There was a pause. “Hey, I’m sorry, Mom. Really. I had no idea you’d freak out like that. I’ll let you know next time. I promise.” Then, after a beat, “Uh, speaking of Facebook, did you actually send messages to my friends?”
For the first time in forty-eight hours, I laughed.
“Vitality shows not only in the ability to persist, but in the ability to start over.”
~F. Scott Fitzgerald
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Chameleon Lake, Minnesota ~ Wednesday, July 5, 1978
It may have been only nineteen days since I’d last set foot in my hometown, but it might have been a decade for how differently I felt when my parents, Donovan and I drove back down Main Street.
Donovan squeezed my hand in the backseat, out of view of my parents, before we dropped him off at his apartment on Sixth and Main. My mom and dad had thanked him a dozen times already—for helping to find Gideon and for taking good care of me—so, in a way, there were no other words left to say but, “We’ll see you soon.” A phrase all of us repeated like echoes in a canyon.
I walked into my bedroom and collapsed on the mattress, my tie-dyed bedspread feeling soft and comforting after nearly three weeks of scratchy motel coverlets. David Cassidy stared back at me from my wall. I snickered.
When I worked up enough energy to pull myself to standing, the first thing I did was march over to that poster and tear it down.
The next thing I did was go to the Grocery Mart.
Dale was feverishly happy to see me. Not because he was glad to have me back, of course, but because he’d had to save up almost three weeks’ worth of bile toward me and couldn’t wait to begin spewing it.
I let him get as far as “You have some nerve, Aurora Gray, to neglect your work responsibilities here just so you could go joyriding around the Midwest—” before I strode past him and into the backroom, letting the door swing closed in the middle of his rant. I didn’t have many personal belongings in my work cubby, but I liked the Addams Family thermos I’d stashed there and fully intended to eat my last unopened package of chocolate Hostess Cupcakes, too.
I grabbed both of those, waved to Sandy, who was watching me with growing admiration—especially after I gave my still-hanging puce-colored apron the finger—and pushed my way through the door and back into the store again.
Dale was still pitching a fit in the middle of the canned foods aisle. I caught a glimpse of three shelves of tuna and winced.
“Don’t think you can just ignore me, when I’m talking to you, young lady. I’m your boss and I—”
“You’re not my boss anymore, Dale,” I said very loudly and very clearly, causing the few customers in the shop to pause and watch us with interest. “I quit. Bye now.”
And as I left the Grocery Mart, I felt the fresh summer air fill my lungs and the world of possibility opening up to me again.
Freedom.
***
Betsy came over that night.
“Mrs. Larrabee overheard you at the store today,” she said with a giggle. “She told my mom she was just ‘minding her own business, buying some eggs and milk’ when you came in and ‘damn near gave Dale Geiger a heart attack.’” My friend grinned. “Good for you, but why’d you quit now?”
“Because it’s time,” I replied. I told her a highly modified version of my “college scouting trip” and said that the experience convinced me I really should go away to school. “Still not sure exactly where or when, but it’s going to be sooner rather than later.”
She nodded and worried her bottom lip a bit. “Well, maybe this won’t be necessary then.” From a brown paper bag she was carrying, she drew out a small, flat, gift-wrapped package. “You were away on your birthday, so I couldn’t give it to you until now. But I hope you like it.”
I peeled off the wrapping paper and found a very pretty set of stationery. Light pink with my first initial embossed in glossy white on the left corner of every page and on the back flaps of each matching envelope.
“Thanks, Betsy. It’s really lovely and so thoughtful of you. I can’t wait to write on it.”
“I just wanted to make sure we kept in touch after I left for U of M next month,” she said. “You know, be pen pals.” She gave an apologetic laugh. “But, if you’re maybe gonna be in the Twin Cities, too—”
“I won’t be there,” I told her quickly. “I’m not planning to stay in state. I think I need a total change of scenery, actually, so I’ll definitely need this.” I held up the stationery and then patted it against my heart. “And I should probably get some for you before you leave. If I write, I want you to be able to write me back.”
She hugged me. “I’ll always write back to you, Aurora.”
“Good,” I said. “I’m counting on that.”
***
The next couple of days were a series of readjustments, resolutions and decisions—for my parents as well as for me. All of us were feeling our way through this new world of having Gideon back but not quite back, and being thrilled about it but not able to share the news with anyone aside from each other.
Gossip was buzzing around town about the recent arrest of Officer William James, but word on the street didn’t even hint at a connection to my brother’s disappearance. It was all about the dirty cop’s “shady financial transactions,” which wasn’t untrue…just not exactly the full story.
My dad pulled me aside Thursday afternoon. “I still don’t know what to say about any of this.” He was, I could tell, completely torn as a parent between wanting to lecture me for putting myself in such danger and wanting to praise me for having pulled off far more than I’d promised him before I’d left. “It was such a risk, Aurora. But—”
“But it was worth it,” I finished for him. “It really was.”
The rest of the world didn’t have to know any of the details, but our family did, and we finally had the closure we’d all sought. At least most of it.
