Chapter 10
Ithink you have an escort.” Dad’s eyes were fixed on the rearview mirror as he merged onto I-85 on the way to the Hartsfield–Jackson Atlanta International Airport.
I turned back to see what he was staring at. The Silverado. “No way.” It was Peter and Jäger. Clenching my chest, I tried to keep my heart from beating like a washing machine with an uneven load. What is he doing here?
He pulled up next to the SUV—next to Dad.
If only I could get a better look at his face and study his expression. But his eyes were on the road ahead, and I couldn’t see much past Dad and past Jäger.
“What is he doing?” Dad kept one eye on the Silverado and one on the road.
“I have no idea.” Was it a coincidence? He sure didn’t look like he’d come to stop us. Good thing Mom had said goodbye at home—this would have done her in.
Dad shrugged in the direction of the truck as if asking, “What’s going on?”
Stretching toward the windshield, I saw Peter’s hand waving us off.
My heart did a free-fall act within my chest. What in the world? If he didn’t come to stop us, then why was he there?
“What do you want me to do?” Dad covered my hand with his, the steady warmth of his touch contrasting with my chilled fingers.
“Nothing, I guess. Maybe it’s a coincidence. How would he have known that we would be on the road on this day at this time?”
Dad turned on the CD player. His Willie Nelson CD was in, and the slow notes of “Stardust” lulled me.
I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
“You can play something else.” Dad placed the small case he kept in the SUV on my lap.
“This is perfect.” I closed my eyes and pictured the Kenny Rogers CD and Peter’s note. What would he do when we reached the airport exit? Was he working up the courage to do something?
Closer to Atlanta, Peter switched lanes on us and pulled next to my side of the SUV.
“This is getting ridiculous—you kids are torturing yourselves.” Dad shook his head, his voice stern. “If you want me to lose him, let me know, and I will.”
Chuckling at the thought of Dad speeding to get away from the Silverado, I offered him a tender smile. “Thanks, Dad.”
“I really will lose him, if you ask me to.”
“I know. But you don’t have to. We’re almost there.” I didn’t have to look at Peter to feel his presence. Twisting my head to the side in slow motion, our eyes met for the first time since the Lorie fiasco and the key exchange at the ranch.
It’d been much easier to maintain my resolve when all I had in front of me was a note and a CD. Facing the man was much harder.
What if I stayed? What if I asked Dad to pull over? The idea was tempting.
But something propelled me to stay the course instead—the new course: Europe, Claus, the Met.
A critical voice inside me screamed “self-serving brat.”
But a stronger and serene voice said, “Go—this is a season to go.” There was peace in the middle of the heartache when I thought of going. There was no peace when I thought of staying. I had to go. Right?
As we got close to the exit to the airport, Willie was singing “Georgia on My Mind.” Really? Maybe that’s why Dad had suggested a different CD.
The thought of leaving Georgia hurt my heart—I’d never lived in any other state.
I looked at my ex-fiancé again. I was going to miss Peter. No doubt about that. Tears soaked his face now. His lips moved. He repeated my name twice. I swallowed the lump that had formed fast in my throat.
This was it. This was our moment. If I was going to do something, this was the time. I turned to him, both hands on the window.
He looked at me and seemed receptive—expectant even.
A truck passed us. Beeeep, beep-beep-beep.
“Whatever,” Dad mumbled.
A season to go. A season to fly high. I nodded slowly. A season to dance. I planted a kiss on my shaky fingertips and pressed them against the cold window.
Peter hit the steering wheel with his fist, his forehead furrowed, lips pressed together. I looked at his red eyes and covered my mouth, holding back words and emotions that didn’t belong.
My head dropped and hot tears fell on my lap. By the time I looked up again, Peter had accelerated, and all I could see was the back of his head, the back of Jäger’s head, and the back of the truck.
Traffic was thick, and the blue skies over the busy Atlanta airport were crowded with airplanes arriving and leaving.
Dad got behind Peter to take the airport exit.
This is it. The turn signal sound was like a steady heartbeat. I was doing the right thing, wasn’t I? Why was it so hard? Looking at the truck heading north, I screamed into my hands and kept my face there.
When I lifted my head, we were approaching the terminal parking. I turned to the door and held my knees with a whimper.
