“Putting up with your pops.”
“I really should be given some medal for that,” I had fired back, to which we both laughed, as we did, indeed, finish the rest of that dip.
“Ah, Lambeau,” Craig replies to me now, taking away a good memory and forcing me back to this painful reality. “I’ve heard that you haven’t seen a game until you see one in Green Bay.”
“Yeah. It’s amazing.”
He smiles. I’m starting to warm up to him. He’s trying, so I’m going to make an effort. “Well, I guess we’ll have to go sometime.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Paula continues her role as General Buzzkill.
Does she really expect me to not go back to Wisconsin at some point?
“Anyway”—she changes the subject—“we don’t feel that you should go to school right away. Maybe once the new year starts. Whenever you’re ready.”
I look out the window as bitterness slowly creeps into my veins. Sure, sure, I can take my time. No rush. Whenever I’m ready. Where was this patience before I was forced to move to Florida?
Not like I would ever be ready for this, but still.
The ground gets closer and closer. The wheels touch down on the runway. My heart begins to race as the plane slows. We’re here.
Nothing is ever going to be the same again.
Paula turns her phone on. “This reminds me—we need to get you a new phone.” She has the latest iPhone and didn’t hide how horrified she was by my phone. I don’t want a new one. But if I get a smartphone, it’ll be easier to stay in touch with everybody. Although the thought of seeing pictures of my friends continuing their lives without me may be a bit too much to handle.
How long before their lives go back to normal? How long before they forget me?
Every time we left for a new city, before Valley Falls, I’d had a friend or two who said they’d keep in touch. It would last for a few weeks before it would eventually fizzle out. Distance does that to relationships.
But I was so young and only knew those people for a few months. Things with the Gleasons would be different.
It has to be.
Paula’s phone begins to chirp nonstop. “Goodness.” She silences the ringer, but I can see the messages popping up on her screen. “Oh, no.”
“What is it?” Craig asks.
Paula looks at me, concern etched on her face. “It’s the media. They found out we’re coming in today. The airport is surrounded.”
Chapter
TWENTY-SEVEN
“I am going to kill whoever did this!”
“Don’t make a scene. It’s going to be okay.” Craig attempts to calm Paula down as she paces outside the arrival gate for our flight.
For nearly a week, I’ve been in a tiny town where every single person knew I was Amanda Linsley. There were reporters everywhere and not one person talked. Not a single one.
I’ve been in Florida with my new “family” for less than five minutes, and the media has swarmed the arrivals area.
Someone talked.
Craig steps away as he takes a phone call. I don’t know what to say to Paula. I should probably comfort her, but I’m also pissed. It’s my face that’s going to be plastered all over the news. Most of what I want is impossible, but I should have the right to salvage an attempt at a regular life. While I realize that’s somewhat impossible, a girl can still dream.
“Okay.” Craig comes up to us with a confident nod. “Here’s what we’re going to do: Paula and I are going to go ahead and deal with the media. If they corner us, we’ll simply say you’re coming next week. We will ask, once again, for your privacy. We’ll also tell them you’re only here for a visit. Hopefully that will throw them off. I’ve also talked to the sheriff, who will have police at our house in case there are any issues. Luckily, we live in a gated community, so only authorized people can enter. The reporters won’t be able to get near us. Ally, are you okay waiting here for about thirty minutes until we have everything sorted out? Paula’s mom is going to meet you and take you to our house.”
“No.” Paula shakes her head, and tears start streaking down her cheek. I glance around the boarding area and see we’re attracting some attention. My defenses immediately pick up. How much have they heard? What if someone figures out who we are? A single click of a camera phone could have everything crashing down.
Even though it’s warm in the airport, I put the hood of my jacket over my head.
“It’s fine. I can wait,” I reply. I’m almost relieved to have a little more time before I step inside their house.
“No,” Paula says more defiantly. “I can’t. I can’t let her go.” She reaches for Craig. “Don’t take Mandy away from me again. I can’t bear it.” She buries her head in his chest.