Knowing this one-ton weight had been lifted off all of our shoulders gave me the courage to add, “I’ve been thinking a lot about the fall. I have an idea for school that I’d like to share with you and Mom tonight.”
He agreed, but as he hugged me, he whispered, “I talked to Donovan when we were in California. I could tell he cares about you a lot.” He pulled back a little to study my face. “Am I right that it’s mutual?”
I nodded. “Very much so.”
My dad nodded back. “Well, I can’t fault your choice. He’s a good man.”
“I know, Dad.” I kissed his cheek. “I’ve spent a lifetime watching you. I know how to recognize the best ones.”
***
That night, I pulled out the Northern Arizona University admissions packet and went through it with my parents, telling them about the buildings I liked on the campus and the natural beauty surrounding Flagstaff.
“It’s not exactly close to home,” I admitted, which was something almost too obvious to utter aloud, “but if they accept me, it would be a college I’d love to go to next year. This September, if it’s not too late. January, otherwise. Either way, I’ve been thinking about maybe moving there…soon. Getting a job somewhere in the city to earn money for classes. The only downside is how far away I’ll be from you.”
My parents shared a look that told me in half a second all I needed to know. That they loved me, but they knew the time had come to let me go.
I knew that time had come, too.
With tears brimming in her eyes, but a genuine smile on her lips, my mom said, “Why don’t you apply there, sweetheart? Send it out this week.”
My dad agreed. “If you liked the place so much, that’s where you should study. It’s only a two-hour flight away. Not so far.” He put his arm around Mom’s shoulders and squeezed. “Won’t that be a great state for us to visit during winter?” he asked her.
She nodded. “And maybe your brother will be able to meet us there sometimes.”
I didn’t say so, but that very thought had crossed
my mind as well.
A few hours later, my mom motioned me into the kitchen while my dad was occupied watching the ten o’clock news. She looked fifteen years younger now that she knew Gideon was alive but, still, I could see she was worried about him. About whatever unforeseen hazard might befall him next.
“Do you think he’s really okay?” she asked me. “Your brother…out there on his own? He said he’d keep in touch with us in some way or another, but I just don’t know what to expect from him now. Everything’s changed.”
I agreed this was true. “I think he’s still figuring out for himself how he’s going to handle his next steps. It’ll probably be a lot easier for all of us once he does.”
Because, really, it was Gideon’s willingness to live in relationship limbo that I had the hardest time wrapping my head around. I understood his need for freedom, but not his lack of need for connection. I suspected he enjoyed the secrecy surrounding his life too much. His personal mythology of being some kind of rebel with a cause. A lone ranger on a motorcycle, riding west into the sunset, final destination unknown.
A sunset ranger? Perhaps that was it. With one shield—the windshield on his bike. A man on the open road who didn’t have to answer to anyone.
It had been such a huge cathartic moment seeing our mother getting to hold her son in her arms again. Her baby boy she’d thought she’d forever lost. But even being in the center of that, Gideon hadn’t fully realized the price we’d all paid for his choices—right or wrong.
I would always love and admire my brother, but I simply didn’t believe a man could fancy himself to be truly heroic while leaving the people he loved (and who loved him) in the dark. Not even if he thought it was for their own good.
“I hope that’s the case, Aurora,” my mom said. “With all my heart, I do.” She asked me to promise her something, and I said I would. Then she hugged me so tight I didn’t think she’d ever let me go.
But she did. And with a mother’s unwavering love in her eyes.
***
The next morning, I went to visit Donovan at work.
“Heard you walked out on Old Man Geiger,” he said to me in the garage, wiping some grease off his fingers with a cloth and sending me one of his half grins.
I’d missed seeing Donovan. Missed being around him. It was so strange to have gone two and a half days without talking with him face to face after we’d spent almost every second together for weeks.
“Yeah, I’d had enough of the store.” I paused. “Um, can we talk for a few minutes? Alone?”
“Sure.” He motioned me into the back office and closed the door securely behind us. Then he winked at me and snapped the blinds shut, too. “What d’ya have in mind, Aurora?”
I felt myself blushing. “It’s not like that,” I said, just because I knew it’d remind him of the day I came there to show him the journal. Knew it would make him laugh a little.
He did, and then he pulled me into his arms and held me close for several minutes before either of us said another word. I could feel the comforting pulse of his heartbeat through his white t-shirt.
When we finally stepped apart, I asked him how he was doing, how his mom had taken the news, what his plans were for going back. I knew he’d be leaving soon. When we flew home from California, my parents had purchased a one-way plane fare for me back to Minnesota but, because Donovan’s car was still in San Bernardino, they’d gotten him an open-ended return ticket. It was just a matter of time before he used it.
“She handled it better than I thought,” he said. “But, you know, it was hard. Both of us wished the outcome had been different.”
I nodded and tried to push away the sadness. Jeremy had been like an extended family member to me—he’d been around so often. But I knew any pain I felt about his death paled in comparison to Donovan’s loss of his brother or their mother’s loss of her youngest son.