“Shh.” Dad touched my hair. “It’ll be okay.”
My tears slowed under his touch. “This looks all wrong, and I know I messed it all up, but it feels right at the same time, Dad.” I sniffed hard and turned to him. “I’m not making any sense, am I?”
“We’re always here for you.” He kept a firm hand on my shoulder.
We parked but I didn’t move. Dad didn’t show any intent to get out of the SUV either. With his less-than-stellar voice, he started to sing with Willie Nelson to “On the Sunny Side of the Street.”
“Oh, you sing horribly.” I laughed.
“Then you do a better job.” He danced with his shoulders, moving them up and down to the happy beat. “Got you laughing.”
I shook my head. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
He cut the engine. “Let us, baby girl.”
We met Claus at the terminal.
Between my luggage, Claus’s luggage, and the dog, it took us almost one hour to check in, and by the time Barysh had been taken care of, I’d run out of things I cared to say before embarking on my most ambitious adventure ever.
“Dad, I want to be done with the heartbreaking part of the program.” I squeezed my eyes shut and opened them back up. “Can we go to the gate?”
“Of course.” He held my hand, and we started walking to the security checkpoint. Claus walked a few steps behind us.
Was this really happening? Was I really saying goodbye to everything and everyone? We walked in silence and arrived too soon. I didn’t want to let go of his hand now.
Until two years ago, I was still living with Mom and Dad. Then we were almost an hour apart. Now a whole ocean? This is hard.
Dad put his strong arms around me. “If you hate it, come back and fast,” he whispered, squeezing me.
I squeezed him back and nodded in his embrace. We swayed to the sounds of the busy terminal. “I’m so scared,” I whispered.
“Don’t be.” His voice was gentle but assuring. “Go have an adventure.”
I nodded. An adventure.
“I love you, baby girl.”
“I love you too, Dad.”
“Son, good luck to you guys.” Dad gave Claus a strong hug and patted his back.
“Thank you, Mr. Brassfield.” Claus looked more serious than usual. “I will take good care of her, and you are welcome to visit any time.”
Dad’s face was turning red, and he bit his lower lip as he nodded with his fist to his mouth. His eyes filled up with tears. “We’ll visit.”
His voice was brittle, and so was my heart when I heard him. I wished things had been different. Surely that was not how he’d imagined giving me away. And I was going to be so far. Did I trust myself to give him one more hug without both of us falling apart?
Claus helped me with my handbag, the old neck scarf tied to it.
“Let me get the scarf,” I said, untying it. I put it around my neck and kissed Dad gently on the cheek.
I reached for Claus’s hand with all the confidence I could muster, and we started a slow backward walk.
Quiet tears couldn’t stop me from smiling and waving. “Give me a couple of months to get settled, Dad. Then I expect you and Mom to come see us.”
“We will, honey.” He sounded better, but I could see the distant tears rolling down his aging face.
I waved one more time, and then we turned away. Away from Dad and away from Georgia.
Dad’s words still played in my head: if you hate it, come back and fast. My eyes rested on Claus’s handsome face. His eyes were red, his hand firm on mine. I wasn’t going to hate it. I was moving to Europe.
Claus Vogel Gert was holding my hand. The Claus Vogel Gert. Would I ever get over how famous he was now?
We were going to take classes together and dance together, and I was going to get my shot at the Met. And could it be that I would be Mrs. Gert one day? Frau Gert. Wow.
If Claus could hear the adolescent squeals that filled my head, he would leave me in America. With a smile stretching my lips, I took off my old boots and tossed them in the gray bin at the top of a short stack.
“What are you humming?” Claus placed his tan leather shoes side by side in a different bin.
I hadn’t realized I was humming, but as soon as he asked, I knew what it was. “ ‘On the Sunny Side of the Street.’ “
“Frank Sinatra?”
“Yeah, I think he recorded it.” But in my mind, I heard Dad and Willie singing it, and I did Dad’s shoulder move as I hummed one more verse before it was our turn to go through the metal detector.
That was going to be my song for the road. Not the sad songs of the past or the uncertain songs of the future. Just my father’s sunny song, putting a spring in my step as I walked toward the international concourse.