The Long Way Home (21 page)

True to his word, George drove them directly to the rest stop, then waited to make sure the car started. Laverne tried to give him a five-dollar bill for his time and trouble, but he refused. “No money,” he said, clearly offended. “I like to help.” Laverne liked the boy’s pluck. It was the kind of attitude that restored a person’s faith in humanity.

After he drove off, Laverne told Marnie to get in the back. “You’re all drugged up. You might as well sleep,” she said. “I’ll take a turn driving.”

Marnie said, “But I thought you didn’t have a driver’s license?”

“Aw pshaw,” Laverne said, waving her hand dismissively. “Yeah, it expired, but I still got the skills. It’s like riding a bike. You don’t forget.”

Marnie, who could barely keep her eyes open, didn’t argue. They switched spots, Laverne circling the car to get to the driver’s side, Marnie exiting the vehicle to get to the backseat. After pulling the door shut, she said, “Thanks, Laverne. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Aw, it’s nothing.”

“Wake me up in an hour or so,” Marnie murmured, loosely fastening her seat belt and then flopping over and curling up on her good side. “I just need a little cat nap.”

“Sure thing.” Laverne took her time adjusting the seat and the mirrors, then double-checked to see that the GPS was still set for Kimberly’s address. She found an unopened bottle of Mountain Dew on the floor of the front passenger side; she claimed it and stuck it in the cup holder next to her. The caffeine would come in handy if the road got too monotonous.

She hadn’t driven in years, but it was amazing how fast it came back to her. She’d forgotten how powerful it made her feel. At home she had let herself become a recluse, but in the last few days that had all changed. On this trip, she was originally a tagalong, the one they invited along out of pity (or so she suspected), but now it all hinged on her. She could tell that Marnie had started off the trip not liking her, but she had to have a different opinion by now. Laverne had saved Marnie’s life back at the rest stop, and now she was single-handedly getting her to Las Vegas. What a wild ride!

As the car reached the ramp onto the interstate, Laverne accelerated and merged smoothly into the sparsely populated nighttime traffic. Las Vegas was only two hours and forty-eight minutes away according to the GPS. They’d be there in no time. She turned on the radio looking for some good country music, and when she found a Taylor Swift song, she took it as a good omen. Such a pretty little gal, that Taylor Swift. And so talented too, writing all those songs all by herself. Laverne hummed along to the song and stayed in the right lane, confident that the GPS would get them there.

When Carson slid over and pulled her into his arms, Jazzy was very glad that the spirit of her grandmother was no longer in the room. When he leaned in and kissed her, she was awestruck at how natural it was to be with this man. She felt a connection to him like she’d never felt to another human being, and she knew that her whole life had led her to this moment. As corny as that sounded.

When he pulled apart and held her face gently between his hands, she was touched by the look of wonder on his face. He gestured between them and said, “Has this ever happened to you before?”

“No, never.”

He kissed her again and she wished the night would never end. Given a choice, she’d trade her psychic ability for a lifetime with this man. Hell, she’d trade everything she had, and it would be worth every bit.

Driving the I-15 toward Las Vegas was smooth sailing all the way, but dark—oh boy, was it dark. Laverne took sips from the Mountain Dew and tried not to look down at the white center line, since it had a hypnotic effect on her. Instead, she concentrated on the road ahead, as much as she could see in the headlights. Other vehicles passed on occasion, but there were long stretches when she felt like she had the road to herself. In the backseat, Marnie occasionally made contented noises. She’d rolled up a jacket to use as a pillow and looked comfortable enough.

After she’d been driving two hours or so, Laverne could see Las Vegas in the distance, so bright that she could imagine the sun coming over the mountains. It wasn’t the sun though, she knew, once she got closer, but the lights of the city. What would people in the old days, before electricity, think of such a thing? Would they think it was magic, these lights that shone day and night? And what about those people to come in the future? The ones who weren’t born yet? She imagined a time when all the comforts she took for granted—running water, heat, air-conditioning, electricity—were even more precious and rare than they were now. Would future generations get their dander up at all the waste of their ancestors? The way they watered lawns and kept restaurants so cold in the summer heat that customers wore sweaters to be comfortable? She was a little bit glad that she’d be long gone by the time the current generation would be held accountable. No one could point a finger her way.

