Fortuity (Transcend 3)

“We’ve made some …” How do I be sincere without cracking my chest open and handing him my heart like a fool? “Well, we’ve made some fun memories. Unexpected memories. You must feel that a lot. Traveling the world for eight years has to have filled your mind with lasting memories. I’m sure you’ve made so many friends all over the world.”

He nods again. “I have. Some more friendly than others.”

I blush, curling my hair behind my ears. “Why San Diego? I mean, if you’re only exploring one stop in the U.S., how did you decide on San Diego?”

“That was all Morgan. She wrote down three major cities from each state on pieces of paper, put all one hundred and fifty in a hat, and had me draw one. I drew San Diego. So … it’s as simple as fortuity.”

I grin. “Wow. That’s crazy. I’m officially a fan of fortuity.”

His knee nudges mine. “Me too.”

“Can we go inside?” Morgan’s voice, like always, carries a long way as she starts giving Mr. Hans the third degree. “What did they do? Did it hurt? How do things stay in place when the van is moving? Where did they take the blood from?”

Nate stands. “I’d better rescue the poor old guy.”

“Probably.” I squint, shading my eyes with my hand as the three of them walk in this direction.

“Dad! Gabe’s grandma and grandpa are coming tonight. They’re from Montana. I’ve never been to Montana. We should go sometime.”

Nate tugs on her ponytail. “You poor thing. I never take you anywhere.”

She rolls her eyes.

“Fit as a fiddle?” Nate asks Mr. Hans.

His words trip over his half chuckle, half cough. “Good … to go for another twenty thousand miles. How’s your prostate?”

Nate grins at me just before I turn and follow Gabe and Morgan. “Still the size of a walnut, but thanks for asking.”

I snigger without glancing over my shoulder.

“Where are your grandma and grandpa going to sleep? We have two extra bedrooms. They could sleep at our house? Or you could sleep at our house? Dad … can Gabe sleep at our house?”

I jump in and save us all from the madness. “Thanks, Morgan, but they’re sleeping in my bed and I’m sleeping on the sofa.”

Mr. Hans heads into the house while the rest of us hash out sleeping arrangements on the boardwalk between the two houses, the wind whipping my hair in my face.

“Well, you could stay with us. You could sleep with my dad.” She shoots Nate an ornery look, and I die. This girl is too damn smart. Ten going on thirty.

“Uh … that’s weird.” Gabe laughs, kicking at some dried bird poop. “She’d sleep with you because you’re a girl, not your dad.”

Morgan cups her hands at her mouth and leans toward Gabe. He does the typical boy thing and backs away from her advance.

“They like each other,” she whispers loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Okay … let’s go inside, Gabe, and track Grandma and Grandpa on my phone.” I ruffle his hair.

Gabe ignores me and wrinkles his nose at Morgan. “You’re being weird.”

She rolls her eyes before squealing from Nate tossing her over his shoulder. “You are definitely being weird, Squirt! Let’s go get showers. You stink.”

“Stop!” She giggles. “I don’t stink.”

Just before I go in the house, I glance over at Nate opening his screen door and giving me one last glance.

It’s a good glance, the kind that happens in slow motion, or at least that’s how I’ll always remember it.

Fortuity …

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Nathaniel

“Why won’t you let me go over there?” Morgan pesters me as we eat macaroni and cheese with peas and carrots on the deck in our favorite rockers. I had to bear-hug her to keep her from running outside when they arrived.

Narrowing my eyes, I point my fork at her. “You know why.”

“Ugh …” She throws her head back in true Morgan dramatic fashion. “You said we are just people, all connected. You said we make villages … make family wherever we go.”

Valid point.

I did say that many times.

“That is how it is with the rest of the world, but in the United States, family is defined by blood, law, and loyalty.”

“I’m loyal.”

I shake my head. “We haven’t been here long enough to prove loyalty. Therefore you are the snoopy neighbor girl, who has suddenly found her father to be the most boring person in the world, looking for any excuse to be with anyone else but me.”

“You’re so needy.”

“Ouch!” I fake jabbing my fork into my chest. “That was fatal.”

“Whatevs … I’m going to my room.”

“You’ve been spending a lot of time in your room. What do you do up there?”

“Read. Knit. Plan my wedding.” She flings open the door.

“Can’t get married without my blessing.”

“That’s not true,” her voice echoes before the door clicks shut.

My needy self finishes my gourmet meal—not out of a box. Nope. I make macaroni and cheese from scratch. It’s a skill I picked up when we stayed in a tiny German town that didn’t have it in a box. Yes … parts of the world have not experienced the miracle of macaroni and powdered cheese from a box.