It would be a year before Beyford witnessed my shadow. I wasn't keen on spending New Year's in the prison I finally escaped. I hadn't a choice, I couldn't not attend my father's and Diane's wedding. I glanced out the plane's window as it descended into Philadelphia. A shiver ran through me as I caught sight of the Limerick Nuclear Plant's cooling towers. It's hard for me to believe that all which haunts me has its genesis in the innocuous landscape below, even as Philadelphia came into view, it appeared benign in its lighted splendor. Its toxicity non-evident until my flight reached its gate, when even the most well-adjusted of my fellow passengers bounded out of their seats in a race to stand in the aisle.
While waiting for the last of the passengers to exit, I reread Diane's letter.
Dear James:
Considering the difficult circumstances and what may seem to be callous timing of our wedding, I beg of you to come home and share with us our joy. I know the difficulty the timing presents; believe me, who realizes this more than me? But, it also affords us an opportunity like no other to make a fresh start, to put our pain behind us - at least momentarily - and celebrate what we have.
James, I hope you realize the importance of your presence; in it, both your father and I share the opportunity of being graced by both our children. In your absence, we miss out on that wonderful gift. If you chose to come home, not only do I experience the joy of being with you again; I also will be able to see the reflection of Shannie in your eyes.
I hope to see you over New Year's, if not before.
Love,
Diane
I refolded the letter and shoved it into my pocket, grabbed my backpack and sauntered up the Jetway. I could hear Russell's crusty old voice: " Coming home ain't ice cream, but it sure ain't liver either."
I smiled seeing Diane and my father awaiting arm-in-arm. Despite their smiles they wore the past year on their faces. The crow's feet edging Diane's eyes sharpened, the lines in her forehead etched themselves deeper. Her long coat hid a still well cared for body. Her blond hair still cascaded over her shoulders like a college student's. I'd feared she'd chop such artwork for the sake of her assistant dean-ship. "Welcome home James," she said with a hug and kiss.
"Thanks Mom," I held Diane tight. "It's good to be home," I punctuated our fuzzies with a white lie.