True Places(57)

Iris’s cheeks went red.

Brynn leaned close. Iris could feel her breath on her cheek. “It’s exciting, isn’t it? The idea of fun? A little secret fun?”

Iris’s cheeks were really hot now. Brynn was right. It was exciting.



Reid drove them home. Suzanne was amazed he didn’t utter a single word of protest when Whit asked him. The ride home was silent—and sobering. Suzanne berated herself for having had too much to drink but suspected she would’ve reacted strongly to Brynn’s stunt even if she had been stone-cold sober.

When they got home, the kids absconded to their rooms. Tomorrow was a school day, and they undoubtedly sensed the evening was not quite finished for their parents and were only too glad to get away.

Suzanne went to the kitchen and poured herself a large glass of water.

Whit appeared, took off his jacket, and ran a hand through his hair. “You okay?”

“You mean aside from Brynn’s humiliation of Iris?”

“Was Iris humiliated? I didn’t see it.”

Suzanne shook her head in dismay. “She’s not socially sophisticated enough to know she was being made fun of, but that doesn’t make it right.”

“Okay, fair point. Or you could look at it another way: no harm, no foul.”

“Really, Whit? That’s the way we are raising our kids?”

He paced in front of the counter with his hands in his pockets. Suzanne knew he hated generalized discussions of parenting strategy. He preferred to solve problems on a case-by-case basis. Or pretend they didn’t exist.

He stopped and shrugged. “Look. Brynn was being playful. Iris wasn’t mad at her afterward, not even after you flipped out. They were all chummy. So what really went wrong?”

Suzanne held on to the edge of the counter. “Whit, I can’t believe you don’t get this.”

“I do get it. I just disagree with you.”

“A Valentino dress for prom is fine, is it?”

“Why not? Who’s going to know how much it cost? And even if they do, it’s not as if everyone doesn’t know your folks have the money.”

“I can’t believe I have to walk you through how wrong it is. The dress and so much else.”

“You don’t, Suzanne. I know the argument. I hear it all the time from Reid. I just don’t buy it.” He stared at her, letting his dismissal sink in. “Anyway, the dress isn’t the issue. The issue—your issue—is that your mother went shopping with Brynn. And maybe it’s also that Iris is choosing to hang out with Brynn.”

Instead of you. His words were cotton wool stuffed into her mouth, suffocating her. She spoke from the white-hot ball of anger in her stomach. “Jealousy. That’s your take on my reaction, despite what I’ve just said.”

He lifted his hands in defense. “Hey, it’s pretty normal, Suzanne.” His tone softened. “Teens break away. It hurts.”

Suzanne turned from him, praying he would not utter another word.

Breaking away.

Or driving off. The wheel in her hands, and the road before her.

She could picture it winding, empty, endless.

The whine of the tires, the breeze from the open window.

The faint scent of hyacinths.





CHAPTER 25

Whit beckoned Iris to follow him to the car. She hesitated in the doorway, waiting for Suzanne’s blessing.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” Suzanne said.

Whit sighed. “I’m trying to help here. You could use a break, a nap. I know you didn’t sleep well.” Because you were furious with me. Whit acknowledged he was escaping more talk about last night’s debacle at her parents’ house and focusing instead on making what amends he could. He’d promised to talk to Brynn after her swim meet, and now he was offering to spend a little quality time with Iris—and Suzanne was balking.

Whit and Suzanne waited for Iris to respond. She seemed bored by the discussion, as if it had nothing to do with her. Maybe she was right.

“Iris.” Suzanne placed her hand on the girl’s arm. “Are you sure you’re okay to go?”

She shrugged. “Sure.”

“Okay, then!” Whit bounded down the porch steps.

Iris followed, catching up with him in a few quick steps. Suzanne remained in the doorway, worry pinching her forehead.

“Take a long bath, Suzanne,” Whit called out as he opened the car door. “Read a book. Watch Fixer Upper.”

Suzanne waved. “Don’t do anything too exciting!”

Whit smiled ruefully and shook his head. That admonishment had never been delivered in earnest before Iris. As he started the car, he thought about the irony in fretting about a girl who had lived by herself in the woods, with absolutely jack, for three long years.

He watched Iris buckle herself in. “Ready to rock?”

“Rock?”

“Yup. It means to go, in an especially cool way.”

“Yes.”

She sounded as if she only half knew what he meant but wasn’t interested enough to explore further. Whit could only imagine how confusing everything was to her, but it bothered him that she didn’t seem to be trying that hard to assimilate. That’s what he would be doing. He had joked about Iris being like a foreign exchange student, but in fact the phrase captured his view of her situation succinctly. Iris had no choice but to live in the real world, and the sooner she adjusted to it, the better for her and everyone around her. It wasn’t easy, but living in your own bubble—in her case, a bubble of unspoiled nature—wasn’t feasible.