We're almost at the bakery counter in the grocery store when I remember my phone, which hasn't made a move since its earlier buzzing while I was at home talking to my mom.
I reach behind me to pull it from my jeans pocket when Kelly Hamilton, the older sister of one of Sydney's classmates, appears in front of me.
"Hey, Jenny."
She draws the words out as if she's saying something secretive or exciting. While Sydney's classmate seems like an okay kid, Kelly, who is two years older than me, is all up in everyone's business.
Her husband is a police officer and of course, knows everything about everyone in Valley Vale, so, so does Kelly.
"Hi, Kelly. How's it going?"
My mom offers us a little wave as she continues to the bakery counter and starts to look over the stacks of muffins, cookies, and rolls in the half-off section. I wait for Kelly to start hassling me about Michael, because I know it's coming, even without Sydney's warning that it was Kelly who told her about Michael's engagement.
"Oh, you know how it is. Glad to see you home, since we didn't see much of you over Christmas. You were only home for a couple of days, right?"
I nod and glance at my mom, wishing Sydney had opted to accompany us rather than jump around her room with her practice moves. Kelly won't be nearly as polite since I'm alone.
"I'm sure you've heard about Michael's new girlfriend. Or soon-to-be wife, actually. I did tell your sister about her, didn't I?"
Her question is clearly rhetorical, so I hold back a sigh and try to look bored. Kelly taps at her lips with her index finger and rolls her eyes around as if she's trying to find the right words to express her thoughts.
It can't be that hard for her. There are few things mulling around in that brain of hers, and none of it is good. Whatever will garner her the best, or rather, the most entertaining reaction, will make it out of her mouth.
"Emily is so sweet. I'm sure Michael's parents are thrilled to have such a nice girl as an addition to their family."
I keep a smile on my face, not really caring at this point how believable it is.
Of course she's nice. With that perfectly feminine name and her kind reason for staying in Valley Vale, where the most exciting thing to happen in the past ten years was the revamping of the high school football stadium, she must be.
Is that what Michael likes about her?
"I've never seen hair so very blonde. It's naturally curly, but not too much. But I'm sure you'll meet her sometime."
I blink a couple of times, unable to find any words for a response. Kelly talks enough for the both of us, though, and she's done with our conversation almost as soon as she's started.
"Have to go, but I'll see you soon."
She leans in and kisses my cheek. The faint aroma of coconut and lime rises from her warm skin, and I wonder if her husband, Billy, is a fan of such an exotic fragrance.
Michael always liked the honeysuckle body spray my mom gave me as a birthday gift in eighth grade, so much that I kept buying and using it, as much a habit now as taking a shower every morning.
"Was that as painful as it looked?"
My mom appears at my side with two plastic rectangles in her hands, one full of cinnamon rolls and the other with lemon poppyseed muffins.
"Uh, yeah. Kind of."
Lame answer, but it's true. I'm not sure how I feel about Kelly's statements. Her attitude is normal for her, and moderately annoying. But hearing about Michael's fiancée and how perfect she is?
I don't want my mom to worry about me, though, so I try to brush it off as soon as my initial response is out of my mouth.
"Not a big deal. You know how she is. If it's not a way to get attention, she's not saying or doing it."
She pats my arm and nods toward the muffins.
"You and Sydney can share those. Your dad won't touch poppyseeds, so they're safe, even if he notices them."
Dad is a baked goods addict, and with the rare exception, nothing is beyond his reach. We might tell him that we've bought or baked something for a specific reason, but he always conveniently forgets and eats it anyway.
When we reach one of the cash registers, another familiar face is waiting to greet me.
"Hey, Jenny, welcome home!"
Rhonda, who is somewhere between my age and my parents', leans over the conveyor belt and taps me on the nose as if I'm in kindergarten. She means well, as do most people in this town, but that doesn't mean she isn't irritating when she does something like that. Sydney always backs away when she sees Rhonda move forward, but I miss my chance to dodge the finger every time.
"Thanks, Rhonda. It's good to be home."
She scans the barcodes on both packages, glancing at my mom and then back at me. Once my mom hands her a few dollar bills, though, she twists her lips into a frown, her eyes narrowing a little.
"I'm guessing you've already heard about Michael, right?"
Is this going to happen everywhere I go?
Probably, so I might as well get used to it. At least Rhonda isn't searching for a reaction she can gossip about.
I don't think she is, anyway.
"Yeah. Good for him. I hope he's happy with her."
Rhonda's frown falls apart as her mouth drops open. Clearly, this isn't the response she was expecting, and it makes me laugh a little.
"Come on, Rhonda. We broke up last summer, so why shouldn't he be with someone else?"
She hands my mom her change and a tiny receipt. My mom is very quiet, and she doesn't move, as if she's waiting to hear how this conversation is going to play out.
"And are you? Did you find a nice boy at college to study with? Will he come visit you this summer so we can all meet him?"
I shrug.
"No, there wasn't anyone special. I'm not in any hurry, though, and I'll be busy working. My roommate might be coming out to visit for a bit, though."
