Foretell (38 page)

He tilted my chin up. “We’ll make this work. We’ll Skype, talk, text, email, whatever form of communication there is, we’ll do it.”

I nodded fiercely. “Okay,” I agreed.

“And maybe you could look into Florida colleges?”

I smiled. “Definitely.”

The last call to board was announced. Lola and Gabe waved before heading towards the gate.

Rex leaned over me. He wiped the tears from my cheeks, using the sleeve of his shirt, reminding me of the day we spent on the mountaintop.

Bending down, Rex brushed his lips across mine. He started to move away,
then
changed his mind. He kissed me again, urging my lips apart, his tongue searing through me, biting my lip and pulling me closer. I wrapped my hand around the back of his neck, holding him tightly. The kiss was far too intimate for a public airport.

I didn’t care. I wished he’d keep kissing me forever, right there in the middle of the terminal. It didn’t matter. As far as I was concerned, we were the only two people there.

When Rex finally released me, I was dizzy and reluctant to let him go. I knew if he didn’t go soon though, he’d miss his flight.

“Goodbye,” I said, despising the word.

“It’s not goodbye,” he assured me.

I nodded sadly, trying to believe him. He moved away from me, and walked towards the gate. I decided it would be best not to watch him leave. I forced myself to turn around, heading in the opposite direction.

The airport blurred as hot tears sprung to my eyes. I wiped them away before attracting unwanted attention. Trying to focus, I pulled out my boarding pass. Except when I dug around in my purse, I couldn’t find it.
Don’t panic
. I pulled out my original ticket, looking over it.

My flight was four days away.

Okay, now was a good time to panic
.

I stared at it without blinking, hoping I’d read it incorrectly. The time was correct, an hour from now, but the connection wasn’t for another
four
days.

Lola made a mistake. She mixed up the dates and now I was stuck in Paris with no money and no place to stay. I fanned myself with the tickets, feeling enormously hot.

The sound of running footsteps advanced from behind me. I turned at the sound of my name being called.

Rex stood there, smiling brilliantly.

“Rex, you’re going to miss your flight,” I said.

“Nah,” he said unworriedly. “My flight doesn’t leave for another four days.”

I flinched, confused. “But Lola and Gabe just boarded the plane.”

“Yeah, they did.”

I looked down at my ticket and then back at Rex. “Did Lola make a mistake when she booked our tickets?”

He shrugged.

Something fluttered inside my stomach. I felt a smile slowly creep to my face. I covered my mouth with the ticket, hiding my shame along with my beaming smile. I can’t believe I didn’t catch onto Rex’s charade sooner.

“I figured you probably didn’t need to go home to your evil mom and sister just yet,” Rex said, pulling the ticket away from my face. “What’s a couple more days, right?”

A surge of excitement rushed through me. Was this really happening?

“We can mark some things off your bucket list,” Rex continued. “The
Louvre
, the
Musée d'Orsay.
Maybe a few things that weren’t on your list.”

“I can’t believe you planned all of this.” The thought of being in Paris over the next four days, roaming the art museums, visiting the cafés…and Rex would be right there with me. I felt a tug at my heart. I couldn’t imagine a more perfect way to spend my time. “You’re amazing,” I breathed.

He smiled happily.

“
But,
” I added. “You could have done it without pretending to leave.”

He grinned, devilishly. “And miss a goodbye like that? I wouldn’t dream of it. Hey--
ow
!”

I punched Rex on his chest, several times over until he clamped his arms over mine, subduing me.

“You’re a jackass,” I told him seriously. Part of me wanted to be angry enough to mean it. The other part of me was too thrilled at the thought of spending the next four days in Paris with the man who held my heart.

“But you love me,” he pointed out.

“True,” I conceded. I was too excited to pretend to be angry anymore.

Rex released me from his hold, but kept a hand held firmly within his. “Let’s go see Paris, babe.”

I picked up my pace, almost running out of the airport with him. We were like two kids in a playground, full of enthusiasm and wonder. The jaded demeanor Rex was often accompanied with was surprisingly absent. I stared at him in awe, realizing the guy I first met in California wasn’t the same person who held my hand today. Even I would’ve been the last person who could’ve ever foretold such a remarkable change to happen.

Four months later…

A light rapping on the door distracted my attention from my computer. Abby and I simultaneously looked up to see Indie slinking inside my room. She gave me a small smile, joining me on the window seat. I removed my laptop from my thighs, setting it aside.

My little Labrador puppy had grown into a large beast, though Abby, herself, didn’t yet realize it. She was fifty-five pounds now, but settled into Indie’s arms like a lapdog.

“No glamorous plans?” I asked curiously.

She shook her head. “I think tonight should be a family night.”

I nodded in agreement. We both knew today’s date was a symbolic one, yet neither of us acknowledged its meaning out loud. Some things were better left unsaid, I guess…

“So whatcha doing?”
Indie asked me curiously.

Her face was makeup free. Her dark hair left down, resting along her shoulders in loose curls. She looked her age for once, much more innocent than the starlet America knew and loved.

“I’m writing a blog post,” I answered, showing her the screen.

“Estelle’s Corner?” she asked, smiling.

I nodded. I’d deleted my Chloe persona long ago, deciding my fresh start in life should transfer into the blogosphere as well. Surprisingly, the blog had gained a sizeable following, even with my old lady name attached to it.

Indie cleared her throat,
then
read aloud from my most recent post. “Dear Hannah,” she began. “Though I know your heart is breaking from your breakup with Jeremy, it is within moments like these we learn to put the pieces back on our own. No one else can do it for us.

