Chapter 46
Michelle
I stare out the airport's floor-to-ceiling window. The runway is full of planes either parked, rolling, or soaring into the air. I clutch Brittany's stuffed unicorn closer to my chest. My other hand fists around Mom's purse strap. My flight takes off in five minutes. My section was called ten minutes ago. I'm the only one left standing at my gate, but I can't seem to move.
If I get on that plane, I'll have to watch Vermont disappear beneath me.
I'll be back, sure. But when?
I wonder if Sara remembered to make afternoon coffee. I wonder if Emily feels comfortable, watching TV in the parlor with Dad there. I wonder if Rocket's made it back to Brittany already.
I wonder if Cliff misses me.
He kept encouraging me to go, and the words at the tip of my tongue couldn't find their way out.
I love you .
The moment he drove off, it felt like a piece of me went with him. Just like how the last white dot of Copper Run's sign felt like a puncture in my heart that won't go away.
I cough out a laugh and roll my stinging eyes, but not before wiping the corner because God forbid I cry in an airport.
God, why am I crying? I feel nauseous. Sick to my stomach.
It's so ridiculous.
I reach into my purse, fiddling through makeup and keys. I could have sworn I dumped travel-sized Kleenex in here. I zip open the back pocket, and my hands fumble over something else. I pull it out. It's a folded piece of notebook paper, faded to a light tan with a small wine stain in the corner.
I slowly unfold it, my hands somehow shaking as a letter stares back at me.
Dear Shelly.
I pull in a deep, shaking inhale, stumbling toward the window and catching myself, my palm slipping on the glass.
January 1, 1997
Dear Shelly,
Happy New Year! Your father told me I shouldn't write this, but damn it, I'm going to. Life is too short to have regrets.
It's a new year with new moments. I know you make many new year's goals, and you probably keep them, too, because you're the kind of woman I strive to be. But I want all your moments to be special, so consider this resolution too.
A quick story first.
You should know that your father and I spent this new year drinking with our new friends. I've never had a best friend before, aside from your father, but Lisa and her husband, George, are spectacular. I told them I'd never stayed up all night. A full twenty-four hours without sleep—can you imagine? So, Lisa suggested we walk around town all night until we saw the sunrise. We ended up in a graveyard, and, Shelly, I was so scared that I almost ran for the hills. But your father said I'd regret it if I didn't walk through, so I did.
I'm sure you think that's nothing wild. It's only a graveyard. But I felt alive. I felt freedom in a silly graveyard. And I don't even believe in ghosts! Sometimes, you have to do the silly, irrationally scary things.
So, here's the long and short of it. Allen sucks. He's terrible. You think we don't know, but we do. Your father and I see every time you fight because it's every moment you're not smiling. And you haven't smiled in years. We haven't always seen eye to eye, but you're more like me than you know. You're strong. And us strong women deserve better.
It will feel scary, starting new, but it's that irrational type of fear—the graveyard-at-night-with-no-ghosts fear. You'll be fine. I promise.
I wish I could see you more. I wish we talked more. We have a lovely neighbor next door who is a total hunk. And newly single! He's more talkative than you, but something tells me you two would get along swimmingly.
Don't be too serious, Shells Bells.
And call if you need anything.
Love you forever,
Mom
My teeth start to chatter. My jaw clenches.
Why didn't she send this? Why am I reading it now, when it's too late?
I look at the white tiled ceiling, pulling in a heavy breath.
Why did she move to start a new business after she retired? What secret to happiness did she know that I don't?
"Last call for Flight 347 to Seattle, Washington!"
I let out my shaking breath. My nose stings with tears. I stuff the note back in my purse, gripping Brittany's stuffed unicorn tighter and tighter against my chest.
Why am I about to cry?
Why can't I get on this plane?
I've worked hard for my life in Seattle, but it feels … empty now. Not like Copper Run. Not like the inn.
Mom's right; this is the silly, irrationally scary thing. This is freedom.
A small town with people who see me.
BARK!
I freeze. I heard a dog bark.
Or what I thought was a bark.
I swivel my head to the gate attendant at the same time she looks at me, as if we're both checking to make sure we heard the same noise.
And then it happens again.
BARK!
The gate attendant looks behind me, and her eyes widen. I follow her gaze, twisting on my heel to look. The moment I do, my stomach drops.
