He chuckled. “I don’t want to start out the morning rehashing the chaos. Let’s just have a normal morning, okay? You have a test in a couple of hours and I’m just about ready for Little Corn. Once we get those out of the way, we can talk the whole thing to death to your heart’s content.”

I ignored his dig. “Little Corn. Mmmmm. Hammocks, sun, beach, ocean…that sounds even better than waffles.”

I left the bed, pulling off his shirt on the way to the bathroom. I tossed the crumpled fabric into the hamper as I passed. Jared’s footsteps stopped abruptly and I smiled as I heard him continue down the stairs with a loud, flustered sigh.

The next days passed quickly. Before I knew it, the tests were over, the papers were turned in, and school had been dismissed for Spring Break. I spent Friday night with Jared, but even in his warm arms I was too excited to sleep. Saturday was spent packing, and I teased Jared with the dozens of bikinis I’d purchased for the trip.

Sunday finally arrived. I could barely contain my enthusiasm when I stepped out onto the tarmac. Cynthia had chartered a jet for our trip, as my father had always done. I had never understood before, but seeing the crates being wheeled in and loaded, I knew that flying commercially wouldn’t be possible. I tried to remember earlier vacations, scanning my mind for similar memories of Jared or Gabe directing traffic and giving orders as I boarded the plane. There was none. My only memories were of the smiling faces of our flight attendants as I was led into the fuselage by the large hand of my father.

I followed Cynthia up the stairs and tried not to stare at Jared as he handed our luggage to a man wearing a blue jumpsuit. I wasn’t sure how many people worked in the background when we left the country, but it seemed to be a full blown tactical operation. Even knowing the truth, the activity around the plane seemed like needless fuss.

Jared was all business. He seemed at ease giving orders and organizing the details of our flight, arrival and return. The men loading the plane worked fervently on each of his specific instructions, seeming to be afraid to make a mistake. When Jared spoke to one or a few, they listened with nervous obedience. He exuded control and leadership, and my heart raced in my chest.

Jared turned around once to look at me, and I waved. His mouth turned up into a warm smile before turning away from me with the no-nonsense expression he used with the crew.

I counted one large crate and three smaller crates. The luggage had been loaded, including an entire set belonging to Cynthia. My mother had never been one to pack light.