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“I swear!” Mrs. Lane says, her hand going to her throat as if I’ve just insulted her entire family line.
“I’ll see myself out,” I tell them.
Viola smiles at me as I pass by her in the foyer. “Have a good day.”
“You, too, Viola.”
I wonder how long it will take for the Lanes to call the scheduling service to complain about me.
The curved driveway seems less welcoming than it did an hour ago when I arrived. I wouldn’t have wasted so much time today if they had spoken about the military-grade regimen they expected their girls to follow when I first arrived. They started showing me around the house, no doubt a flex to show off their money.
I’d grill the people wanting to show up for my kids. I’d want to know that they were going to be safe, no matter what the background check from the hiring agency said.
I don’t however see this trip into the city as a waste of time because it was exactly what I needed to realize that Austin is not where I need to be. Lindell has always been home. As much as people are talking about me right now, something else will happen soon and they’ll switch their focus once again.
Everything about Austin is wrong—the wait at the red lights, everyone’s urgency to get where they’re going because they’ve packed too much into their day. They all expect to be catered to and have an attitude problem if their plans are derailed.
It’s all too fast, too impersonal. I don’t recognize a single person’s car as I leave town, but I know I’ll be able to pick Bobby John Prichard’s old Ford out of a lineup just by the sound of the sputtering engine.
I know that on Monday I can go to The Brew and Chew and get the best chicken and dumplings the world has to offer and that Ruth will warn me that the bowl is hot before asking if I want to eat it with biscuits or cornbread.
I know that I’ll have a standing invitation with Adalynn’s family for dinner every weekend night and that her brothers will flirt with me relentlessly even though they know they’d never have a chance.
I know that no matter how long I try to stay away that Lindell will draw me right back to its city limits because Lindell will always be home.
I get out of town as fast as I can despite the rumble in my stomach because I skipped breakfast after the wind blew too hard and the power went out. Maybe my phone not charging making my alarm not go off should’ve been the sign that kept me in town, but I rushed to get ready anyway.
When Henry waved at me, I scurried into my car faster than I normally would, still embarrassed for nearly crying in front of him at his store a few days ago.
I know as I drive toward home, that I’ll have to get over a lot of things if I plan to stay. I’ll have to get used to seeing the boys playing in Henry’s backyard. I’ll have to get used to seeing Emily and Chase together. I’ll have to get used to the whispers behind my back, and the direct questions from those unafraid to approach me.
I’ll have to get used to missing a very large piece of my heart, because no matter how much I say I hate Chase Woodson, I know deep down that I’ll also love him forever. I imagine there’s no shortage of women spread across the US and possibly several other countries that feel the same way. His smile has never changed, and as much as I told myself I’d never be fooled by it, I was lost the second he directed it my way.
I know I have to make some decisions about my life. I need to accept that maybe an interior design business in Lindell might be in my best interest and that I need to give up on my dreams of designing homes for the rich and famous.
I need to stop looking for a job as a nanny because there are only two kids in existence that I want to be around.
The determination I started with after leaving the Lanes’ home begins to fade with every mile I put between myself and the city.
My hatred for Chase morphs quickly into pity and sadness. My confidence and resiliency turning into a litany of why me and questioning what it is about me that makes me so damn unlovable. It’s a repeat of the conversation I had with myself after the shit hit the fan with Sam, only this time, it’s accompanied with physical pain.
I pull over to the side of the road, parking in front of an old gas station that didn’t make it through the last downturn in the economy.
I press my fist into my chest, willing my heart to stop pounding. Deep breaths turn into sobs, and I do nothing to attempt to staunch the tears that roll down my face.
Life feels hopeless. I’m considering that everything that can possibly go wrong has gone wrong, but then my car sputters and dies.
I swear the universe hates me, but I can’t spend much time dwelling on it because it only takes minutes before the inside of the car is sweltering.
I open the door and try to crank the car. The gauges move, but it still won’t start.
Of course, I’m sitting on a stretch of road where no one is driving by, and honestly, I’ve seen too many episodes ofDatelineto flag anyone down.
I pull out my phone and place a call to my dad, but it goes unanswered. My mom is next on my list, and thankfully, she answers on the third ring.
“Yes, dear?”
“I’m broken down,” I tell her. “I need Dad.”
