Page 48 of Landing Her Eagle
“It’s about four hundred miles to Lisbon, and if I drove straight there, it would be about a seven-hour drive. I could easily do it in one day, but I will most likely take two days. There are a few places I’ve read about that I want to explore.” He yawns again.
“Honey,” I say, “go back to sleep. I want you well-rested for your drive tomorrow. Text me whenever you want, and we’ll figure out when to talk next. With my work schedule and the time difference, we’ll have to figure out when we can talk without exhausting each other.”
“I’m sorry, sunshine,” Logan says through a jaw-cracking yawn. “I want to spend time with you. I imagined me being propped up on the couch next to you watching TV through your iPad, but I’m beat.”
I think he means he’ll stay on FaceTime while I point my tablet at the television so we can watch the same show at the same time. But who the heck knows?
“It’s okay, Logan. We’ll figure this out. Sleep well and dream of me.” I blow him a kiss, and he makes a kissy face back to me. We tell each other goodbye and other mushy things and disconnect.
Grabbing a pen and paper, I write lists of what I want to do and the steps I need to take to get it done. I don’t know if it’s an accounting thing or a trait I picked up from my parents, but I love writing lists, developing budgets, and making sure things balance. Having a plan in writing and the steps I need to take to carry them out broken down so I can check them off makes my little control freak heart happy.
“Thanks, Mom and Dad,” I say to the empty room. I get a whiff of the aftershave Dad used to wear, but it’s fleeting. Maybe I imagined it, but I’m choosing to take it as an acknowledgment of my thanks and a gesture of support.
“All righty, I’ve taken care of what I can do tonight. Time to relax with my knitting and watch some rugby.”
Even knowing the outcome of the matches, I like to watch my recordings. They’re good company in my quiet house. Plus, rugby thighs. I first became a fan of rugby watching Logan play for the club team at our university. I started attending matches to support him, but soon the pace and excitement of the game caught my attention. Okay, so did thirty guys in shorts. But I’m not the rugby equivalent of a puck bunny or jersey chaser. Ruck bunny? I don’t know what they call them, but I’m not one.
Would Logan like to go to a professional rugby match with me?
Time to start a new list—adventures I want to take.
As I write, I decide to do two lists: one for things in North America and the other list for adventures overseas. Of course, my lists end up morphing into Google searches and bookmark collections. Ideas are coming at me in a flood, and I record notes on my phone using the dictation feature. I sign up for travel guides and newsletters. I watch so many YouTube videos.
“Ooh, this is so cool,” I gush as I click play on the next one. I can’t wait to share my ideas with Logan. Realizing it’s almost midnight, I close my laptop and get ready for bed. I shoot a little video of me and Mooster in bed telling Logan goodnight.
I smile as I settle into bed and turn on the TV, hopingMurder, She Wrotewill lull me to sleep. I can’t wait for the weekend. If the weather cooperates, my plan is workable. My final thought before I drift off to sleep is that I should add visiting the places where Jessica Fletcher has solved murders to my list of adventures. She’s traveled all around the world, and someday soon, I will too.
28
LOGAN
If I can’t wakeup with Daphne in my arms, I guess waking up to her sweet message on my phone is the next best thing. For the first time, I really don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be going somewhere new either. I want to be home with Daphne. It’s weird being homesick. Of course, I’ve missed my family and Daphne while I’ve been away before, but the lure of excitement and adventure has always been stronger than my longing for them. FaceTiming or texting had always been enough contact to fulfill any need I had to connect with people at home. This time it’s not. I have things to do this trip. I can’t pick up and leave because I want to kiss my girlfriend. I really want to though, so it’s a struggle to get out of bed, do what I need to check out of the hotel, and hit the road to travel to my next destination.
I give my best impression of a grown man and do what I need to, stopping at a café for a croissant with ham and melted cheese accompanied by a cup of coffee en route to Mérida, a town about three and a half hours southwest of Madrid. It’s an ancient Roman city that holds many incredible ruins, dating back over two thousand years.
I decide to spend the night at one of the historic hotels in town and take pictures of the old Roman architectural details and text them to Daphne while I eat dinner. She loves these kinds of things. And I thank God for it. An architecture history class is where we met, after all.
I can’t imagine my life without her in it. I’m not expecting a response to my texted pictures since she’s still at work, so it is a pleasant surprise when my phone dings.
Daphne: Oh wow, that’s gorgeous. It was a convent? Is it haunted?
Me: If any place is haunted, I would assume this would be. It’s built on the site of an ancient Roman temple. There are artifacts from the Romans, Visigoths, and Moors here. It’s incredible.
Daphne: Wow, I can’t imagine seeing sights that are over 2000 years old.
Me: We can visit them someday. Are you still at work?
Daphne: Yeah, I need to finish up some payoffs for the end-of-the-month closings. Are you going to bed soon?
Me: I should. I loved your message, the second-best thing to waking up to you in person.
Daphne: Oh good. I guess we’re going to have to schedule our FaceTime because of the time difference and my job. You can’t stay up late every night waiting for me to get home from work. We can do morning your time and I’ll stay up late. We probably can’t talk every day.
Me: Why can’t we? We’ll figure it out. Even if it’s a quick ‘tell me about your day’ sort of thing, I want to see and hear you.
A FaceTime invitation from Daphne appears on my screen. Swiping to accept, I can feel my heart beating faster. Daphne’s beautiful face fills my phone screen, and I can see the shelves of files behind her. It’s dark down there. It must be dreary to be stuck in a space like that without windows or natural light, surrounded by dusty files. I’d hate it.
But her sunny smile lights up the office-shaped shadows like a summer afternoon. “Hey, you! How’s your day?” I can hear Mallory in the background making kissy noises.
