You Only Get So Much (26 page)

Chapter 54

Three Months later in Spokane

April named her baby boy
Charles after our father. Little Charlie was born three days after her due
date. Perfectly healthy. Full head of hair. Ten fingers and ten toes. April had
told the truth about quitting the drugs. It took no convincing at all to move
April into the Cedar House. Mom was overjoyed to feel needed again and took to
the little boy instantly.

I'm keeping an eye on
Charlie's father too. He's not quite ready to be introduced to his son, but he
will be soon. Before I left for Colorado, I met Glen in a bar thanks to some
convincing from our local drug-dealer buddy, Mix. Glen told me about the night
he got into that bar fight, the one in which April was pushed to the ground.
Turns out the argument was over April's overdue drug tab. She owed another
dealer over a thousand dollars that Glen was trying to negotiate down, but the
dealer wouldn't agree to any negotiation—except one. He wanted the baby.

So when April heard Glen
screaming, "
If you think you can just take it, you're wrong
," he was talking about the baby. Glen was an
alcoholic, no doubt, but he wanted to be a good father. I set him up in a rehab
center in Idaho—far enough away that he could take the time he needed to
sober up and hopefully become the man he needed to be for April and his son. I
told April everything and she thanked me for it.

Libby moved into the
house too. She helped out with the baby, but had already enrolled in classes at
Spokane Community College. She had it all worked out. She'd transfer to a
four-year school after she got her entry-level classes completed. She wanted to
study psychology and work as a counselor to kids.

There was one big change
with Libby though, her name. She's back to being Aspen again. I didn't think it
was fair to keep the truth about her mom hidden. That would have just
perpetuated the lies and set her up for disappointment in the future. She
wasn't surprised, when I told her, in fact she told me that her experiences
with her mom fit everything Alex had described. She remembers the days after
the fire when her mom transformed into someone else. In a way, she was made to
transform too. From Aspen to Libby, but she was so young she didn't know to
resist it. She didn't know that something was wrong.

She was upset about the
silver envelopes, because like Alex and me, we couldn't figure out why Jane
sent them. Obviously Jane was sending them to Ella too, but Ella never
mentioned them to Aspen or me. This omission was clearly a misguided attempt to
cover for her daughter.

Alex and Aspen have
talked on the phone several times over the past few months. It was awkward at
first, but she told me it's gotten easier. I think it's important for her to
talk to her family—even family she doesn't yet really know. If everything
works out, I'll fly Aspen to Colorado to see her uncle this summer when she's
on break from school.

Aspen has made it very
clear that she doesn't want to see her grandmother again. The woman is an
enabler, who allowed her daughter to hurt people because it was too difficult
for her to deal with the truth. That's not the kind of person she needs in her
life. People who bring you pain with no regard for the damage they cause aren't
worth your time. You should focus on the family that is best for you. Blood
relatives or not.

*
* *

I'm splitting my time
between the Cedar House and Michelle's place. The house is so full of people
right now that it's nice to get away for a little break now and again. This
summer that will change. Kendall will head off to college at the University of
Washington and Mom has already said that she wants to return to the GreyHawk.
April appreciates the help, but by summer she'll be clawing at the walls to get
her own place too. I have a feeling that Mom will have a standing invitation to
help with Charlie any time she pleases, though.

I plan to sell the
house—maybe I'm getting a little ahead of myself. Let me tell you about
Michelle.

*
* *

I couldn't be happier in
my relationship with Michelle. Right after Colorado, I found myself stopping at
jewelry stores—trying to convince myself that I wasn't going to buy a
ring. I can't lie; I'm fairly gun-shy considering everything with Jane, but I
bought one anyway. And I'd been carrying it around for weeks when Michelle made
the decision easy for me.

On this particular
morning she asked me to come visit her for lunch at the school. We'd done this
at least once a week for some time now, so it was no big surprise. When I
arrive at the classroom the kids are all working on a craft project at their
individual tables. I winked at Gracie as I stepped in. We'd made an agreement
that I would pretend I wasn't her uncle during class time, so she could still
be cool in front of her friends—which is nuts because she's only 6. But
that's what she asked for and I obliged.

"I've got to fill
out some paper work before they all head out for lunch," Michelle says.
"You can wait over at the table by the window. It'll only be a
minute."

I take a seat in the
tiny little chair by the window and start thumbing through one of the books on
the shelf when a little boy walks up to me and hands me a piece of red
construction paper.

"It's for
you," he says.

The paper is a wild
assortment of green yarn glued onto the paper in the shape of a bird and a nest
or something. I can't exactly make it out.

