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CATHERINE
Home iswhere you go to find peace, but not today. My shaking hands and the throbbing in my chest only confirm my fears - disaster awaits.
My Uber flies down Market Street and I duck down to hide as we roll by Mr. Paul’s Ice Cream shop as if I’m expecting the ghost of boyfriend past to be sitting at our favorite booth sipping on a black and white milkshake, staring out the window on alert.
I sit on my hands and form tight fists, squeezing to the point that I feel the pain of my nails digging hard into my palms. This trip is different. He knows I’m coming home. He knows my schedule. There will be no avoiding him this time.
I don’t trust myself to even think his name, the steady warning drumbeat in my chest building louder. The fear that a mere mention of his name would have the power to activate some horror movie spell, conjuring him up in front of me, a smug smirk on his face and a condescending attitude on his shoulder. So, I sit in silence, anxiety my backseat companion.
I’m only two hours removed from the pep talk from my former college classmate and good friend, Shannon, but I don’t hesitate to dial her. Anything to pull me out of the anxiety hole I’m tumbling down.
“Catherine!” she answers on the first ring, surprise in her tone. “Don’t tell me you left something here at the Inn.”
I shake my head, knowing she can’t see me. “No. At least I don’t think so.” Her question merely pulls me from one rabbit hole to another. I’ve spent the last three days with Shannon and the rest of the women in our book club back in our college town of Abbott Ridge, North Carolina. Three amazing days of kinship, reconnecting and refilling my cup with positivity. Nearly all of it evaporating when I stepped on the plane and flew cross-country back to my hometown. “I’m almost to my parents’ home and I wanted to hear you tell me once again that everything will work out.”
“Okay,” she whispers, and I imagine Shannon pulling on the sleeves of her bohemian top with more colors than Joseph’s Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. It’s early afternoon and all of her bed-and-breakfast patrons should have either checked out or have left to enjoy the charm that is Abbott Ridge. I picture her sitting in her favorite rocking chair with a cup of herbal tea nearby. “It’s been too long since you’ve gone back home. You miss your family. You love your family, and they love you. That’s all that matters. Palmer Easton is ancient history.”
I squeeze my eyes tight with the mention of my ex. The man whose heart I broke and who now seems to be on a mission to make my life a living hell.
“You are the kick ass heroine in this story.” Shannon pulls me back to the present, her voice filled with love and admiration, the two things my heart needs the most right now. “You only have to see him once for a few hours with lots of other people around to act as a buffer. You’re going to be just fine. And when you leave town again, he’ll be the one wishing he had made different life choices.”
I know she’s right, but it’s nice to hear it out loud. Logic and fear aren’t exactly great bedfellows. “Thank you. In every other area of my life, I have no doubts, but anytime I come home to Mesa my nerves are on edge, fearing I’m going to run into Palmer.” My tongue clicks against my teeth. “Only this time it's one hundred percent guaranteed that we’ll cross paths.”
I think back six months to the arrival of the wedding invitation from my childhood friend, Ava. The handwritten note slipped into the invite. Don’t you dare say no. She knows my history with Palmer, everyone does. Mesa, Arizona, may be home to nearly half a million people these days, but in many ways it's still a small town.
“And I’m one hundred percent sure you’re gonna shine. Do I need to fly out there?” Shannon asks and for a second, I consider it. I RSVP’d with a plus one six months ago, figuring I had all the time in the world to find a date. The last thing I wanted to do was show up to the wedding and sit at the singles table subjecting myself to even more barbs and slings from Palmer. His parting words to me after I left him were that I would never find happiness or another man. I found out too late that Palmer and the high road never intercepted.
I push out an awkward laugh. I picture Shannon showing up in leggings, a burlap top, and wearing sixteen necklaces of the loudest beads known to mankind. She’d shout wise cracks all evening over the sound of her jewelry clacking every time she moved. “I’ll be okay. If anything, I’ll drag Adrienne along.” I feel the upward pull of my lips with just the thought of my younger sister. At twenty-three, she is ten years my junior, a chasm at any age, especially ours. Me living hundreds of miles away hasn’t helped, but she is the sweetest, kindest person I know.
