Page 63 of Knowing Amelia

Mom. Oh, the guilt. Ugh. Not answering my dad’s calls, I can justify, but I’ve been ignoring my mother in the process. Of course she’s worried about me. I haven’t talked to Mom or Katie, or even Grayson. And that leaves me feeling sick.

Message number three:

“Hey, babe, I’m sorry things got out of hand, but not speaking to me won’t fix this. I wish you were here, working beside me. This experience is incredible and you’re missing it.”

Benjamin.

The floodgates of guilt do not come as they did with Mom. My skin prickles with annoyance. He sounds too chipper to be mourning the loss of our relationship. Either he doesn’t believe that I meant what I said—which is just so annoying—or he doesn’t care because he’s found his true love: work.

I take a deep breath, then make the easiest call—Lynn. After being yelled at for not answering her calls, I start at the beginning, leaving out only Amelia’s secrets and the part where I sort of attacked Logan with my lips.

After a few curses of disgust for Benjamin and a few complimentary curses at my description of Logan, she is uncharacteristically quiet.

“What?” I say. “You think I’m crazy. I know this is out of character but⁠—”

“Olivia.” Lynn never calls me by my full first name. “This is the sanest thing you’ve ever done. It’s about time you made some choices for yourself.”

Ouch. “I make my own choices. I respect my dad and⁠—”

“I’m talking about Ben. I’m glad he’s squirming. He doesn’t deserve you. Never has. He’s always right there telling you which way to turn instead of respecting what you want. Medicine? Bah! You’ve never wanted to study medicine.”

I am stunned. This is how she feels—how she’s always felt? “You never said anything.”

“You were never ready to listen. Ben made sure of it.”

Twenty-Four

July 13, 1955

I’ve hardly had time to write. And I don’t really have time now. Seth will be here any minute to pick me up. I told Aunt and Uncle that I was going to a movie with Cheryl Hull. Cheryl Hull would never take me out with her clique. But Aunt and Uncle don’t know that.

Really, I came to the gallery, the same thing I’ve done every night this week. I normally sneak out of the house around 9 p.m., when Aunt goes to bed, and meet Seth there. Today is my day off, so we’re getting an early start. I’m not sure where we’re going. Seth is surprising me.

How have I lived this long without him?

Amelia

I ride Gary to work the next morning, thinking about Seth, Amelia, and Logan all at the same time.

After a slow morning, I eat lunch with Rachel in the cafeteria. I always bring my own meal, which irks Lucille. She’s heard rumors about Logan and me—and true or not, they aren’t sitting well with her. I guess that makes sense, seeing how she plans for Logan to fall madly in love with her granddaughter. Which doesn’t sit well with me. It’s another reason I bring my own lunch.

A few teachers sit with us and chat about the school’s end-of-the-year events; they are more like town events. Everyone in town seems to get involved.

“Where’s Callie?” I take a bite of my sandwich. The part-time, pregnant gym teacher usually sits with us. The way the teachers talk, it’s as if the town of Rendezvous is getting a baby, not just Callie and her husband Paul.

“She called in sick.” Hannah Jackson turns to me, her tone serious. I’m not sure the woman has laughed a day in her life. She teaches history, government, and social studies, and the woman is disciplined when it comes to work. Even her short, dark hair combed to the side, says serious.

“Poor thing—she’s nearing the end.” Denise Black shakes her head, her long gray hair swaying. She is clueless about the yellow smudge of paint smeared across her forehead. The older woman might be Hannah’s opposite. She teaches art and has to be nearing retirement, but the students love her, and Rachel says they won’t allow it.

Marty Mickelson, the one and only math instructor at RHS, sits silent, eating away, ignoring our girly chatter.

“Oh, that’s right.” Rachel snaps her fingers. “Olivia, I need you to sub for Callie today.”

“Excuse me?” I choke on the bite of turkey sandwich still in my mouth.

“You’ll need to fill in for Callie today.” She waves her hands. “You know, teach her class.”

I slap a hand to my chest, forcing the turkey on rye down. “Rachel, I don’t have a subbing license.”