Flying Backwards

Published by
Apple House Publishing
ISBN: 978-0-9966954-0-4
Copyright © Jennifer W Smith, 2015
Visit Jennifer W Smith’s official website at
Jenniferwsmith.com
for the latest news, book details, and other information
Editing by Sue Ducharme of Textworks
Cover Design by
www.coveryourdreams.net
e-book formatting by
Guido Henkel
This is a work of fiction. However, many locations throughout this book are real. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to real persons, either living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

For my family,
who always believe in me

Chapter One

Eleanor shielded her eyes from the sun as she watched the man she loved stroll toward her with two ice-filled glasses of lemonade.
Yum,
she thought‌—‌not about the sweating glasses of golden liquid but the smoldering look she was getting. He paused in front of her, his eyes flashing over her with approval, before he bent to give her a lingering kiss. He backed away slowly, and she sighed with happiness.

After passing the cold glass to Eleanor, he sat across from her and stretched out his legs before he drew in a long, thirsty swallow. Eleanor took a small sip, savoring the pungent flavor of lemon. The ice chips rolled over her tongue as she peeked at him under her lashes.
Life is good,
she thought. She finally felt the feeling she had been missing all her life‌—‌
contentment
.

Three Years Earlier

It was a typical Saturday morning at the Clark family’s house. Eleanor turned down the long driveway in her Ford Escape and pulled up alongside her sister’s Ford Explorer. The crunch of wheels on the gravel announced her arrival. Eleanor grew up in this redbrick house in rural Pennsylvania, part of a “made in America” kind of family.

Polly, the family’s Golden Retriever, sniffed the air from her grassy spot on the front lawn. Eleanor scooped an apron off the passenger seat and slung her bag over her shoulder as she got out of the car. “Hey, girrrlll!” Eleanor cooed. Polly thumped her tail on the ground. The dog was lying under a dwarf maple tree in the only shady spot on the front lawn. The front shrubs were neatly trimmed and the front steps swept clean. The dark green door displayed an inviting decorative wreath containing a pineapple, the official symbol of welcome.

Eleanor generously scratched Polly on the head until her mother’s raised voice drew her attention. She gave Polly a look and asked, “What now?” Polly panted heavily in reply, her tongue lolling.

Eleanor stepped around to the side of the house, scanning the yard for her dad, figuring he was probably out there somewhere. On weekends, if Russell Clark wasn’t inside watching sports she would usually find him maintaining the yard or working on his 1967 Mustang in the barn. She heard distant clanking coming from the barn before her mother’s elevated voice drew her attention back to the kitchen.

The wooden outer door stood open, allowing the cool morning breezes of summer to drift in through the screen door. The standing fan was already humming and moving the air around. Eleanor was sure it was going to be a hot late-August day.
With the ovens going, we girls will be sweating for sure
, she thought.

“Hello,” Eleanor announced as she opened the screen door, remembering to ease it closed behind her to avoid the loud bang her mother hated. The conversation between Eleanor’s mother, Heidi, and Eleanor’s older sister, Victoria, came to a halt when they saw her. Eleanor’s mother stood with her hands on her hips, an aggravated look on her face.

Victoria, who stood eight inches taller than her mother, shook her head in disgust and blurted, “She’s so irresponsible.” Eleanor wondered who her sister was speaking of and paused in case some explanation was forthcoming. But none was offered.

Their mother gave Victoria a look of defeat before she waved away her comment. Heidi brushed off the tension and turned to her younger daughter with a smile‌—‌somewhat forced, Eleanor noticed. “Hello, Eleanor.” She walked to the cupboard, opened the door, and took out a mug. “Want some coffee?” She selected the World’s Best Mom mug and began pouring from a half-full pot before Eleanor could respond.

Victoria mustered a half-smile. “Morning, Eleanor. Did you remember your apron?” Eleanor was used to Victoria’s authoritative “mothering.”

“Coffee sounds great, Mom. Thanks.” She sent her mom a sideways glance before she held up her apron to answer Victoria’s question. She raised her eyebrows at her sister. “So–what’s up?”

“It’s Lizzy,” their mother replied as she poured cream into Eleanor’s coffee.

Lizzy again
, thought Eleanor. Her younger sister Elizabeth, the baby of the three Clark girls, was affectionately called Lizzy by everyone. Victoria and Eleanor’s names were never shortened. Lizzy was twenty-three, living at home and attending the community college‌—‌still. Lizzy had experienced several starts and stops with school. She would go for a while and flunk or drop classes, give up, get a job, lose the job, and go back to school. Lizzy had started once more just a couple of weeks ago.