“Just remember, you don’t need a plus one. This is your hometown - not his.”
I bite my lip. She’s right but ever since I moved away from Mesa, Palmer has gone out of his way to make sure I no longer feel welcome. “I haven’t lived here in threeyears, he has.”
“And you still have a thirty-year home court advantage. Concentrate on your family and enjoying the wedding. Don’t let Palmer get in your head. He’s your past.”
I bite my lower lip and wish all of it were true. The only time I ever think of Palmer is when I come home. My thoughts these days are consumed with my job. I’m the managing director of the Crystal Palace Catering Hall in Destiny Falls, Indiana. It’s the premium venue in the state and, under my leadership, has expanded both its offerings and revenues. It’s been a good run, my longest in one place. I love the job, however, after catching up with the girls the past few days and hearing all the goodness going on in their lives, I feel the itching in my bones for my next challenge.
Shannon knows it well. She has a similar one, an inner drive which doesn’t let us settle. One which forces us out of our comfort zone to take on the next ridiculous challenge. Each new one more difficult than the last. “You’re right. It’s a few days. I can hold my tongue and not let him get into my head.”
“You got this.” Her affirmation calms me. “Keep me on speed dial. I’m here.”
“I know. I miss you already.” My voice cracks when I think of all the support Shannon and the rest of the group provide. Shannon and I graduated from Abbott College over a decade ago, but we still remain as close today as we’ve ever been. The monthly Meet Cute Romance book club meetings are our way to stay connected. We had no idea when we started it that it would still be going strong so many years later. After graduation, with many of us spreading out across the country, we decided to move the meeting virtual. Once a month via Zoom, we connect over the latest romance novel.
Once a year, we meet in person back in Abbott. Our calendars blocked off a year in advance–no excuses. Seeing everyone on a screen is nice, but nothing compares to hugging friends and sharing laughs over wine in person. Our small group started with just the four of us. Over the years it has expanded, growing to its current size of eight fabulous members. Shannon and I are two of the older, original members, or OGs as the younger members call us.
These days, our book discussions act as a gateway to fellowship. The conversations pivoting from fictional Dukes bedding Duchesses to parenting tips or how to navigate the misogyny of the corporate world. I love what we’ve built.
My Uber turns the corner and I spot the mylar balloons and hand drawn sign stretched across the porch of my childhood home. Welcome Home Catherine.
Adrienne’s handy work.
She leans pressing her shoulder against the wooden post, arms crossed in front of her and a magnificent, happy smile on her beautiful face. She’s a beanpole of arms and legs. Even from here, I see the excitement in her wide eyes, her joyous smile growing. As the Uber pulls to a stop in front of the house, Adrienne twists toward the open screen door, her long dark hair blowing with the breeze as she shouts for Mom and Dad. I thank the driver and step out of the car to retrieve my luggage.
I should expect it at this point in time, but it still catches me by surprise. Music blasts from the porch and I turn and spot Dad holding an ancient boom box high above his head, a pair of sunglasses hanging on the tip of his nose, the collar of his polo shirt flipped up and a brilliant smirk on his face. “Our House” by the British group Madness greets me as Adrienne skips off the porch and begins to dance and sing-along. Mom bops her head as she streams the entire performance on a cell phone.
I watch in awe. Mom and Dad acting goofy is a relatively new phenomenon. One that occurred long after I moved out of our always serious - work hard, study hard - home. A home that Adrienne has single-handedly turned into party central.
Adrienne is wearing a flowery print t-shirt and baggy shorts as she skips toward me not missing a beat, not missing a lyric. She is in her element. The happy, happy, joy, joy zone. She pulls me into a hug that transforms into a spin and a fit of giggles. Two seconds in her arms and all my troubles disappear. Three seconds back home and I’m back to being a kid. A feeling that seems farther and farther away from me every year.
This is my amazingly crazy family and I love them so. And just like that, all my troubles disappear.
I’m home.