This seems to satisfy Rhonda, who nods just as a new customer steps up behind us. My mom and I wave at Rhonda and say our goodbyes, and as we walk out of the store, I suddenly remember my phone.
Whoever it was hadn't tried to call or text since then, so maybe it wasn't that important.
Curious, I pull my phone out of my pocket before I sit down in the passenger side of my mom's car and pull my seat belt across my body, waiting to swipe at the screen until I've clicked the belt closed.
Sorry if I made you uncomfortable. Won't happen again.
I stare at Michael's words, wondering why his concern for me, expressed in so few letters and a few seconds' worth of tapping on his phone, can still make my heart beat so fast.
Chapter Eight
I fumble a little with the phone, but fortunately my mom's busy getting the car started and finding a place to put her purse since I'm in the front seat, where she usually leaves it. By the time she looks up, I'm watching her with a measured smile, not wanting to appear too happy or not happy enough.
She frowns.
"Did you get a call? I didn't hear anything."
I look away quickly as I think of how to answer, and she backs out of the parking space. Like all mothers, though, she can multi-task with the best of them.
"Jenny?"
If I say no, she'll know I'm lying. If I say yes, she'll ask who it was.
"Michael texted. We saw each other at the diner this morning, and it was kind of awkward, so he was apologizing."
She stops at the light at the top of the hill where the parking lot meets the main road and turns to me, resting a hand on my arm.
"It's probably good for you to get used to seeing each other, sooner than later. It might be awkward now, but it won't be for long. Maybe the two of you can be friends again."
Friends? Michael and I were never friends. We didn't start that way, and I don't see how we can end that way, either.
"Sure, you're probably right."
I don't agree with her at all, but I'm not going to argue. At least we're not having this conversation in front of anyone else,
especially Kelly.
"He'll see more of Sydney than of me, though, so it will be fine."
I'm reassuring myself more than my mother, who pulls out into the street where so few cars move along this time of day.
"Oh, I forgot to tell you. The weekend after next is Michelle and Levi's wedding. Remember I mentioned that they were getting married?"
Great, a wedding. Yes, she did tell me, months ago when the two of them got engaged on New Year's Eve. Apparently Levi, who owns a machine shop and lives on the very edge of our small town, proposed to Michelle, who works in the beauty salon, on one knee in the snow in front of everyone right after the city hall clock chimed the last bell.
It sounds romantic until you consider the terrible cold he caught from being soaked through his pants, a cold he passed to Michelle, who passed it to her sisters and parents, and everyone they all worked with.
But wedding plans prevailed, and now, the big day is nearly upon us.
I hold back a sigh. While I hadn't expected to get married right out of high school, I thought I would at least be wearing an engagement ring by now.
Michael's mother told me years ago that she was holding a tiny solitaire diamond ring that had belonged to her mother for Michael to give to his bride, but she worried that the lucky girl might want a bigger stone or a more fashionable setting.
Of course, I had assured her that I would love whatever Michael gave me, not considering for a second that the girl who would wear that ring might be someone other than me.
"Sounds great. I'm guessing we all got an invitation?"
She waves her hand in the air.
"Who needs an invitation? When I was getting my hair cut last week, Michelle was telling everyone to come. The reception will be at the church, and you know how big their social hall is."
I glance at her before making a face. Big compared to what? I had lecture rooms at college bigger than the church social hall, but she wouldn't know that, and there's no point in mentioning it.
There are more than a few people in town who would have something to say about me leaving to go to one of the biggest universities in the country, and I have a feeling my mom, if pushed, might reveal herself as one of them.
"So this will be the first to start the wedding season?"
A lot of Valley Vale kids grow up, marry their childhood sweethearts, and stay in Valley Vale. I wasn't sure if I wanted to stay here during my daydreams of married life with Michael, but at least we did fit into that first group. How serious were we if we never talked about what we wanted to do with our adult lives together?
"It might not be as busy as it usually is. I haven't heard of any new engagements except for Michelle and Levi, Tyler and Josephine. You never know, we usually have a shotgun or two each year."
When I glance at her I see the firmness of her thinned lips. She had given me the talk more than once during my adolescent years, concerned that Michael and I might end up marrying shotgun before we even graduated from high school.
Did she believe me that we had never slept together? That we both wanted to wait?
It wasn't as if we weren’t tempted, because there were plenty of times that it was overwhelming. We kept to kissing, sure that if we strayed further we might just keep going.
Besides, what was the hurry if we expected to spend the rest of our lives with each other?
"Sydney is so happy to have you home. She'll be counting on you to help her study for exams."
My long silence must have prompted my mom to bring up my sister, who should be able to do just fine on her schoolwork without my help.
But it will be a fun way to spend more time with her.
"She's pretty smart. And busy."
Everything Sydney is doing over the summer makes me wonder what else I can do with my time besides working every morning at the diner. I really don't want to take any online classes, but if I'm trying to be productive, I could knock out one or two required courses and head back in the fall with more time to work on my actual degree classes.
