Free In the Stars by Whitney Boyd Page A

see him again? I didn’t realize you two had stayed in touch.” Her words are innocent but her tone is accusatory. Honestly, mother’s intuition can be a scary thing sometimes.
    I grind my teeth and then blurt it all out. “You’re going to berate me again, but ever since we broke up, my life has been cursed. Everything was so much more promising when we were together, and now if only I can find him again, I know my life will get back on track. It’s destiny.”
    I squeeze my eyes closed and wait for her to explode. There is a long, drawn out pause and then the questions come. As a lawyer, I should be prepared for this, however I am usually the one verbally attacking, not being attacked. I brace myself for the onslaught.
    “You haven’t spoken to him in years?”
    “No.”
    “How do you know where he is?”
    “His mom told me.”
    “And he’s single and wanting you back in his life?”
    “Sort of.”
    “Sort of single or sort of wanting you back?”
    “Single.”
    “How can you be ‘sort of’ single?”
    “He’s engaged. But I am going to stop the wedding, because we are soul mates. We belong together and he and his fiancée do not.” I blink back tears. Do not cry. Do not cry. No argument with my mother was ever won by giving in to my emotional side.
    “Charley, beliefs are fine, as long as people who believe in God or a Supreme Power or whatever still use their brains. But when you start acting impulsively based solely on what you think is fate or your destiny, and you forget to think, then you are in trouble. This is a bad idea.”
    “Thanks for supporting me, Mom.” Time for this conversation to end.
    “I’m not supporting, not even sarcastically. Don’t do it.”
    “I appreciate your point of view, but I gotta go.”
    “Seriously, listen to your mother! Why are you ignoring me? This is good advice.”
    “Love you, Momma. Talk to you when I get back.” I hang up quickly and resume spraying Windex on the front windows with a vengeance. Okay, so she didn’t quite get it. But if my Grammy was on one end of the spectrum when it comes to fate, my mother is the exact opposite. She is too much like Josh . . . but at least Josh is supporting me in this.
    All my life, deep down, I’ve known there had to be more out there, some power outside of our own control. Call it superstition, call it God, call it Providence or karma or whatever. I know it’s real, even though my mom laughs it to scorn. And when this thing with Drew pans out and I show her all her little green eyed, black haired grandbabies, she’ll take it back.
    She’ll see.

Deep doubts, deep wisdom;
small doubts, little wisdom.
        —Chinese Proverb

Chapter Eleven
    T he rest of the week passes quickly. I receive three hundred dollars for completing my cleaning job (even though it took me thirteen hours) which is exactly enough to pay for my rent for the next month. Josh works fifteen hour days in preparation for our trip and I hardly get the chance to talk to him at all. Heather is the exact opposite and spends her time giving me manicures, trimming the split ends off my hair and forcing me into every single article of clothing we own between the two of us to figure out what I should pack.
    Before I know it, it’s Monday and Josh and I are scanning the signs above our heads and attempting to locate baggage claim in the Victoria International Airport. I poke myself again to make sure I’m not dreaming then follow Josh down a flight of stairs to a room full of circular conveyor belts.
    The flight itself was very generic—nice flight attendants, a horrible snack of salted pretzels (Really, does anybody actually enjoy pretzels? Anyone?) but I can’t stop thinking about that one little thing. It happened while Josh and I were waiting for our flight. We were still in the Calgary airport, had found our terminal and made it through security with no problems. We were seated, waiting to board. I was edgy, a little tired of