"Thank you," I
say.

Then another kid, this
time a girl, hands me a blue piece of construction paper, with the word
"Have" written on it in crayon. This pattern continues. Several more
children bring up pieces of paper and set them on the desk in front of me.
Michelle is filling out her paper work and is totally ignoring this odd little
parade of artists.

I realize that the first
yarn picture wasn't a bird and a nest, but the word "We." I lay out
the papers. They read, "We Have A SERCET." I assume
"SERCET" means "SECRET." Now all the students are giggling
in their chairs.

So the kids have a
secret. OK. Now what?

Gracie stands up and
slowly walks to my table and hands me a folded piece of green construction
paper that is completely covered in sparkle glitter except one small line in
the middle. Gracie uses her hand to hide her smile. The class erupts in
laughter.

I look down at the
paper. It says, "We Are Getting A New Kid."

Now, ordinarily, I'd
say, "Great, so?" But something about this little performance
indicates a much larger message.

I look over at Michelle,
who is now actively avoiding my glance and pretending to work on her papers.
The kids know this too, so they call out "Ms. Dixon! Ms. Dixon!"

Then she finally looks
up at me and raises an eyebrow.

We're having a baby.

Chapter 55

The wedding is in the
back yard of Michelle's mom's house. It's July, so she had big white event
tents raised to cover our guests—which is good because it rains the
entire time. The event is simple and very casual. Michelle wears a
loose-fitting silk and lace gown that makes her look gorgeous with just the
slightest baby bump showing.

We can finally declare
our love for each other and begin our lives together. The rain stops for the
"I
Dos,"
and our first dance, but then it's back to a downpour and so we
dance in the drenching rain. All of us, even Mom in her bright yellow pants.
Gracie, Aspen, Kendall, me and Michelle share dances and let the events of the
past year wash away as the heavens open up.

All the worry, guilt and
stress is gone. All the sorrow and pain is released, replaced by a renewed
sense of family and joy.

As I spin around on the
slippery dance floor, stumbling over my two left feet, the world falls away.
All I can see are my people—my family. They all smile. The ladies' makeup
runs down their wet faces and their hair drips in matted globs. But they are
happy.

This is the life we
should be living for. This is the life I promise to live.

Chapter 56

Two days after the wedding

"Honey, can you
take those boxes off the coffee table?" Michelle asks. "I need to
write the thank you notes."

"Sure," I say.

We had opened our
presents the day after the wedding. It was a small wedding but people were very
generous and that was great. Michelle opened all the cards and I opened the
boxed gifts.

Kendall's gift was
pretty great. It was a publisher's proof of
Your Loss
, which she had managed to get up for
sale on Amazon and several other online sites. The e-book had already landed on
the top ten fiction list on Amazon and I was getting requests from literary
agents wondering where I'd been all these years. I ignored them—for now.
I was focused on my new wife and our unborn baby.

I was also working on
painting the new baby's room and Gracie's new room at Michelle's
house—which I guess is now my house too. Gracie will be moving in with us
full time soon. Kendall and Mom both agreed that selling the Cedar House would
help us all move on, as painful as it might be. Gracie seems excited about the
move, but I know it will take some getting used to.

Aspen already found a
group of friends at the community college who needed another roommate, so she's
living with them in north Spokane. She calls me every few days to check in and
we usually have dinner on Sunday nights. I hope that continues.

"Did you put all
the gift cards in the binder clip?" Michelle asks.

"No, you did,"
I say, with a knowing nod.

"That's what I
thought too, but we're missing one."

"What do you
mean?"

"I can't find one
of the cards," she says. "I probably just dropped it when we brought
everything in. I'm sure it'll turn up. I'll go look in the car."

"OK," I say.

I plop down on the
couch, exhausted. We've been moving for the last week and combined with all the
wedding activities I'm beat.

Then I see it.

Sitting on top of a pile
of cards and envelopes on the coffee table is a single silver envelope. It's
torn open at the top.

I'm afraid to touch this
selfish little envelope.

"It's her isn't
it?" Michelle asks from the entryway to the living room. "I'm sorry,
Billy, I didn't put it together in my head until I was already unlocking the
car."

"I don't
know," I say.

I reach out and then
instinctively pull my hand back, hesitating. But I can't leave it. I have to
look. I flip the envelope over. It was mailed here—to Michelle's house.
It's addressed to "The Happy Couple." The return address label is
Union, Missouri. I look inside the envelope. Just like I thought, it's empty,
just like all those envelopes in Alex's basement.

"What are you going
to do?" Michelle asks.