He brushes her hair. “It’s okay. It’s over. The nightmare is over. She’s here now. She’s not going to be taken away from you.”
I keep forgetting about what this has been like for Paula. While I have no memories of her, Paula had three years of my life engraved in her mind and heart. She carried me in her womb for nine months. I was once a part of her, and then I vanished.
I put my hand on her shoulder. It’s the first time I’ve reached out to her—in any way. “It’s okay. Nothing is going to happen to me. I’ll be right behind you. I really don’t want to be on TV, so this is for the best.”
Paula sniffles for a few seconds before peeling herself away from Craig. She wipes her tears. “I’m sorry for blubbering. I’m just so scared …” She reaches out and touches my chin gently. “I don’t want you to disappear from me again.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I tell her. It’s true. I’m legally in her custody now, and I couldn’t leave even if I tried.
I’m slowly becoming resigned to the fact that Paula deserves to spend time with the daughter who disappeared. Maybe I shouldn’t think only about myself for a while.
Craig holds her hand. “We’ve got to go. We don’t want the journalists to be suspicious.”
“I bet it was Randy,” she says. “He’s always so desperate for attention. I can see him blabbing. Makes him feel big, important. The jackass.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Craig says as he rubs her back. “But we’ve got to go.”
“Maybe Man—Ally should go first?”
“Too great a risk for her to be recognized,” Craig counters. He reaches into his back pocket to get his wallet. He pulls out a twenty-dollar bill and hands it to me. “Why don’t you get yourself a treat while you wait? Your grandmother is going to text you so you have her number and then let you know when the coast is clear.”
I nod as I look at the twenty-dollar bill. It’s like nothing to him. Dad and I could make twenty dollars stretch to feed us for an entire weekend if we needed it, and sometimes we did.
Paula rummages through her bag. “Do you remember what your grandmother looks like?” She hands me a photo of a woman with graying hair holding me on my third birthday, right before I went away.
In the photo, I’m smiling with cake smeared on my face. Grandma is laughing. As I look at this photo, it feels like it could be anybody else. Not me.
“I’m going to text you every ten minutes,” Paula says. “And please respond right away. I want to make sure you’re okay.”
“I will,” I reply.
“Okay.” Craig gives me a smile. “All you need to do is take this train here to baggage claim. We’ll get your bags, so don’t worry about that. Your grandmother will be waiting for you, and we’ll see you in about an hour or so.”
“Great!” I try to muster some enthusiasm. I’m suddenly nervous about being left in this giant airport alone. What if I get lost? What if I can’t find my grandmother? What if I get in a wrong car? What if I actually get kidnapped?
Paula puts both hands on my shoulders and looks up at me. It’s the first time I’ve noticed that I’m a few inches taller than she is. Must’ve gotten my height from Dad. “I will never let any
thing bad happen to you, ever again.”
And just like that, the nerves go away. I believe her. And it’s weird that she knew what I was thinking without my having to say it.
Maybe moms and daughters have a bond that can’t be ripped away by distance and time?
I see a Starbucks up ahead. “I’ll be there.” I try to sound nonchalant about it, but I’ve never been to a Starbucks. I know. Valley Falls is too small to have any coffee place, let alone a major chain. There are a few in Green Bay, but I’ve never been able to justifiably cough up five dollars for a coffee. But now I have twenty dollars. I can get a large! And maybe a cookie or something.
And like the emotional pendulum I seem to be on, I feel guilty that going to Starbucks with money from Craig makes me excited while Dad is rotting in jail. Am I really that easily bribed?
(That answer, it appears, is yes.)
“See you soon.” Paula grips me in a tight hug before she walks off with Craig, looking back every few seconds. Once they board the train to baggage claim, I get in line at Starbucks.
I begin to analyze everybody ahead of me, a game Dad and I used to play: guess the person’s life story, like the guy in a business suit in front of me. He’s probably on his third coffee of the day, heading home after some very important business meeting.
