Letting Go (11 page)

“And if you pour the cream into molds
, immerse the molds in hot water for a few seconds to get the panna cottas out.”

“How do you know all this?”

“Live and learn, right?”

That reminded her about her earlier inconsiderate comment. And from
Harper’s eyes, she could tell he remembered it too.

“Thank you,” she said. “And sorry about all the stupid things I said.”

“They weren’t stupid, they were true. Most of them. Except the one about not being distracted by my good looks.”

“Stop joking,” she said
, spooning up more of the panna cotta and sauce. “Interestingly, though, you were quite strict about how to make the panna cotta, even if you did let me experiment with the sauce.” She looked at him with a challenge in her eyes.

“With
certain things, control is vital,” he said slowly. “The magic, Isabelle,” he leaned closer so she could see the caramel specks in his dark brown eyes, “is in learning the balance between when to want to control things and when to go with the flow.”

For a long while, he didn’t move away. She couldn’t interpret his expression and it filled her with unease. She didn’t like surprises,
especially not when they came wrapped in the shape of Harper.

“Do you want another one?”
he asked. His eyes watched her as she carried the panna cotta to her mouth and self-consciously swallowed the melted sweetness of cream in berries. She could feel even the small amounts of brandy warming up her body. Or was it brandy?

“We should leave some for Missy. It was nice of her to let us use her kitchen.”

“Yeah, she’s a great girl.”

“How did you two meet?”

“Long story and we better get going or we’ll be late.” Isabelle knew it was an excuse not to tell her. But she was feeling too happy to mind.

“I bet
Jamie’s all antsy waiting for you,” Harper said.

Oh, right,
Jamie, Isabelle thought. Why were Harper’s words such a surprise, again? She was beginning to enjoy this road trip a bit too much, she thought. It was distracting her, disturbingly so.

Harper locked the door of the restaurant and left the key in one of the flower pots in front.

They had to use their jackets to shield themselves from the rain as they ran to the car. It was pouring again.

“I’ve had enough of this rain,”
Isabelle said.

“It’s been like this
the entire week. Freaky weather.”

“At least I got some sunny days in Paris,”
Isabelle sighed as she got in and closed the door.

“Did you go see the Luxembourg gardens?”
Harper asked and started the car. Driving down the street, he typed a quick message to Missy, and Isabelle itched to give him a lecture on safety.

“I loved them,
” she said instead. “I went there almost every day and watched the people. It was almost like a gallery, but the pictures were alive.”

“Did you see kids playing with the sail boats at the basin?”

“Yeah. It was such a nice, calm place. I can imagine going there to relax or cool off.”

“It’s the perfect spot. But then again, every spot in Paris is damn near perfect.”

“Is it my imagination or are you a hopeless romantic?”

He looked at her and smiled crookedly.
“It’s an inspiring city, that’s all.”

“Did you visit it alone?”
Isabelle asked, smiling.

“No.”

“Hm. What happened to her?”

“
Bugger off.”

“Come on
, tell me.” She only half teased him. She wanted to know more about the Harper she’d glimpsed last night when they talked about his family and earlier in Missy’s kitchen. He astounded her, made her curious.

“She ditched me over a physics student,” he said as if he were ashamed of it.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Her loss.”

Harper
turned to her.

“What? A physics student as opposed to a web designer that can cook? That’s a no brainer.”

“It certainly was a no brainer for her,” he said dryly.

“You cared about her?”

“I took her to Paris, didn’t I?”

“True.”

They fell silent. Isabelle mulled over the things she had learnt about him. She’d only dated one boy before Jamie and it wasn’t very serious at all. Still, when he dumped her, her pride was hurt. Chloe went on a mission of returning her self-esteem by taking her on shopping trips where they spent most of their time assessing the boys they saw because neither of them could afford to buy anything. That was how Isabelle first noticed Jamie. He was in front of them in the line at the ice cream place at the mall and she remembered he chose vanilla and chocolate. The ice cream was why she noticed him. She had a habit of choosing the flavors with the wildest colors, so she rarely picked vanilla and chocolate. Jamie, as she learned later, always picked the same flavors.

“Did it hurt?”
she now asked Harper.

“I got over it,” he said. But the way he said it answered her question better than the words. She could imagine his heartache and it made her s
ad. His entire life had been sad, Isabelle thought. She guessed that was one of the reasons for the distance that he created between himself and the people around him by being sarcastic and unkind. He deserved a break. He deserved someone to make him happy. Why was it that some people never got to be happy?

“What’s your favorite ice cream flavor?” she asked
, thinking of Jamie standing in line at the mall. When Jamie had turned and smiled at her, she thought he was cute. Decent and good.

“I don’t have one. I always pick a different flavor. Why?”

“Just curious,” she said, her smile tense. “And thanks. For a wonderful morning.”

“It wasn’t as bad as you expected, was it?”

“It wasn’t bad at all.”

“See? I told you
that you could trust me.”

“I’m beginning to realize that sometimes it’s easier to trust others than myself.”

Glancing at her, he said, “What got you thinking that?”

“
Life in general,” she shrugged. “It’s messier, less controllable than I’d like to think. I often misjudge situations. There’s plenty of confusing grey areas.”

“That it is,” he agreed. “
Don’t let it get to you. Grey’s a cool color.”

