by Lisa Wingate
Almost no risk. That wasn’t exactly true. “But there’s some risk for you. You still have a job at Lansing.”
“Not as of this coming Friday.” He sounded almost gleeful about it. “As of Friday, I’m telling them I’m out of here for good. Next Tuesday, we start up Geo Networking Solutions.”
“Geo Networking. Is that what you’re calling it?” I liked the sound of the name.
“That’s it. You in? We need you here to make this work, Karen.”
That heady sense of revenge wafted past, and every inch of my body tingled with excitement. “I’m with you. What do I need to do?”
“Get back here as soon as you can. Yesterday, if possible.” In the background, I heard him typing on his computer, and his voice took on a regular cadence that matched the keystrokes. “We’re working out all the details with the lawyers this week, and we sign the articles of incorporation next Tuesday, right after the Memorial Day holiday, just in time for the memo to go out to all of our old and dear networking customers.”
“I’ll be . . .” As if on cue, as if it had been planned by some great, cosmic force, the hallway door opened and I heard the kids at lunch, singing one of The Lion King songs.
“ ‘Hakuna Matata . . . it means no worries. . . .’ ”
“Oh, God,” I muttered, feeling my breath go out in a great, deflating gust.
“What?” It sounded like Brent thumped the phone. “Are you still there?”
A groan started somewhere in my stomach and wound its way to my throat. It was the sound of being torn in half—half with the kids, and half with Brent and my coworkers. What now?
What now?
“I . . . can’t . . .” What should I do? What was the right thing to do? Could I possibly leave the kids just four days before the performance they had worked so hard for? Could I leave Dell, run out on Kate and the family gathering she was counting on?
I took a deep breath, closing my eyes, searching, trying to clear my mind. Oh, God, tell me what to do. . . . “I can’t leave until after Memorial weekend.” The words came from somewhere in the darkness, and I barely even heard them before I was saying them to Brent. “I’m committed to some things here.”
He coughed into the phone. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No, Brent, I’m not kidding.” The determination, the steadiness of my voice surprised me. Inside, my stomach was flip-flopping like a fish on shore.
Brent muttered under his breath and I heard him typing again. “Monday night,” he said. “Can you catch a flight Monday night? I can e-mail you the details so you can be ready to sign with us Tuesday morning.”
“All right,” I heard myself say. My stomach stopped flipping and just lay like cold, silent stone. “I’ll be there.”
Chapter 20
The week was a strange mixture of Lion King rehearsals, corporate espionage, and waiting for biopsy results. I spent the mornings and early afternoons with the Jumpkids, then usually a little while with Dell, playing the church piano or just talking before I took her home. She was frustrated, I could tell. She didn’t understand why we couldn’t while away our afternoons wading at the river, or learning new tunes on Grandma’s old piano, or sitting at the soda shop in town, as we had the first week of camp.
I explained to her that I was doing some computer work, and it was very important—not as important as Jumpkids camp, but important.
“I thought you didn’t have that job anymore.” She frowned, cocking her head to one side and studying me.
“This is a new job,” I told her Thursday afternoon, as we sat in my car outside her house. The windows inside were dark and the TV was on—the windows were always dark and the TV was always on. “I’m starting a brand-new company with some people I work with in Boston.”
“Oh.” She gave me a resentful look, and for the first time ever I understood the dilemma working parents feel. On the one hand, I was excited about starting Geo Networking, so excited that even struggling along with Kate’s lousy Internet service couldn’t dampen my spirits. I was practically foaming at the mouth for revenge against Vandever and his cronies. I imagined their smug, unfeeling faces at the board meeting that final Friday, and then I pictured them finding out that Geo had taken the business they were plotting to steal for themselves. The anticipation of perfect justice lifted me a foot off the ground every time I thought about it.
On the other hand, there were Dell and the Jumpkids. When I was with them, I had a sense of something completely new, a warm feeling of accomplishment that came from making someone else’s life better. A satisfaction of the soul.
The two were like angel and devil, at war on my shoulders with my head in between.