But then I would have to know what degree I'm pursuing.
"What is that sigh about?"
She's teasing, but my mom is definitely pushing me to talk more. When I was growing up, she was never overly involved in my personal life, so is she trying to make up for it now?
"At least you don't have to worry about me getting pregnant anymore, right?"
I start laughing as I sputter the last word, my line of thinking so out of place with our conversation. She couldn't possibly know that her talk of shotgun weddings made me think of her annoying and repetitive sex talks.
She’s quiet for a long moment.
"Oh, Jenny. I didn't really think you would, but I know sometimes kids get carried away."
When I stare out the window, watching the familiar scenery pass by as we get closer to our house, I suck in a breath at the street sign marking the road where the Norrises live.
Is Emily there now, spending time with her grandparents? What kind of life did she have that she could drop everything and live with them?
"It's good we never did, right?"
As we pull into the driveway, my mom reaches out and grabs my arm, so my effort to open the car door when we've stopped is halted.
"Don't be like that. I know how much Michael meant to you, so you don't have to act like it isn't a big deal."
It, or rather, our breakup, shouldn't be a big deal so many months later, but she means well, so I nod and smile without saying a word. I really don't want to start a conversation about this, and I don't want her to think I need a conversation about it.
We head into the house, and I inhale, unable to help myself. The air is so clear here, the scent of flowers and grass almost overpowering. There's no car exhaust, no trash, nothing of the overcrowded streets where I've spent the last few months.
I can't help but smile.
"What's that for?"
My sister slams into me, her long hair tumbling over her shoulders so I get a face full of it before I can push the mass away.
"What are you talking about? Why don't you do something with your hair?"
She shrugs and leans away, her arms around my waist.
"You were smiling. And why don't you do my hair? I still can't Dutch braid. It's so hard when I can't see it."
The two of us shuffle into the living room, leaving our mom in the kitchen laughing at us. Sydney sits on the floor, cross-legged, and I kneel behind her. She's taller than the last time I braided her hair, so it's going to be a little awkward.
Back in middle school, I was a cheerleader, and one of the other girls taught the rest of us how to French and Dutch braid our own hair, as well as each other's. I always did Sydney's before school each morning, and while I taught her how to do it on her own, she still wanted me to do it even when she started high school.
"I showed the other majorettes how to braid, too, but most of them just want to put their hair in buns. Boring!"
Buns would be easier, but Sydney's right. She looks so pretty with her hair in a French crown, but today, she wants plain Dutch braids, and I suspect she wants them just to get my attention for a while.
"Well, buns are a lot less work. And I was smiling because it's nice to be home."
She wiggles a little on her hips and I grab a handful of her hair, separating it so I have three sections on one side of her head. I have to tug a little at the snarls, but she doesn't complain.
"Did you say anything to Mom and Dad about Fallingwater?"
I haven't, but there's time to plan for our trip. Maybe I should talk to Cathy about a good time for both Sydney and me to take a couple of days off work, though.
"We can bring it up at dinner. I don't see why they would have a problem with us going."
I work up the braid quickly, pulling her hair tight as I go along. Her hair is a little darker blonde than mine is, and in the summer, she'll have pale orange streaks that look almost pink threading through it after she spends time in the s
un.
"Are you worried about seeing Michael? You don't seem like you're upset about him anymore."
Am I still crying until my eyes are swollen shut? No. And only my sister knows that I did at one time, before I shoved all those feelings aside to take my life miles away where there was no chance I would ever run into him.
For a few months, at least.
"No, I mean, it will be weird, of course, but I'll get used to it. Besides, he's probably busy with his girlfriend, right? So I won't see him that much."
When Sydney turns her head suddenly, I try to hold onto the nearly finished braid, but I let go instead of yanking on her hair and the braid falls apart in my hand.
"But you've never really talked to him about what happened, did you?"
She's too smart for her own good, and mine, too. At this point, though, how would talking help?
He's moved on, and obviously, he wasn't all that heartbroken if he not only found a new girlfriend but a fiancée less than a year after we broke up.
I remember the unanswered text on my phone, and as I shake my head to answer my sister's question, wonder what, if anything, I should say in response.
Chapter Nine
Instead of answering Michael, which I'm not sure he would want me to do anyway, I spend the rest of the night goofing around with Sydney, watching her spin her baton and practice her routines in the backyard so she won't get in trouble with our mom.
Later, when I'm in bed and thinking of how good it feels to be home, I cover my eyes and think about how I need to move forward when I see Michael.
I won't just see him, I'll see Emily, too, and I need to get my act together and not behave like he's cheating on me with her.
He looked older today, more serious. He's always helped out at the diner, learning all the details of the business carefully so his parents could count on him to handle any situation, but I never considered that this might be what he wants to do for the rest of his life. Run the diner, manage it and share it with his own family when the time came.
My phone rests on a little table by my bed, plugged into the wall outlet, and I reach over and pat at the table in the dark until I find it under my palm.
When You Were Mine Page 5