“I don’t know.”
Isabelle looked out of the window into all the rainy greyness. “If you don’t mind a Miss Pageant moment, I’d say that if I had the magic wand, I’d make everyone happy. That would make the world more pleasant and easier to live in.”

“You’d definitely win the pageant, but you could never make everyone happy. Not even with a magic wand.”

“Why not?” she said, frustrated.

He glanced at her, but when she met his eyes, he looked away. “
For example, someone will want a sunny day, but their neighbor might like rain. Or to be less prosaic, say, two people are in love with the same person …”

Harper
let the rest of the sentence hang in the air. Isabelle froze when his words amalgamated into a coherent sentence in her mind. She didn’t dare guess whom he was talking about. She didn’t respond.

“Yup,”
Harper said off-handedly a moment later.

****

The music from the radio filled the space between them when they fell silent. For a second Isabelle wondered what Harper was thinking about. She wished she had the courage to ask. Instead, she listened to the music because it felt safer than going over everything that had happened on this trip so far. She would only get emotional. That usually made her say and do stupid things. Chloe kept saying that was a good thing, because it meant she was in touch with her innermost feelings, but Isabelle was not so sure. When one wasn’t thinking soberly, reckless words led to trouble.

“How come
Jamie didn’t go home over the holidays with you?” she asked when she remembered he had never said why he was staying. Maybe she had been too busy packing for Paris to ask him, she wasn’t sure. The week before she left had been chaotic with excitement and worry.

Harper
was startled by her voice.

“You’re asking me that?”

“Didn’t he tell you?”

“Didn’t he tell
you
?”

“No.”

“Well, then, you know as much as I do.”

“Are you ever going to tell me why you moved in with him?” she tried one last time.

“His place is better than mine.”

“Oh come on.
Can’t you be honest with me just once?” Isabelle whined.

“I was nothing but honest the past two days
,” Harper countered.

“Right, and Mother Theresa was
a selfish person,” Isabelle huffed, although when she thought about it, she guessed his words were indeed closer to the truth than hers.

“Can’t say
. I didn’t know her.”

She stared through the window
annoyed. He’d been so … nice and open with her last night and this morning, but now he was back to being stubbornly silent. She hated this warm-cold attitude; it confused her and made her feel even more unsure of herself.

“I told you things I never told anyone,” he added after a pause, his voice low and soft.

His admission made some of her anger thaw. He may have been annoying on occasion, but he seemed to consider her his friend. That meant a lot to her. “I know.”

His face stretched into a slow smile.

“Our dad has a car dealership, you know that, right?” he said.

She nodded.

“That business is going to be Jamie’s one day.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re the older brother, shouldn’t it be yours?”

Harper shrugged like it was no big deal. “Dad thinks I’d run it to the ground, so ...”

Last night’s conversation rang in her head. “Does
that have anything to do with your drug habit?”

He glanced at her sideways. “Maybe. Anyhow, he thinks I’m a disgrace. The drugs are an excuse he throws
in my face every time he makes an unreasonable decision or screws me over.”

“But he’s your father.
I’m sure he’s forgiven your mistakes,” Isabelle said, unable to comprehend how a parent could behave like that. Her dad loved her, even with his head in the clouds most of the time. She may have felt lonely on occasion, thinking that he was distanced and maybe a bit cold towards her, but she realized that was her fault too. When she was younger, Dad did his best to be an attentive father. He had taken her places, museums, camping, all the things that he didn’t care for but knew that she adored them. Once she became a teenager, having to ask Dad to give her money to buy bras and tampons was too awkward. She shielded herself by distancing and by becoming self-sufficient. She may have even pushed him away. He probably felt grateful that he didn’t have to deal with teenage drama so he didn’t protest. Being an astrophysicist, he found comfort in the stars. And she learned to live in a quiet house.

“Forgiven me?”
Harper chuckled. “Right.”

“Have you tried talking to him?” she
said, thinking that maybe Harper made the same mistake she had by distancing herself from Dad.

He was silent, as if deliberating whether to tell her something or not. Finally he did.
“When I sort of decided I wanted to get clean, I went to him. I told him all of it. I sobbed on the fucking Persian rug in his office; I made a mess of myself. Of course, he already knew. The wreck I had been, it would be impossible not to notice something was wrong with me. I told him I realized I had messed up and that I wanted to make things right. Get clean, go back to school, be a brother to Jamie again.”

Isabelle
waited for him to continue, she didn’t dare interrupt lest he changed his mind about telling her. But after several moments passed with Harper biting his lower lip, she prompted him, “And?”

He turned to her as if he’d forgotten she was there and she startled him by speaking.

“And he told me to get the fuck out of his face and never show up again. He said I was a bad influence on Jamie and the biggest regret of his life.”

“Oh ...”
Isabelle felt as if someone hit her in the stomach. How could he say something like that to him? His own son? Harper?

When she recovered from the shock, she said, “What did you do?”

“What he told me to.”

“You just left?”

“What was I supposed to do, Isabelle? I was seventeen, I had a record for breaking and entering, I was half out of my mind from the drugs ... And he was right, I was a bad example for Jamie. I agreed with him, it was better for everyone if I disappeared.”

“But you wanted to get clean. Why wouldn’t he help you?”