Paula rummages through her bag. “Do you remember what your grandmother looks like?” She hands me a photo of a woman with graying hair holding me on my third birthday, right before I went away.

In the photo, I’m smiling with cake smeared on my face. Grandma is laughing. As I look at this photo, it feels like it could be anybody else. Not me.

“I’m going to text you every ten minutes,” Paula says. “And please respond right away. I want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I will,” I reply.

“Okay.” Craig gives me a smile. “All you need to do is take this train here to baggage claim. We’ll get your bags, so don’t worry about that. Your grandmother will be waiting for you, and we’ll see you in about an hour or so.”

“Great!” I try to muster some enthusiasm. I’m suddenly nervous about being left in this giant airport alone. What if I get lost? What if I can’t find my grandmother? What if I get in a wrong car? What if I actually get kidnapped?

Paula puts both hands on my shoulders and looks up at me. It’s the first time I’ve noticed that I’m a few inches taller than she is. Must’ve gotten my height from Dad. “I will never let anything bad happen to you, ever again.”

And just like that, the nerves go away. I believe her. And it’s weird that she knew what I was thinking without my having to say it.

Maybe moms and daughters have a bond that can’t be ripped away by distance and time?

I see a Starbucks up ahead. “I’ll be there.” I try to sound nonchalant about it, but I’ve never been to a Starbucks. I know. Valley Falls is too small to have any coffee place, let alone a major chain. There are a few in Green Bay, but I’ve never been able to justifiably cough up five dollars for a coffee. But now I have twenty dollars. I can get a large! And maybe a cookie or something.

And like the emotional pendulum I seem to be on, I feel guilty that going to Starbucks with money from Craig makes me excited while Dad is rotting in jail. Am I really that easily bribed?

(That answer, it appears, is yes.)

“See you soon.” Paula grips me in a tight hug before she walks off with Craig, looking back every few seconds. Once they board the train to baggage claim, I get in line at Starbucks.

I begin to analyze everybody ahead of me, a game Dad and I used to play: guess the person’s life story, like the guy in a business suit in front of me. He’s probably on his third coffee of the day, heading home after some very important business meeting.