“And although your heart will never be put back quite the same way as it was before, you can trust that it will be strong enough to endure what comes next.
Because you mended it yourself.
You crafted its walls to withstand any pain, hurt or distrust.

“And the next time Jeremy or any other guy comes around, you can rest assured they will have to move mountains in order earn your love again. And if they don’t, they simply aren’t worth your time. Because the guy who is worth it will find a way.”

Indie looked up at me, grinning. “That’s really sweet, Es,” she told me. “This Hannah girl will love it.”

She wrapped her arms around my waist, snuggling beside me on the window seat. The moment transferred us back in time, as if we were both little girls again. I guess in some ways, we still were those little girls, always hopeful of the future, but frightened of the past.

“Mommy baked a pie,” Indie randomly announced.

I arched an astonished brow. “Really?”

She nodded.

That was odd. My mother hadn’t baked anything since we’d left Oregon. I wondered if today’s date had something to do with her renewed interest in her old love of it.

As if on cue, Mom walked into the doorway wearing oven mittens and carrying a pie. The aroma of apples and cinnamon filled my bedroom. It smelled heavenly.

She sat the pie down and held out three forks. “I thought it was fitting for the occasion,” she told us. “This was your father’s favorite.”

A curious look was shared between Indie and I. It surprised me that she even mentioned Dad. No one ever uttered a word about him, especially not today.

Though I was curious, I didn’t really want to question my mother, or attempt to delve into her world. Ever since I’d come back home from Paris, we’d developed a quiet resentment towards each other. I suspected she blamed me for getting rid of my so-called gift. I still hadn’t forgiven her completely, either. Not only just for using me all those years, but for something else too. I figured I’d be swarmed with members of the press, police officers, perhaps even forced into making a trip to the hospital when I got home. But none of that had happened. She never even reported me missing. Granted, I told her I’d be fine, but still…I figured she would feel a mother’s natural instinct to worry about her child. Yet she hadn’t. She’d been more concerned over how it might’ve affected Indie’s career.

It was a curious thing that I could forgive Indie so easily. In my mind, she was still my little sister, and we were closer now than we were before the removal of my curse. She’d changed, I think. In some ways, she was still growing up.

For whatever reason though, I couldn’t bring myself to forgive my mother. Maybe because Indie’s misguided behavior was her fault, too.

Indie got up first. She sat on the edge of my bed picked up a fork, and shoved it into the pie. “I haven’t had carbs in years,” she said, just before stuffing her mouth. Between bites, she groaned in pleasure. “This is amazing.”

Indie’s face was comical. My mother and I shared a smile-a rare moment for the two of us. Indie never failed to entertain people, even in the simplest of moments.

I wondered what it would be like if our father were here. I think there was a part of me that was still unsettled about his death. He was the glue that held everyone together. I truly believed if he were still here, our family would feel like a complete unit.

My mother carried the pie to me. She held out a fork. Tentatively, I took a fork and wedged out a bite of the pie.

“Apple-cinnamon was my favorite, too,” I said.

She nodded. “I remember.”

The three of us ate the pie together in silence. My mother hadn’t lost her knack for baking; it was delicious.

Eating that pie was sort of a perfect memorial for my father. It was what he would’ve wanted. For the first time in a long time, it wasn’t horrible for us to be in the same room with each other.

Unexpectedly, however, my mother suddenly burst into tears. Indie and I stopped eating, startled. “Oh, Essie, I’m so sorry,” she said through choked sobs.

I looked at Indie for an explanation. My sister shrugged, having no clue as to what was wrong.

“For what?” I hesitantly asked.

“For everything,” she choked. “I think I ignored you for so long and kept you locked up in the house because I didn’t want to deal with my pain.”

“What are you talking about, Rachel?” I said her name, trying to shock her out of her tears.

“Don’t call me that,” she scolded. “I know you’re angry when you call me that.”

“I’m not angry,” I sighed. “I’m trying to understand.”

She sniffed, wiping away tears and makeup. “I still remember that day like it was yesterday.” A haunted look passed over her eyes. “I never dealt with it and I should have. I should’ve been there for you.”

A huge secret hid behind a dark veil. My mother and I refused to lift the veil. We were terrified to see what lied behind it.

“You were still a little girl. He was helping you build your dollhouse.”

I shook my head, wishing I could tell her to stop. The words were lodged in my throat.

“The cancer crept up so fast. We didn’t even know he’d been sick until it was too late. He wanted to spend his last few months as a family. He wanted to finish the dollhouse for you.”

“Mom,” I choked, pleadingly. I wanted her to stop speaking.

“I walked in your room and found your father’s head lying on your lap. He’d had one of his coughing fits, and choked on his blood. There were red stains all over your pretty white dress. You looked at me with this horrified expression, expecting me to explain what happened. I didn’t know what to say. We never anticipated his time would end like that, not around you girls. We never talked about what we’d do, what we would say.”

I stared out of my bedroom window, horrified. I saw the street below
me, the leafy trees and the green grass
. There was a little boy riding his bicycle, and a mother taking a walk while pushing her baby’s stroller. I saw it and yet I saw none of it.

The past crept up into my line of vision instead. The little girl in the white dress,
the one who terrified me in my dreams
,
she wasn’t a ghost
.

How could I have forgotten?

“I’m sorry, Essie,” my mother said again.

“I blamed myself,” I said quietly. “It all happened so fast. I thought maybe you blamed me, too.”

My mother shook her head, tears welling in her eyes again. “I never blamed you. I just couldn’t deal with you. I checked-out for a while and when I returned, I pretended like it never happened. Like you never had to witness it.”