If It Makes You Happy(97)

I chuckle and run a palm over her head. “Of course he won’t.”

She nods to herself, hugging her stuffed unicorn closer to her chest.

I open the door and climb out, handing Emily her black duffel bag with key chains and patches and grabbing Brittany’s sparkly pink rolling suitcase, almost blinding in the sun’s reflection.

I roll their bags over the craggy concrete to the covered bus station with my free hand holding a small box of pastries for their trip. The bus is already here, humming and whining. The three of us ran behind this morning because we always do, and now I only get minutes with them. It feels unfair.

“Hugs,” I command, and both girls barrel into my arms.

I sigh against them, gripping each of their sides closer to me. I reluctantly pull back once they do, twisting my lips to the side.

“You be good for Mom, okay?”

For the first time since Halloween, Emily hugs me again, leaning her head on my shoulder. Brittany looks like she’s on the verge of tears, so I cup behind her head and pull her close.

“What if I don’t want to go?” Brittany asks.

“You’ll see the parade though.” I grin down at her. “That’s gonna be really cool.”

“Sorry I’ve been mad at you,” Emily murmurs. “I don’t even remember why I was in the first place.”

“Halloween,” I clarify.

“Oh yeah. You suck.”

I chuckle. “I know.”

“Were you mad at me too?” she asks.

“No,” I say sarcastically with half my mouth tilting in a grin. “I could never be mad at you.”

Brittany giggles at the same time Emily does.

Emily punches me in the side. “I’ll miss you, idiot.”

“I know that too.”

I look at my watch. Their bus is set to leave soon. They need to board. It doesn’t feel like enough time.

“All right, here we go!”

They hold me tighter. I wrap my arms around them and hold them as close as I can until they’re both laughing and pushing me off.

We say final goodbyes. I load both of their bags onto the bus, hand off the box with too many apple fritters and chocolate chip cookies, then walk down the stairs. They wave from the window.

“Say hey to big Garfield for me!” I call out.

Emily cups her palms around her mouth and yells back, “I’m gonna pop his balloon!”

“That’s my girl!”

With Brittany’s face mashed against the window, the bus rumbles away. I watch and wave until it’s out of sight. I stand there for a minute in silence—the wind as my only companion—before strolling back to my truck. I casually lower my forehead against the steering wheel and let the monotone honk echo through the parking lot.

It’s a weird sensation, sitting at a bus stop one day before Thanksgiving. There’s a heavy knot tied in my gut, pulling tighter and tighter until it’s painful.

They’re gone.

I exit the car, slamming the door closed as I stride back to the bus depot. I dig in my pocket for coins and push a quarter into the pay phone. My fingers shakily mash over the small numbers, and then I hear the ring of the number I’m calling. Over and over as my heart pounds more and more.

Then the line clicks.

“Thanks for calling Bird & Breakfast. This is Michelle. How can I help you today?”

My heart rate slows. Her voice is soft. Warm. Comforting. It doesn’t matter that we haven’t spoken in days. I’m addicted to the sound, and I’m letting myself indulge.

“Michelle,” I breathe.

“Cliff?”

“Hey.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” I push my head against the pay-phone box. “No. I … I dropped the girls off. I don’t feel good.”

And I needed to hear your voice, I don’t say.

“Is everything okay? Are they okay?”

“Yes, sorry. Yes.” I huff out a laugh. “They’re on the bus. Didn’t mean to worry you. I … I needed to talk. Sorry. This is—can you … distract me for a second?”

“Oh,” is all she says.

It’s quiet.

I sigh. “That was—”

“Dad’s been greeting the guests this morning. He’s really staying active. I think he’s playing chess now with some guest. You can tell the man’s family wants to leave the inn, but my dad’s got him in a match he can’t escape now.”

The knot inside my stomach slowly unravels, like her words are gentle hands untying it herself.

I choke out a laugh. “Sounds like Paulie.”

“And this morning, Lisa and George stopped by to help set up place mats and stuff for tomorrow. Lisa, of course, told me I needed more silverware. And then I told her that if she wanted more—because I have enough already—then she could bring some herself. But then she said they wouldn’t match.”

I chuckle again. “What a morning. Wish I could be there.”

There’s a long pause before she asks, “Why are you really calling, Cliff? What’s going on?”

“The girls left, and … I’m not doing okay. And we haven’t talked in days and …” And I feel dumb for even bringing it up. “I’m fine. Having trouble breathing a bit. I ran to the pay phone, so that’s probably why.”