She left this morning for that job in the Big Apple. I’ve hardly seen her since I spent that night with her. It was my turn to stay at the station for a seventy-two-hour shift. However, I did squeeze in time for another workout with her. I needed to be sure she remembered what she’s been taught. It’s not enough, but it is something.
The next couple of nights will be torture. She’s there alone. Mostly, anyway. Her agent will be with her, but from what she’s told me about Micah, he wouldn’t be much help in a fight.
Lou promised to call or text to let me know when she is safely ensconced in her hotel room. Save for following her around the world, I can’t protect her from everything. A lesson I don’t enjoy learning any better than when I had to learn it with Paige when I moved here from Portland.
At least things are looking better, on that front. My attorney called this morning to say that Brenda’s attorney wants to meet to see if a new agreement can be made outside of court.
“He thinks Brenda is ready to give in,” I tell Mom when she asks what I think it’s all about. “Maybe because of the new boyfriend. I don’t want to get my hopes up, though.”
“Well, I don’t want to get your hopes up either,” she says, trying to hide her enthusiasm at the news. “But your father told me if Piglet moves here with you, he’ll consider moving back. Since my scans are good.”
“Really?” Now, it’s me trying to hide my excitement. Both my parents miss living here, even if they try not to say it. This is home. Not Portland. That’s just the place she had to be to heal her cancer. Stowaway heals her soul.
“Really. He talks tough, but I know he wants to be here as much as I do.”
“Okay, then,” I say with renewed determination. “I’ll fight like hell to get her here.”
“You already were,” she says with a small laugh. “I appreciate the sentiment, though. Anything we can do to help?”
“Nah, just keep reminding me that if my daughter comes back, my whole family follows.”
Either one would make me ecstatic, both my daughter and my parents coming home for good would be a god damned dream. My entire family here in Stowaway.
I send a quick email to my attorney, telling him to make whatever deal it takes. I’ll sell organs. Hell, I’ll sell testicles to make it happen.
“Daaaaad!”
“What’s up, Squid?”
Paige comes bounding down the hall, hair still wet from her shower. She and Dad had a day of epic sandcastle building on the beach in preparation for this weekend’s annual sandcastle festival. It’s a big deal every year because it’s the first event that brings the tourists out, which is good for business. It’s Paige’s favorite of the summer festivals; she dreams of winning it, one day. Until then, we’re cursed to have her covered from nose to toes in sand as she tries to discover her grand design. How she ends up with it caked in her ears, I’ll never know.
“Has she called yet?”
“Not yet, I told you I’d let you know.”
“I know, but I was in the bathroom,” she says with a heavy eye roll, as if I’m the thickest person she knows.
“I can hear you singing Olivia Rodrigo songs through that door. I’m sure you could hear me if I yelled through it,” I tell her, running my hands through her hair to make sure she got all the tangles out.
“I can’t help that I’m worried,” she tells me, sounding much older than her eight years. “I’ve never been on an airplane, they’re scary.”
“They aren’t scary, you just don’t understand them, yet.”
“I’d understand them if I went on them,” she huffs.
I’ve been promising her a trip to Disneyland for years. Damn Brenda for making that more difficult a promise to keep.
“One day. I promise.”
“What if she doesn’t call before I have to go to bed?”
“I’ll wake you to let you know she’s okay,” I tell her. Truthfully, I’m worrying, now, myself, because it’s already so much later on the East Coast. What I don’t say is that I’ve already texted Lou. My worry is greater than my daughter’s. It’s not a bad flight that concerns me.
She hasn’t answered, yet. But she will. She has to.
I don’t know what I’ll do if she doesn’t. Or can’t.
“Do you promise?”
