Page 40 of Always Meant for You
“You should,” Margaret warns, tilting her head toward Mabel. “It’s why that girl makes you crazier than a firefly stuck in a jar.”
I clench my jaw so tight, I’m surprised I don’t crack a molar. “Mabel doesn’t make me crazy, ma’am.”
Margaret gives me a knowing look. “Capricorns embrace rules and structure. They need things done a certain way and done according to them. And when you throw a Capricorn together with a Gemini, tempers flare. And before you know it, they’re either at each other’s throats or tangled up in the sheets.”
Oh, for the love of Christ!
“Nobody is getting tangled up in sheets. Now, may I have the water?” I ask, cutting to the chase.
Margaret slides the glass across the counter. “Good luck.”
I take it, then turn toward Mabel’s booth.
I’ve crossed this diner more times than I can count. But now, the stretch between us might as well be measured in miles.
My mouth’s bone-dry. The glass sweats in my grip, my hand no steadier for it. I can’t tell if it’s nerves or the cold catching up to me.
I move. One step. Then another. Heat crawls up the back of my neck.
I hear shuffling.
I look back at them.
The sisters have gathered again, tight as ever. Elbows touching.
Betty mouths two words. “You’re okay.”
There’s a strange, almost déjà vu quality to our quick exchange.
I nod and keep walking.
I stop a few feet from her.
Then I see it.
Her passport.
It rests on the table near her elbow, closed and clean. No wear. No smudges. Corners still sharp. She carried it here. But from the look of it, she hasn’t used it.
I shift my grip on the glass.
She holds her cell, the screen tilted slightly toward her. She scrolls. Her face is hidden beneath the brim of her hat.
I catch the words on the screen.
Bus departures from Elverna, Illinois.
She’s been back less than an hour, and she’s already looking for the next bus out.
“Here’s your water,” I bark, setting the glass down harder than intended. The thud lands with a sharp slap, rattling the saltshaker.
Water leaps over the rim and splashes across the table. She jerks back, dragging her passport out of the way.
“Careful!” she snaps.
She leans back and pushes up the brim of her hat. Her eyes lock onto mine.
I know her face, every inch, every freckle, every expression.
