Broken Wings (A Romantic Suspense)(42)

I sigh. “Jack, how long do you think we have?”

“I know my dad. He’s probably called in favors with the CIA. We’ll be lucky to make it to my mom’s house.”

His voice sinks with every word.

“I want to see the Grand Canyon. Can we do that?”

“Yeah, it’s in Arizona. We can go that way. Hoover Dam, too.”

“Really?”

I didn’t know I wanted to see the Hoover Dam.”

“We should just keep going. Have you ever seen the Pacific Ocean?”

“You know I haven’t.”

“Me either.”

“You’ve been to all kinds of places, though.”

“We can go there, too.”

My voice cracks a little. “Jack, what are we going to do?”

“I’ve got skills. I don’t need my father. You’ve got some money. We could set ourselves up. Start a business or something, I don’t know.”

We’re both quiet for a moment.

“I know a guy that wants to start a bed and breakfast. We could do that.”

He glances at me.

“What?”

“I don’t think people want to go to a bed and breakfast where the hostess makes them want to throw up, Jack.”

“Well if they don’t like it, f*ck them. You have a right to live your life, Ellie. If other people are so petty and small they can’t handle looking at you, then they can go to hell.”

“I wish I could feel that way, Jack. I tried to psych myself up like that before the wedding, and it was torture. All those people looking at me, I couldn’t stand it.”

“Then why’d you do it?”

“I had to. My mom wanted me up there with my cousins. She insisted.”

Jack sighs, and for the first time I feel like he wants to say something, but he’s holding back.

Finally he says, “We’re going to meet my family. I mean, my mom and her family. You know what I mean. Are you up to this? I don’t want you to go if you can’t handle it. We’ll just keep going, see the Grand Canyon, all that.”

“No.”

I rub at my arm.

“I think I want to meet them. I should meet your mom. You met my dad, before. I never really asked you about her.”

Jack snorts. “Yeah, good thing you didn’t. She’s persona non grata around my house. Back then Dad was still on wife number three. That’s not an argument I wanted to get into again. Or ever again.”

“Why did he split up with your mom?”

“He got tired of her, probably.”

Jack squeezes the wheel, hard. “I’m not like him. I will never be like him.”

I touch his arm. His muscles are like tight wires, hard as rock. “Jack, I know. You’re not like him at all.”

He relaxes a little. “Thanks, Ellie.”

“Let’s get there. I want to meet them.”





Jack





I’m starting to get a little nervous here. We’ve been driving all night, and Ellie is asleep on my shoulder again. It’s about nine in the morning and according to her phone, we’re ten minutes out from my mother’s place. I should call her, but I can’t stop now.

This is a beautiful place. The whole world is painted in reds and oranges, glowing in the sun. I rouse Ellie with a nudge of my arm and when she sits up, she goes quiet, staring out the windows.

“Pretty,” she says, in a sleep-heavy voice. “How far are we?”

“Couple minutes.”

I make the turn off the main road into her neighborhood. The houses are spread out on big lots and they’re all one floor, but my father is wrong to call them trailers. We end up driving down a long road that ends in a cul-de-sac.

“It’s so spread out here,” Ellie says. “The houses aren’t all right up next to each other. Isn’t that weird?”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Is this it?”

“This is her address.”

I yawn.

“Maybe we should spend the night somewhere first. You’re tired.”

I roll my shoulders. “Are you sure you want to go?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s go.”

I step out and stretch until my back pops, and offer Ellie a hand standing up. She’s a little punchy at first, yawning. She slept fitfully while I drove, waking up every hour or so, so I know she’s not very well rested, either. Ellie yawns into her hand then offers it to me.

I really should have called. I don’t even know if she’ll be home. I squeeze Ellie’s hand as we walk up to the door. I hesitate to touch the doorbell for a moment, then jam the button with my finger. A bing-bongy chime goes off somewhere in the house, and I hear feet approaching the door. It swings in.

It’s my mom.

She looks at me for a moment, blinking as her eyes adjust to the sun. It’s her, alright. She’s a little heavier and she has gray streaked through her hair, but it’s her. She throws the storm door open and seizes me in her arms, almost knocking me right on my ass.

“Jack!”

“Mom,” I laugh. “Sorry to show up unannounced, it’s just—”