“I’m still glad we know, once and for all, what had happened to him, though. Your intuition steered us well. Often onto very dangerous roads,” he added with a smirk, “but they led to the right places.”
I bowed my head, acknowledging the truth of it. I may have guessed the correct path more than once, but I’d also been stubborn and reckless far too often. “You know I couldn’t have made it through any of this without you, Donovan.”
“Ah, I think you’d have been all right…but we made a good team,” he said. Then, “I’m leaving for California tomorrow morning. My mom’s not fond of long car rides, so she’s just gonna fly in and out of Albuquerque. I’m planning to fix my car in San Bernardino, drive out to meet her flight in New Mexico on Tuesday, then we’ll both go to see Billy Neville. And, later, Jeremy.”
He told me he'd spoken alone with Gideon about his brother. Had gotten some insight into Jeremy’s final days. Donovan said Gideon had even apologized for misleading him into thinking Jeremy was alive when he was playing his “Andy Reggio” role. That he’d been so focused on helping Billy nail Sebastian and William James that he hadn’t realized the emotional wringer he’d put Donovan through.
“Anyway, I think saying goodbye at St. Christopher’s will help,” he said. “Then my mom can fly back here, and I can drive home.”
“Will you take Route 66?” I asked.
He shook his head. “That’d take too long. It’ll be I-25 North, I-80 East and I-35 North. But—” He smiled at me. “Although this drive is something I need to do alone, I’ll miss your company in my car on the way back. Maybe not your singing—”
I laughed and slugged him lightly on his chest. He let my hand linger there for a moment before covering my fingers with his and pressing them against his heart. I hoped this was a good sign, given what I was going to ask him next.
“You know, I’m going to apply to college after all,” I told him. “In Flagstaff. I really liked it.” I paused. “Even though we were only there a few days, it has a lot of happy memories for me.” And I held his gaze for a long time, making sure he understood that this was because of him. “It’s new and different. Feels like the right place for a fresh start. But what I’m really hoping is…that you’ll come with me. Will you, Donovan?”
I held my breath, waiting for his answer, my heartbeat on pause as he considered my question. My hand—still in his—lay against his chest.
Finally, he pulled all of me close to him again and whispered, “No.”
Disappointment crackled through my body, and my spirit crumpled like a dried leaf. “Why not?” I managed to murmur.
He stroked my hair and pressed his lips to my forehead. “I will always be here for you, Aurora. But you should go to Arizona. You should try out college on your own. Be free for a while of everything and everyone. It’s something you need to do. I love you too much to want you to limit any part of your life because of me. And, for now, I still need to stay in Chameleon Lake.”
I wasn’t ready to give up on this. He loved me! That had to count for something. “For how long? When do you think you could leave?”
He shrugged, sadness sliding across his face. “I don’t know. A few months. A few years. I don’t have an answer to that yet, but I need to make sure my mom’s all right. And you need time to see if...if I’m really the man you want to be with.”
I drew an uneven breath and rubbed the gold band on my ruby ring to give me strength. Whenever I stayed calm and paid careful attention to my inner voice, I always felt things would somehow be okay. It was harder than usual for me to do that this time, but I was just going to have to trust in what I knew deep in my soul to be true.
“I still don’t regret a single thing that happened between us,” I told him, wiping away a tear that had escaped and slipped down my face. “I love you, too, Donovan McCafferty, and that’s not something that’s going to change just because of time and distance. I know you think it might, but I know my heart. I believe in us. I believe we were meant to be together. And I believe my instincts wouldn’t let me think so for a second if what we had wasn’t
real.”
He tightened his grip on me and we kissed—long, slow and so completely—it was like we’d fused on a cellular level. Then we pulled apart and he said, “I’m never as certain about anything as you seem to be but, for the record, Aurora, I know my heart, too. And I hope your intuition is right on this one.”
“He who knows others is wise. He who knows himself is enlightened.”
~Lao Tzu
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Los Angeles, California ~ Sunday, July 1, 1979
From the shoreline I watched the sun, radiant in its shimmering cloak of orange, greet a rolling wave with a kiss and slowly sink into it. I could almost feel the ocean’s embrace. The passion of opposites—fire and water—finally becoming one.
It had been an interesting year. Challenging in so many ways. Moving to Arizona. Starting classes at NAU (I was leaning toward library science. Nobody was surprised by this.) Only coming home for Christmas and for a couple of weeks early in my summer vacation. Not seeing my parents for months on end. Or Donovan.
None of us saw Gideon either, although he did send a couple of very enigmatic postcards, hinting he was still trying to decide which ribbon of highway he should ride his motorcycle down next. I suspected he’d pop in and out of our lives like the bubbles in a champagne glass for decades to come. Always keeping us guessing about what he did professionally, where he might be living, why he required such an extreme form of freedom.
I sighed and wrapped my arms around myself, imagining my brother giving me the hug I needed. But the connection and touch I craved wasn’t so easy to satisfy, and the waves were crashing closer to my feet, splashing my toes with droplets of water that were too far away from the sun to be warm.
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