She made sure all of the bills for the cottage were paid, along with the telephone, and she headed north to spend the time with her family. Two weeks spent at the old homestead, with nothing to do but visit old friends at the hospital and the feed store made Linda realize what a boring and sleepy little place she'd grown up in.
When she helped her mother cook spaghetti one night, she decided to break the news about her future. "After I pass the boards I'll be ready to go to work right away," she started.
"Of course, honey," her mother said, testing the spiciness of the sauce with a spoon.
"There's such a big demand for nurses nowadays."
"I'm going to have to move, probably."
"Well, I'm sure you'll be able to find a nice apartment once you're settled. And of course you're welcome to stay here in the meantime."
Linda felt a twinge in her stomach. This was not going well. "I mean I'm going to have to move. To Chicago, St. Louis, or Cincinnati."
Her mother stopped to regard her for a moment. "But they love you at County. They'd snap you up in a heartbeat."
"Yes mom, I know. But I want to be at a big teaching hospital, where research goes on. That's where the future is. And that's why I need to be in a big city."
At that point she expected her mother to throw down the spoon, take off her glasses and lecture her about how she didn't know what was in store for her. Instead, she shrugged. "Well, if that's what you have your heart set on, great."
She said it with wistful enthusiasm. Linda hugged her.
The Saturday night before fall semester began, her mother and father threw her a farewell party. They even draped a banner across the living room, which read "Good luck Nurse Linda!" The following morning they all saw her off as she drove south to start her final year of college. Her mother and father hugged her with tears in their eyes. Bobby was too cool to see her off, and Molly was starting her senior year of high school and turning into a young woman disconcertingly like Lauren. She punched Linda playfully on the arm and said "Don't kill anyone, okay?"
A few hours later, she arrived at the cottage in an empty car. The Glienke's hugged her.
"We missed you so much," they said, practically in unison. "You're like a daughter to us!" They showered her with hugs and a home-cooked meal to help celebrate her return and the start of Fall semester 1979.