Why was I even thinking like that? It was presumptuous to think Jonah came back here for me. I wasn’t the only person he was close to. And now he was a dad. Maybe he came back for the excellent schools. Though I was pretty sure I remembered reading in one of his family’s Christmas letters that his daughter had been accepted to some fancy Ivy League academy for children back in Connecticut where he had moved after his residency. I wasn’t even sure why that was a thing. It also made me feel even more insecure. I’d told Jonah he needed a wife with all the right credentials. I bet his parents loved Eliza. I was sure they would still dislike me.
I hustled to get my supplies, trying to think of a way to escape. Nothing was coming to mind, short of me skipping town and changing my name. Too bad I craved stability like a starving vampire at a blood bank. I not only loved Pine Falls, but I think it had gotten to the point where I needed it.
It was one of the many reasons I wouldn’t leave with Jonah when he’d asked me. I had been afraid if I moved again, I wouldn’t stop. My mom would say, “This time we aren’t moving again, I promise.” Each time was a lie, until we’d moved back home to Pine Falls for good.
Not only had she changed husbands like they were going out of style, but she’d always chosen ones who didn’t have a stable income. We’d been evicted more times than I wanted to remember. I swore that would never be me. Not like I would have had to worry about that with Jonah. But he’d brought other worries, like me not fitting into his world. I wasn’t sure I could feel at home in the luxurious places he’d lived.
That thought made me pause and lean against the backroom door. Maybe I was morphing into my mother. I always chose men, with the exception of Jonah, who made me feel good about what I considered my defects. Defects drilled into me all through high school. I’d known what some of the kids said about me, especially the popular kids. My past had followed me along with all the rumors about my mom, which were true. I’d ended up dating guys and having friends who were considered second class citizens in school. No one thought any of us were destined for greatness. Not even my own mother.
Once upon a time I had wanted to pursue higher education. But she’d discouraged me, saying it was a waste of time and money since I already knew I wanted to be an artist and I seemed to have a natural born talent for working with stained glass. Really any kind of art, from drawing to writing my silly Thanksgiving songs I made up every year.
I rubbed the backroom door with my hand. I wondered now if my mom simply hadn’t wanted me to be better than her. Maybe she had never believed in me, or I hadn’t believed in myself enough. Perhaps I still didn’t, in the ways that counted most. In all the ways that kept me from what I’d wanted most in life—someone I didn’t have to return. Jonah.
I rested my head against the door and sighed. Why hadn’t he stayed away?Chapter SevenSomeone or someones, aka Dani and Kinsley, should have mentioned to me that Jonah was bringing his daughter. I needed to prepare for these kinds of things. Like thinking of a good alias and booking a flight.
With all that said, I couldn’t help but be mesmerized by Jonah’s offspring. Her pictures didn’t do her justice; she was even lovelier in person with her long sandy brown hair that looked like it had been brushed a hundred times, making it uniformly straight and shiny. It was her eyes, though, that drew me in. She’d inherited Jonah’s sparkling green eyes. But she was different than her father. She was businesslike, which was odd considering she wasn’t quite six yet, from what I had gathered in my brief introduction to her before my class started. She was dressed like a mini executive in a smart navy blazer with a white blouse underneath it. Maybe she went to a private school. Wherever she went, they must teach etiquette. I’d never seen a child, or anyone for that matter, sit up so straight.
Her physical appearance had nothing on what was coming out of her mouth. While I was walking around and offering individual help to my class members who were trying to smooth the edges of the stained glass using glass grinders, Whitney was schooling us all on how stained glass was made.
“Stained glass is colored by metallic salts,” she informed everyone.
Each class member stopped what they were doing and paid attention to the young genius. I wasn’t even sure I could say metallic until I was ten, let alone know what it meant.