Page 10 of Landing Her Eagle
Mom nods, a sad expression crossing her face.
“They wanted her to be an accountant and carry on the family business,” I continue. “You know how that goes. She majored in accounting and got straight A’s, but she hated it. She did it because she knew that’s what they would have wanted.”
I take yet another sip of water and continue.
“She lived with her grandmother after they died, and they were very close. Gran urged her to take classes that would make her happy, like the history and architecture class we met in. When Gran died the summer before senior year, she left Daphne her house. Gran and I had discussed it was with the intention of it being sold, rented, or somehow used to fund her travels, but Daphne is using it as an anchor to keep her tied here.”
Mom looks at me over the brim of her wine glass. “You left your work early, flew thousands of miles to tell a girl you like her, ask her to come away with you, and you don’t know if she’ll say yes?”
When she says it like that, I sound like an impulsive fool.
“I have it all planned. It will be fine.”
“And what are her plans?” Dad asks quietly.
“I… I don’t know. She hates her job.” I grimace, remembering he’s her boss. “Forget you heard that.” At his nod, I continue. “She sits at home knitting and watchingMurder, She Wrote. She doesn’t leave the house unless she has to. If she wasn’t working, I don’t think she’d leave at all.” I roll my shoulders. “I’m pretty sure she’s a couple of weeks from ordering the Crazy Cat Lady Starter Kit from QVC.”
My parents chuckle.
“I’ve asked her about going out with me before, but I think she thinks I’m kidding or being nice.”
Mom waves her wineglass at me. “You always do this, Logan. You can’t plan other people’s lives out. Don’t expect her to drop her entire life to do as you please.”
“I don’t!” I don’t plan people’s lives out. Not much anyway. Daphne will give a little, and I’ll have to sacrifice too. It’s how things work.
Besides, she’s changing. This time, she’ll be ready to go with me.
“I’m not,” I insist. “There’s not much joy traveling the world, seeing these spectacular sights and doing incredible things alone. I want her with me as my partner. My mate. I love her.”
I take a deep breath. “I’ve loved her for years but didn’t tell her because I don’t want to ruin our friendship.” I glance up at Mom. “In a different way, I’m afraid of risk like she is. But I’m willing to be the brave one if I win her in the end.”
Mom blinks to hold glistening tears at bay.
Dad clears his throat. “Good. It’s about time. So, what’s your plan?”
9
DAPHNE
Saturday dawnswith sunshine and fair weather. October in New Jersey is a bit of a crapshoot. There can be hurricanes or nor’easters, or the skies can be sunny and clear. The temperature can have you wearing a coat or shorts—sometimes on the same day because nature can be moody. Thankfully, this seems to be one of those perfect days—the sky is clear, the air has a slight chill, but the sun warms you. Most importantly, there are no mosquitoes.
No reason not to go. No more talking myself out of this. I know I need to do this. I need to dive into my past to move forward with my life. This was the last adventure I had with my parents before they died. Their accident was a few weeks later. Touring lighthouses one moment, holding back my tears at their funeral the next. I’ve been afraid to remember that weekend, the good times we had. Afraid to feel the sadness the memories will bring. I need to face the past if I’m going to move on to my future.
Driving north on the Garden State Parkway, I plan on being at the Sandy Hook Lighthouse right after it opens. According to the advertising, each location is giving away a crushed penny to commemorate the challenge. I still have the souvenir book from the first year we did the challenge. It’s filled with wooden nickels. They burned the likeness of each lighthouse on a coin.
I pull into the parking lot, take a sip of water, and apply my lipstick. I chuckle at primping for a selfie, but whatever. This shade is “Wine with Everything.” My preference is rum with Diet Pepsi, but any port in a storm. I lock my Escape and approach the table to pick up my souvenirs.
“Good morning! Welcome to Sandy Hook, the last remaining colonial lighthouse,” the volunteer says in greeting. “Will you be climbing the tower today?”
I collect my coin and buy my keepsake book. “Good morning. No climb for me. I enjoy staying on terra firma. Not a fan of tight spaces or heights.” I peruse the challenge commemorative T-shirts for sale and decide to buy a set for me and Logan. Logan’s is to make up for all the shirts I’ve stolen from him.
After leaving a donation, I wander off to find a suitable spot to take my picture. I feel silly sending inexpertly shot selfies to a professional photographer, but he asked for it. I smile and take the shot. It’s awkward as hell. I caption it, “Greetings from Sandy Hook, the last remaining colonial lighthouse,” hit send, and off it goes.
I drive south to my next stops, the Twin Lights in Highlands and Sea Girt, stopping at Wawa for snacks. The girl behind the counter, Donna, according to her name tag, smacks her gum. “You’re excited.”
I grin. I can’t help it. “I’m doing the lighthouse challenge today.” I practically bounce on my toes.
Donna lifts her brows, smirking. “Lighthouses?” Her tone is an eye roll. “Exciting.”
