The drive to the high school is longer than I expect. Apparently, our house is close to the dividing line in the county, and I’m lucky enough to go to the school that’s actually farthest from my house, distance wise. It doesn’t really matter to me which school I attend. I only need to get through one more year and then I’ll be off to college, on my own and making my own decisions.

To say that my father has sheltered me to the best of his abilities would be the understatement of the year. I’ve never been allowed to date. My last three schools have all been located on a military base. Although I have nothing against going to school on a military base, for I’ve been rewarded with a great education, my issue lies with the fact that my father constantly had eyes on me. No matter where I went or what I did, he knew. He saw. He objected.

This year is going to be different. I won’t have to constantly worry about doing or saying the wrong thing in front of the wrong person. My father won’t have eyes and ears around every corner. I’ll have a small amount of freedom during the day.

Judging by the look of this place, I’ll have the freedom I’ve been praying for.

The three-story building ahead of me rivals any of the schools I’ve ever attended in both size and beauty. Following the signs to visitor parking, I find a spot and quickly hop out of the car. As devastating as my circumstances are for changing schools again, I couldn’t be more excited right now. The promise of a new and exciting year is within my reach and I plan on snagging all opportunities before they pass me by.

The secretary in the office is expecting me and I only have to wait a few minutes before she is ushering me into the counselor’s office. A woman with stick straight, long black hair and wiry framed glasses enters the room as the secretary exits. There’s a huge smile on her face as if she’s pleased to see me. All other encounters I’ve had with counselors have led me to believe that they have a great distaste for their jobs, that I was an inconvenience to them. I’m not getting that vibe from this lady.

Mrs. Schroder is a pleasure to talk with. We spend a few minutes discussing the schedule she’s written for me based on my transcripts which were faxed to her that morning. I have my father to thank for that, I’m sure. After fixing a few minor concerns I had, she gave me a tour of the building and personally made sure that I knew where my classrooms were as well as my locker.

Before I left, she gave me directions to the community college. When she suggested that I take a few classes as part of their dual enrollment program, I immediately said yes—I get college and high school credit for the courses that I take. I have enough free time in my schedule to enroll in one class this fall and possibly two in the spring.

As I pull out of the school parking lot, a smile is plastered on my face. I have a feeling I’m going to enjoy living here. Everyone is genuinely nice and I’ve heard people in the south are more welcoming. I’m starting to believe that may be the truest statement ever uttered.

The people I encounter at the college are just as nice as Mrs. Schroder. In no time at all, I’m enrolled in my first college class: Creative Writing. I head to the bookstore to search for the book assigned to the class and to pick up a few essentials for school in general.

The bookstore is extremely busy. It takes me a few minutes to get through the massive crowd and find the textbook that I need. Once I do, I’m suddenly overwhelmed and feel the need to snag it and get out of the store. There are too many people crammed into the small store.

Pushing my way through the bodies, I reach out to grab the book I need. It’s within my reach, but as I’m pulling it off the shelf, I realize that someone else has a hold of the same copy. I look up and am met with a stunning pair of hazel eyes. Eyes I’ve seen before.

“Madison,” he says, his surprise to see me apparent in the way my name comes out softly on a breath.

“Grant. It’s nice to see you again.” I break eye contact and focus on the book we’re both still holding. Grant suddenly removes his hand and my arm falls to my side, the book almost slipping out of my grasp.

“I take it you enrolled in Creative Writing this semester.” It’s more of a statement than a question. “What time?”

Is he taking the same class? He was reaching for the book. There has to be more than one Creative Writing class. It’s a required class for all freshmen. I’m not a freshman, though. Is he? He won’t want anything to do with me if he knows I’m still in high school. I’m so freaking lame. I’m having this conversation with myself while he waits for me to answer him.

“Tuesday and Thursday mornings at nine o’clock. You?” I chance a look in his direction and he’s staring at me.

“Same.” I watch as he turns, grabs the last copy of the textbook from the shelf, and adds it to his basket. “I’ve gotta get going, but I’ll see you soon, Madison. Save me a seat.”

