Chapter 49
49
SARAH
D espite my father's explicit command not to come home, I was back in Colorado. I wasn't going to hide. He could be mad at me, but I wasn't going to let that stop me from spending time with my family. The pain of his words still hung over me, but it turned out Mom had something to say about his decision to ban me from home.
When she found out he'd forbidden me from coming home, she blew a fuse, bought my tickets, and welcomed me with open arms. But just like the last time I was home, Dad had been avoiding me.
I woke up early and went for a run. I needed to stay busy. And if I was being honest with myself, I wanted to prove to my father I was taking my job seriously. I wasn't resting on my laurels even though I was on break. I was staying in shape. Of course, he didn't seem to recognize it.
After my run, I found myself a little bored. I wound up in the backyard with a cold lemonade, my sister Meg beside me. The sun was high, casting long shadows across the lawn. The smell of fresh-cut grass mingled with the scent of my mom's many, many flowers in bloom around the yard. For a moment, it felt like old times. I closed my eyes and imagined I was fresh out of high school and still had a choice to decide my future.
"So, what's going on?" Meg asked.
"What do you mean?"
"You and Dad clearly have some drama going on," she said. "Why is he so pissed at you? Did you crash a plane or something?"
I thought about not being honest, but Meg was my sister. I should be able to trust her. And I really didn't think I did anything all that bad. I was being treated like I had murdered someone.
"Do you remember the pilot I used to idolize when I was younger?"
"Which one?" she asked with a laugh.
"Ryker. Dad was his superior. He was at my graduation."
"Oh yeah." she nodded. "The hot one."
"Yes." I smiled softly. "That's the one. Well, Dad did what he does, and Ryker was put in charge of my training in Columbus. He wanted me to learn from the best."
"And you failed?" she asked.
I scoffed. "Not even close. Although Dad thinks I wasn't doing as well as I could."
"Because of the fight at your survival training?"
"That and in general." I shrugged. "He thinks I should be doing better. I've been busting my ass, and I am at the top of my class, but it's not enough for him. He showed up on base and things went bad."
"Bad how?"
"You can't tell anyone what I'm about to tell you," I said.
She grinned. "Oh, something juicy. Tell me."
"Me and Dean Ryker."
"You and Dean Ryker what?" she asked.
I pulled my sunglasses down to look at her. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open.
"You hooked up with Dean Ryker!" Meg squealed, covering her mouth with her hand in shock and delight. "Sarah, you naughty little thing!" She leaned back on the sun lounger with a cheesy grin. "Tell me everything. If I remember right, that guy was really hot."
I smiled a little despite the seriousness of the situation. "Yeah, he is."
"But why would that upset Dad so much?" Meg asked, her brows furrowing. "I mean, I know he's a bit old-fashioned and all, but if he trusted this guy to train you, I would think he would be Dad's pick for a husband for you."
"No, it's more than that." I sighed and took a sip of my lemonade. It tasted sour in my mouth. "Dad thinks I'm distracted. Not to mention he's my superior and a little older than I am. I honestly don't know what his big hangup is with me and Ryker. We never got that far. He was too pissed to say much except I was screwing up and not making the family look good."
She snorted. "Shocker. I wonder what that feels like."
I was a little surprised by her comment. "I know getting together with Dean was wrong," I said, staring into my glass, watching the ice melt. "I know it hurt Dad. But it felt so right at the time, and I'd give anything to make that relationship work. I think I love him, Meg. It's never hurt this bad to say goodbye to someone. We aren't seeing each other anymore because of Dad's reaction. I let go of a man I truly cared about to make Dad happy, and he still wants nothing to do with me."
Meg's response was immediate and sharp. "Oh, give me a break, Sarah," she snapped, her voice cutting through the quiet of the backyard. She turned to face me and pulled off her sunglasses to properly glare at me. "I am so sick of listening to your woe-is-me nonsense."
I blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift. "What? What do you mean?"
She rolled her eyes. "After everything you've accomplished and how Dad has adored you all these years, bragging about you to everyone who would listen? And right in front of me, who he never said a word about at parties or events. After all that, I can't listen to this nonsense anymore. You've been Dad's golden child since the day you picked up a paper airplane and threw it down the stairs. For the first time in your life, you're having to deal with what it feels like for him to be disappointed in you. Well, welcome to the club. Pull up a chair. Get comfy. Because it sucks. And it has sucked for me for the last twenty years."
With that, she abruptly stood up and stormed off, leaving me stunned. I didn't even know what to think. At first, I thought maybe she was joking, but she wasn't kidding around. That was real. She was genuinely pissed at me.
