by Shirley Jump
“You’ve got it.” He shifted into first gear and pulled away from the curb, the car’s engine a low, patient growl as Trent navigated the side streets that led to Route 5. As soon as they hit the highway—nearly empty in the middle of a workday—Trent floored it, and the anxious Vette lurched forward, roaring down the road, the engine rumbling loud and happy.
Kate braced a hand on the roof and laughed. “Oh, my! That’s incredible! So fast!”
“Scary?” He flicked a glance in her direction. Excitement lit her face.
Kate nodded. “A little.”
“Just wanted you to see what she could do.” Trent slowed the car until it hit the speed limit, because the last thing he needed was a speeding ticket or an accident. Most days, the Corvette sat in garage under a tarp, so the momentary burst of speed must have been just as much of a shock to the engine as it had been to Kate.
Okay, so maybe she was impressed by the Vette, and maybe this whole thing was a little more than just business to him too.
“Can I ask you something?” she said.
“Sure.”
“Why do you have a car that’s too fast to drive? I mean, what’s the sense in that?” She glanced around at the leather interior, the pristine dash and intricate stitching. Every inch of the car had been meticulously maintained, giving it that just-out-of-the-showroom look, even more than a decade after it had come out of the factory. “I mean, it’s not to impress girls or anything, right?”
“No. Of course not.” Had he said that too fast? Trent rested his wrist on the top of the steering wheel and shot Kate a quick glance. “Well, maybe a little. Did it work?”
She laughed again. “Maybe a little.”
They cruised down the highway, the Corvette like a leashed dog straining to take off. The tires ate up the pavement, and the engine grumbled, yearning to explode again. “Remember that car I had in college?”
“Oh, that beat-up Saturn? It was, like, five colors. Rust, gray, green, red, and I think a little black.”
His first car, bought with the small salary he’d earned at the nursery. It had cost him more in repairs than what he’d paid for it, but it had gotten him around during college. That car had definitely not been one that had impressed any girls. “Remember how it broke down on Route 5 that night we were coming back from that concert?”
“That was a great night. We had those awful seats—”
“At the very back of the stadium, with a pole right in front of us.” Their memories braided together, as if they were there again, in the dark stadium with thousands of other people, anticipating the moment their favorite band hit the stage. Trent had saved for weeks to buy the tickets as a surprise for Kate’s birthday. “I really thought partially obstructed view meant a tall guy in front of us or something.”
“The view was fine, really, if you kind of craned your neck.” She did just that, and the exaggerated gawking made Trent laugh. “The music was fabulous either way. Oh, and remember how I spilled my soda and popcorn on the floor during the first song? My shoes were sticky and crunchy for, like, a week.”
They’d had a fabulous night, despite the bad seats and the ruined snack. Trent had wanted to do so much more for her birthday—a fancy dinner, maybe a limo to and from the concert—but in those days, his budget had been drive-thru fast food and partially obstructed seats. “It was fun until my car broke down, a mile from our exit.”
“Those things happen. I was more impressed that you walked all the way to the gas station to get a tow truck,” she said softly. “It was dark, and you left the only flashlight you had with me.”
“I didn’t want you to be scared.” He shrugged, as if it had been no big deal to leave her in the car while he’d gone to get help on that cold winter night, in a too-thin jacket that had barely kept him warm. They’d been out in the middle of nowhere, far from any kind of cell tower, so he’d had to run for help. He’d never told Kate about the dozens of horror film plots that had made him take that mile at a run pace, just so he’d get back even sooner. “I’m just glad it was only a mile. I was worried about you the whole time.”
“You were worried? That’s so sweet.” A smile curved across her face. “I mean, yeah, it was dark and cold, and my cell phone couldn’t get a signal. I had that little cheap flip phone that barely worked. But I wasn’t really scared.”
He glanced over at her. Every time he thought he knew Kate, she surprised him. He liked that. A lot. “You weren’t? Why?”
She averted her gaze and smoothed her hand over the lined paper in her lap. “I knew you’d take care of me, Trent. I…well, I trusted you.”
She’d trusted him, and then he’d broken her heart a month later by ending their relationship. At the time, he’d thought they were too different to be happy together. Right now, he was having trouble seeing what those differences were. “I’m sorry, Kate.”
“Don’t apologize. It was still the best birthday present I ever got.”
He scoffed. “We had terrible seats, and we broke down on the way home.”
“But it was fun, Trent. An adventure.”
A tractor trailer truck passed them, the wind tunnel effect making the Vette shimmy a little. “I thought you hated adventures.”
“I don’t hate them. I just…” She turned to look out the window at the passing landscape of houses and businesses as they rode through a small town on their way north. Kate was quiet for a moment. “I don’t like doing things I’m not good at.”
“The only way to get good at them is to do them, you know.”
“I know, but…it’s never been that simple for me.” He didn’t speak, just waited for her to continue. He could see the words on the tip of her tongue, the story waiting to be shared. So he kept driving, giving Kate time and space.
“My parents worked a lot when I was a kid, you know?” she finally said.
