Chapter 1

My mother had to hate me. She's told me otherwise. I've heard sentences telling me this was for the best, and that I would have fun. That wasn't the problem. I knew I would have fun. It was the fact that she was 'shipping' me off.

My mother had to hate me. I wasn't so sure I liked her either.

"Everything packed?"

I shifted my eyes toward the door, seeing my mother leaning against the frame. She had her arms crossed, reddish-brown hair falling into her face. Mom let out a small sigh.

"Still not speaking to me?"

"You asked an obvious question."

"And apparently, still bitter."

"Wouldn't you be if your mother decided you were too much trouble and just sent you away? Thanks Mom. You really care a lot, don't you?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her flinch. I could tell I hurt her. I hadn't meant to, honestly, but the words had slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them.

"This was your choice as well," Mom sent back, calmly. This was something I admired about her; when hurt, she never lashed out. She would bite her tongue until she knew she was calm. Katherine Rynolds was one of the most patient women I ever knew.

"Mac's more fun than Granma. No offense."

A slight smile crossed her face. "None taken. I know you two will have a great time. You've adored that man since you were a baby."

"So did you, apparently. You were married to him."

Mom chuckled. "Yes, we had some great times then. Oh the stories I could tell you... we had some good times afterward too... "

Ah yes. Mom's mysterious marriage to my "uncle" Mac. Eighteen years of knowing the two, I had never figured them out, much less their relationship. All I know to this day was that they met in college, eloped, and divorced a few years later. Wonderful knowledge, no?

The doorbell interrupted whatever I had been about to say. I grinned and dashed past my mother, who let out a small laugh. I reached the entry way to find my Dad had already greeted our guest. Mom and I had hoped we could get to the door first, considering even after eighteen years, Dad and Mac weren't on the best terms. Odd, I thought. Mom said they used to be the best of friends.

My worries were forgotten, however, as I grinned up at the man standing in our entry hall. Tall, lanky, red-haired and freckled, Mac looked exactly how I remembered him. It had been ages since he had been back in the States, having been stationed in the Middle East for a large chunk of years. Mom had always said Mac used the military to get away from the real world.

"Hey little lady," Mac greeted me, his nickname causing me to roll my eyes. In my eighteen years, the only man who has ever been able to refer to me as a 'little lady' and get away with it is Mac. Then again, that's his name for every woman. It's not condescending, as most might take it. It's how he was raised.

"Not so little anymore, Mac. I graduated last week."

"So I heard. I demand pictures, you hear?"

A small snort came from Dad. Mom chuckled.

"We figured you'd want them." She handed the package of pictures to the man. "They're doubles. Yours to keep."

Mac smiled. "Thanks Katie."

Their eyes locked, and for a moment, the two only stared at one another. Until my Dad coughed, that was. Mom broke the contact, turning away to busy herself with something in the kitchen.

"Good seeing you again, Mac. I trust you've been taking care of yourself?"

Mac shrugged. "Same 'ol, same 'ol. I fly. I eat. I sometimes sleep."

"That sounds healthy for a commercial pilot."

"Never crashed, have I?"

"There's always a first time."

I rolled my eyes. "While you two decide to show off your testosterone, I will be grabbing my bags from my room."

I found my mother sitting on my bed, idly fiddling with the stuffed cow that had been sitting on my bed. She was biting her bottom lip — something she only did when she was troubled, or stressed. Something wasn't right here.

"You okay?"

She looked up and smiled, placing the cow on top of my packed clothes. "I'm fine. Just... reminiscing about things. Mac ready to take you away?"

I nodded. "If he and Dad don't kill each other first. You know how they are."

A snort came from my mother. "They've always competed. Far too many times." Mom stood and brushed her hands against her jeans, as if she was wiping away something. She gave me a bright grin, and before I knew what had happened, I was wrapped in a giant hug.

"I'm sorry things had to be the way they are," Mom whispered. "Trust me, I think this will do you some good. You'll get to go places, see things... Mac's a pilot, you know. And you'll come back from summer, ready for college, all bright and pretty and ready to do your schoolwork."

"School work? Right."

She shrugged. "Hey. A mother has to dream, doesn't she?"

I couldn't help but wonder, for a brief instant, if the life my mother had imagined at eighteen was turning out the way she lived now. We had a good family, my mom, dad, and I. A nice home, a nice family... the only real problem was me. I hated it all. Every bit of it. Call me strange, but at times, I wished our family had been as screwed up as those you see on TV. At least then, life wouldn't be so boring all the time.

I grabbed my packed bags (and the stuffed cow. Hey, he was important too!) and trotted into the living room. There, I found Mac and Dad having a rather tense conversation. They were friendly toward one another, but behind the act, you could tell both were equally as nervous around one another. Mac more so than my father.

The freckled man looked up and grinned as I entered the room. "Ready to hit the road?"

I nodded. "We have to fill up my car before we leave... unless of course, you'd like to get stranded on the highway."

Mac shook his head. "No no, that's not exactly in my schedule. We'll fill 'er up before we set out. Checked the oil lately?"