Page 30 of Something About September

Rebecca’s pulse ticked faster as Marion sat beside her and opened a thick black velvet-bound album. Sabrina had come to sit on the other side, and together they flipped through photos of Marion as a teen, with friends, or with James. And then there was a group shot, maybe from a school dance. Evie was in it, her dark hair swept high, her red dress like a beacon. James was close to her, holding her elbow. Marion wasn’t in the picture.

“Let me see that!” Sabrina said, pulling the album closer. She examined it for a long moment, then looked up at her dad. “Did you and Evie ever date? I thought it was just Mom who was close with her, but, Dad, you and Evie look like an item here!”

“Sabrina!” Rebecca gasped. It was easy for Sabrina to just blurt something like that out, when meanwhile, Rebecca had been carrying it around for days, poring over it in her mind and her heart.

“It’s all right, Becca. Ancient history,” Marion said lightly—but too lightly. Like she was forcing it.

Rebecca thought she caught a look passing between Marion and her husband then. Her mind started spinning and soon she was caught in a spiral. How ridiculous it was, walking around town thinking anyone could be her father—like that little bird in Are You My Mother?, a book Rebecca remembered reading as a child. She could not go down this road, not with such an important group of people. Her only people, now that Lenore was gone.

It was too much. She had to get out of this somehow. She stood abruptly, and the others looked up in surprise. “I’ve got a lot to do,” she said—which was true, but it wasn’t like she was going to go back to the diner and continue her packing job, not tonight. Still, she had said it. It was too late to take it back. “Thank you so much for the dinner.”

“Can’t it wait until tomorrow?” Sabrina asked.

“Crispin’s clock is ticking. We all know it. I can’t waste any more time. I’m sorry. I need to go.” And she rushed out of the room without waiting for a response.

But Cort followed, found her pulling on her shoes at the side door.

“Let me walk you, make sure you get home safely.”

“Thanks, but I just need to be alone.”

“Rebecca, you don’t have to be alone. Let someone be there for you. Let me.”

She paused with one hand on the doorknob, caught by the intensity of his gray eyes, the way he looked at her as if he could read her like a book, the way being close to him made her want to fall into his arms and pretend he had something to offer other than a friendly embrace. Her heart fluttered like a trapped bird. But she couldn’t go to him. She wouldn’t. She was working too hard to fight against this. And, right now, it felt like she was at risk of losing so much. She felt lost, panicked.

So she bolted, let the door slam behind her, hoped he would get the message and not try to follow her—while also hoping, wishing, dreaming, as she raced through the starry autumn night, that he would.

Chapter 20

Rebecca was up before dawn, nursing her second cup of coffee and a piece of sourdough toast she could barely taste. The awkwardness of her abrupt exit from the Calloways’ on Saturday night had left her troubled for the rest of the weekend. She knew one thing: She couldn’t face Cort this morning. And she couldn’t face her phone, which had been buzzing the rest of the weekend with concerned texts from Sabrina, asking if she was okay. She felt terrible, ignoring her best friend, and knew she’d have to come clean eventually and find a way to make amends.

By seven thirty, she’d made her decision. She poured her coffee into a travel mug, grabbed her purse and car keys, and scribbled a note on the back of an envelope:

Cort: Had to run some errands today. Back tonight. —R

She had no idea where she was going to hide all day, but she’d figure something out. Only, she was halfway to the door when she heard the rumble of his truck engine in the parking lot.

“Damn it,” she muttered, freezing, her hand on the doorknob.

Through the window, she watched him climb out of the truck, looking frustratingly calm and as handsome as ever in his blue flannel shirt and jeans. When he knocked on the door, she didn’t move.

“Becca?” His voice carried through the glass. “I can see you.”

She opened the door, trying for casual. “Oh, hi. I was just—”

“Running away?” His gray eyes held a knowing glint that made her cheeks warm.

“I wasn’t running away. I was going to…get supplies.”

Cort leaned against the doorframe, clearly not buying it. “What kind of supplies?”

“Just…general supplies.” She gestured vaguely. “You know.”

“Mm-hmm.” He wandered over to the counter and spotted the note. “Supplies it was going to take you all day to get?”

She bit her lip and stared at him—and suddenly, to her mortification, her eyes filled with tears. All mirth drained from his eyes, fast. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to make light. I know you’re struggling.” He stepped closer. “And for some reason, you’ve decided to do it alone. Becca, I’m here for you. Please talk to me.”

She shook her head and pressed her lips together, breathed in through her nose.