Page 72 of Off the Beaten Path

“Why?” I ask before I can think better of it.

She shrugs, looking at me like the answer should be obvious. “I think you’re going to be around for a long time. I’m sure we’ll see more of each other.” She nods toward the front door and starts walking in that direction. As she lets herself out, she looks over her shoulder and says, “Come around more next time.”

Idon’tknowhowto feel about Mia leaving as we walk into the airport Saturday afternoon. On one hand, I’m sad for June. She’s loved having her here for the last week, and I think it’s been good for her. I only hope Mia doesn’t drop off the face of the planet when she leaves again. I have a good feeling about it, though, after watching her with June this week. Something felt different.

On the other hand, I miss Wren, and despite inviting her to dinner and seeing her briefly at the cabin in the afternoons when she stopped in to help me work, we haven’t spent much time together. Not having her around in the evenings with June and me has felt like something was missing. And although technically it should feel right to have Mia there, it didn’t. Even if she does come back into June’s life more regularly, her place is never going to bewithus again.

That place is reserved for a woman with the wildest red hair I’ve ever seen, who drinks cheap strawberry wine and looks like sunshine when she smiles.

Mia comes to a stop just outside the security gate and turns to face us. I’m surprised to find her eyes shiny as she picks up June, hugging her to her chest. “I’m going to miss you, sweet girl,” she whispers.

A lump forms in my throat as June wraps her little arms around Mia’s neck. “I’ll miss you too, Mommy.”

“I promise to call more.” Her eyes meet mine over June’s head as she says it, and I nod with a dip of my chin.

Clearing the tightness in my throat, I say, “I’m going to hold you to that.”

Yesterday, we talked about Mia’s next visit. She told me she’d set aside some time in early September to come back, and although I’m not holding my breath, I’ll be happy if she follows through with it. She even agreed not to mention it to June yet, in case her plans fell through. I think it hurt her feelings when I asked her to wait, but she seemed to understand. Things feel different, but I’m not taking any chances.

When she first told me about Mom sending her the video of June’s musical and the message that she should have been there, I was angry at my mom for overstepping. But before I could even call her out on it, I started to see the good that was coming from it. Maybe that message was the push Mia needed. I should have stood up to her a long time ago, and it feels good to do so now. I hope she proves me wrong.

Mia sets June down, running a hand over the braids I put in her hair this morning. Her gaze snags on mine again. “You’ll have to teach me how to do those next time, okay?”

My lips curve in a soft smile. “Sure thing, Mia. Let us know when you make it back, all right?”

She nods, her focus fixing on June once more. “I love you, Junie. Don’t ever forget it.”

June squeezes her hand. “I love you too, Mommy.”

And with that, Mia turns around, her shoulders squaring, and heads for security. I don’t expect her to look back, but when she does, her eyes are misty again. She gives us one last wave before funneling into the line.

June reaches for my hand, her little fingers wrapping around mine. “I hope she comes back soon.”

I pick her up, hefting her onto my hip. She smells like Wren’s shampoo and that distinctly little girl smell I’ll miss when it’s gone. “Me too, June Bug. Me too.”

We stand there until we can’t see Mia anymore, and then I squeeze my little girl tighter and say, “Let’s get to Grandma’s house. Wren’s coming for dinner.”

My heart expands in my chest when the sadness melts off June’s face and is immediately replaced with a dazzling smile. “Really?”

“Really.”

“I’ve missed her,” June says as I set her down.

My lips curve in a smile, and I pat her back, echoing my words from before. “Me too, June Bug. Me too.”

The rain is falling in heavy sheets, lightning brightening the sky, and I can’t help but wish for good weather. I want long summer days with my girls, floating in the lake or running through the sprinkler, sitting on the back porch with the monitor after June falls asleep, watching the stars from the bed of my truck. I spent one week without Wren, and I don’t intend to do it again. I’m becoming attached at an alarming rate, and I can’t even bring myself to care.

I park beneath the carport to avoid the rain, and before we’ve even climbed out, Wren’s little yellow Volkswagen turns in behind us. June squeals in the back seat, unbuckling and wrenching the door open. She hops out before Wren is even in park, running to the driver’s side. My chest cracks wide open at the sight of Wren climbing out of the car, that wide, glittering smile on her face as she stoops to envelop June in a hug.

“Hey, June Bug. I missed you. How was your visit with your mom?”

“It was good,” I hear June say over the sound of the rain pattering on the metal carport above us. “But I missed you a lot.”

Suddenly, I have no desire to go into my mom’s house and share my girls with the family. I want to take them back home and spend the night just the three of us, how it should be.

Wren’s eyes connect with mine as she says, “I’m sorry I wasn’t around so much. I promise I won’t do that again.”

I know Wren wanted to give June time with her mom, and that’s well and good, but I want her by my side the next time Mia is around. I want her hand in mine as she listens to me when Mia starts to talk over me. I want her braiding June’s hair at night and sitting on the couch with me when Mia takes over bedtime duty. Wren has fallen so effortlessly into our lives that her absence felt just as foreign as Mia’s presence, and the next time Mia is here, we need to figure out a rhythm with the four of us to make it right.

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