that. We do hope you can secure the loan to purchase Dogged Books.

I snickered at the botched name. Close enough.

We apologize, sincerely and deeply, for the rift we have caused. Had we known our actions would separate us to this degree, we would have made different choices. To prevent dredging up the past, and in an effort to move forward, we won’t revisit the discussion in this format. But we do hope, with all our hearts, that this is an opportunity to move forward and heal, together. We’re never more than a call or text away.

If you do renovate, we look forward to being your first guests in your newly updated guest room. And, while we’d prefer you hire a professional, if you choose to stretch your budget and DIY the construction, count us in to swing a hammer.

Please remember that we are here to support you and help you—just like we support and help your sister. It’s not one or the other. It seems that each time you visit, a little more of your independence rubs off on your sister (for better or worse). Maybe, too, some of her willingness to ask for help can make its way into your personality. You don’t have to do it alone. No judgment, no questions. We support you.

Please give our regards to James. We appreciate greatly that you felt comfortable enough to allow him to join you for the trip. Best wishes in the new year.

Mom & Dad

Not a breath escaped my lungs the first time I read the note. The second time through, my throat tightened and my eyes stung with the tears I held back.

The overhead speaker announced that we were coming in to land before I had a chance to start a third read-through, so I slipped the letter into my bag and prepared for descent back in Burlington, Vermont.