“Dell, is something wrong?” I looked toward the house, wondering again. All week long, Dell had been quiet and exhausted, with big, dark circles under her eyes. The only time she came alive was when she was onstage. When I asked her about it, she told me she wasn’t sleeping well because she was worried about her part in the Jumpkids production. Sometimes, she gave me messages from Grandma Rose, so I knew she must be sleeping some, dreaming.
Still, I knew there were things she wasn’t telling me. Uncle Bobby seemed to be out of the picture since the fight with Dell’s grandmother, so I surmised that whatever was wrong at home wasn’t related to his presence there.
“Huh-uh,” she said, giving the front door a narrow-eyed look. Nothing wrong.
I knew if I asked to come in, she’d tell me her granny was sleeping, then she’d bolt from the car before I could follow. For me, Granny was nothing more than a large, shadowy figure occasionally moving past the window inside. Today, I couldn’t see her at all.
“When’s James coming home?” Dell asked, seeming a little more cheerful.
“Tomorrow morning.” I couldn’t wait for James to come back, either. All week, we had been talking about the plans for Geo Networking. James liked the idea of the company, but mostly he seemed relieved that I was moving back within the comfortable realm of our normal lives. Like me, he was concerned about the changes in Dell’s behavior, but I suspected he thought I was exaggerating.
He’d tried to pacify me on the phone. “Well, you know, she’s twelve years old. Maybe she’s coming into that moody stage. Remember when Megan was twelve? She about drove her parents nuts.” He laughed at the mention of his niece, who was a brilliant girl but a definite drama queen.
“True, but Megan’s always been that way,” I reminded him. “This seems different with Dell. It’s like she’s shutting down. She should be happy right now, with all of the Jumpkids excitement. But she’s not. She’s tired, and . . . I don’t know . . . preoccupied.”
“Maybe it’s the pressure,” he suggested, trying to put the situation neatly in a box. “This whole Jumpkids thing is way out of her normal realm. She’s probably just nervous about it.”
“Probably,” I said, because the call-waiting was beeping. “Gotta go, hon. There’s a call on the other line. Probably someone from Geo.”
We said good-bye and I went back to business, but in the corner of my mind there was a nagging disquiet about Dell. I looked at her now, sitting in the car, seeming reluctant to go into the house, and I felt it again.
There was no point asking her to let me come in, so I went through Friday’s schedule, even though we’d already been over it twice. “Now remember, no Jumpkids in the morning. I’ll be at church with Keiler and the other counselors, finishing sound checks and getting the costumes and set ready. Your job is to sleep in, relax, get all rested up for the big dress rehearsal tomorrow night. It’ll be just like a full performance. We’ll have an audience and everything, so everyone needs to be in top shape, all right?”
She nodded, sucking in a quick breath and widening her eyes. “ ’K.”
“And no staying up late tonight.” Shaking a finger at her, I did a pretty good imitation of Grandma Rose. Dell was too nervous to appreciate the joke.
“ ’K.”
“James or I
or Kate will come by for you around four tomorrow, so there’s plenty of time to get ready before the curtain at six.”
“ ’K.” She opened the door and slid one foot out. “Is Ben gonna be there tomorrow night, too?”
“No, he won’t make it home from St. Louis until Saturday.” She looked slightly crestfallen, so I added, “But he’ll be here for the big Saturday afternoon performance. All the cousins are coming, too, and my father and Aunt Jeane, so you’ll have a whole row right there cheering you on.”
She brightened noticeably. “Cool, a family row.”
“That’s right.” I choked on an unexpected lump of emotion. “A family row.”
I went home and buried myself in business for Geo so that I wouldn’t have to think about Dell’s family row. After the weekend, the family row would be back to just Kate and Ben and the kids. James and I would be gone, and with the demands of starting a new company, there was no telling when I would get a chance to come visit. Dell would still be living day to day in the little house across the river, where Granny stayed closeted from the outside world, and Uncle Bobby might show up any minute. Dell would come over to Kate’s when she could, looking for attention and love, and someone to support her music. Kate would do her best, give what she had that wasn’t already taken by raising two toddlers and caring for the farm. As Dell moved into puberty and her teenage years, would that be enough?