He remembered Kate sharing a little about her family when they’d been dating. By the time Kate had gone to college, her parents had relocated to new jobs in California until they’d retired. As a twenty-something, he hadn’t thought about how tough it would be navigating the world without that support system nearby. “I can’t imagine that. It seems like I was always around my family.”
“I had my grandmother, thank goodness. And it’s not that my parents didn’t love me. It was as if…” She thought a second. “As if they were gone so much that when the three of us were home together, which was very rare, they were so tired or so behind on housework and things like that, we hardly had fun together.”
He merged into the center lane as a pickup truck with a horse trailer moved to pass them. “What do you mean?”
“My dad loved basketball when I was a kid. The one thing we would do together on Sundays was watch the basketball game. He knew every player, every team, and it was the one thing we had in common.” Her face lit up with the memory, and for a second, Trent could imagine a much-younger Kate’s joy at the weekend tradition. “Because my dad was gone all the time at work, I thought I’d join a basketball team at school. And, well, since we both know I’m not coordinated enough to operate anything more complicated than a pencil, it was a disaster.”
Trent vowed that if he ever became a father—and that was a big if, considering he wasn’t even thinking about settling down yet—he would be there for his kids all the time. “Your dad get to see you play?”
“He took time off to come to our first game. I was so excited. I thought I’d make him proud and really do well. Instead, when the ball was passed to me…” She cringed. “I ducked, and it went straight into the other team’s hands.”
Trent bit back a laugh. “Oh, Kate. That’s awful.”
“I was so embarrassed. My dad was cool about it, and he said he’d work with me and help me practice, but he worked so much, and we only had those Sundays. Suffice to say, I never got any better. I stuck to things
I couldn’t fail at, like reading and writing, instead.”
“You must have tried other sports?”
She shook her head. “I’m not exactly super coordinated anyway, and that basketball experience made me even more skittish. I was awful in gym and couldn’t stand that class.”
He chuckled. “That’s where we differ. I would have been happy to have six periods of gym and none of math and English.”
“When I was in high school, I tried out for the color guard. It was like that basketball team all over again. I twirled the baton at that first halftime show, and it came down and bonked me on the head.” She shrugged and smoothed her jeans. “After that, it became easier and safer to just…read or write. That was part of why I didn’t want to try any of those things with you. I was so afraid I’d mess up and you’d…well, you wouldn’t want to take me with you again.”
“So avoid making any mistakes in the first place.” Trent sighed. “I never knew that. I should have put that together years ago.”
A small diner came into view. Trent flipped on his directional, pulled off the highway and into the parking lot. The building was shaped like an airport hangar and had a giant propeller over the entrance of The Destination Diner. He parked and shut off the engine. “I’m sorry, Kate. I should have asked, or should have made you feel more comfortable about hiking and canoeing.”
“It’s not all your fault. I never shared, either. I wasn’t as confident then as I am now, and I was much more risk-averse. Like you said before, we were young, and I guess we didn’t really know what we wanted.”
He wanted to ask if now she knew what she wanted, but he was afraid of the answer. What if it was “any man other than you?” After all, he had let her down, and then broken up with her. Far better to keep the distance between them before he did something foolish like fall for Kate all over again. “So, the sign on the door says they have the best burgers in the state of Washington. Want to test that theory?”
She grinned. “Of course.”
They headed inside and grabbed two seats in a bright red booth. Every laminate table was printed with a different topographical map. Everything, from the salt shakers to the clock on the wall, was airplane-themed or airplane-shaped. Even the waitresses wore old-fashioned flight attendant uniforms with pointy hats.
They ordered burgers, fries, and sodas. While they waited, the conversation turned to simpler things—the décor of the restaurant, the weather, the lack of traffic on a weekday. They left past history behind them, which was exactly where Trent wanted it to stay.
After lunch, they only had another hour on the road before they reached his hometown. The sign for Hudson Falls sat slightly askew, a sign of the visit to come, Trent thought. The small town had barely changed in the two decades since he’d been gone. The same gas station sat on the corner, and the same diner was advertising an all-you-can-eat fish special for Friday nights.
“This is such a cute place,” Kate said.
“You think so? I think it’s stifling.” He took a right, and before he could change his mind about this spontaneous idea of visiting his family, they were there. His parents saw the car pull into the parking lot for the nursery, and both of them came out of the greenhouse and started waving.
Great.
Kate got out the second he parked. “Mr. MacMillan! Mrs. MacMillan! So great to see you both again!”
His mother drew Kate into a car like she was a long-lost relative. “Oh, Kate! You’ve gotten more beautiful over the years. It feels like it’s been forever since we saw you. Come in, come in. I put on some coffee and made an apple cobbler.”
Kate grinned. “I was counting on that.”
His father stood to the side, as if he was lost without his wife there to serve as a buffer. “Well. You’re home. It’s taken long enough.”
“I’ve been busy, Dad. The company—”
“Family always comes before business, Trent. Always.” Then his father turned on his heel and headed into the house.
