Chapter 2
They went to the coffee shop on the first floor of the library.
Amanda ordered a black coffee, and Claire asked for water.
"I'll be direct." Amanda stirred the coffee without drinking it. "I know about you and James. He's serious about you, and I won't pretend otherwise."
Claire held her cup and said nothing.
"But Claire, you've heard of the Grant family. You know what kind of house this is. James' future isn't only his own."
"Mrs. Grant, James and I—"
"There is no future here." Amanda cut her off, took a bank card out of her bag, and pushed it across the table. "Consider it a gesture. You have no parents, and I know that isn't easy. This should take some weight off."
Claire didn't touch the card.
"Does James know you came?"
"He doesn't need to know."
Claire stayed silent for a long time.
In the end, she said one thing. "I won't leave him on my own. But if he says it's over himself, I won't hold on."
Amanda smiled, "That's enough."
Claire took the card, only so the woman would stop worrying.
From that day on, she waited for James to say it himself.
She waited a day, three days, a month, three months.
She thought he would push back. She thought he would clear every obstacle out of the way without making a sound, the way he had when he was chasing her.
But he didn't. Maybe he did fight, and she never saw it. In the end, he chose the family.
She didn't blame him. She had waited for this day so long that when those three words finally came, she wasn't even surprised.
She never spent a dollar off that card.
A week later, Andrew turned up again.
He went straight to her campus and waited outside the library.
When she came out, he was standing under a sycamore in a dark blue overcoat, and he looked less rigid than he had in the suit.
She stopped and said, "Mr. Sutton."
He paused. "Can we talk for a minute?"
She checked her watch and nodded.
They sat down on a bench. It was November, and the bench was cold.
Andrew took a folder out of his bag and didn't open it.
"These were your mother's. Some jewelry she left, a few photographs, and a journal. I sorted through them and thought I'd wait until you were ready."
Claire looked at the folder.
He added, "There's something I want to talk to you about. About what happens next for you."
She didn't answer.
"You're a senior now. Any thoughts on what you'll do after graduation?"
"I want to go abroad and keep studying."
Andrew nodded. "Good. I'll support that. Do you have schools in mind? Don't worry about the money."
Claire said, "Pinecrest. Or Ravenport. I haven't decided.
She paused. "Just give me some time. Once I've sorted things out, I'll come to you."
Andrew looked at her.
She sat there with her back straight, and his eyes went red.
He turned his face away.
That night, in her dorm room.
Claire sat at her desk and opened her laptop.
There were links to a few schools abroad saved in her browser, ones she had bookmarked without thinking about it, and she pulled them up and went through them one at a time.
Then she opened her email and started building an application list.
One at home, two in Halbrook, three in Foxbury.
She listed six. That was enough.
She wanted to go somewhere she didn't speak the language and start over.
Going abroad wasn't running away.
She needed a new place, a place where nobody knew her name. Somewhere, she could learn to say "Dad" again, learn to be loved again, and learn to cry again.
She couldn't cry anymore.
She had to go somewhere and get that back.
It was December. Claire arrived at the international departures.
The sky was overcast, and it wasn't raining, but the air was wet and cold, and it hurt when it went into her lungs.
Claire came in, pulling one suitcase with the canvas bag slung across her shoulder, and the same things were inside. The paternity report, the death certificates, and the journal she still hadn't opened.
She arrived two hours early.
Her phone buzzed with a message from Andrew.
Andrew: [We're here, at Gate C.]
She sent back a yes and started walking toward Gate C.
From a distance, she could see three people.
Andrew was in a black overcoat, and he had aged again since the last time.
He stood there with the new white in his hair, impossible to hide under the terminal lights.
Andrew's stepwife, Susan Sutton, stood next to him in a beige cashmere coat with a paper bag in her hand. When she saw Claire coming, her eyes brightened, and then she caught herself and only held the bag out.
"I packed you some food. In case you get hungry on the plane."
Claire took it. "Thank you."
"Hey, Claire!"
It was William Sutton, her younger brother.
She had met him twice. He was tall, with Andrew's eyes and Susan's jawline.
"Hi," she said.
"That's it? Hi?" He came over and took the handle of her suitcase. "I'll push it. Where's your boarding pass? I'll hold it."
"William," Andrew said quietly.
William pulled his head in a little, but his hand stayed on the suitcase.
Claire didn't say anything. She got the boarding pass out of her pocket and handed it to him.
He took it as it might tear.
The four of them stood in line at the check-in counter, and nobody spoke.
Susan opened her mouth to say something and ended up only pushing the paper bag a little further into Claire's hands.
Andrew stood slightly behind her with his eyes on the back of her head. She could feel it.
She didn't want to turn around.
The airport speakers were announcing flight information.
"I should go in," she said.
William handed the suitcase back, and his hand hesitated before it let go.
Andrew stepped forward.
He stood in front of her, and his lips moved, and all he said was, "Text me when you land."
Claire nodded.
She rolled her suitcase toward the security checkpoint. After a few steps, she stopped and looked back.
"Mr. Sutton."
"Yes?"
"I'll be back."
She walked away.
Security swallowed her up.
Andrew stayed where he was with his eyes red. He turned away, lifted a hand, and pressed at the corner of one of them.
Susan took his arm and didn't say anything.
William stood behind them, looking at the security gate, and his nose started stinging.
"Dad," he said. "She's coming back, right?"
Andrew didn't answer.
When the plane lifted off, Claire leaned against the window.
The cloud layer opened out under her, white in every direction.
She put the phone in airplane mode. Before the screen went dark, she noticed there was nothing on her lock screen. She had never set wallpaper, so it was solid black.
She turned off her phone.
She closed her eyes.
She had no idea what Ravenport was like, what a bowl of pasta cost there, or whether she would ever learn to say "Dad."
All she knew was that she was in the air.
Everything she had left was underneath her.
She didn't cry.
But her fingers were shaking.