Page 39 of Meet Me in Paris

Okay, this had to be serious. I called for Jillian to take over dinner. A moment later, her light footsteps sounded on the stairs, though I heard her laughing in that coy way of hers that meant she was talking to a guy on the phone. Despite Mom’s illness stretching years past what the doctors predicted, my sister didn’t seem to have a care in the world. I’d worked hard to keep it that way.

I gave her quick instructions about dinner and letting Mom sleep upstairs. Then we found ourselves in Hunter’s black Pontiac, a car considered old even fifteen years ago, driving along a gravel road that cut through farmland for at least two miles before turning toward livestock fields.

But something told me we wouldn’t need to go that far. Hunter looked more nervous than I’d ever seen him.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” I told him.

He fixed his gaze on the gravel road, and I detected a sheen of perspiration on his forehead despite the cooling fall weather.

“I don’t know how to say this,” he began, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. Too tightly.

“Just say it.” Before my heart leaped out of my chest and ran with the McDurmott’s golden retriever across the street.

“When you couldn’t go to Paris like you wanted, I made you a promise. Do you remember?”

Of course I remembered. I couldn’t forget if I wanted to. And believe me, at times, I’d wanted to. “You promised I would get to see Paris someday.”

“Because I would take you,” he said softly. “I’d make sure you saw everything you wanted to see, and it would be everything you imagined.”

My heart picked up again. “Go on.”

“I got offered an internship. In Paris.” He paused, then went on in a rush. “I want you to come with me.”

“Hunter,” I breathed.

“We won’t be living like millionaires, but you won’t want for anything. I just used the last of my savings to make sure you have everything you need—the tours, the plane, the train and bus tickets, everything. They’re paying for room and board, but I’ll give that to you and stay in a hostel nearby.”

His words slipped through my mind like high winds on a mountain, and I struggled to grasp them. “How long?”

“A month, but if they like me, they’ll hire me permanently.”

I sat there, stunned. After all this time trying to avoid him, he’d done the most thoughtful thing imaginable. My heart felt full and sick all at once. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything. It’s done. We leave on Sunday.”

What little breath remained in my lungs exited in awhoosh.“Sunday?” He’d already bought the plane tickets? “That’s in four days!”

“I know. I should have given you more time to prepare, but a couple of things needed to fall into place first. It’s all ready now.” He leaned forward, his voice barely containing his excitement. “Neddie, it’ll be the trip of our lives.”

For a moment, I let myself imagine it. Paris. After all this time, I would finally be able to see all the wonderful sights captured in the photos around my room. I’d get to walk the streets featured in the movies I loved, eat the food I’d only read about, and hear the music I knew by heart. A tiny thrill rose at the very thought of it. But somehow the thrill felt tainted, like a bruised apple.

Sunday. So fast. “You paid for everything up front?”

“Everything,” he said.

It was all too much. I swung the door open and climbed out before I knew what happened. Stalking around to the front of the car, I focused on keeping my lungs in motion, my breathing ragged and fast.

Hunter wanted to take me to Paris.

I heard the driver’s side door open and footsteps on gravel. I didn’t have to look to know Hunter had reached my side.

“But, Jillian,” I said. “I can’t leave her behind with Mom. She doesn’t know what to do, and she’s afraid of needles.”

“Your grandparents will stay at your house while you’re gone. It’s all arranged.”

“They don’t know our financial situation,” I continued. “We have to call the insurance company to approve medications, and they don’t know who to talk to, and when it does come, they won’t know how to give it to her. Hunter, I don’t think I can be gone a day, let alone a month.”

He came around to face me, cutting off my view of the fields. “You’ve been caring for your mom for three years straight. Let someone else take a turn. You deserve a break.”

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