She followed directions off the freeway and into the city. Glancing back at Marnie’s sleeping form, she almost woke her up to let her know they’d arrived, but decided against it. One of them should get some rest. Laverne was too excited to sleep anyway, agog as she was at the palm trees, brightly lit casinos, and hotels. All of it looked exactly as she’d seen on her favorite TV show,
CSI: Las Vegas
. This must be what they called “The Strip.” Amazing that all this was built in the desert. People on the sidewalk meandered as if they had no particular destination. Some were dressed in shorts and tank tops, others were dressed to the nines, but all of them somehow gave the impression that they were tourists. This place was Disneyland for grown-ups. Laverne never dreamed she’d see it in person, much less be driving the streets like some kind of hotshot confident person. If only her kids could see her now. They’d never believe it.

Laverne whistled as she drove out of the heart of the city. Good-bye gambling place. They were headed to Kimberly’s house.

When Marnie finally woke up, they were parked on the side of a street in a nondescript suburban neighborhood and the sun was just beginning to rise. She sat up and rubbed the back of her neck, then noticed that her stitched side hurt something fierce and she remembered everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. “Where are we?” she asked Laverne, who was fiddling with the volume on the radio. It seemed to her that her dreams had been invaded by the same country music she was hearing now.

“Kimberly’s house.”

“What?” Marnie pushed her hair out of her eyes. “You were supposed to wake me up.”

Laverne turned around and said apologetically, “I know, but you’d been through so much and you were sleeping so good, I hated to wake you up. I kept thinking I’d go just a little farther, just a little more before I got you up. I even stopped and put gas in the tank just outside the Strip and I thought that would wake you up, but you were
out
. Before I knew it we were here.”

“But, but,” Marnie sputtered, “it’s a gated community. How did you get in?”

“There was a house thing with a window when I drove in, but no one was there and the gate was open, so I kept going. We’ve been parked here for a long time. I thought we should wait awhile. It’s awful early.”

The lack of security irritated Marnie, who was sure a stop at the gate would have awakened her. She’d counted on having at least a little time to prepare before meeting up with Kimberly. But Laverne had let her sleep and now they were here.

“That’s one big house,” Laverne said, pointing.

“Just under eight thousand square feet,” Marnie said, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

“But the yards around here are kind of small.”

“Less than a quarter acre.”

Laverne said, “It must have cost like a million dollars.”

“Not quite.” Marnie knew all about this house. After Kimberly had bought it three years ago, Marnie had found the real estate listing online. The house had a swimming pool, spiral staircase, and skylights. She knew how much property tax Kimberly paid, the name of the school district, and that the house had 4.5 bathrooms, one of which had a spa shower, whatever that was. “I wish I’d gotten my prescription filled at the hospital. Whatever they gave me wore off and it hurts like hell.”

“I got something that will fix you right up,” Laverne said, and pulled out her Ziploc bag of wonders. “Let’s see, you’ll need something strong for pain.” She held up a bottle and read the label, then discounted it. “Nope, this one will make you sleepy. Can’t have that.” The next bottle didn’t make the cut either. “This one has to be taken with food. You have to be so careful.” Her brow furrowed and she dug back into the bag. “Ah, here we go. This’ll be good for what ails ya.” She uncapped the bottle and shook out two pills, then handed them back to Marnie.

“What is this?” Marnie popped the pills in her mouth and took a swig of water from a plastic bottle she’d gotten off the floor near her feet.

“Sometimes it’s better not to know.” And then, seeing Marnie’s reproachful look, she added, “If it takes away the pain, what difference does it make what it’s called?”

“If I overdose it would be nice to be able to tell the paramedics what I ingested.”

“Oh posh, you can’t overdose. This is medication that was
prescribed
.”

Marnie couldn’t argue with that logic. In the not too distant past she would have been appalled at the thought of taking someone else’s drugs, prescription or not. Somehow, as they’d traveled the miles, she’d become less careful and more open, even to things that were potentially dangerous. Her former self wouldn’t have approved, but she didn’t care about that. The old Marnie had been kind of a drag. And not all that happy either, if the truth were told.

She got a comb and a compact out of her purse and attempted to fix her hair and face, but no matter how hard she tried, she looked like a woman who’d just slept in a car. The dark circles under her eyes aged her ten years. Her hair was matted to her head like a swimming cap. To make matters worse, the gray T-shirt she wore, which she’d been so grateful to receive only the night before, was now rumpled and shapeless. Midwestern frump was the phrase that came to mind. She glanced up to see Laverne studying her. “I know,” Marnie said, running her fingers through her hair, “it’s hopeless.”

“I was just thinking you looked fine,” Laverne said, shrugging. “It’s not like Troy will care. He’s going to be happy to see you no matter what.”