Heidi Clark shook her head in disappointment. “Lizzy has already blown off one of her classes. She’s only been going a couple of weeks!” she said, clearly exasperated. “She claims she stayed up late to finish a paper‌—‌
at the last minute
‌—‌and then she skipped the class altogether. What is she thinking?”

Eleanor could empathize. She had followed Victoria’s lead, going to a local college right after high school. After college, she worked for her mother’s catering business until she landed a secretarial job at a start-up software company. Both Eleanor and Victoria had worked part time while they attended school. Both girls even paid rent after college before they moved out.

Not Lizzy. Their parents seemed to do everything differently when it came to Lizzy. Maybe it was the six-year difference in age between their last two children; Victoria and Eleanor had been two years apart. Lizzy was a surprise baby who took being babied to a whole new level.

Eleanor not only worked a full-time job now, but she was here many weekends helping her mother and Victoria cook, deliver, or do whatever was needed for the family catering business. Eleanor had longed to take a long run instead of coming here, but she’d never leave them stranded when they needed help‌—‌even if that seemed to happen constantly. Lizzy was never around to help. They were all sick of it.

Lizzy strutted into the kitchen without a care in the world, her water bottle in hand.

Speak of the devil
, thought Eleanor.

“Morning,” she announced to the room. She wore sweats rolled up to the knee with a tank top. Her long, dark hair was pulled up in a misshapen bun on top of her head. She filled her water bottle at the refrigerator. “Prepping for that bridal or baby shower thing tomorrow?” she asked nonchalantly.

“Baby shower. It’s a brunch. Mrs. Johnson’s daughter is expecting. And where are you off to?” Victoria’s sarcastic tone was lost on Lizzy.

“Oh yeah.” Lizzy seemed to be remembering she’d gone to high school with Claire Johnson. “Tyler has a soccer game. I’m going for a run, and then I’m heading over to the field.” Tyler Peterman had been Lizzy’s good friend since middle school. Tyler was secretly in love with Lizzy. Of course, everyone, even Lizzy, knew the “secret.” Eleanor thought Lizzy used it to her advantage a little too often. In Lizzy’s defense, she had remained a loyal friend to Tyler all these years.

“Do you have any schoolwork?” Heidi couldn’t help but ask her wayward duckling.

“Mom!” Lizzy threw up her hands. “I have all weekend.”

Heidi backed down. “How about some breakfast then?” She pointed to some freshly sliced banana bread on a cutting board. Lizzy pulled ear buds out of her pocket, planted one in each ear, and then grabbed two slices of bread off the counter before leaving through the back door, letting the screen door slam behind her.

“Bye, Dad!” Eleanor heard Lizzy yell, and she glanced out the window to see her dad waving from the backyard. He was bent over the lawnmower holding a can of gasoline. Eleanor was envious of her sister who was jogging away. With a wistful sigh she turned back to the task at hand.

“You should have made her stay and help. Or at least do something productive,” Victoria chided her mother.

That got Eleanor’s attention. She looked back to catch her mother’s expression after being scolded by her outspoken daughter.

“It’s not worth the fight,” Heidi sighed. “Here’s your coffee, Eleanor. Let’s get to work, girls.”

Eleanor noticed the defeat in her mother’s voice for the first time. Heidi, active mother of three, who once ran the PTA and church bake sales while juggling her business, seemed…‌tired. Eleanor pressed her lips together, and she frowned at seeing her mother’s distress. It tugged at her heart. She’d always seemed like Supermom to Eleanor, but today was clearly taking its toll.

Heidi pulled out the KitchenAid mixer and focused on the task at hand: making dough for the mini-scones for tomorrow’s baby shower.

Victoria unloaded ingredients from a large canvas bag with the name
Reynolds
embroidered on it. Victoria became a partner in their mother’s catering business, appropriately named Clark’s Catering, when she’d finished culinary school. She did the job effortlessly.

“So how’s work?” Victoria asked her sister while she twisted and secured her coffee-colored hair with a claw hairclip.

“Fine.” Eleanor tried to think of something exciting to add, but managing an office was rather dull. In fact, there was talk of closing the office and relocating to Boston, but Eleanor didn’t have the courage to bring that up. She didn’t need to hear, “What are you going to do? Get a new job? Move to Boston?” She busied herself with tying her apron, but Victoria went on.