3
LEONA
I glanced across the street at the townhouse Reid had pointed to earlier, and my stomach fluttered like a school of kites had taken up residence in it. His laugh had been rich, like warm honey. And he’d invited me to the Welcome Wagon. Well, his roommate had, but I was counting his follow-up question as an invite.
Maybe settling in here wouldn’t be too hard after all.
I hopped in my car just as my phone rang.
“Hey, Dad.” The word felt like it stuck to the roof of my mouth. There was still weirdness calling him that, like re-learning how to ride a bike. Dad, not Frank, as I’d gotten used to calling him in the sporadic phone and video calls up until six months ago. “I’m on my way. Already moved in all my boxes, you don’t have to come all the way here.” I shoved my phone into the holder on my dashboard and drove in the direction of his house, but not before chancing another peek at the brick townhouse across the street.
“Move-in day is a big deal on campus. I’m sorry my meeting ran late. I wanted to help you.” His words were laced with regret.
A twinge of guilt pinched me. That was the last thing I needed, but I knew how much it meant to him. “I’m twenty-one, Dad. I can handle it.” Showing up as the new girl on campus who just happened to be President Oakes’s daughter would’ve made me an instant pariah. Throwing in the dad wrinkle would either drive people away or bring the suck-ups out of the woodwork. I’d had enough of people only wanting to know me for what they could get from me.
“I know you can, but I still wanted to be there.” There was an edge of sadness in his voice. We’d already missed so many experiences.
The simple words turned the guilt pinch into a full-on knife slipped between my ribs. “There will be plenty more chances. Lugging a bunch of boxes into my new apartment wasn’t exactly exciting.”
“It would be for me. I’m so happy you’re so close. I don’t want to miss a thing.” His thick swallow echoed in my ear.
Regret panged in my chest. “You don’t have to make my lunches for me and walk me to class every morning.” The last thing I wanted to do was make him feel like he had to drop everything and come running if I needed anything. I’d disrupted his life enough and made my awful choices in the past—it felt wrong to show up making demands now.
“You did love it when I cut the crusts off your turkey and cheese sandwiches,” he teased.
“When I was seven.” I made it to the edge of campus and turned down a street I’d driven many times before. Slowly it was feeling like returning to a place I knew, not one where I had to keep checking the directions to make sure I was going the right way.
“You don’t like turkey and cheese anymore?” A strand of sadness sliced through his words like he’d just found out I no longer believed in Santa.
“Who doesn’t love turkey and cheese?” Driving down the long, winding, tree-lined driveway, I saw the stone exterior with green and white windows peeking from between the tree trunks. It was different from the house my mom, Andy and I lived in outside of Melbourne. The sprawling five-bedroom bungalow with a wraparound porch meant walking straight out into the edges of the vineyard and felt more laid back, while this house screamed stately. At least it no longer felt like I was walking into a stranger’s house, but more like a close friend’s.
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay at the house? Your room here is a lot bigger and nicer than the on-campus apartments.” His voice wasn’t as somber now.
“I’m sure. It’s much nicer, but I couldn’t have friends over.” I drove past the carriage houses that had been renovated into offices and drove around the circular driveway to the front steps.
“Why not?”
Switching the call back to my phone, I hopped out of the car. “Come on, Dad. Being introduced as the daughter of the president of the university doesn’t feel like the best way to make new friends.”
The front door opened before I could even tell him I’d arrived. Even after spending the summer here and seeing him every day, it was still hard to reconcile the dad I’d left behind seven years ago with this grayer version.
“Maybe you’re right, but your room is ready for you, and over the breaks, you can stay here too. I know they shut down the dorms and apartments for cleaning. Unless you were planning on going back to your mother’s.” His body stiffened almost imperceptibly. He wore the same silver oval-rimmed glasses with a shorter, generic businessman’s haircut. While some people’s default clothes were a t-shirt and jeans, his was a button-down shirt and tie. His jacket probably wasn’t too far away, draped over a chair or hooked on the back of his door. It was what happened when meetings could be called at a moment’s notice.
I ended the call and walked around the car.
He jogged down the stairs and hesitated.
I opened my arms, and his spread wide, engulfing me. Our getting to know you phase over the past couple of months had been stifled by my intensive studying for online classes to meet the transfer requirements and his non-stop work schedule. There were still awkward moments where neither of us was sure how to act.
“I’ll be here for Christmas, Dad.”
He beamed, so happy it made my heart ache. “Great, the house is done up so beautifully for Christmas. And we’ll have a huge tree. It’ll be perfect.”
Although he squeezed me extra tight, I didn’t complain. A summer of dinners together most nights hadn’t quite made up for the long time we’d gone without hugs like these. The guilt of all those years gnawed at the back of my mind.
“I’m sure it will be. I can’t wait.” Anxiety knotted my stomach thinking of flying back to Australia and setting foot in the house I’d previously called home. I released my grip on him, and he let go too.
What we needed was a chance to reclaim some of our missed years. The ones I’d chosen not to celebrate with him.
He walked me inside the house he’d lived in since being appointed as the St. Francis University president nearly six years ago, just five months after my mom and I left for Australia. To think of him bumping around this huge house all by himself, when we’d been meant to move in with him as a big happy family hurt my heart.
“Are you hungry? I was going to have a quick lunch before my afternoon meetings.”
The vaulted ceilings with exposed, rich wood beams and oversized iron light fixtures suspended from the ceiling made the whole house feel part ski chalet and part medieval castle.
“More meetings?”
The circular rooms on either end of the house mimicking towers also helped with the fortress impression. I’d often tried to imagine over the past few months what it would have been like if I’d spent the past six years in this house. If this had been where I brought my friends back to hang out after school, or what the campus would feel like if I’d had years to explore it before applying as a student.
“If I didn’t have all these meetings, how would I ever know what time it was?” He chuckled at his joke and rubbed his hands together. “I could whip you up a sandwich. There’s still a bit of ham and cheese quiche in here or maybe some roast beef?”