Laverne’s comment put everything in perspective. Her appearance didn’t matter. She wasn’t applying for a job, and she didn’t (in theory) care what Kimberly thought of her. Troy was the only reason she was here.

When the lawn care service arrived in a white pickup truck towing a trailer, Laverne and Marnie decided it was late enough to knock on the door. Marnie felt a wave of nervousness rise from the pit of her stomach while they waited on the front mat under the archway. “Maybe we should have called from the car,” she said to Laverne. “Given her some notice.”

“You gotta be kidding,” Laverne said, and knocked again, louder this time. At the curb, the lawn service was in full work mode, unloading equipment off the trailer and giving the two women quizzical looks. Laverne gave them a look and called out, “We are supposed to be here. We are
expected
.” The men, all in their twenties, wearing white T-shirts and light-colored shorts, had the decency to look away and get back to their work. One of them waved a hello before turning away. “Yeah, that’s right. Back to work,” Laverne said, but this time her voice was lower and only Marnie heard.

“God knows what we look like to them. They probably think we’re selling something,” Marnie muttered, pushing her hair back behind her ear. Now, in broad daylight, she noticed that Carson’s Corolla, parked at the curb, looked less than new. In fact, there was a rather large dent by the back bumper and mud splatters around the wheel wells. It sure wasn’t helping their image.

“They need to mind their own beeswax.” Laverne knocked again, this time like a girl in a horror movie trying to get away from a guy in a mask. “This just beats all,” she said, pausing. “I sure didn’t drive through the night to get stopped at the door.” She turned the knob, and the door opened. “Oh ho ho,” she chortled, raising her eyebrows. “Here we go.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good—” Marnie said, but Laverne was already in the house. Marnie sighed. “…Idea.” She walked in after Laverne, unsure, but not wanting to be left behind. Once inside she got an idea of the size of the house. No one seemed to be home.

“Woo-eee,” Laverne said, standing in the two-story entryway and looking up at a crystal chandelier the size of a Mini Cooper. “Will you look at that?”

“The formal entryway is dramatic and inviting,” Marnie said, quoting from the realtor’s online description. “The marble flooring was imported from Italy.”

“Very nice,” Laverne said, toeing the pattern. “Not bad at all.” She wandered into the house like it was a public place—a library or museum. “Hello! Anyone here?”

Marnie wasn’t convinced that this was the best strategy but felt herself pulled along by Laverne. Maybe it was the effect of the painkiller kicking in, but she seemed to have no choice in the matter. The house was immense. “Can you imagine cleaning a place like this?” Laverne said.

“You’d need help,” Marnie said. “A lot of help.”

When they heard the voice of a woman speaking, Marnie halted and put a finger to her lips. From the sound of it, this was Kimberly, on the phone. Casting aside her hesitation, Marnie made her way toward the voice. Kimberly was her ticket to Troy. The sooner she spoke to her, the better.

Marnie walked into a large sitting area. Beyond that, an open doorway led to what looked like Kimberly’s office. Sitting at a desk, her back to the door, sat Kimberly, a phone clutched to her ear. Marnie knocked gently on the doorframe.

“Back already, Dean?” she said, not turning around. “Just a sec, I’m talking to the administrator at the camp.” She was dressed in a pale blue bathrobe and held a pen she jiggled nervously against the desktop.

“It’s not Dean.” Marnie’s voice rose in pitch. “It’s me—Marnie.”

Kimberly sat up abruptly and turned around. “Just a minute,” she said to the person on the phone. “Marnie’s here now. She’ll be there to get Troy this morning.” She gestured to Marnie to sit down, and she wrapped up the conversation, thanking the person on the other end and apologizing for the inconvenience.

She hung up and gave Marnie a relieved grin, then jumped up and hugged her. “Marnie, it’s so nice to see you again. I can’t tell you how happy I am you’re here,” she said, and then looked up at Laverne, who stood tentatively in the doorway. “Hello there.”

“Who’s Dean?” Laverne asked.

“This is Laverne,” Marnie said, by way of introduction. “She’s with me.”