"I'm going to enjoy
getting our baby's room ready for its arrival. I'm going to take Gracie to
swimming lessons today and I'm going to drive Kendall to her college dorm in
Seattle in August because that's what their Dad and Mom would have done for
them. I'm going to unpack all my boxes of junk and live here with my beautiful
bride. I'm going to write in my blue notebooks. I'm going to mow the lawn and
complain about crab grass and weeds like a normal person. I'm going to have
Sunday dinners with our family and love every minute of my marriage and my life
with you and our child. That's what I'm going to do. Nothing else
matters."

Chapter 57

One Year later—July 4th in Union, Missouri

The real Frank is
actually a pretty nice guy once you get to know him. Aspen and I agreed that he
too needed to know everything that happened, so he wouldn't turn out like
me—punishing himself for the actions of someone else. The damage this
caused me is now thankfully repaired, but it wasn't an easy road for any of us
and Frank didn't deserve to be put through all that.

"I wish you were
full of crap, Billy," Frank told me, when I gave him the full story.
"But I don't think you are and that really sucks for me and for you."

"You got that
right," I had said.

But it wasn't enough for
him, or for me. I can't head off the pain he feels, but I can help, which is
why Frank, Aspen and I are in Union, Missouri today.

*
* *

One thing I know for
certain about Jane is that she loves fireworks. Our first date, way back when,
ended watching fireworks at Deer Lake. Then every year thereafter, no matter
where we were, she'd find out where the fireworks were going to be set off and
we'd get there early to get a good seat. For some reason I'm convinced she'll
keep up that tradition.

I didn't want to go
through what Alex experienced with Jane—having her act as if she doesn't
know me.
 
I don't think I could
take it. Frank and Aspen also agreed that confronting her wasn't a good idea.

But one day a year,
since we have a pretty good idea where she might be, we can at least try to see
her. So today on July 4th, we're betting she's somewhere in the playing fields
surrounding the local high school as fireworks are launched off the roof of the
gym. That was enough for us to make the trip here. Michelle encouraged us to
go. She's at home with our son Landon, who is a perfectly healthy and happy
little boy.
 

As the sun starts to
set, everyone returns to their lawn chairs, everyone except the three of us.
We're wearing a path into the grass circling the fields looking for Jane. Looking
for closure. Looking to move on.

Then as the lights
around school turn off for the fireworks show, we stop looking. The sky is
instantly lit up with bright red, white and blue sparks exploding to the rhythm
of patriotic music. So we watch the show and it's really quite good, but I
can't focus on it.
 
Neither can
Frank or Aspen. We won't look for her again. This is a one-shot deal. One
attempt. None of us wants to torture ourselves anymore.

So as the explosions in
the sky above cast hints of color on the people below we scan the crowd for the
last time.

Then I see her.

Standing by herself just
in front of a cluster of trees. She's not watching the fireworks either, she's
watching us.

Jane raises her hand as
if to give a half-hearted wave. Not to say hello, but just to acknowledge that
she too sees us. Just as soon as she raises it, she snaps it back down to her
side and fidgets with her arms trying to find a comfortable way to hold her
body in such an awkward situation.

I nudge Aspen and she
sees her too. Frank follows our eyes as well. So here we are. The three of us
and Jane, staring at each other across a sea of people under a kaleidoscope of
colors, through years of pain, hurt and lies. Does she really recognize us?
Does she know why we're here? I can't know that.

But I want her to know
that we know about her. There is nothing that can make this right. Is it her
fault, what she did? I don't know, but I don't want to feel like this anymore.
I can't be a victim. None of us want to be.

So as the last firework
flickers out and the music dies, I forgive her.
 

The lights on the school
hum and then slowly turn on as Jane steps backward into the cluster of trees
and disappears.

Frank and I hug Aspen as
the firework-watchers gather their coolers and lawn chairs and head home.

*
* *

I never saw Jane again
after that night, but the envelopes kept coming. We all got them—Alex,
Frank, Aspen, me and others. Over the years the addresses would change. Aspen
would take it upon herself to meet the people her mom lived with or had
relationships with, if she could find them. She'd tell them everything. Some
understood, others just slammed the door in her face. Both reactions I
understand.

I've moved on from
wondering about Jane anymore, but support Aspen in any way that I can. There
may come a day when Jane shows up here again. Maybe when Aspen has a child of
her own. Or when Jane runs out of new lives to live. But I'm happy in my
decisions—happy with Michelle, Landon and Gracie in our little house.
Happy to see Kendall building a life of her own. Happy to see my crazy mother
for Sunday dinners.

You only get so much
family. Keep them close.