Page 67 of Holding Ground

Unfortunately, that doesn’t feel like such a simple task at the moment. In fact, it feels downright terrifying. I steel myself and click the button to enter the Zoom and see that my parents are already in the waiting room. My stomach feels as though it’s in a rolling boil when I click the button to admit them.

Their faces appear on the screen, smiling, and something about seeing them—so happy and so familiar—makes me want to burst into tears.

“Hey, how’s it going?” My mom warmly smiles.

As a young girl, I thought my mom was so beautiful and wished that when I grew up, I’d be as pretty as she is one day. I can also remember the supreme disappointment when I was old enough to realize that would never happen because I don’t share any genes with her.

She’s still beautiful, even all these years later, approaching sixty.

“It’s good. It reminds me a lot of home, actually. Lots of forests and fresh air.”

“Is that longing I hear in your voice? I think you miss home?” my dad asks. He’s always angling to get me to return to Alaska.

I smile. “That’s not what I’m saying, Dad.”

My mom shakes her head and places her hand on my dad’s knee. “You know your father. He’s never going to give up trying to get you back home.”

“Every time we speak.”

My mom and I laugh.

“I have every right. You’re all bundled up. Don’t you have heat?” My dad frowns.

“Actually, I had to temporarily move out of the bunkie, so the heat hasn’t been turned up.” I tell them about the storm and the felled tree, as well as how Elliott offered his guest room to me until the repairs are complete.

“So now you’re staying in a house with a complete stranger?” My dad cringes. I should have expected that.

I roll my eyes. My dad has always been a little overprotective when it comes to me and the opposite sex. “Him and his daughter, yes. It’s not a big deal.”

“I don’t want him taking advantage of you. Make sure you lock your bedroom door at night. And you have that pepper spray, right?” He arches an eyebrow.

“Yes, Dad.”

If he only knew.

I glance at my mom. She’s been pretty quiet about my new living arrangements, and I see something on her face that makes me think she might have some idea what’s really going on. I choose to ignore it, and she’d never bring it up in front of my dad.

We chat about what my siblings are up to, and when the conversation comes to a natural lull, my bottom lip quivers as I push back tears.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” my mom asks. I hate that look of concern. I don’t deserve it.

My dad straightens in his chair.

“I got a call from the doctor.” My mom’s hand flies up to cover her mouth, and I raise both hands to stop her mind from going where it doesn’t need to. “I’m fine, I’m fine.”

I tell them what the doctor said and how I’ll get my blood tested again once I return to Boston.

“That all sounds promising. If anything changes, you let us know,” my mom says.

“If you’re fine, why do you look so pale?” my dad asks.

I shift on the bed, twirling the ring on my middle finger around and around and around, a sure sign that I’m anxious. “Because I have to talk to you about something, and I’m afraid to.”

“You can talk to us about anything, you know that.” My mom’s head tilts.

I nod. “I know that. I’m just afraid I’m going to hurt you with what I need to talk to you about.”

“What’s going on, Em?” my dad asks, his forehead wrinkling.