The Long Way Home (22 page)

There was a sharp-edged silence. Marnie finally said, “Brian never said anything bad about you.” Which was true. Of course, when they first met, Brian said his wife had abandoned him, but after that he didn’t talk about her much at all except in an admiring way. Of course, Marnie had her own opinion of Kimberly. What kind of mother would opt to live so far away from her child? In her opinion, nothing would excuse it.

“Well,” Kimberly said, “that’s hard to believe. But good, I guess. I’ll take it.”

“Look, the coffee’s done.” Laverne gathered their mugs and went to the coffeemaker, which was still dripping but clearly at the end of the brewing cycle, and set to work filling their cups.

“I moved here because of a business opportunity. The plan was that Brian was going to sell the house and join me. I left Troy with him because I travel so much and I wanted to wait until I was settled in. But somewhere along the line Brian changed the plan and forgot to tell me. He didn’t sell the house, and he had no intention of moving, I guess.” She took a mug of coffee out of Laverne’s hand. “Thank you. That smells good.” She set it down in front of her. “The next thing I know, the neighbor calls me and says he’s dating someone and she’s at the house all the time with Troy. I was crushed.”

Shocked, Marnie felt her breath freeze in her chest. How could it be that she’d been the other woman?

Kimberly got up to get a container of creamer and three spoons and set them on the table. “Does anyone need sugar? No? Okay.”

Marnie didn’t know where to begin. “I had no idea,” she said apologetically. “He said his wife abandoned them. I didn’t have any reason to think otherwise…”

“I know,” Kimberly said, sliding back in her chair. “I know. And here’s something else. I asked Brian about it and he said you were the babysitter. And after you moved in, he told me he’d hired a live-in housekeeper. The fact that he wanted a divorce around the same time was entirely coincidental,” she added dryly.

“The housekeeper?” Marnie felt her ears burning. “That’s what he told you?”

“Your husband told you his live-in girlfriend was the housekeeper and you fell for that?” Laverne said, taking a thin sip of coffee.

Marnie shot her a warning look, afraid that Laverne’s habit of saying whatever flew into her head might put them at odds with Kimberly.
Just be nice
, she thought.
Quiet and nice
.

“I know, not very perceptive on my part.” Kimberly shrugged. “But Brian could be very persuasive. I did wonder at one point, a few years ago, but when I asked Troy about you, he said you and Brian slept in separate bedrooms.”

“It didn’t start out that way,” Marnie said. “The separate bedrooms, I mean. We started out having a relationship, and then…it just sort of unraveled to nothing.” She couldn’t think of anything that would back up her version of events. Did the fact that she kept track of Brian’s checkbook and wrote out the bills give her a higher status? Did her role as Troy’s Marnie make her less of a housekeeper? Looking back, she wasn’t entirely sure she wasn’t the housekeeper. Although if that were the case, she got shortchanged in the money department. Instead, she was compensated by the idea she was part of a family. But even that proved to be false. “I didn’t know you were married, though. I mean, I knew, but I thought you’d left him.”

“I believe you,” Kimberly said. “You were like me—you believed what you were told.”

Marnie nodded. She and Kimberly had been pitted against each other, never knowing the truth about the other woman. It was Brian’s fault, although she wasn’t entirely sure it was conscious on his part. He probably felt abandoned, and Marnie filled the void. After that all of them fell into ruts of circumstance. Superficiality was the best he could do. His whole family was like that. She’d met all of his relatives at weddings and funerals over the years. They were all good with the backslapping and joke-telling, but there was never anything resembling in-depth conversation.

“I only bring this up,” Kimberly said, picking up her mug, “because I realize that I froze you out of the funeral. Until Troy set me straight last week, I was still thinking you were the housekeeper.” She took a sip of coffee. “Also I wanted to thank you for taking care of Troy for me. You were a good substitute mom.”

Marnie found herself choking back indignation. “I didn’t do it for you,” she said, but before she could say any more Laverne jumped in.

“Marnie was a very good mom to Troy,” she said with conviction. Someone who didn’t know better would have thought she’d witnessed it firsthand. “She’s really missed him a lot since he’s been here. It’s been killing her.”

“I had no idea how much work a teenager can be,” Kimberly continued, as if she hadn’t even heard them. “I figured he’s grown. He doesn’t need a babysitter. It’s summertime so there’s no school. He can get his own food. I know I work long hours, but the housekeeper is here. When he said he was bored, I told him I could sign him up for some activities. I even had my assistant look into some different possibilities, but Troy wouldn’t have any of it. At his age I would have loved the opportunity to be bored. He has the whole house, the pool, a computer, TV, movies, video games. But none of it makes him happy. He won’t go and call on any of the neighborhood kids. I’m about ready to pull my hair out. I don’t have time to entertain him.”

