Page 124 of Crossed Wires: The Complete Series

“Good to know my American Superman has a Kryptonite. I’ll have to remember that.” Amy claimed a seat at the kitchen table, so he joined her.

He took another sip of beer before continuing his list. “The air is filled with the scent of eucalyptus. Reminded me of the nasty stuff my mother used to rub on my chest when I had a head cold.”

“Are you kidding? If I had to name the number one thing I’m missing about home right now, it’s that smell.”

“Guess you never have to worry about stuffy noses.”

“I prefer the fresh, cool honey scent of eucalyptus to your smoggy, sewage-y city smell.”

“Hey now. Chicago doesn’t stink.”

She crinkled her nose. “Maybe not to you.”

“Fair enough,” he conceded. “It sounds like you and I are just going to have to agree to disagree about whose country smells the best.”

She picked at the label on her beer bottle. He noticed she hadn’t taken another sip. He’d probably end up finishing his beer and hers. “You know,” she said at last, “Oz is my home and I love it more than vegemite, but I’d leave it in an instant to do a job like yours.”

“You’d want to travel for a living?”

She nodded. “There are so many places I’m dying to see. This will probably sound weird, but when I was eleven, the number one thing on my Christmas list was a subscription to a travel magazine. I started to catalog all the cities and countries I wanted to travel to in year eight of school.”

“I don’t think there’s anything strange about that. I have a travel list of my own.”

“At least you’re making progress on yours. This trip is my first and, given my rather limited income, I think it will probably be my last for years.”

Her comment made him realize how little he actually knew about Amy. “That’s right. You’re a teacher. Like Harper. Guess they’re underpaid all over the world.”

She hesitated for a moment, then replied with more detail than he’d expected. “I’m a teacher on a cattle station.”

“That’s like a ranch, right?”

“Except it’s a station,” she teased. “Full of jackaroos and stockmen. Not a cowboy in sight.”

“Gotcha.” He took another swig of beer. “Sounds like an interesting place to live. I haven’t seen an Aussie cattle station on my travels. Maybe I need to add that to my list.”

“If you ever want a tour, just ring me up. I think my bosses would get a kick out of being on American TV.” Amy looked around the kitchen. “Although my little cottage is nowhere near as nice as your house.”

“It’s more accurate to say this is Harper’s house. I’m not here more than a dozen weeks or so each year. The rest of the time, I’m either on the road or at my own apartment in L.A. Feels sort of odd to be here this week without her. Unlike you, my sister has an aversion to traveling.”

“I know she hasn’t done a lot of it, but she was super excited about traveling to Oz.”

“Really?” Andrew frowned, wondering when Harper had started changing. The sister he knew would never drop everything for two weeks to head off for parts unknown alone. He could only assume Amy had been a big influence on her. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. He worried about Harper’s introverted ways.

He and his sister were long overdue for a chat. “Usually she’s a homebody. While she’s done some traveling in the States, she’s never ventured into another country, with the exception of the time our family went to Niagara Falls in Canada. Even then, she was only little. I doubt she even remembers it.”

Amy noticed his empty beer bottle and handed hers to him with a grin. “Harper loves you, Andrew, but that doesn’t mean she has to tell you everything.”

Damn. So much for his poker face. Amy must’ve recognized his concern. “I used to think we were really close. This secret trip of hers is throwing me for a loop.”

“She’s a big girl. Heading out on her own is probably a good thing for both of you.”

He knew his sister was an adult, but that didn’t make it any easier for him to let go. There was too much history between them, too many painful memories. “Harper’s the most important person in my life. We tend to cling to each other, considering our family fell firmly within the dysfunctional category. Did she tell you she’s actually my half-sister?”

“No. She didn’t. What do you mean by dysfunctional?”

He stretched out in the chair, leaning back, grateful for the downtime. He felt like he’d run a marathon today rather than merely going sightseeing with Amy. “My parents were married for several years before they had me, then my mom died when I was eight.”

“Oh Andrew. I’m sorry.”