“Oh yes, you’re Marnie’s stepmom. We spoke on the phone. Good to meet you.” Kimberly got up to shake Laverne’s hand, then self-consciously rearranged the ties on her robe. “You’ll forgive my appearance. You came earlier than I expected. Not that I mind,” she said hastily. “My biggest fear was that you wouldn’t come at all. That would have been a disaster. The last few days have been so hectic, I can’t even tell you. Dean—that’s my assistant—got here at the crack of dawn to take the dogs to the sitter, and I’ve been going nonstop. Every time I cross something off the list I wind up adding something else, so it never gets any shorter.” She patted her hair and laughed. “Sorry I’m such a mess.” It was not true. Although her hair was mussed and she wore no makeup, no one would deny she was still a stunning woman. She had the fine features and glowing skin that Marnie, for some reason, associated with French women, and she was enviably slender without being too skinny. Her thick blonde hair lay on her shoulders in what looked like natural waves. Doing a mental inventory, Marnie couldn’t find anything to criticize. Kimberly’s perfectly formed ears lay close to her head, and her teeth were even and pearly white, without looking fake like veneers. The woman was freaking perfect. The only thing that kept Marnie from hating her was that the resemblance to Troy was uncanny. She’d never noticed it in photographs, but in person it was undeniable. There were traces of Troy in Kimberly’s posture, her eyes, her smile, even the way she fidgeted with her pen.

“Have you ladies had breakfast yet?” Kimberly asked. “I was just about to grab a bite.”

She didn’t wait for an answer but got up and led them to the kitchen. Every bit of the house was spacious and filled with light. Marnie wondered where Kimberly kept the clutter. Why were there no shoes by the door, no piles of mail set aside? She and Laverne followed obediently, while Kimberly chatted on about her upcoming trip to London and how the camp called the night before saying Troy had a fever. “Only ninety-nine point eight, which doesn’t sound very high, does it? They said they just wanted to keep me apprised, and I’m fine with that, even though I thought it was a little unnecessary. The next thing I know, they’re calling saying his temp is a hundred and one, and I have to come pick him up. Their rule, the director said, is anything over one hundred degrees. A despicable woman. Completely without reason. Like talking to a three-year-old. She just kept repeating how this was their policy. Anything over one hundred degrees.” Kimberly made finger quotes around the number. “One hundred exactly. How arbitrary is that? And this was at ten o’clock at night, if you can imagine that! I insisted on talking to Troy, and he sounded fine. I explained about my trip, but they didn’t care.” She sighed heavily and led them into the kitchen of Marnie’s dreams: gleaming granite countertops, plenty of cabinet space, and double everything—dual ovens, two stovetops, two dishwashers, and an extra-wide refrigerator. The adjacent breakfast nook held a table for six adorned by a clear vase filled with towering white calla lilies. A doorway on the other side revealed a linen-draped table topped with crimson candles.

“Nice kitchen,” Laverne said. The understatement of the year.

“Thanks.” Kimberly leaned over the countertop and inspected the coffeemaker. “I didn’t know what I was going to do, and then Troy kept asking for you…” She peered intently at the buttons. “The housekeeper has this set on a timer, but there has to be a way to override that.”

“Here,” Marnie said, leaning around her and pushing a button. A light went on and the unit made a small hissing noise.

Kimberly reared back and regarded her with admiration. “Well played, Marnie.” She patted her arm approvingly. “That was brilliant. Just brilliant.” She gestured to them to sit, then went to a cabinet and pulled out three coffee mugs. “I called the camp director back. Her name is Helga. The name says it all I think. They won’t even give him Tylenol or aspirin. It’s against their policy.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “I told her I wouldn’t be able to pick him up, but that his aunt Marnie would be coming in the morning for him. At first she said she wouldn’t release him to anyone but me, and she still kept on and on about how I had to come right away, but when I mentioned my attorney she changed her tune and said as long as it was within twenty-four hours and that you were a relative, it would be fine.” She rested her elbows on the table and tapped her chin. “That’s why I said you were his aunt. On his father’s side. We have to make sure we get our stories straight.” She looked back at the counter. “I can’t believe it takes this long to brew a pot of coffee. Do you think something is wrong with the machine?”

They all glanced back at the coffeemaker where a steady stream of dark fluid filled the glass carafe. “Nah, it looks like it’s working to me,” Laverne said. “You just got to be patient.”

“I’m not good at patient.” Kimberly drummed her fingertips on the tabletop. “I’m better at doing than waiting. I suppose you’ve heard that.” She looked questioningly at Marnie, who didn’t know what to say. “I’m sure Brian told you how I fell short in the wife and mother department.” The air in the room had somehow gotten thicker. Kimberly’s fingers stopped their tapping. “You probably heard the story of how I abandoned my son and moved across the country without any warning at all, but that’s not completely true. Yes, I did move and I wasn’t as involved in Troy’s life as I should have been, but you haven’t heard my side of the story. I’m not a terrible person.”