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He grabbed the belt sander. It was the most therapeutic tool he had. Hopefully he wouldn’t sand through an entire surface.
Chapter Thirteen
Aliya walked off the airplane in Atlanta exhausted, despite the luxury seat that turned into a bed and the pampering from the kindest flight attendants she’d ever met. She’d stayed awake the entire four-hour flight to Amsterdam and most of the nine-hour flight to Atlanta, watching chick flick after chick flick. She hadn’t laughed at all, no matter how cute or witty the dialogue.
Movies weren’t true. Happy endings didn’t exist. If they did, Gracie would’ve survived and been rescued. Curt would be waiting for her when she got off the plane holding an entire flower store.
Yeah right.
As she got through customs, she finally saw her mama and daddy and cried again. Her daddy’s arms comforted and strengthened her, and her mama was the rock she needed to lean on. She even smiled at some of her expressions.
Her mama asked her to change into pretty clothes and shoes and do her makeup and ‘try something with that mop of hair’ in the car. Aliya didn’t really care about fancying up, but she was an emotional zombie at this point. Who cared what she looked like? People had died. A lot of people. Murdered. Would she ever feel safe again? Would she ever see Curt again?
They drove her straight home to a huge party with the entire town waiting in their front yard. She was asked to tell her story time after time after time, but she couldn’t do it. She teared up and broke off every time she tried. Luckily, her mama knew enough that she ad-libbed and added on and made the story work.
Aliya got more sympathy from the women and girls in the crowd for going without makeup, jewelry, and heels than almost dying. The men appreciated her near-death experiences. Everyone was super impressed with her Prince Curt. Thankfully, nobody asked where he was, though she heard a few murmurs about it.
Finally, by midnight, she made it to her little house and crashed in her own bed. She slept the next day away and was up most of the night, weepy and praying a lot and missing Curt.
She woke the next morning with red eyes, but she could hear in her mind, When the going gets tough, the tough get going. She had to get going, serve somebody and forget about herself for a bit.
So she focused on cleaning, grocery shopping, and baking up a storm. She made rounds of visits to some shut-in adoptive grandparents and tested some art and craft projects for her class in the fall. She shopped with her mama and babysat four young children for her neighbor so she and her husband could go on an overnight getaway.
For over a week, she did anything and everything she could think of to stay busy.
On Sunday afternoon, Aliya was helping with the potluck dinner when she overheard somebody talking about playing golf. She knew they were referring to the actual sport and not a silly card game she’d made up, but her breath suddenly came in short pants and her legs felt weak.
At that moment, she realized something had to change or she was going to lose her mind. She’d been repeating her mantra and going and doing, but she didn’t feel very tough right now. She just wanted to be in Curt’s arms. Was that completely selfish, or was the good Lord telling her that was where she should be?
She said a prayer for strength and clarity of focus. When the going gets tough, the tough get going. She had to get going, even though it would be viciously tough on her and so many others, especially her mama and daddy.
Aliya marched out to the table her parents were sitting at with friends and neighbors and her sisters. Sydnee Lee must’ve seen her coming, because she intercepted her.
“What’s goin’ down, girlie? You got that look in your eyes. I like that look.” Sydnee Lee’s grin was bigger than the Cheshire cat.
“I’m going back.”
“Back to?” Sydnee Lee raised an eyebrow. She knew, the stinker, but she would make Aliya spill it out.
Aliya was tough enough to get going.
“To Augustine. To Curt.” Her heart raced at the very idea. Would he still want her? Did he love her? What if it had only been his noble princely instincts to protect her and make her feel cherished? What if she wasn’t special, the best kisser, his ‘everything,’ and all those things he’d said and most especially made her feel?
Sydnee Lee whooped loud enough that the entire party whipped around and stared at them. Aliya looked at all those eyes focused on her. So many friends, family, and loved ones. Could she leave them all? Going a few hours away for college and coming home every holiday and sometimes on the weekends was vastly different than leaving her town, her country, maybe for good if Curt cared as deeply as she did. She missed him with an ache that wouldn’t settle. Maybe it wouldn’t work out, but she had to at least try.
She simply had to be tough and get going.
“My gal is going to chase after her handsome prince and leave us all behind,” Sydnee Lee announced, happy as a chipmunk with her acorn on display.
“Aliya Mae?” Her mama half-rose in her chair. Her eyes were … scared. Her mama didn’t want to lose her.
“Oh, Mama.”
Aliya rushed around people and past tables to get to her mama. She heard low muttering about ‘the outsider’ and ‘the durn foreigner’ and some curse words that shouldn’t have been said on the sabbath, but who was she to judge? These people loved her and didn’t want to lose her to a place and a man they didn’t know or understand. If only they could meet Curt. They’d all fall in love with him as well.
Curt couldn’t leave his mountain. He’d been through so much, and his mountain was his safe spot. She didn’t blame him or think less of him, but she had to go to him and try to make it work. What if he wouldn’t commit to her like he didn’t complete those projects? There were a lot of worries, but she refused to throw in the towel before she’d entered the fighting ring.
Her parents both stood from their chairs to face her and even her sisters faded away, edging behind their larger husbands as if not wanting any part in this battle.