We didn’t have many strangers back home, so we could only play this when we were at some diner on our way back from fishing. Or when we were in Green Bay. It shouldn’t be surprising that after we became hooked on telenovelas, the simple observations turned into full-blown conspiracies. Dad would automatically assume that this guy, who just looked at his watch, was late to meet up with his mistress, who also happened to be his sister-in-law.
Come to think of it, this guy does look a little anxious. He’s shaking his right knee impatiently. What’s he hiding?
I look around again and realize nobody is giving me a single glance. Why would they? I’m simply a girl getting coffee. They have no idea how much I’m hiding or who I am, how I am doing something as mundane as getting something to drink but on the inside I’m torn apart. I don’t know what’s ahead of me or, really, what was behind me. I don’t know who I am or what I want. My life has been ripped in two, but to anybody else I look whole.
My mind flashes back to last week. My birthday, with cake for lunch and dinner with Dad. Even though it wasn’t really my birthday. How could that have been only a week ago?
“What can I get you?” the girl behind the register asks me.
“Oh,” I say with a start. “Ah, yeah. Sorry. Um, can I have one of those frozen drinks?”
“A Frappuccino?” the barista clarifies. “What size? And which flavor?”
“Oh, um …”
Who knew ordering a coffee could be so complicated? After proving to everybody behind me that I’m new to Starbucks and don’t know the proper way to order a drink, I pay for my Venti Mocha Frappuccino and brownie and sit down.
My phone buzzes with a text from Paula. I tell her I’m inhaling sugar. Then another text comes from an unknown number. And it’s a long text with proper spelling and punctuation, which signals that it’s from an adult.
Hello, it’s your grandmother. I can’t wait to see you. I’ll let you know when you can come out. Should be a few more minutes. Love you.
OK, I reply, unsure what else there is to say. I can’t comprehend saying I love her back. I mean, I don’t really know her, so how do I know if I love her? It’s weird.
I spend the next twenty minutes looking at all the travelers on their way to unknown destinations. I usually have a book with me when I’m out by myself since I don’t have a fancy phone to distract me. I didn’t bother packing a book in my backpack because I knew I didn’t have the mental capacity to get swept away into a fictional universe, even though that might be what my brain needs the most: diversion.
There are a few more texts from Paula:
Are you all right?
Is anybody giving you trouble?
Is everything okay?
Do you need anything?
How are you feeling?
I reply to each right away. Then the text comes from my grandmother saying that the media have left and I can meet her.
I’m uneasy getting on the train. It’s not that I’m afraid of getting lost; it’s that I’m nervous meeting this woman. When I think of grandmothers I think of Grandma Gleason.
I wonder what she’s doing right now. And Marian. And Neil.
I get off the train and follow the signs to baggage claim. I pass by security and stop as soon as I see her.
It’s not that I recognized her from a memory or the photo Paula showed me, but it’s the look on her face. A warm smile and pride in her eyes. It’s a look for someone you love. It says I’m safe. It says I’m wanted.
“Hello, my sweet granddaughter,” she says as she takes a few hesitant steps toward me. “You’ve grown so much.” She has on coral capris and a matching cardigan over a flowered shirt. Her bright white hair is short, and she has makeup perfectly applied. But there are those eyes. The same eyes that I have. That Paula has.
“Hi … Grandma.”
I can’t seem to bring myself to call Paula “Mom,” but for some reason I’m compelled to be more at ease with this woman. Maybe it’s because I had a grandmother in Grandma Gleason, so it’s not a completely foreign concept to me. Not like a mom.
She steps closer to me while I’m frozen in place. She takes my hands and stares into my eyes. “You have grown into such a beautiful young lady.” She puts her wrinkled hands gently on my face. “Now, let’s get you home.”
Home.
Grandma Amanda wraps her arms around my shoulders as we walk toward the exit. “Yes, it’ll be good to get you home.”
