Once Sunshine was down for the night, Jessie had time to second-guess herself. Where exactly was she going? And with what? Everything she owned was back at the trailer. School books, clothes, dishes, housewares, baby stuff, and her life. Doubt arose, threatening to swamp her. Was she overreacting? If she was, this would be like starting a war for no reason. Lenny had been under a lot of pressure lately. It wasn’t like him to drink so much. Maybe there was something going on with him. Had he been hurt at work? Was he sick?
Or worse?
Lenny had been a star running back on his high school football team. He was a hero to the school, racking up hundreds of yards and winning all kinds of awards, but he’d been injured a lot, too. He had sustained several concussions that they knew of. In her classes, she’d learned that brain trauma could lead to personality changes. Her feelings bounced back and forth between compassion and anger, but certainty eluded her. If she could only know the future. Was this a onetime thing? Was he sorry? Could he be helped, or was this it?
And what about Sunshine? What was the right thing to do, even under the circumstances?
She put her face in her hands, wincing as the pain reminded her of last night. However, the pain was a blessing. It clarified her options. Even if she was overreacting, she was a mother. She had to protect the baby. Surely, Lenny would understand that, after he calmed down. Maybe, after a few weeks of her being away, maybe even a month, he would agree to go to counseling and learn how to control his anger. Or maybe she would get him to open up about the real reason he’d acted so mean. She just needed a little time away, to figure things out and to give him time to think. She fell asleep, one arm draped protectively over the baby.
The next morning, the rumble of eighteen-wheelers on the nearby freeway woke her. Sunshine slept deeply, barricaded by a berm of towels at the edge of the bed. The baby was on her stomach, knees drawn up, face smooshed against the sheet. Her face, expressive even in sleep, changed from frown to smile as she dreamed.
Jessie sat up, gently so as not to awaken Sunshine. She looked around the gray hotel room. Her only option was to go home to her parents in Denver. Go back home with her tail between her legs and ask her asshole parents to take her in.
No. Regardless of her crappy circumstances, she’d come too far for that.
She had no place to go and very little cash. But Grandma Frieda had intended to help her. All Jessie had to do was locate Karen Grace and ask for the envelope. Maybe Karen could send it via Western Union or something.
Jessie rinsed her face and made a cup of hotel coffee. Maybe Karen would be good for something more than just the envelope from Grandma. Her outlook brightened as she considered this new idea.
Jessie needed to hide out for a while, and she couldn’t keep paying for hotel rooms. Older people usually had more house than they knew what to do with. Probably Karen had an extra bedroom. Maybe even a yard. She would be happy to see them. Her psychology book said that old people lacked purpose after their kids were grown and needed somebody to take care of in order to feel useful. Jessie would be doing this Karen Grace a favor.
And Lenny wouldn’t be able to find her until she was good and ready.
After breakfast, she put Sunshine and a couple of toys in the middle of the bed, surrounded by pillows. Then she called her mother. Surprised, Sandy sounded happy at first, but then when Jessie asked if she knew how to get in touch with Karen, she got mad and started yelling. Pretty soon they hung up on each other, as expected.
Option two was to search the Internet, where she quickly found Karen all over the place, but none of the links led to anything personal. It was all very corporate and businesslike. She was about out of time—Sunshine was getting fussy—when she got the idea that the church in Dickinson might know how to contact Karen’s aunt, and maybe that would lead to Karen.
“St. Joseph’s. This is Father Engel.” He sounded out of breath.
Jessie explained that she was Frieda’s granddaughter, and the priest said, “Ah, you’re the Larsons’ daughter, Jessica.”
“Uh, yes.” She was surprised he knew her name. “Yes, Father, that is me.”
“How are you, Jessica? The last I heard, you’ve become a mother yourself. A little girl. Congratulations.” When she didn’t answer, he said, “Hello?”
“I’m sorry. I’m just blown away that you have those facts at your fingertips.”
“Your grandmother was a wonderful person. She and I would visit often, and she told me how much she was looking forward to seeing you and your daughter in Denver last summer. I’m sorry for your loss, but she died doing what she wanted. She was happy.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t get to see her before she passed.” Jessie closed her eyes, hating her mother with everything she had.