“Your trip is for six weeks?” Marnie asked.

“Six weeks, yes. I do this every year. I go to a conference for a week and from there I travel and meet with all my suppliers and vendors. It’s nonstop and grueling but essential for my business. When I found this camp I thought I’d be covered, at least for the summer, and I signed him up for six weeks. My thinking was that it would keep him out of trouble, and maybe he’d make some friends. But his getting sick threw a wrench in the works. All my careful planning for nothing.” She threw up her hands. “I’m telling you, my dogs are less trouble.”

“Well, yeah,” Laverne piped in, her hands clasped under her chin. “But they’re dogs.”

“I have an idea,” Marnie said. “Why don’t you let me take him back to Wisconsin for the six weeks you’re gone? I have the summer off, so I can keep an eye on him.”

Kimberly tapped on the tabletop with long manicured nails. “Well, I hate to impose on you, but if you wouldn’t mind?” She raised one eyebrow.

“It wouldn’t be an imposition,” Marnie said firmly. “I’d like nothing better.”

Kimberly exhaled. “Well, if you don’t mind, that would be wonderful. I can compensate you for the expenses he incurs while he’s with you.”

“Oh no, that’s not necessary,” Marnie said. “I want to spend time with him. I’ve really missed him. He can see his relatives on his dad’s side and hang out with his friends. It’ll all be good.”

“Marnie,
you
are a lifesaver.” Kimberly glanced up at the clock and pushed the coffee mug aside. “I know this seems abrupt, and I don’t want to be rude, but I have a plane to catch later today, and I’m not even halfway ready. I’ll give you the paperwork and the directions to the camp. We can work out the other details later on. Will you call me when you get there so I know you have Troy safe and sound?”

As they drove through the gates of Camp Future Leaders of America, Marnie muttered, “I can’t believe Brian told people I was his housekeeper. It’s just unbelievable.”

“It’s not unbelievable. You can believe it ’cause it happened,” Laverne said, in a tone that indicated she was tired of hearing about it. “But it’s over and done with. Time to move on.”

“I know it’s over, but I’m finding it hard to move on,” Marnie said, turning to follow a wooden sign marked “Camp Office.” “I feel like a fool.”

“Why should you feel like a fool? You didn’t do anything wrong! Not only that, but you’re the one that’s still alive. Seems to me you got the last laugh.”

Marnie didn’t say anything to that, just continued down the gravel drive to their destination. The administration building was a large structure reminiscent of military barracks.

When they got out of the car, Laverne surveyed the landscape and said, “Kind of pretty, in a tumbleweed sort of way.” They didn’t see any tumbleweeds, though. What they saw was dirt and plenty of it. The sporadic patchy groundcover looked like it was fighting to stay alive in the midday heat. An enormous brown mound on the horizon was their version of a mountain, Marnie guessed. What a contrast to summer camp in lake-covered Wisconsin. If they could export shade from the Midwest to this part of Nevada, they’d make a fortune. Laverne wiped her forehead. “They sure do keep the heat up in this part of the country.”

Stepping inside the building, they were relieved to encounter air-conditioning. Oddly, the inside looked much bigger than she’d expected. A long Formica countertop served as a desk for two women, one of whom was on the phone. The other one, a young woman with a curly ponytail, got up to greet them. Her mint-colored polo shirt had the camp name and logo embroidered on one side. She looked as young and chipper as a college cheerleader. When Marnie identified herself, the woman shook her hand hard. “I’m Helga,” she said. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

She studied Kimberly’s letter and compared Marnie to the photo on her driver’s license, then made several copies of each before returning the license to her. “We have to cover ourselves, legally,” she said apologetically.

“Can I see Troy?” Marnie said, trying not to sound too impatient. A frantic feeling rose from her abdomen and she felt like she might crawl out of her skin if they didn’t produce him soon. She was ready to fight off anyone who would stand in her way. Luckily, that wasn’t necessary.

“Of course. He’s in the infirmary,” Helga said, and led them down a hallway to a windowless room in back. The door was open, and Marnie saw an older woman sitting at a desk opposite two cots, one of which was occupied. A boy lay on his side, a fleece blanket up past his chin. His eyes were closed, but Marnie instantly knew it was Troy. She moved past Helga, who was now talking to the woman about getting Troy’s things ready since he’d be leaving soon. Laverne hovered in the doorway uncertainly, but Marnie didn’t care. Troy was here. He was right here.

