“Credit for what, Josephine? What you did was reckless. You could have gotten yourself killed.” She has tears in her eyes when she finishes that sentence. “I would die if something happened to you, and that is not hyperbole. You’re my daughter and one of my best friends. I cannot, will not, live this life without you in it, so excuse me if I felt like I needed to teach you a lesson.”
I swallow the lump in my throat and look away, wiping my tears, but they don’t stop. At all. Before I know it, I’m full-on bawling in my mom’s car and I really don’t understand why. Maybe it’s the release I needed after holding in all of my emotions. Maybe it’s her words that really got me. I don’t know, but I can’t stop crying. My mom pulls over on the side of the highway, the car shaking slightly as cars zip by us. She throws her arms around me and pulls me to her, and I cry onto her slender shoulder.
“Why don’t we go home and I make you a cup of tea?” Mom says against my hair. “Skip class for the day.”
I pull away, wide-eyed. “The Dean of Education is giving me permission to skip class?”
“Don’t be a brat.” She laughs, wiping my tears. “I’m going to call Larsa and let her know I’m going to be in late today and you, young lady, are going to stay at home until we leave for Asheville.”
The look she gives me leaves little room to argue, and to be honest, I don’t want to. I’m not big on asking for help, but I’d be an idiot to turn down my mother’s warmth when I need it most. When we get to her house, she makes good on her promise and makes us tea as she speaks to the people picking up my car from Dad’s practice. She sets a mug in front of me and sits down across from me with a sigh.
“So, what’s going on with you?”
“Not much.” I smile, picking up the mug shakily and taking a sip before setting it down and looking up at her. “I need to tell you something.”
“I’m listening.” She sets her mug down as well.
“I didn’t crash Dad’s car.”
“What are you talking about, Josephine?” She searches my eyes.
“Lawrence crashed the car that night.” I bite my lip.
“But you were drunk. They did a breathalyzer.”
“I was drunk, but I wasn’t driving drunk.”
“Was Lawrence drunk?”
“No. It’s why he was driving.” I look down at my mug.
“Why wouldn’t you tell us this? Why would you take the fall for it?” She’s shaking her head as if trying to understand something that I can barely wrap my head around some days.
“Lawrence has a bright future—”
“So do you,” Mom says, interrupting me. “Thank God your father and I could afford a good lawyer and were able to sweep this under the rug, but do you think anyone in your situation would be afforded that luxury? And what if we hadn’t been able to actually pull it off? You’d have that on your permanent record for life. That’s a big deal, Jo. Your future could have easily been jeopardized because of that boy.”
“I made the choice.” I swallow. “Lawrence didn’t make me take the fall for him. I made that choice myself, so don’t blame him.”
“I am absolutely not blaming him for your actions. I’m just . . . ” She sighs heavily. “I wish you’d told me.”
“You were so hell-bent on the lawyer and the car that I just didn’t even think it would make a difference. I mean, I wasn’t even sure you’d believe me.” I bite my lip hard to keep from crying. It doesn’t work.
“I always, always believe you, Jo.” Mom reaches over and puts her hand over mine. “You are my priority. Not some quarterback or whoever else comes along. You’re my daughter. I will always believe you.”
“Thanks.” I swallow, using my free hand to wipe my tears. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
“I’m glad you did now.”
“I don’t want you to do anything. To Lawrence, I mean. I just want to put this behind me once and for all.”
“I don’t agree with that, but I respect it. As far as I’m concerned, it’s behind us.” She squeezes my hand. “Now we need to solve the car situation.”
She winks as she lets go of my hand. We spend the rest of the day talking about funny stories she has of students who have come to see her and later, share a bottle of wine with Dad and Misty. It’s the happiest I’ve felt in a while.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Jo
“This is all you’re taking?” Misty nudges the duffel bag on the floor of my teenage room with the tip of her designer sneaker.
“We’re only going to be there until Sunday.” I frown. “Why? What did you pack?”