Come Fly With Me (32 page)

"That's
sad,
but
you
will,
after
you
marry
Uncle
Alex.
Momma
says
before
you
know
it
those
babies
start
popping
out."

"She's
not
marrying
Uncle
Alex,
you
dork,"
Zeke,
her
twelve-year
brother
chimed
in.
"Not
after
she
sees
this
crazy
family."

Taylor
glared
at
him.
"We're
not
crazy,
Zeke!
Momma
says
that
when
you
really
love
somebody
you
show
all
your
faces.
She
said
it's
important
to
love
each
other,
even
with
all
our
faults,
which
by
the
way,
you
have
the
most
out
of
everyone."

Allison
was
desperate
to
change
the
topic,
but
couldn't
believe
an
eight-year
old
was
pitying
her,
"You
don't
want
to
play
guitar?"
she
asked
Taylor.

"The
older
kids
won't
let
us
younger
kids
play
until
they're
done
with
it.
I'll
just
read
my
book
until
I
get
a
turn."

"Planning
on
waiting
four
years?"
Zeke
taunted,
his
braces-filled
mouth
glinting
off
the
spotlights
in
the
room,
temporarily
blinding
Allison.

Seth
put
down
the
guitar,
"Hey,
squirt,"
he
said
to
Taylor,
"It's
your
turn."

"No,
it's
not,"
Marissa
stood
up.
"We're
going
in
age
order—that
means
I'm
next."

"Sit
down,
Sis.
I'm
the
oldest,
and
I'm
deciding
that
it's
Taylor's
turn."

Seth
turned
toward
Allison
and
put
out
his
hand.
"I'm
Seth
Garland.
My
advice
to
you
is
to
run
while
you
have
the
chance.
Not
that
Alex
isn't
a
great
guy,
but
his
judgment
isn't
always
the
greatest."

He
turned
to
Derek,
his
fifteen-year
old
cousin.
"Remember
three
years
ago
when
Alex
told
us
to
steal
old
Mrs.
Limons'
newspaper
out
of
her
front
yard?
She
was
so
worked
up
about
the
missing
papers;
she
kept
calling
the
paperboy
every
day
and
accusing
him
of
forgetting
about
her.
When
he
was
fired,
we
jumped
in
and
took
over
the
route.
Derek
and
I
made
enough
money
that
year
to
buy
a
couple
of
shares
in
Apple."
Seth
looked
her
coolly
in
the
eye.
"That's
the
real
Alex—I
just
thought
you
should
know."

"Thank
you
Seth.
I
appreciate
your
candor."
Allison
walked
out
of
the
family
room
a
bit
shaken
up.
She
was
aware
of
Alex's
unorthodox
methods
of
doing
things,
but
teaching
children
to
steal?
It
was
reprehensible.
She
wandered
through
the
rest
of
the
mansion
in
a
daze
and
was
surprised
to
find
herself
at
the
front
door.
Freud
would
have
a
field
day
with
this
one
.
Don't
need
to
think
twice
about
it,
s
he
thought
as
she
walked
through
the
door.
She
stood
on
the
veranda
with
her
cell
phone
in
hand,
futilely
hoping
for
more
bars
to
show
up
on
her
screen.

A
sleek,
silver
Jaguar
pulled
around
front,
and
Brett
called
out
through
the
open
window
to
her,
"Need
a
lift?
I'm
heading
into
town."

Allison
hesitated
only
for
a
second
before
sprinting
down
the
tall,
white
column
of
steps.
"Thanks,"
she
said
simply,
giving
no
explanation
for
her
hasty
retreat.

"We
ran
out
of
beer,"
Brett
said.
"There's
not
enough
beer
in
the
world
to
take
the
bite
out
of
having
everyone
together.
It's
like
Thanksgiving
dinner
to
the
tenth
power."

Allison
cracked
a
smile
and
felt
her
tension
ease
the
farther
away
they
drove.

"Where
are
you
headed?"
he
asked.

"You
can
drop
me
off
in
town;
I'll
cab
it
back
to
the
hotel."

They
sat
in
silence
for
a
couple
of
miles.
Brett
spoke,
"Bella
Sue
and
I
got
off
to
a
rocky
start,
but
we're
doing
okay
now.
Love
heals
all."

"That
sounds
like
a
Byron
poem.
Life
is
more
prosaic."

"Only
if
you
let
it.
It's
a
decision—to
jump
in
with
both
feet,
an
open
heart,
and
eyes
closed
tight."

"Why
eyes
shut?
I
would
think
having
your
eyes
wide
open
would
be
the
best
thing
you
could
do
for
yourself."

"Marriage
isn't
about
you—it's
about
the
other
person,"
Brett
said.
"Well,
here
we
are."
He
rolled
to
a
stop
in
front
of
the
local
convenience
store.
"I'd
be
happy
to
continue
on
and
drop
you
off
at
your
hotel."