Two security guards fumble down the hall, past the airport bookstore and convenience store.
They're barreling straight toward us, yelling words like, "Stop!" and, "The dog can't be here!"
And in front of them, sprinting with his arms pumping at his sides, is Cliff Burke.
My feet are glued to the floor as I watch him grow bigger. Closer.
It's him.
He's here.
And ten feet ahead of him is the dog.
My eyes flick to the rush of black-and-white fur. Rocket is zooming forward so quickly that I can't see his feet touch the ground. His border collie legs push him faster than anyone can keep up.
He barks again, running faster when our eyes meet. I drop the unicorn toy on the ground and crouch in time for him to leap into my arms.
Rocket whines in my hair, licking my face and wagging his tail so hard that it moves his whole behind. My mind is spinning.
Footsteps thump closer, and when I look up, Cliff is jumping over a bench with one hand and landing so hard on the opposite side that he stumbles. I gasp, covering my mouth with my palm and laughing, watching him break into a sprint toward me again.
God, he's here .
Cliff is here.
His heavy chest tightens against his flannel with each inhalation. And then, suddenly, he's standing over me, bending down with his palms on his knees and a grin pulling halfway up his cheeks.
"Miss me?" he asks breathlessly.
"I thought you said?—"
"Yeah, I say too much," he says with a laugh.
He grabs my hand and pulls me to stand. My eyes dash between his. My chest is rising and falling almost as quickly as his. I don't know how I'm breathing.
All I know is, he's here .
Through another choked exhale, he says, "Don't get on the plane."
"What?"
"Don't get on the plane, Michelle."
"I don't?—"
"I love you."
All the warmth in my chest rises up to my neck, my ears, and cheeks. And it's so overwhelming, so all-consuming, I'm halted in place with my lips parted in disbelief.
His eyebrows pull in, and the corner of his mouth tips into a smile. "God, I love you," he says, shaking his head. "I love that you roll your eyes when I make stupid jokes. I love that you argue with your dog when you think nobody's watching. I love that you have coffee at night and that you don't dress up for Halloween. And I love how great you are with my girls. I told myself I would never ask someone to stay with me again. But I love you. And that's gotta mean something, right?" His eyes dart between mine, and he echoes on another breath, "That's gotta mean something."
I can't find words. I can't think at all.
Rocket nudges his nose against my leg, but it's stock-still.
"I …" I lick my lips. "Cliff …"
His face slowly, agonizingly falls. "I'm sorry," he cuts in. "I … that was … I?—"
"I don't want to go," I interrupt.
His chest heaves up and down. "You don't want to go."
"I don't want to go," I repeat, a slow smile spreading over my face. "I love you."
"You love me?" And there's relief, sadness, then disbelief.
I smile even wider. "I love you, Cliff."
He exhales, his face going slack as he cups my jaw. "Oh, thank God."
And then he kisses me.
Just like that, the little piece of my heart that he took clicks back into place. I sink into him, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him as close as I can. And maybe we should stop—maybe I'm making a scene in a public place, being reckless and embarrassing—but Cliff continues kissing me.
Even as the guards around us start to say words I can't decipher; even as Rocket barks over and over, jumping on my leg; even as the attendant tells me this is my last chance to board—I'm so lost in Cliff that I don't care.
Then, he pulls away, gathering his breath, running a palm through his hair.
"Oh my God, I'm sorry, ma'am. I forgot to introduce myself." He sticks out his palm. "My name is Cliff. I can't believe I showed up and kissed you. So rude of me."
My heart leaps so high that it cuts into my throat and stings my eyes.
I slide my hand into his.
"I'm Michelle," I say. "It's nice to meet you."
Shake.
"God, you're beautiful," he says. "I actually think I might love you."
"I think I might love you too."
Shake.
He looks at the security guards, standing with their arms crossed.
Shake.
"I need to go," he says. He leans forward to murmur, "I'm about to be arrested."
I laugh. "You or Rocket?"
"I shouldn't have let a dog run through an airport."
"Probably not."
Cliff looks down at Rocket and smiles.
Rocket wags his tail, beating it against the airport carpet. He barks again. For once, I know exactly what that dog is thinking without a single doubt in my mind.
I smile. "I think Rocket wants to go home."
"Yeah. Me too."