Trent could hear Kate and his mother laughing and chatting like old friends. Before he’d driven up here, he’d texted his mother and told her he was bringing Kate, as a FRIEND ONLY, in all caps. Given the way his mother had already drawn Kate into the family fold, it didn’t seem like she’d gotten the message.
“Come on in, Trent. Have some coffee and cobbler.” His mother pressed a kiss to his cheek, as if he was still a little boy, then grabbed his hand and hauled him into the sunny yellow space. Kate was already at the table, snapping green beans and tossing them into a colander. She’d plopped into the middle of his family as if she’d always been there.
“What are you doing?” Trent whispered.
“Helping with dinner.” Kate grinned. “So, Mrs. MacMillan, how is the nursery going? It looks like it’s doubled in size since I was last here.”
“Oh, call me Anne, please. And yes, we’ve expanded a little. Now that Marla is working full-time, she suggested we add a garden design section. You’d be amazed how many people want her to come up with a plan for the petunias.” She turned to her husband. “Robert, why don’t you show Trent the new greenhouse? I bet he’d love to see the seedlings.”
“Oh, can I go too?” Kate asked. “My grandmother and I have a little greenhouse where we plant a few things. Vegetables and primroses, mostly. She loves plants and taught me everything she knows.”
“Of course!” Anne tugged the apron over her head and draped it over a chair. “Let’s all go.”
“Oh yes, let’s,” Trent muttered under his breath. This was exactly what he was trying to avoid—a family reunion that drew Kate in like a moth to a flame. “We really can’t stay long.”
Kate shot him a glance. Okay, yes, he’d promised to stay a while so she could get background on him, but already his family was grating on his nerves and he was regretting agreeing to the trip.
“Nonsense. We’re starting dinner. You have to stay for that. I’m making a roast with baked potatoes. One of your favorite dinners if I remember right, Trent.”
“Mom…” He sighed. Okay, so that was a good way to entice him into staying. His mother’s roast was unsurpassed. “You’re not playing fair.”
Her smile overtook her face. “Of course I’m not playing fair,. That’s what mothers do best. Now, go ahead with your father. I’ll show Kate around, and we’ll catch up.”
Trent didn’t miss the subtle attempt to leave him alone with his father. The two of them had never really gotten along, and a single walk through the greenhouse wasn’t going to change that. But Trent loved his mother, and for her, he would try to talk to Dad.
Trent jogged up to his father, who hadn’t waited for anyone before heading into the greenhouse. “Hey, Dad. So you changed a lot of things?”
“Just added some things. You don’t need to change much about plants. Light, water, fertilizer. The formula is the same now as it was a hundred years ago.”
Trent bit back his impatience. “How’s business going?”
“It’s fine. We’re still open, aren’t we?”
His father’s bark of a sentence almost made Trent head back into the house and give up. But he remembered the smile on his mother’s face, and if there was one person in this family Trent couldn’t bear to disappoint, it was her. So he tried another tact. “And the garden design part? Marla must love that. She was always sketching when she was a kid.”
“Fancy-shmancy gardens nowadays. I’m a simple man. I don’t need a plan for the petunias.”
Trent burst out laughing. He knew his father hadn’t meant it as a joke, but the repetition of his mother’s words, only in a grumpier tone, struck him funny.
His father stopped walking and turned to face his son. “Why didn’t you ever come back here and run the business like you promised you would?”
It was a promise Trent had made before college. Before Machu Picchu.
Before GOA. He’d hoped that having his own success would earn his father’s praise and admiration, not more recrimination. “Dad, we’ve been through this. I have a company in Seattle. It’s going really well. In fact, we’re going pub—”
“I see a man’s word still doesn’t mean anything around here.”
Trent shook his head. “Just because I went out on my own doesn’t mean I didn’t care about this business or you or—”
“The promise you made.” His father’s posture tightened. “Doesn’t matter. It’s too late anyway. You’ve got your fancy company to run now.”
His father’s disapproval grated on Trent. “That company is successful, Dad. I’m happy there. Why can’t you support that?”
His father pushed a shopping cart back into place, then worked on straightening the watering cans so they all faced the same way. “This is a family business, Trent. You’re part of the family. You said you were going to get your degree and come back here. Our family built this business together, but you…you washed your hands of all of us.”
They’d had this argument every single time Trent had come home, and every time, it had ended with an impasse. His father couldn’t understand Trent’s desire to pursue his own dreams, and Trent couldn’t understand why his father wanted him to contort himself into his parents’ dream. “Just because I didn’t want to work in the nursery doesn’t mean I didn’t want anything to do with my family.”
His father scoffed. “Sure looks like that. You never come home. It’s not like we live in another country, Trent. We’re two hours away.”
“You don’t come to visit me any more than I visit you.”
“You know we can’t leave the business.” Dad began sorting the terra cotta pots, putting the like-sized ones back together on the correct shelves. “It’s family-run, which means the family has to be here. That’s part and parcel of self-employment.”
Trent drew in a deep breath and opted to change the subject before they retread ground that would only lead to another argument. “So, tell me about what’s new here. I’m sure some things have changed in the stock and services.”