She stooped down next to him. She reached over and brushed his hair away from his face, like she’d done a thousand times before. His skin felt overly warm and his cheeks were flushed. She knew the camp couldn’t give him medication, but did anyone even consider a damp washcloth on his forehead? “Troy?” she said quietly.

His eyelids fluttered and then opened. A sleepy grin crossed his face. “Hey, Marnie,” he said. The way he said it could have been any school-day morning at home, back before Brian died.

“Hey, Troy,” she said, resting her cool hand on his forehead, wishing she could absorb some of the fever for him. “I heard you’re not feeling so good.”

“I’m sick. I feel terrible.”

“I know, honey. I heard.”

His eyes closed again. “I knew you’d come.”

Marnie stroked his head. “Yes.”

“Why did it take so long for you to get here?” he asked.

Marnie glanced up at Laverne, who was wiping her eyes. She said to Troy, “I came as soon as I could.”

“I was waiting,” he said, his voice sounding as tired as Marnie felt. She was tired but really couldn’t complain. It was a good tired. This moment was worth the effort she’d made to get here—all the hours in the car, getting attacked at the rest stop, the hospital visit, and even having to share a room with Laverne. She’d do it all over again if she had to.

She took her hand off his head. “Are you ready to ditch this place and head for home?”

“Yeah.” He raised himself up on one arm and regarded her quizzically. “But which home do you mean?”

“I’m taking you back to Wisconsin. Your mom said you can stay with me for six weeks. What do you say to that?”

He grinned. “Yes, please. I would like that very much.”

“Someone taught the boy good manners,” Laverne said, winking and giving Marnie a nudge. “Wonder who that could be.”

Rita lingered at breakfast that morning while the rest of the household bustled around starting their day. Jazzy, who assumed she’d be helping at the restaurant again, had set the alarm and gotten up early to take a shower. Very soon Beth, Mike, Carson, and Jazzy would be leaving to set up lunch at Preston Place. Rita alone had opted to stay behind to wait for Glenn to call her back. They’d last talked yesterday evening, and since then, she couldn’t reach him. It was unusual for him not pick up his cell phone. She’d left two messages for him. In a little while, she’d try him at work.

While she sat drinking strong coffee, she heard activity in other parts of the house—footsteps along with the sound of the front door opening and closing as different family members loaded the car with the bins they used for transporting stuff to the restaurant. Beth laundered the dishtowels and aprons for the restaurant at home. She wrote up menus and grocery lists and employee schedules from her laptop in the evening, while Mike sat alongside her paying restaurant bills and ordering supplies like fryer grease on his computer. To Rita, the lines between home and work were too blurred. This was a life she’d never want. Mike and Beth were always on the move, either working or playing. They never sat down and read a book or watched television. She longed for her quiet, peaceful home, her husband reading a book on one end of the couch while she did the same on the other end. Just a few days ago she’d wanted to escape her life; now she was desperate to get it back.

She’d picked up her car from the shop yesterday, and it ran perfectly. Such a relief. It was parked outside now where she could see it through the kitchen window. She longed to put her suitcase in the trunk and just drive off by herself. Without stopping, she could make it home in just short of fourteen hours. Think of that—she could be in Wisconsin by bedtime. Would it be so bad to leave the other women on their own? She’d brought them this far—wasn’t that enough? Yes, she had agreed to do the driving to Las Vegas and back, but so much had changed along the way. Perhaps they could rent a car for the drive home.

Seeing Davis again was a shock, much more upsetting than she’d let on. The injustice of having him out in the world walking around while her daughter was dead gnawed at her. And the smug bastard didn’t seem repentant at all. Dating a police officer’s daughter, no less. He acted as if nothing could touch him. And maybe nothing could. She and Jazzy had hung the flyers, and that felt good, like she was putting him on notice and warning the rest of the community, but what did it mean in the long run? If he wasn’t welcome here, he’d move on, she was sure of that. Take his charm and manipulative ways elsewhere. Never paying for what he’d done to Melinda. Never getting punished for ruining all their lives.

Jazzy rushed into the kitchen, towing Carson by his shirt. “Hey, Rita,” she said. “Guess what?” Rita hadn’t a clue and just looked up at her blankly. “Okay, I’ll tell you,” Jazzy said, exchanging an excited glance with Carson. “I just talked to Laverne. She and Marnie picked Troy up from camp and they’re on their way back here! Isn’t that wonderful?”