He walks past me, his arm brushing against mine slightly. A fresh, woodsy scent catches my attention after he’s gone and I close my eyes, relishing it for a moment longer than I need to. My composure is shaken. He caught me off guard. I didn’t expect to run into him again, especially not here. Now, I’ll be seeing him two mornings a week and, according to him, I need to save him a seat next to me. I hope he sits close enough that I can figure out if that scent belonged to him. I’m hoping it did.

Pulling into the driveway, I see that my father is home. I was hoping that he might be at the base, or anywhere else that wasn’t here. I’m afraid that he blames me for Grandma’s will, for the decisions she made before she passed. It’s a conversation I don’t want to have.

I hear him call my name as soon as I close the front door behind me. “I’m home,” I holler out, hoping that he’ll go back to ignoring me like he has for the past week.

“Please come in here,” he replies instantly. So much for ignoring me.

I set my purse and bag from the bookstore on the staircase before heading into the living room. I find my father in the chair by the window, shoulders back and head up. He’s been waiting for me, watching for me.

“Where have you been?” And apparently, I’m in trouble.

“I went and registered for classes.”

“Without me?” he asks, irritated.

“You left Mr. Finch’s office without saying a word. I assumed you were too busy to come along.” I cringe as the words leaves my lips. I shouldn’t be challenging him today. He hates it when I assume things.

“Well, I wasn’t. I’ve been sitting here, waiting for you so that we could go together.” I don’t apologize. I should, but I don’t. “Since you’ve taken care of it, on your own, I think we need to have a conversation about the house.”

“Okay,” I reply, drawing the word out, not trying to hide my confusion. What could he possibly want to talk about that involves the house?

“You’re grandmother left you the house. I’m not sure why, but I would like for you to sign it over to me.”

“Why? I thought you didn’t like this house. You’ve always said it was too big, too flashy.” It’s long been a fight between my grandma and Father about this house. My mother loved it, but my mother tended to love expensive things. This house was no exception. Grandma told my father once that she would burn it to the ground before she would let my mother live in it.

“I spoke with Mr. Finch after I arrived home from his office and asked when my mother wrote her will. He stated that it had been written for years. She amended it a few months ago after she found out she was ill, but the only thing she changed was the allocation of money. The house was left to you long ago, before your mother passed. We both know that your mother and grandmother never saw eye to eye. This was your grandmothers way of protecting this house from your mother.”

What he’s saying makes sense. What doesn’t make sense is why my father wants the house. He avoided my question. “That still doesn’t explain why you want the house.”

“I want it because it should have been left to me. You will be off to college in a year and won’t be living here. Why should we hold onto this house if no one will be living here?”

And the light is now shining brightly on my father’s plan. Sell the house. Make money. Grandma didn’t leave me the house because she was protecting it from my mother; she could have amended her will long ago. She had the time and the opportunity. She was also protecting if from my father. She knew how much I’ve always loved this house. She left it to me because she knew I would never get rid of it. This is where I spent part of my summer vacation, where I spent time with her. I made memories with Grandma here. Memories that I plan to hold onto for as long as I can.

“It doesn’t matter to me if I live here or not, I want the house to stay in the family. I hope to one day have a husband, to live in this house with him and raise my children here. I love this house. I love that Grandma is here, everywhere I turn. I don’t plan on selling the house, ever.”

“Be reasonable, Madison.” His voice is calm, but I can see the vein in his forehead throbbing from where I’m standing across the room.

“I am and my decision is final.”

My eyes never leave his as I defy his demand. My father is used to everyone, myself included, bowing down to him. Not this time. This time, I plan to stand up for what I want, for what is mine.

“Back on the subject of school. I enrolled in a Creative Writing class at the community college two days a week as well as standard classes at the high school. I also plan to make the meetings that Grandma set up for me at North Carolina State University, Duke, and U.N.C. Chapel Hill. I’ll be leaving tomorrow morning and will be back Thursday.”

For a moment I think the vein might pop. I imagine it while I watch my father attempt to mentally calm himself down. It doesn’t take long. “Please drive carefully, Madison. Call me when you arrive so that I know you’ve made it safely.”

