Page 17 of Forever Full Circle
“I kind of like it here. At the inn. Even when it’s loud. Even when the guests are weird.” She shrugged, embarrassed. “This is our home. And Boston isn’t.”
“It is home here,” Emily said. “And I’m not asking you to leave it if you don’t want to.”
Emily felt momentarily on alert. Were these Chantelle’s abandonment issues rearing back up? Emily and Daniel had worked hard to help the young girl feel secure after her birth mother had disappeared. Emily didn’t want to undo any of that work.
Chantelle nodded, then swung her feet off the armrest and set the guitar on its stand. She stuffed the last bit of cookie in her mouth and, without warning, gave Emily a quick, fierce hug. It was over before Emily could reciprocate, but she clung to the feeling, letting it warm her from the inside out.
“I’ll think about it,” Chantelle said, voice muffled by the hallway as she made her escape.
Chantelle came back less than a minute after leaving, as if the house had spat her out, back to the sunroom. She hovered in the doorway, hands shoved in her pockets, the confidence of her earlier exit erased. Emily, who hadn’t moved from the parlor, caught the shadow of her daughter’s return in the reflection of the coffee table and feigned surprise. “You forget something?”
Chantelle shrugged. She just stood on the threshold, shifting her weight from foot to foot.
Emily watched her carefully. “You want to talk some more?”
“I guess.” Chantelle drifted back to the chair but didn’t sit. Instead, she leaned over the armrest, staring out the window. She picked at a loose thread on the chair, then let her hand drop. “I’m not scared of going, just so you know. Not really.” Her jaw set, stubborn, like she was bracing for an argument. “But I don’t want to miss stuff here, either.”
Emily leaned forward, elbows on her thighs. “What would you be missing?”
Chantelle opened her mouth, then closed it, the words reconfiguring. “Grandpa Roy is sick, right?” She said it flat, matter-of-fact. “He’s been tired a lot, and he doesn’t walk asmuch as before. I heard you on the phone trying to call his doctor.”
Emily’s stomach contracted, the old fear curling up from her gut to her chest. She forced her shoulders down, tried for calm. “He’s doing okay right now. But yes, he gets tired. That’s why he’s here. So, we can spend time together.”
“Right,” Chantelle said. She thumbed the edge of her pad, the motion slowing as she spoke. “If I leave for the summer, I might miss… I don’t know. Important things.”
Emily reached up, tucking her hair behind her ear, a nervous tell she’d never managed to lose. “You think about that a lot?”
Chantelle nodded. “Sometimes I dream he’s already gone. Like, I’ll wake up and forget if it’s true or not.”
Emily exhaled a shaky breath. She’d tried so hard to shield Chantelle from the truth of Roy’s cancer, to keep the edges soft, but the girl had sliced through it anyway. “That’s a real fear,” she said softly. “I feel it, too.”
Chantelle glanced up, her face open and unguarded. “I’m not being stupid, right?”
“Not at all.” Emily slid closer, until their knees almost touched. “It’s not stupid to want to be here for your family.”
“There’s more,” Chantelle said, voice even smaller. “Laverne, you know she had a rough year with her parents divorcing. If I go to Boston, who’s going to help her keep learning guitar?” She ran her thumb along the loose chair thread again, then added: “She really sucks at F major.”
Emily let the smile come, not mocking, but full of affection. “F major’s tough.”
“She’s got skinny fingers,” Chantelle said, looking away as if embarrassed by her own defense.
“Is there anyone else?” Emily asked, quietly. “Anything else you’d worry about missing?”
Chantelle considered, then said: “Bailey’s my best friend. She’s not good with new people, but I help her. If I leave, she’ll probably just play Roblox all day and never leave the house.” She chewed her lip, then added, “And I don’t want to miss Charlotte talking more. Or Dad’s barbecue parties because I always set up the sprinklers. Or—” She hesitated, then finished, “Or you.” The last word cracked.
Emily felt her eyes sting, a pressure that threatened to spill over if she didn’t keep her voice steady. “I’d miss you, too. But we’d visit. We’d call every day, if that’s what you wanted.”
Chantelle shrugged, a lopsided gesture. “It’s not the same.”
“I know,” Emily said. She rested her hand on the table, palm open. After a beat, Chantelle set her own hand beside it, the two of them close enough that their fingers almost brushed.
“I know it’s a big opportunity. I really do. But what if something important happens while I’m gone?” Her voice broke a little again, just at the end.
Emily reached out and, with infinite care, laid her hand over her daughter’s. “Then we’ll call you. We’ll get you home.”
Chantelle nodded, but she didn’t look convinced. Emily’s earlier worry flared. She didn’t at all want Chantelle to feel as if the Boston thing was them pushing Chantelle out.
Emily let the conversation rest, sensing the fatigue in it.