Rita drained her mug of coffee before answering. “Great news.” She tried to sound enthused, but her response was flat. “So Kimberly just let her take Troy?”

“Yep. For the next six weeks anyhow, while she’s out of town. Marnie’s taking him back to Wisconsin to stay with her.”

“That’ll make the car pretty crowded, don’t you think?” Rita asked.

“We’ll figure something out.”

“When will they get here?”

“Probably not until tomorrow,” Jazzy said. “I mean, it’s a really long drive. I’m sure they’ll have to stop for the night.” Seeing the expression on Rita’s face, she said, “But we were planning on being gone this long anyway, right? We’ll still return right on schedule; you and I just made a stop on the way.”

Carson said gently, “You know you’re welcome to stay at our house as long as you need to. My folks are fine with it.”

“Yes.” Rita swallowed back her disappointment. “Your family has been wonderful, and we certainly appreciate it.”

Jazzy came up behind her and looped her arms around her neck. She whispered, “I know you’re feeling down, but things will get better, you’ll see.”

Rita patted her arm and said, “Are you saying that as a psychic, or an eternal optimist?”

“A little of both, I think.” Jazzy released her hold and then, pulling back, gave her a look of concern. Rita knew that look. Since Melinda’s death, she’d seen it many times. People felt so inadequate when a fellow human being was in emotional pain. She’d gotten good at consoling friends when their well-meaning attempts to bolster her spirits backfired.

Rita summoned up a small smile. Jazzy meant well. There was no point in making everyone miserable. Even so, when they all set off to the restaurant, she was glad to have the house to herself. To keep busy, she organized her suitcase in preparation for leaving the next day, then went outside and tidied the interior of the car, scooping up candy wrappers and plastic bottles. The back was particularly messy, with potato chip crumbs on the seat and something sticky on one of the windows. She wiped the back windows down with a damp paper towel, the best she could do for the time being. When she got back inside, she cleaned up the breakfast dishes and poured herself another cup of coffee and checked the time. Only thirty minutes had passed. Waiting for Laverne and Marnie to return was going to be torturous.

Rita was vacuuming the living room, pushing the cleaner in straight, even rows, when the doorbell rang. The first time it rang she only paused, not sure what she had heard. The second time confirmed it was indeed the doorbell. She shut off the vacuum and listened. There it was again: the loud chime of a doorbell. She considered letting it go and not answering at all. After all, under normal circumstances no one would be home anyway, but something made her lift the curtain and look. The car in the driveway, a boxy blue thing, didn’t look familiar. She couldn’t see who was at the door from this angle but they were persistent—the bell kept ringing at regular intervals.

“Yes?” she called through the closed door. “Who is it?”

“Rita? Is that you?”

She fumbled with the lock for what seemed to be an interminable amount of time, and yanked the door open to see Glenn, a bouquet of flowers in hand, a smile on his face.

He’d always had an unusual way of smiling, lips closed, almost sheepish, and that was how he smiled at her now. She once asked him to do it differently. “Show some teeth,” she’d suggested. When he complied, she burst out laughing. The toothy smile looked forced and uncomfortable. His natural smile was more him somehow.

Rita stared at him in disbelief. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?” he asked.

She stepped out and threw her arms around him, crushing the flowers, letting the warm air into the house and the air-conditioned air out into the world and not caring at all about Beth and Mike’s electric bill. “I have never been more happy to see you in my entire life,” she said.

She kissed his cheek and his ear and his neck, until he said, “All right now, I get the picture. I’m glad to see you too.” Such a dear man.

Finally, she let him inside, where he presented her with the flowers, still fragrant and colorful, if not quite as perky as they’d been a few minutes before. She held them across one arm and admired them before setting them on the kitchen table. “Whatever are you doing here?” she asked, leaning against the counter.

“You want me to go?” he teased.

“Heavens no!”

He put his arm around her shoulder, the way he used to do when they were dating. “I heard it in your voice on the phone—you sounded so lost. I knew you needed me. So I called work and told them I had to take a few days off for a family emergency, hopped on a plane, rented a car, and found my way here. I saw the Crown Victoria outside, so I kept ringing that doorbell. My next stop was going to be the restaurant.”

“So you came for me?” Rita was touched and relieved. Part of her had feared the worst.

“Of course. Why else?”