I leave my father sitting by the window in my living room, staring out my window. I want to say the words out loud, but it’s not necessary and I’m not that brave. He knows the house is mine. He’s not a guest, he’s welcome here. I would never ask him to leave. Still, I’ll have to be mindful of everything until my birthday. Once I’m eighteen, he won’t be able to have a say at all.

My room is chaos. I need to get organized before I pack for my trip. Looking around, I try to determine the best way to tackle all the boxes. One at a time seems like the best plan, so I leave my school supplies outside my door and dive in.

Hours later I’ve only made a small dent and I’ve lost my ambition. Instead of unpacking, I push all the boxes to one side of the room, hiding a few in the closet, and focus on getting my things together for my trip. It’s a short drive to Raleigh in the morning, but it will give me plenty of time to decompress since I’ll be flying solo. After that, I’ll head over to Chapel Hill for an afternoon meeting, stay the night, and finally visit Durham Thursday morning.

Mrs. Schroder seems to think that I’ll have my pick of colleges based on my grade point average and my ACT scores. I hope she’s right. I’d love to attend any of the colleges that I’m about to visit, but if I get my choice, I’d pick NC State in a heartbeat. They have a fantastic business school and I’d be able to major in business administration and minor in social work.

I’ve been thinking about it a lot. It’s what I want to do. I want to get the best education, the most information, that will help me to become an effective leader at the Foundation, and ensure that it’s going to continue helping people for years to come. Grandma would be proud of my decisions. I think she would agree with me. I’ll never know for sure, but in my heart, it feels like the right decision.

Bag packed—check.

GPS directions loaded—check.

It’s just after six and I’m staring at the boxes I’ve strategically placed in the corner of my room. I really should unpack them. Some of them. At least one more box, right after I visit with Grandma and tell her my plans. Yes, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll go visit with Grandma, and then if I have time when I get home, I’ll unpack a few boxes.

After making myself a sandwich and grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, I head into town. It’s a beautiful night. The weather is perfect for this time of year. The heat wave that settled over the area last week has moved on and a light breeze is blowing across the river, cooling the temperature down a few extra degrees.

My new boots pound the pavement as I make my way down the sidewalk. When the gazebo finally comes into view, the corner of my lip turns up slightly. My heart feels lighter the closer I get. The feelings of love and safety that wash over me as I step inside are all-consuming.

Taking a seat on the bench facing the water. I have hours until the sun begins its decent, but yet I can’t look away. I imagine that the light shining over the calm waters, creating it to shimmer with silvers and golds, is as beautiful as the sunset will be tonight. Nothing compares to this place, no matter what time of day.

Closing my eyes, I say a silent prayer before cracking the top on my bottle of water and inhaling my sandwich. I worked up an appetite unpacking the five boxes I managed to get through today. Only a couple dozen or so to go. I should be able to finish by Halloween at the rate I’m going.

The two couples that had been hanging around the water’s edge are moving along. The family that was picnicking by the playground has gone home. Sounds of laughing children have faded. The park is all mine now, just the way I like it.

“Hey, Grandma. I hope you can hear me. I have a lot of things that I want to tell you about. I’m sure you’ve been watching and already know, but I came down to tell you anyway, in case you missed anything.” I shake my head at the thought. Grandma, if she really is watching, would never miss a moment of anything, given the choice. “I’m leaving in the morning to check out a few of the colleges that you and I were going to go see. I’m going alone, but it should still be fun. If I get my choice, I’m still leaning toward NC State by the way.

“In other news, Dad and I are fighting again. Earth shattering, I know. He’s been weird since you, ya know…” I stutter over my words but quickly regain my composure. She’s not standing in front of me. I’m not sure why I’m nervous. “I just want you to know that I won’t sell the house. I love that house and you left it to me for that reason. You knew I would never let Dad sell it, right? I plan to live there when I graduate from college, assuming that Dad’s still not there.”