After next week, the Jumpkids crew would pack up and move to another town—Goshen, Missouri, I think Keiler had said. They would set up again and lead a new group of kids through the steps of The Lion King, down the path to finding themselves. When summer was over, the counselors would go back to college. Keiler would head for the mountains to become a wandering musician, or else to seminary school. The Jumpkids winter program would continue under a new director, when they finally found someone who’d take on such a demanding job for the salary of only twenty-nine thousand dollars a year.
Life in Missouri would go on just as if I’d never been here at all.
And in Boston, life would go on for James and me. Any day now, Dr. Schmidt would have the results of my biopsy. He’d assure me that everything was all right, and I could put the trauma behind me. Realistically, I’d never need to tell James about the irregular test result at all. The matter would soon be settled, and there would be no more big question marks looming in our future.
It was a comforting theory, but I didn’t feel comforted as I went to bed Thursday night. I felt like I was lying to James by trying to protect him from the cancer question. I felt out of place, and I wasn’t sure why, because in my mind I had everything planned out: help Kate tomorrow morning with preparations for the weekend guests, go to the church around noon to meet Keiler and the other counselors, finish preparations for the program. James would be in at three. Pick up Dell at four. Get the cast ready for dress rehearsal to begin at six. Perform, go home, and sleep; meet long-lost relatives Saturday morning, assemble family row for the final Jumpkids performance Saturday afternoon, visit with company Sunday, say good-bye to everyone Monday. Leave. Somewhere in the schedule, receive a call from Dr. Schmidt delivering a negative biopsy result.
It all made perfect sense, yet I couldn’t squelch the feeling that things wouldn’t work out that way. The disturbing sense of something about to go wrong buzzed around my head like a fly, and I tossed and turned all night. I was on edge all morning while helping Kate with the housework. Kate noticed and asked if anything was wrong. I passed it off as opening-day jitters.
“I hope Dell’s doing all right,” Kate mused as we worked in the kitchen. “I know she must be nervous. She’s never done anything like this.”
“I told her to stay home and get a good night’s sleep,” I said. “She’s been really tired all week.”
“I noticed that. I asked her if there was something wrong at home.”
“So did I. She said no, of course.”
Kate nodded, frowning toward the kitchen door, as if she wished Dell would show up. There was no sign of her, so both of us went back to work. I was glad when it was time for me to head for the church. The house was too quiet, and I was thinking far too much about the biopsy result. Was that the thing that was about to go wrong? Was some lab technician, even now, holding my future in latex-encased hands, thinking, This poor woman—this will be a shock. . . .
When I arrived at the church, I was swept into a frenzy of activity that made me forget about everything. It seemed like only a few minutes passed before it was three o’clock and James was walking in the door. Onstage, we were in the middle of a disaster involving moving clouds and confetti raindrops. Fortunately James jumped in and helped us finish with the set.
“Guess next week will be a picnic compared to this one,” he joked as we arranged paper boulders around a waterfall made of Saran Wrap and shiny foil gift paper.
“Oh, no doubt.” Both of us knew that next week would be no picnic. It would be fast paced and stress filled. In a way, I wasn’t looking forward to that. You’ve turned soft over the past couple of weeks, I told myself. Need to get back in the game . . .
James must have sensed the inner dialogue, because he cocked his head back and slanted a questioning glance. “Something wrong? You look . . . different. . . . I don’t know, nervous or something.”
Smiling, I gave him a belated hello kiss. Our typical kiss, not the kind of romantic, passionate one we had parted with a week ago. He noticed the difference.
“Just opening-night jitters,” I said.
He nodded at the explanation. It was easy, logical. He was quick to accept it. A twinge of disappointment went through me. I wanted him to ask what was really wrong. But then, I didn’t want to tell him.
The back door opened, and Sherita and Meleka came in with Myrone in tow.
“We thought we better come on,” Sherita said, trying to conceal a case of real, live enthusiasm. “We didn’t wanna be late.”
