Page 87 of Suits and Spark Plugs

“I wasn’t sure if we could spend a whole evening together, but we did pretty good,” I said. I leaned more heavily against his side and wiggled down in as close as I could so that my cheek lay against the top of his arm. “I’m proud of you for not pretending I was a stranger when I accidentally started the engine of that black truck. Who leaves keys in display models?”

“Honking the horn with your bum while you leaned over to see the backseat of the red truck was worse.”

“Only because I was wedged for a minute, so it was the thirty-second honk.” I blushed a little in the darkness, even as a sound of amusement bubbled out. “Thirty seconds feels like hours when it’s echoing so loudly that thousands of voices stop talking and turn to look.”

Another laugh burst out of him, loud and full, and it made my stomach try to rise into my throat as I felt his shoulder shake under my cheek. I liked it. “I believe that was the world’s longest honk,” he said.

I nodded. “It was so embarrassing. I’ll try to behave better next time.”

He turned his head enough to deliver a barely perceptible kiss to my curls. “You’re well enough behaved for me.”

I remained silent after he said that, and he didn’t push for more conversation either. For my part, I was lulled into a sense of peace and comfort as the miles sped by. It was fully dark, with headlights and taillights flashing in front of us like beacons. The stars were brighter in the pass than they had been in Springfield.

The sound of Connor’s even breathing, the soft music playing in the background, his hand in mine—it all wove a spell of contentment around me that I couldn’t remember experiencing with anyone outside of my family. Even Kelly. Kelly and I rarely shared quiet moments. We were too busy laughing and talking when we were together.

The feeling seeped through me, and I sank into it. I didn’t want to analyze it. I didn’t want to try to figure out why Connor, and why now. I just wanted to ride that wave all the way.

CHAPTER TWENTY-three

Iwas walking past my mom’s bedroom two days later and heard Mom talking softly on the phone. I glanced in and immediately knew Dad was on the other end of the line. Her profile faced me, and I could see the strain in her face while she spoke, which had me on edge. I wasn’t sure what was happening. From what I’d seen, Mom had seemed more relaxed, more herself since the blowup a month or so ago. Sadie had made some good adjustments too, and I had felt as though some of the constant weight in our home was beginning to evaporate. I didn’t want this conversation to take us backward, and I especially didn’t want Mom to be hurt repeatedly.

I wasn’t sure if I should broach the topic with her, but she was still on the phone when I had to leave. The image of her floated through my mind throughout the day, and as soon I arrived home that evening, I decided to find out what was going on. No more hiding things.

“Where’s Mom?” I asked Sadie when I walked in the door.

She looked over her shoulder from her seat on the couch. “Cooking dinner.”

“Great. I’m starving. Let’s go see what she’s got going.”

Sadie seemed a little surprised at my request for her to join me but willingly stood and came along. Mom was standing by the stove, stirring a pot. Her hair, usually down these days, was pulled back with a rubber band to keep it out of our dinner. Her stance wasn’t relaxed and her eyes closed slowly before she took a deep breath and finally noticed us. She pasted on the same sad smile we hadn’t seen for weeks and my appetite plummeted.

“Dinner will be ready in about five minutes if you’d like a chance to wash up.” Her voice sounded strange and tense. Her face was flushed, and she fidgeted with the apron she had tied around her waist.

“What’s going on?” Sadie demanded abruptly.

Mom turned back to her stirring. “I’m making spaghetti.”

“I know Dad called this morning,” I said kindly. “Did something happen?”

She pulled the spoon out of the sauce and turned off the gas flame before lifting the pot and placing it on a hot pad on the table. “Nothing is wrong.”

“Please don’t go back to keeping secrets from us,” Sadie pleaded in a soft voice.

That caused Mom to look up with alarm on her face. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m not keeping any secrets from you.” She hurried to pull Sadie into a hug. “I promise.”

“Then what’s the problem?” I asked again.

“Relationships can be tricky, with speed bumps and adjustments. Dad and I are just, well, it’s going to take time to figure everything out.” Mom released Sadie and got the garlic bread out of the oven.

“Like what kinds of things?” I got a knife from the counter to cut the bread with.

“We were married for such a long time and there’s a lot to work out. We had a little disagreement a few days ago about some of those issues, but we chatted this morning and I’m sure things will be fine.” Sadie and I exchanged looks over Mom’s head. We didn’t entirely believe her. She read our expressions and hers softened. “Talking is better than not talking. We didn’t talk for a long time. This is a good thing, even if it’s painful.”

My shoulders relaxed a bit as I felt the truth of her words. Talking was better than silence, yes. “Anything we can help with?”

Mom put the food on the table and turned to us. “I’ve asked a lot of you girls over the past years. You’ve had to be really patient with me. Do you think you can be patient a little longer until I feel stronger on my own two feet again?”

Sadie and I moved toward her without a word and wrapped her in a hug. We could be patient. We just had to be. It was the only way we’d be happy again.

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