I catch movement out of the corner of my eye and snap my mouth closed before someone hears me and thinks I’m talking to myself. Scanning the area, I don’t see anyone around. It looks as if I’m alone. I’m not sure what caught my attention, but there’s nothing going on now.

“I miss you, Grams. I wish you were here to go with me tomorrow. I’d feel better if I had a travel companion, someone to talk to and help me make a decision. I know you wish you were here, too. It won’t be the same without you. I’m gonna get going. I have more boxes to unpack which really means that I have boxes to ignore. I love you.”

As I stand to leave, I blow a kiss toward the water, toward Grandma’s favorite place to visit. Turning around, I find that I’m not alone. My face heats instantly from embarrassment. Even if he didn’t hear me talking to Grandma, he definitely saw me blow a kiss toward the water.

“Grant. How long have you been standing there?” I ask, not hiding my surprise.

“Which answer do you want? The truth or the one that makes you feel better?”

“Always the truth. I hate lies. They have a tendency to hurt, no matter how small.”

He tilts his head to the side slightly, studying me. “I saw you sitting up here so I came over to say hello when I heard you talking to someone. I noticed no one was around, so I backed off and waited until you finished.”

“Thank you for giving me my privacy. That means a lot.”

“No problem. So, can I ask who you were talking to?”

Before I have a chance to think about it, I blurt out the truth. “My grandmother.” Grant nods his head, accepting my response without asking any further questions. “What are you doing down here?”

“I like it down here. It’s where I come to think.”

“Me too. What are you thinking about tonight?”

Grant takes my question as an invitation to join me inside the gazebo. He takes a seat on the bench I was on and stretches his long legs out in front of him. “Honesty, right?” I nod my head at him as I take a seat on the bench across from him, my back to the water. I’ve never sat on this side of the gazebo before. The view wouldn’t be as nice if Grant wasn’t here. “I was thinking about you. You keep popping up every time I think about you. Here, at the bookstore, downtown. It’s weird.”

“Downtown?”

“Yesterday. You were in the coffee shop.”

“You were there? I didn’t see you,” I confess, thinking back and trying to remember the faces that I saw outside the coffee shop. I would have recognized Grant, there’s no doubt in my mind.

“You walked out as I was walking up.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” I ask, wondering why he’s comfortable talking to me here and at the bookstore but not in front of his friends.

“I was meeting friends. They have a special way of embarrassing me in front of people they don’t know. It’s a game to them, I think. Plus, you looked like a woman on a mission.”

“I did?”

“Yeah. What were you doing?”

“Shopping. Checking out the town. It’s been a few years since I’d been down there. It’s cute. I love the thrift store. I found these boots,” I say as I lift my right foot toward him, accidentally kicking him in the knee. “Sorry.” I grimace as I apologize.

“No big deal. I like them.”

“Thanks.” I don’t know what else to say so I let the conversation drift away and the uncomfortable silence set in. Grant seems to be enjoying the silence as he stares at me, waiting for me to continue.

“You bounce your knee when you’re uncomfortable. Did you know that?”

My leg goes still when I realize he’s right. “I’m not uncomfortable. I just don’t know what else to say.”

“You could tell me about yourself. How you ended up here or what other classes you’re taking this semester.” He sounds genuinely interested in learning more about me. I’ve never met someone as sincere as Grant and I’m not sure why, but I trust him. I want to tell him more about me, and I want to learn more about him.

He’s nice. He’s easy on the eyes. He’s well spoken. He’s also older than me, in college and probably not interested in high school girls. I don’t want to give him the wrong impression but I don’t want to lie to him.

“Maybe another time. I’ll see you in class in a few weeks, right? I’m saving you a seat apparently.”

“I sure hope so.” I stand, waving as I make my way down the steps. “It was nice seeing you again, Madison.”

I smile the entire walk home. Grant’s smile, his outstretched legs, and laid back demeanor are all I can think about. His voice, the way he says my name, echoes in my mind over and over again. This boy, this man, he’s going to get me in trouble. I just need to play it cool until my birthday, then it won’t seem like a big deal if I’m still in high school. At least I hope not.