“Good grief, Natty,” she replies with a mild chuckle. “Nothing—
I’m fine.”
Pressing one hand over my heart, I let out a relieved sigh. “Oh, okay. Just wasn’t sure why you’re calling now.”
“I’m calling because I miss you.” She gives me a significant half-smile. “Do I need a reason?”
I recognize immediately what she’s referring to. For at least a year after my parents left me, if the house got especially quiet, I’d be overcome with anxiety that I’d been abandoned again, and race from room to room looking for Auntie Min.
When I’d skid to a halt, having located her, I’d always self-consciously manufacture some excuse for needing to talk to her.Um… is… is it supposed to rain today?I’d stammer, thinking on my feet. Or,Can we have chicken stew for dinner?Or maybe,Do you need me to do any chores right now?
She’d pull me into her arms, answer my made-up question, then tell me,You don’t ever need a reason to be near me, Natty. I’ll always be here for you.
My aunt hadn’t expected, all those years ago, to take in a seven-year-old grandniece when she was in her midforties, but she was an amazing “mom” to me after my parents flitted off to California and forgot I existed. My father—whom I’ve referred to as “Jason” since I was about twelve (Mom became “Sherri” the same year)—is Minnie’s nephew.
A sigh of embarrassed laughter escapes me. “Of course you don’t need a reason, Auntie Min.” I scooch down into the chair. “I worry, being so far away now, that’s all. In New York I was only a two-and-a-half-hour flight away. Now it’d take me a full day from some of these grand prix spots.”
“Well, lucky for you I’m healthy as a danged plow mule,” she assures me. “I’ve got a new walking route with Naomi—three miles. Volunteering on Tuesdays and Fridays… oh, and there’s square dancing now at church!” With a wry smile, she adds, “Naomi’s tickled to have an excuse to hold hands with that retired veterinarian who moved to town. She’s set her cap for him.”
Hearing news from home brings on a twinge of pain, and I’m not sure if that’s how everyone feels about their hometown. Is that ache just part of the human condition, or does it imply that I’m not meant for the new life I’ve worked so hard to create?
As much as I adored New York while living there, and as fun as it is to fly all over the world and see things most people will only ever read about… I’m most relaxed, mostmyself, after I drive past the big blue barn at the Marshall farm, on the two-lane highway leading into the town where I grew up.
Passing that landmark—the location of one of my happy (and rare) memories of my father, how he’d take me there to feed applesto the horses—is when I know I’m about to settle into the comfort of home, like a deep, warm bath.
“Well, best of luck to Naomi in bagging the veterinarian,” I say with a laugh. A moment later, stumbling into the hollow of my homesickness, I look into my lap and blurt out, “Speaking of crushes… I think I’ve met someone I like too, Auntie Min.”
There’s a silence, and I glance at the screen to make sure the call is still connected.
“Well, all right… tell me more,” she says in the tone she uses when she’s trying to be fair—a stiff pleasantness that telegraphs,I won’t hurt your feelings by saying this is probably going to be a disaster.
I fight the urge to backpedal. Why should I be apologetic?
Maybe because I’ve come home crying, again and again, about various complete jerks…
“It’s just a friendship,” I amend quickly. “Early,earlystages.”
“That’s wise,” Minnie says, her brow relaxing. “Give it enough time to make sure you know, uh… everything you need to.”
I stop myself before I can blurt out,This one isn’t married!
“Oh, definitely,” I assure her. “No rushing into things.”
Aside from the one-nighter in Abu Dhabi nearly five months ago, but who’s counting?
Minnie gently clears her throat. “Not to make this awkward,” she ventures, “but please try not to, uh…” Her hands drop audibly to her lap. “To jump into bed with this one. The part of you that yearns for approval might, um… sometimes be awful quick to offer men more than they deserve.”
I make a face. “Auntie Min, that’s so—”
“And I’m not being some Goody Two-shoes,” she goes on. “Inmy younger days, I was as close to a seventies feminist as gals got in this town. I’m not saying you have to get married to… dothat. Hell, I never got married myself. I just want you to spare yourself heartache.”
“I know.” I keep my face sober, giving nothing away.
“Getting tangled up with someone while you’re in a job that hauls you from pillar to post… it might not be fertile ground for a stable relationship. That requires trust, and a deeper connection. Time to take firm root and grow.”
My gaze drops. “I knowIknowIknow—I’ve messed up a million times jumping in too fast, and I’m sorry.”
“Oh, Natty.” She sighs. “Don’t apologize. Everyone makes mistakes! We’re so proud of you, but we just worry sometimes, and—”