“I was afraid you came to kill Davis.”

“I’d like to, believe me.” He looked down at the floor and took a deep breath before meeting her eyes.

“Did you want to go see him and talk to him yourself?” she asked quietly. “I know where he lives.”

He cleared his throat. “It’s tempting, but honestly—I don’t know what it would accomplish at this point. Not to mention I’m afraid of what I might do to him. I would like to end him.” His voice was crisp now. “But we already lost a daughter. I’m not going to prison on his account.”

Glenn was serious, she knew. Since Melinda’s murder they’d experienced everything from soul-sucking fatigue to uncontrollable rage. Counseling had helped them confront the pain and manage their anger, but it still crept up on occasion. Maybe it always would.

He looked around and broke the silence. “Where are your friends?”

“Marnie and Laverne aren’t back from Las Vegas yet, and Jazzy is at the restaurant with Mike and Beth and their son. There’s kind of a romance going on between Jazzy and Carson. It’s really sweet to see.”

“Do you think they’d mind if I stole you away?”

“What did you have in mind?”

He leaned in and whispered in her ear. “The house is lonely without you, Rita. Really lonely. And you sounded like you’ve had enough. Why don’t you just come home with me?” When she started to object, he put a finger to her lips. “Hear me out, first. I know you don’t want to leave your friends in the lurch, so my thought was we could leave them the car, and you can fly home with me. When they get back, we can make arrangements to pick it up.”

“You’d let them drive the Crown Victoria?” Rita asked in surprised delight. “But that’s your pride and joy.”

“Ahem,” Glenn said. “A little correction—you happen to be my pride and joy. The Crown Victoria is just the best car I’ve ever had, but it’s insured and replaceable. Not that I want to replace it,” he added hastily. “I’m just making the distinction.”

Rita led the way into Preston Place, eager to introduce Glenn to Jazzy and the Kent family. The restaurant wasn’t open yet, but the front door was unlocked, so they let themselves in. Beth stood on a chair, writing the specials on a whiteboard. Jazzy and Carson were in the process of rearranging tables, pushing and pulling four-tops so that they lined up to make one long banquet table. All three stopped what they were doing when the door slammed shut behind Glenn. Jazzy looked up surprised, and blurted out, “
Glenn is here?
” in such an incredulous way that Rita had to laugh. Beth got down from the chair and wiped her hands on her apron before coming over to say hello.

“This is my husband, Glenn,” Rita said. Carson shook his hand and Jazzy gave him a big hug like he was an old friend.

“Have we met?” Glenn asked Jazzy.

“No, but I recognized you from pictures and from how Rita described you.” She stepped back and sized them up. “You two match.”

“I hope so,” Glenn said. “We come as a set.”

Mike came out of the kitchen to see what the commotion was, and Glenn greeted him warmly with the kind of backslapping only men could get away with. “Thanks for saving the ladies when the car broke down. You’re a good man.”

The group chatted for a few minutes, Glenn describing how empty the house was in Rita’s absence (“Cripes, the ticking of the clock was driving me crazy.”) and how he impulsively booked an early flight and came right away. “I hope you don’t mind,” he said, “but I’m stealing her back. I need her.”

Rita had never heard him speak with such devotion. Apparently absence
did
make the heart grow fonder. He reached over and rested his hand on the small of her back. She wondered at how she could have taken his love for granted in recent years. When you pared away the stuff of life—the obligations, the irritations, the illnesses, and pain—this connection, this love, was all that really mattered. It was trite, a platitude cross-stitched and framed in the gift shop at Cracker Barrel, but that didn’t make it any less true. She saw the way Carson looked at Jazzy and thought,
They’re so enthralled with each other, they have no idea all that lies ahead.
Maybe it was best that way.

“You’re stealing my Rita away?” Jazzy wailed theatrically, putting the back of her hand to her forehead. “All of my friends are abandoning me.”

“Poor baby,” Rita said.

Glenn explained that they planned to fly home and leave the car so the others could use it to get back to Wisconsin. “We can work out the logistics of getting the car back when you return,” he said to Jazzy.

Carson stepped forward. “I don’t want to goof up your plan,” he said, “but I have another idea.” They all waited attentively while he collected his thoughts. “Why don’t you just go ahead and take your car? I’ll take responsibility for getting the ladies home.” He made a sweeping, gallant gesture with one hand.

Jazzy gave him a pointed look. “That’s very nice of you, Carson,” she said. “But the
ladies
can get themselves home, thank you very much.”