Drops of Jupiter

Chapter 1

Camille hadn't even crossed the threshold of the plane before the Iowa heat hit, weighed down by the humidity that felt just as heavy as her heart.

It hadn't been twenty-four hours since she'd received the news of her father's passing.

The whole family knew it was coming, Camille had known it was coming, but she had denied it, pushing her visit back time and time again. As if staying away would keep him alive longer or avoiding it meant that it wasn't really happening. But it happened, and she felt like the worst daughter in the world; taking off for college and never looking back.

Each step that brought her closer to the baggage claim took her that much further from her life of New York luxury, and that much closer to the reality of everything she had missed back home. She didn't know how she would be able to face her mother and brother, the two who had been there for everything. She dreaded what lie ahead.

Camille picked up her suitcase and took a deep breath to prepare herself for what waited beyond those airport doors, but she would never be able to fully prepare herself for all the tears, laughter, heartbreak and joy that lay ahead.

In an attempt to soak up her time in the precious air conditioning, Camille powered on her phone to check her messages, the most recent from her boyfriend Trent. Hope your flight was good. I'll see you soon. He ended the message with two hearts.

She wished Trent could have come with her, but there had been important work matters to attend to, so she told him to finish what he needed and that she would be waiting for him.

"Cami, baby!" Her mother's voice called to her. It sounded even better in person.

Camille looked up and found Melinda dressed in her signature brightly colored tank top, faded, boot cut jeans, and tennis with her red-brown hair that matched Camille's pulled back into a tight ponytail. Boy had she missed seeing her momma.

"Mom." Camille clutched her phone to her chest and quickly made her way to those red-rimmed eyes and open arms.

"Oh we've missed you, Baby," her mother said as she wrapped her arms around Camille.

"I've missed you too," Camille whispered.

"Sure have a funny way of showing it," a low voice said.

Camille looked to the airport door, taking in the sight of her brother. Even in the eighty degree heat he was wearing a long sleeve plaid shirt, jeans, and leather boots, polished off with the cowboy hat and large belt buckle. The usual smile Brendan had for his sister was nowhere to be seen.

"I've been really busy at work, Brendan." Camille pulled herself from her mother, turning to face her brother head on.

"I get it. We all just seem so small an insignificant up in your ivory tower in New York, huh? Or was it London? Maybe Paris?"

"That's not true, and you know it. I've been building my career."

"Alright you two, enough of that. This is no time for family to fight, it's a time to come together."

"Yes, ma'am," they both said, never breaking eye contact.

That was the reaction she had been afraid of. Cold, accusatory. Camille knew how it looked. Going straight from college to New York followed by a year-long stint in Paris to pursue fashion design; but her father had been proud of her, he'd said so every week during their scheduled video chats.

She would miss those.

"Come now. Let's get out of here," their mother said, grabbing Camille's suitcase and making her way to the automatic doors.

Sitting at the curb was her father's rusty, silver pickup truck. Tears threatened to force their way out. She remembered the summer before her senior year of high school she had tried to convince him to get rid of the old thing, upgrade to something more reliable. He'd adamantly refused, it had been faithful to him for ten years, so he'd seen no reason to get rid of it. She also remembered the adventures she'd had that year in the bed of the truck under the country stars.

Her mother put the suitcase in the bed of the truck, and Camille tossed her carryon bag next to it before getting into the truck, sliding into the middle seat so her brother could have the window.

There was a slight lurch as the car rolled forward, pulling out onto the road. Just as she'd remembered the old girl, two potholes away from falling apart.

"How is Trent doing, sweetie?" Her mother asked as they pulled onto the interstate.

"He's doing good. Wishes he could be here with all of us, but he'll be here in a few days."

"I know, it must be impossible to tear him away from the Big Apple, it only took the death of our father before you finally came home." Brendan rolled his eyes.

"Brendan!" Their mother's honey voice had iced over.

"You know that isn't fair, Bren. Daddy wasn't part of his family, and his job is extremely important. He has a presentation coming up this week that he needs to be there for."

"Well if he ever wants to be part of this family then he needs to reprioritize."

Camille had heard his message loud and clear. Her brother didn't think she wanted to be part of the family. It wasn't true of course. She had just wanted to see more of the world, travel beyond their family farm. Feel like she was important to something other than their animals. She wouldn't tell him that though. She didn't want to fight with him. Their mom had been right, they needed to come together, not fight, and since that was all her dear brother wanted to do, that meant it would be a silent ride back home.

She watched as her old life passed by, detached from the reality of it, almost as if she was watching it on film. Very little had changed in the eight years she'd been gone. The same small-town restaurants, the same houses getting further and further apart until the truck took a left turn that led them straight onto the same gravel road she had recklessly raced down all those years ago. She could still see her father's face when he found out. That vein that popped out in his forehead whenever he was extremely angry.

"Now after you get settled in, do you think you can run to the store for me, Cami?" Her mother asked, bringing Camille back to the present.

"Sure thing, Momma."

"Thank you. There's so much to get done and we have nothing for dinner."

Melinda parked the pickup right in front of the garage and the three got out.

Camille looked at the house. She wasn't sure she was ready to set foot inside yet, not when her father wouldn't be sitting in his old recliner, newspaper in hand, glasses perched low on his nose to greet her. "Actually, if you two could just set my bags in my room I'll head out now. You have a list, right?"

"Of course," her mother said softly. It was as if her mother knew what was on her mind. Maybe she did. "I've got the list right here, you go on ahead. Everything will be here when you get back."

"Thanks, Momma."