Page 41 of Letting Go

"Really," he says again, this time to Claire. He points to himself. "Could go?"

Laurel hangs on harder. "Yes. As a matter of fact, we did plan it."

That slight pause before "we" tells me, Claire planned this.

Claire says nothing.

"We decided to do a little family intervention," explains Laurel.

Devon picks up the thread. "It's time. You've been here a month, you've settled in, you're working, you got your feet under you. But now we're going to set you straight."

"Yeah," says Travis. "Straight."

Laurel punches him in the arm.

"We're waiting for one more," says Devon.

Geo?

The screen door slides as if cued. "Count me in!"

We've all known George Johnson, Geo to us, since we were kids. He and Dad met in vet school and opened the clinic together. When Mom and Dad were gone, he became our guardian. Well. Again. Their guardian. I was too old, too scared, and had fled. He hired a private eye once to track me down the first few months I went missing, but Everlast had already moved from Montana to West Virginia by then.

My college friends thought Geo was "hot" which grossed me out at the time because he was like our uncle. Tall, with a wide smile and flashing teeth, and a "voice to soothe angels," as Mom always said, he was handsome. Is handsome. When I hugged him at the party last month, he still felt like a rock. His wife, Beth died very young, tragically, before I was even born, and all we knew was that it was cancer.

He formally adopted us. He really had already adopted us before our parents died. He'd come over and scoop us up and take us for ice-cream or the beach or a museum or even to Boston to the aquarium so Mom and Dad could get a weekend together.

Travis just got used to everyone thinking Geo was his father. And we got used to the looks and pointing, and the occasional policeman asking why we were all with him. At one point, Mom and Dad had to write a letter and he kept it in the glove compartment as proof that he was not abducting children. When Mom and Dad asked if he'd be our guardian, he cried. I saw it all. Right here on this porch. They didn’t know I was watching from behind the sofa inside.

After Geo hugs everyone, he hugs me, and I realize this is my chance to change chairs. I'm sitting right across from Claire and I think that's a bad idea. I don't want to be watching her face during whatever it is they have planned.

"Hey, sit here, Geo. Gimme this stool," I say, dragging it over next to Claire. If we are sitting side by side, I can’t see her face.

Claire tucks a strand of blond hair behind her ear. "You know, sometimes it's just easier to talk to somebody if you're not looking at them. Believe me. That's why telephones are so effective."

Thanks for pointing that out.

Laurel and Devon laugh a little and Travis looks unsure. Geo has no idea what's going on.

Laurel clears her throat and turns to me. "We know you've been through a lot. And we think we can help you and be supportive. But there's a kind of wall up."

I shift uncomfortably on the stool.

Devon tries. "We don’t understand what happened to you. And we want to."

I shake my head. Anger flares and I am disgusted with myself for letting it color my voice. "You know. You don’t." I try to soften my tone. "You can’t and I wouldn’t want you to." Looking at them I keep going. "I wanted to talk to you, but you guys beat me to it."

Claire's voice is calm. "This isn’t a race. Here, get up. You shouldn’t be on a stool."

She goes inside and comes back out with a dining chair.

"I'm fine."

"No…you're not." Her blue eyes bore into mine. When did she get to be so graceful? So grown up?

Oh yeah. In the eight years you’ve been away.

"So, we've been talking. You've apologized to each one of us, but we don’t really know what for."