There’s that word again: home.
I nod and smile along, even thought I feel empty inside.
I don’t know if I’ll ever feel at home again.
Chapter
TWENTY-EIGHT
“Ah, here we are.” Grandma Amanda pulls into a crowded driveway.
The house in front of me is a giant two-story, light yellow, stone-like house with blue shutters and a big dark blue door, which has a WELCOME HOME sign hanging above it. This house looks shiny and new compared to where I used to live. There are cars lining the curb and in front of the two-story, three-car garage down the driveway.
She gets out of the car and I follow her. We were quiet most of the drive. She’d occasionally mention a favorite restaurant or the exit toward the beach. I stared out the window, with my nose practically pushed against the glass, just like Baxter used to do. A pang in my stomach happens when I think about Baxter. He must be so confused and wonder where I am. And Dad. Baxter’s simple little life has also been overturned.
Push it down, push it all down, I remind myself. It’s the only way to get through this.
Grandma Amanda opens the front door. Paula and Craig are in a large living room with a small girl next to them. She has Paula’s heart-shaped face with sandy-brown hair. Her arms are crossed, and her face has the complete opposite expression of Paula’s. She clearly does not want to be here. Or is it me she doesn’t want here?
“Welcome home,” Paula says as she gives me another hug. “I’m so glad you made it home safe.”
My stomach drops every time she mentions the word “home.”
“And this,” Craig says as he pulls the girl in front of him, “is Sarah. Your sister.”
“Half sister,” Sarah clarifies.
Craig bends down and whispers in her ear, but I can still hear. “What did we talk about?”
Sarah grimaces at me and then extends her hand in a formal manner. “Welcome to our home,” she repeats in a robotic voice with the slightest inflection on the word “our.”
“It’s your home now,” Craig says to me.
There’s a moment of awkward silence between us. I’m sure this isn’t the grand homecoming they were expecting.
“We wan
t to give you a little tour before we go out to the back and have the family descend upon you.” Paula gestures to the large living room with cozy couches and a huge flat-screen TV. I follow her into a kitchen with shiny stainless steel appliances and a refrigerator that’s at least twice the size of the one we had back home. The kitchen leads into a dining room with a long rectangular table that seats six. On the other side are two French doors that open to a screened-in backyard with a pool, patio, and, oh, about a few dozen pairs of eyes staring at me.
“Shoo!” Paula waves away the crowd that has gathered to gape at me. I feel like an animal in a zoo. Same concept, really. Those animals are also trapped in an artificial habitat that will never be their real home. “They are all so excited to see you,” she explains.
Craig claps his hands together. “Why don’t we go upstairs so you can see your room?”
The four of us head upstairs on plush carpeting to a long hallway with four doors.
“This is Sarah’s room.” Craig gestures to a closed door. Sarah stands in front of it with her arms crossed, not making any movement to let me see it. “Well, let’s move on to our bedroom.”
We walk to the end of the hallway where Craig and Paula sleep. The room’s huge. In addition to the biggest bed I’ve ever seen, there’s a chaise lounge in the corner next to a door that opens to a deck that overlooks the backyard.
“Now, let’s get to the best part,” Craig says as we walk down to the room across from Sarah’s. He opens the door to another bedroom. There’s a large bed with a fluffy floral duvet. The dark wood and silver bed frame match the two nightstands and large chest of drawers. It opens into a bathroom that looks like it belongs in a hotel: all white marble and stainless steel fixtures. I’m so afraid I’m going to break or mess up something. I look down at my beat-up All Stars and hope I’m not tracking any dirt on the off-white carpeting.
“We can make any changes you want,” Paula adds. “I also have a couple boxes from your old room for you to go through. Obviously, it’s all from when you were a baby, but I thought you might want a few things.”
Craig puts his arm around her. “We’ve only been in this house for two years because your mother didn’t want to leave the house you grew up in.”
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