She pressed her forehead against the cool, thick glass of the cabin window and sought even the tiniest break in the rolling white plain of clouds beneath the airplane, but to no avail. She would not be able to catch a glimpse of Texas until they began their descent, and really, what was there to see? A year ago around this time she had made the same flight, and she remembered an endless flat expanse of dusty brown and dull green squares of land, neatly apportioned by ranchers, or the government, or maybe God himself when he made Texas, carefully carving it up acre by acre. A year ago the sight had depressed her; now, she wasn't sure how it would make her feel.

So she gave up and instead closed her eyes, though she was too wound up to fall back asleep. For the first time in a month in a half she had a moment to breathe, a moment to take stock and reflect. No one and nothing needed her attention, her concern, her guilt, or her worry. She had taken care of what needed taking care of back home in New Jersey, and now she was returning to what she hoped was a blank slate. Six weeks of radio silence from anyone she knew from the Great State of Texas, except for an email from Melvin with her new lease information, and some paperwork from her school about the upcoming year. Classes didn't start for another two weeks. No one except her landlord and her employer was expecting her back. She inhaled deeply, feeling as light and free as a bird sailing above the clouds.

Suddenly, a strong feeling of nausea gripped her stomach, and she pulled the barf bag from the seat pocket in front of her just in time to hurl her meager airplane breakfast into it. She could feel rather than see the lady sitting next to her trying not to watch, to give her space, but wishing her far far away, and she felt her face burn in embarrassment, a nice companion to the bile burning in her throat. When she finished she squeezed past her seat mate to stumble toward the bathroom at the back of the plane, which thankfully was empty, and rinsed her mouth out with water and then splashed some on her face. 

She looked pale in the stark fluorescent light, the bags under her eyes adding a good decade to her face. Oh God, she thought, did she have some kind of stomach virus? Her second day of throwing up. At least her sister wasn't hovering around outside the guest bathroom like she had been at her house the day before. The only people outside her bathroom now was a bunch of strangers who she would never have to see again, and the only person she would have to greet after landing was the person behind the rental car counter. Still, she made a halfhearted effort to smooth down her hair and she rinsed out her mouth one last time. She eyed her sweater and spotted a few flecks of digested breakfast on the front; maybe she'd switch it out when she got to the airport.

By the time she made it back to her seat and was buckling herself back in the pilot was announcing their imminent arrival, the thought of which suddenly made her feel extremely tired. Whatever momentary sense of freedom she had felt was gone again, and she sighed as the San Antonio suburbs came into view and the weight of her new life in Texas settled down on her shoulders once again.

***

She had half expected to see one of the Walker men, or Miss Terri, or Madysen even, waiting for her in the living room when, several hours later, she lugged her suitcase through the front door. But her house was empty and silent, and the belongings she and Miss Terri had scattered across her bedroom and bathroom during their panicked last minute packing remained where they had fallen, untouched. Was she disappointed that no one had popped up to welcome her, or, which was more likely, to make a busybody of themselves by straightening up and cleaning? She didn't think so; after all, when Miss Terri had successfully deposited her at Departures with enough time to catch her flight back home, she had felt an enormous feeling of relief at being able to leave behind all of them and the confusion they caused her. She had bitten off far more than she could chew in this tiny East Texas town, and at the time, unsure of what awaited her back in New Jersey, she wasn't even certain she would return.

And yet here she was. Ready to take on another school year. Hoping that any mistakes she had made would be forgiven and forgotten. After all, for six weeks she had heard nothing from either Cam or his father, not even a text to see how she was doing, how her mother was doing, nothing. Miss Terri had checked in with her to see if she had gotten into Newark okay, and then it was radio silence from her as well. No one even bothered to find out if she was coming back. She wasn't completely emotionally shut down so of course she had felt a little bit of resentment that they had apparently forgotten about her so quickly, or so easily dismissed her from their lives, but mostly she had simply been relieved.

The funny thing was, she had definitely gotten the sense that small town Texans tended not to forget anything.

She made a mental shrug and, after depositing her suitcase on top of her unmade bed, wandered through the small, stuffy house to assess how it had fared during her absence. She forgot how neat and tidy Cam's father had left the kitchen and living room, and she briefly enjoyed the novel experience of returning from a trip to a place that wasn't a slovenly mess. The air conditioning was still running on low, so no strange growths greeted her in the bathroom or the kitchen; it was amazing how quickly new life took hold in the damp heat when left to its own devices. Once, during one of the many times her air conditioner had conked out, she had returned from a long weekend in San Antonio to a bean plant sprouting from the drain of her kitchen sink.

A wave of tiredness pulled her down and toward the sofa, but before she gave into it she stopped to draw open the curtains so that the burning afternoon sunlight could wash away the stale shadows that had gathered in the house's nooks and crannies. That's when she finally noticed what she had failed to on the way from the car to her front door: her lawn was mown. She caught her breath, then rushed to the kitchen windows at the back of house and peered through them. Yes, all of it, the back yard too. Had it been Melvin? Had he finally been shamed by the tall, snake infested savannah that had overtaken the postage stamp-size of land that surrounded his rental? Was this one more stalemate with her repellant landlord that she had won, along with getting the central air fixed?

"Denial ain't just a river in Egypt."

Her sister's voice rang clearly in her head. How many times had she said that to her over the years? And how many times had she been right?

Because of course Melvin hadn't been the one to mow her lawn, so meticulously that not a single stray blade of grass marred the perfect lines along the fencing, and then raked up and bagged the cut grass and hauled it away for good measure. She gasped again, and felt a large dollop of anxiety drop like a thud into her stomach: the lawn was also a thick, emerald green, which meant someone, someone who was definitely not her lazy, negligent landlord, had watered it regularly through the long, dry weeks of June and July.

If it wasn't Melvin, then who was it? Maybe it had been Miss Terri, forever grateful for the much needed shove towards graduation Madysen had received from her senior year English teacher?

She sighed, imagining the snort of derision her sister would make. Miss Terri, the wisecracking bartender in skin tight jeans and high heeled boots pushing a lawn mower in 95 degree heat through the weedy jungle of her lawn. No, it definitely wasn't Miss Terri. She had more than discharged any debt she might have owed her by hauling her from bed and getting her packed and to the airport in time for her flight. It wasn't like she had gotten Madysen into Harvard after all. Or community college for that matter.

All of which left her with one last question: Which one of them had done this for her, the father or the son? 

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