“I’m so glad you’re here, sweetheart,” he whispered.
“Me too,” I replied, even though I wasn’t.
As we made our way along the corridor and out into a large, glassed lobby area, Richard asked how my flight was, and we embarked with chit chat. Dad was super pleased I was there and had made that extra effort to ensure I was comfortable. I knew I should have been more grateful, but I couldn’t help it; I was still screaming inside.
As we left the building, the sun shone bright from anoverlyblue sky. It was clear with only a few clouds, and the gentle breeze cooled my cheeks. I felt myself squinting, not used to it being so clear.
Over the last few weeks, London had been as bleak as my mood. At least I could look forward to some better weather for what was left of the summer. I had Googled the temperatures I could expect in Rhode Island towards the end of August, and I had not been disappointed; I wasn’t a sun worshipper by any means, but I liked it warm. The calm weather was at odds with the busy terminal, and I was relieved to be out in the fresh air again.
My father and I arrived beside his car. It was a white Toyota Corolla, and I climbed into the passenger side as he placed my suitcase, bag, and balloon in the back. I kept my handbag with me, gripping it like a life vest. It contained all my identification and Mum’s papers. Around my neck, I wore a gold Tree of Life pendant, which had been her gift to me for my sixteenth. The fact that I received it on the morning before her death made it even more precious.
Inhaling, I waited for my father to join me. The car windows had been left open to allow the air to circulate, which I was thankful for. I wasn’t the best traveller, especially in stuffy cars, and air conditioning made my eyes water.
As Dad pulled the car out of the parking space he had used, we had to stop to allow a stream of passengers over the black and white crossing. They resembled ants, all following each other in a long chain, but instead of carrying food, they dragged suitcases.
Once we were clear of the airport, we followed the airport road, which connected to the main route we were to travel on. I asked how long it would take to get to the house and if I should watch out for any famous landmarks. When I mentioned the word motorway, my father corrected me and said that the highways in the States were usually referred to as freeways. It looked like the motorway back home, but maybe a bit wider and carried much more traffic.
My father then explained that the journey to Newport took around half an hour and that we would take the picturesque route with bridges that crossed the ocean. I couldn’t wait to see the sea. I wondered how far away Dad’s house was from the beach.
After around twenty minutes into the journey, my father steered the conversation towards the inevitable.
“I won’t be so insensitive as to ask how you feel.Overwhelmed, I imagine. But wewillmake this work, Molly. I know we’ve drifted apart over the last year, and I blame myself for that, but I intend to doeverythingto make your move here as comfortable as possible.”
“I know you will,” I reassured him.
A lump formed in my throat at the thought of having ‘the talk’ so soon. I supposed a discussion in the car was better than complete silence. What else did we have to talk about if not my tragic situation or the scenery?
I decided to continue and meet him halfway. It would be better for both of us if we started on the right foot. The movehadto work as I had no other options.
“I’m also going to do my bit. To make this work, I mean. There are two of us in this relationship, and I know I’ve also been distant lately. What’s that saying? Life gets in the way?”
Richard smiled and flicked me a glance before twisting back to the windscreen. “Absolutely. Distance was a main factor, and living in different time zones doesn’t help. Now that barrier has been broken, we can make a good go of it.” He then took a deep breath, and I could see from his expression that he did not find the following words easy. “I’m not a man who wears his heart on his sleeve, but I love you, Mols. I always have, and I want you to be happy. It will take time, and I won’t rush to build on our relationship. I’m also not the type to smother, as Rachel probably explained. But Iamhere for you. I will give you as much space as you need so you can find your feet. And when you need me, I’ll be there. I promise.” My belly tightened at the mention of my mother’s given name.
His speech did little to stop that ache, but I found his words soothing. I trusted Richard and knew he would do everything to help me settle. But maybe nothing would be enough. I was a home bunny. I hadneverhad any ambitious intentions of moving away from the area where I had lived my entire life, from the village where I was born. I wasn’t like some of my other friends who dreamed of getting out of dodge and going away to college or university; quite the opposite. Depending on my exams, I would have applied to a local college and lived at home during my studies. And now, I was facing an extreme version of that and had moved to live in an entirely different country.
The thought of any new high school would have been daunting, especially one in the United States.
When I hadn’t replied, my father added, “I mean it, Mols. Whatever you need.”
Some of the tension in the car drained away. His use of my old nickname made me feel warm inside. I stopped fiddling with the fraying material on one of the rips in my jeans.
“That’s great, Dad, but I’m not surewhatI need right now. Everything has happened so fast.”
My father steered along the road towards a second bridge, which was signposted Jamestown, his voice becoming wistful. “Time is the only healer in all things, Molly. You need to give yourself that. Baby steps, as they say.”
“Thank you.”
Clearing his throat, Richard added, “And if you need to talk about your mom, I’ll be there for that too. She was an amazing lady.” I knew he, too, found her death difficult.
I turned in my seat, staring at his side profile. He was good-looking, and the creases and lines around his eyes gave him that wise look. My father’s hair was dark with a bit of grey, and he had tanned skin and brown eyes flecked with green. He was also tall and broad and worked out. I had my mother’s pale colouring, white blonde hair, blue eyes, and small build.
“If she was such an amazing lady, why didn’t you stay together? You loved each other, didn’t you?”
His gaze flicked to mine before turning to focus on the road again, his thick brows furrowed. Turning away, I stared out at the scenery, trying to establish how I felt about the direction of our conversation.
“We weren’t ‘in’ love, and that’s a huge difference. One that you’ll understand one day. Or maybe I shouldn’t assume you’ve never been in love. How about it? Do you have a boyfriend or someone you’re close to?” I appreciated how he backpedalled. He must have realised that ‘you’ll understand one day’couldhave been considered patronising. But he was right. I didn’t get the difference as Ihadn’tbeen in love. I’d had a big fat crush on Matthew Wilson, but that didn’t count. All the girls liked Matthew; he was captain of the football team and beautiful to look at.
Running a hand across my tired face, I replied with a smile. “No, you can assume. I’ve never been in love. Most of the boys at school are immature idiots,” I confessed with a shrug.