Had I been that oblivious to her feelings all this time? Had Dad really favored me that obviously? I sat alone in the quiet backyard. I could hear nothing but the soft rustling of leaves and my own heartbeat pounding in my ears. Meg's words echoed in my mind, raw and bitter. The thought that I had been held up as the favorite child while she felt neglected was deeply unsettling. It wasn't a contest for me.
The more I pondered her words, the more I realized that yes, Dad had always been proud of my accomplishments, although he was tough on me. He wasn't as vocal about Meg's achievements. She was a brilliant artist, but Dad never seemed to come down on her nearly as hard as me. I knew he and I had a lot in common, but I didn't think he blatantly ignored her.
I sat there for a while longer, the lemonade growing warm in my hand. Finally, I went inside, drawn by the smell of something delicious. Mom was in the kitchen, working on a snack of tomatoes, fresh basil from her garden, bocconcini, salt and pepper, and some mozzarella cheese from the farmer's market. She looked up as I entered with a bright smile on her face.
"Hi, honey. Want to help me finish this?" she asked, gesturing to the cutting board.
I nodded and joined her at the counter. We worked in companionable silence for a few minutes. I couldn't hold it in any longer. "Mom, has Meg really felt like she's less than because of my relationship with Dad?"
Mom's hands stilled. She sighed before she turned to me with a sad smile. "Yes, Sarah. Meg and I are alike. And you and your father are alike. Your father just…" She trailed off, searching for the right words. "He's never been very good at relating to someone who is different from him. Meg has paid the price for that."
"And now that I've fallen from grace, so am I," I mumbled, the realization settling uncomfortably in my chest.
"Don't do that," Mom said firmly.
"Do what?" I asked, looking up at her.
"Pretend that you're the victim," she replied, her tone kind but resolute. "You aren't. You and Dean made a mistake. Your father is lashing out because he's hurt. Deeply hurt. By both of you. He needs time. Then, maybe, with the right words and actions, you'll be able to make it right. But I don't advise that you keep feeding yourself the narrative that your father is the bad guy and you're the innocent bystander. This is your mess, Sarah."
Her words stung, but I knew she was right. I sighed, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on me. "I know, Mom. It's just hard . I didn't realize how much I was hurting Meg too."
Mom nodded. "It's never too late to start making things right. With Meg, with your father, with yourself. It's going to take time and effort, but I believe you can do it."
I felt a small spark of hope at her words. "Thanks, Mom. I'm going to try."
We finished preparing the snack and sat down together to eat. The simple act of sharing food with my mom, talking things through, brought me a measure of comfort.
"Tell me more about Dean," she said. "I know you, and you've never let your head be turned by the many young men that have flirted with you. So, what makes Dean different?"
I hesitated, my fork midway to my mouth. How could I put it into words? The way he made me feel, the way he looked at me. His brain. The fact he was an amazing pilot. It was all so new and exciting. "He's different, Mom," I finally said. "He sees me for who I really am. He doesn't put me on a pedestal or think I'm perfect. He gets me."
Mom nodded. "But does he make you happy?" she asked softly.
"Yes," I answered immediately. "At least he did in the very short few days we had together. You know the fight?"
"Yes." She nodded.
"When I was lying in that med bay in tears, he was the first person I thought to call. I knew he would be there for me. It was silly and ridiculous, and I know I shouldn't have called him, but I did, and he showed up. He did not hesitate. He risked being AWOL to get to me. That's the kind of man I want. Dad thinks I was doing something wrong, and I suppose technically I was, but it didn't feel wrong. I have never had a serious boyfriend. I've never let myself get close to a man. Dean is different. We fit together."
Mom looked at me, her expression unreadable. "Sarah, love can make us do foolish things," she warned. "But it can also make us grow into better versions of ourselves. So yes, perhaps you made a mistake, technically speaking. But was it worth it?"
"No."
She raised an eyebrow. "No?"
"Dad's pissed at me. I can't be with Dean. I have no idea what kind of trouble he's in. I am not going to get to learn from someone who really is a very good pilot."
"All of that can be fixed," she said with a wave of her hand. "If you truly love this man, you'll figure out a way to make it work."
"Like leaving the Air Force?" I asked in horror. "Giving up my chance to fly?"
She smiled. "I don't know what the solution is, but there is always a solution."
"I just don't know if I can find it," I admitted, my heart heavy.
Mom reached across the table and squeezed my hand. "You're stronger than you think, Sarah. You've faced challenges before, and you've always come out on top. Start with your father. I don't think he's as angry with you as you think."