Meleka vibrated in place, then spun around and dashed toward the hallway door, hollering, “I’m gonna go help Mindy.” Over the course of the week, she and Mindy had built a strong friendship.
Myrone pointed at Rafiki’s tree, which was standing in the corner of the set, waiting to be brought out later. “Twee, twee, twee!” he squealed, and then pointed at the waterfall, “Wooo, wa-wa!”
“Oh, good,” I said, glancing over my shoulder at Keiler. “He can tell it’s water.”
“He ain’t dumb,” Sherita groused, but she was smiling slightly as she said it. Her bright eyes cut my way for just an instant as she walked down the aisle carrying Myrone. “We’re gonna go practice his part.” Pausing at the door, she glanced back at me and said, “O.K.?”
“O.K.,” I replied. “Yesterday, he was a wonderful baby lion.”
Sherita bounced him up and down roughly, looking pleased. “What’s a baby lion say, Myrone?”
“Raaarrrr!” Myrone squinted, showing a mouthful of teeth.
“That’s right.” Sherita turned and started through the door. “And don’t mess up today, either.”
When they were gone, James glanced around the sanctuary, seeming puzzled. “Where’s Dell? I figured she would be here with you. It’s you girls’ big day.”
“I told her to stay home and rest up for tonight.” I checked my watch. Four o’clock. “But it’s just about time to go get her. Can you go? We’ve got so much to do here yet, and Kate hasn’t shown up. She’s probably busy getting the house ready for company tomorrow.”
James stood back, clicked his heels together, and saluted me military style. “Ya-vold, Herr General.” He sounded like Sergeant Schultz on Hogan’s Heroes. I had a feeling he was making light of my pointing and ordering the college kids around, but somebody had to instruct them. They were all so nervous, they were practically nonfunctional. I couldn’t imagine how they were going to get through next week’s Jumpkids camp in Goshen. They were a bunch of free spirits, which made them good at the artistic part of this job and not good at the o
rganizational part.
“Very funny.” I was a little sharper than I meant to be. “Sorry.” Nervous perspiration beaded on my forehead, and I wiped it away.
“It’s all right,” he said, obviously disappointed to see me acting like the old humorless Karen. “Relax, Karen. It’ll be O.K.”
Closing my eyes a minute, I tried to catch a breath. “I can’t relax,” I admitted. “With the Geo thing and this.” I waved a hand vaguely toward the stage. “And I’m worried about Dell.” Not to mention the biopsy results. “It’s too much at once, that’s all.”
He kissed me sympathetically on the forehead. “Well, next week, all you’ll have to think about is Geo.” I knew he said that as an encouragement, but it fell to the pit of my stomach like a rock.
I felt ragged, close to tears. Afraid to speak, I nodded.
“I’ll go get Dell.” He turned around and left.
Clutching my clipboard to my chest, I sank against the wall. Get it together, Karen. What was wrong with me? I felt like I was standing on a live electrical wire and couldn’t get off.
Something crashed onstage, jolting me to life. One of the branches of Rafiki’s tree had fallen off, and Keiler was desperately trying to keep the now-lopsided structure from toppling over.
“Oh-oh-oh-oh!” I squealed and rushed onto the stage. “Somebody get a hammer!”
In the wings, Sherita was dragging a reluctant Myrone by the arm, saying, “Myrone, I’m gonna whup your butt. I told you to stay with me.”
Myrone didn’t hear her. He was busy singing a chorus of “Climb da twee, climb da twee!” And then a lion roar or two. “Rrraaarrrr! Rrraaarrrr!”
Keiler and I burst into laughter. “It’s always unpredictable,” he said, straining to push the tree back into place.
“Yes, it is,” I agreed. “That’s what I love about it.” I hadn’t admitted that to anyone, not even to myself. In spite of all the chaos, I loved this. I loved seeing the set come together, watching the production develop, hearing the music and singing. I loved watching kids like Sherita find inner joy and develop a hope that the world had something good to offer. “Maybe I’ll come back next summer.”