A phone began ringing in his office. “Excuse me. Just a—oh, for the love of God.” The phone rang and rang, and she heard fumbling and banging as he tried to get to the second line. Then he cut her off.
She called back.
“I am sorry, Jessica. I’m not the most adept secretary sometimes. How can I help you?”
“Actually, I’m trying to get in touch with Karen Grace, the woman who took Grandma on that last camping trip.”
“Yes, I have her number. I call her every time my employees quit.”
“Sounds like you’ll be calling her again soon.”
He laughed. Jessie took down the number, promised to relay his greetings, and hung up. She baby-talked at Sunshine while getting ready mentally, because her next call would be a lot more difficult.
CHAPTER 19
BY SUNRISE FRIDAY MORNING, Karen had packed for the move, cleaned the fifth wheel, and emptied out the refrigerator. When that was done, she went over and knocked on the screen door of Fern’s RV. Inside, a recliner snicked shut and heavy footsteps shook the trailer.
“Thought we’d see you today.” Fern held the door open. “Let’s sit in the kitchen. How was Savannah?”
“Good. I got reacquainted with an old business colleague, saw the city. Relaxed a little.”
Belle poured coffee and joined them at the table. “Did you accomplish what you set out to do?”
“Absolutely. I landed a whole new load of projects.”
“Congratulations.”
“Except I’ll need to be leaving again.”
“Oh, no. We’ve hardly seen anything of you,” said Belle.
Karen put the mug down and began her speech, her best sales pitch, the one she’d practiced on the drive home from Jekyll Island. “It’s such an opportunity. If I could focus for a month on nothing but my business, I could lay the groundwork for the rest of my life.”
“You know they won’t hold your space,” said Fern. “This is high season, and there’s a waiting list. Once you roll out of here, it’s gone.”
“That’s why I’m leaving my trailer here.”
“And rent someplace else? Must be nice to be rich.”
“I received a grant from an investment group.” It was sort of the truth.
“Yeah, that’s great. Good for you.” Fern blew on her coffee. “Just so you know, Eleanor’s gotten worse.”
“I haven’t been over to see her yet. You were my first stop.”
“It’s stomach cancer,” said Belle. “There’s nothing they can do.”
Karen’s shoulders sagged. “How long does she have?”
“Couple weeks, maybe,” said Fern. “We’re going over there in shifts.”
“We don’t want her to have to do anything,” said Belle. “She won’t have to cook or clean or be alone one minute of the day or night.”
“This is awful,” said Karen.
“Yes, it is,” said Belle. “She was always so nice.”
Fern set her mug of coffee down with a thump. “Eleanor was a hard-ass who can’t stand people. But she was her own person, by God. Is her own person.”
“You know what I mean,” said Belle. “She’s so smart and well-traveled. She always had somethin
g interesting to say.”
“She’s an amazing woman,” said Karen.
“How long can you stick around and help?” asked Fern.
“Please don’t hate me, but I’m leaving in a couple hours. That’s why I came by.”
Fern stared at her. “I thought when you joined us that you wanted to be a part of things.”
Karen stared back. There were almost two dozen CRS ladies in the camp. Regardless of Karen’s feelings of guilt, the group didn’t really need her. Fern was the one who needed her...to rally around the flag and show respect for her leadership. She saw the resolution in Fern’s jaw and the lines in Belle’s forehead. Part of her felt horrible for abandoning them, but she also chafed at the obligation. Might as well be honest about it. “I do want to be part of the group, but this is work, and I have to go. Will I be welcome back at the end of next month?”
“Why wouldn’t you be?”
“Because...I—you said—” Karen shut her mouth. “Thanks for the coffee.”
Belle looked away from the window, her eyes red. “Do you still want us to watch your rig while you’re gone?”
“If it’s not too much trouble.” Karen laid the spare key on the table.
“We’ll be here when you get back,” said Fern. “Gimme a hug.”
“Just be sure you see Eleanor before you leave,” said Belle.
“Of course.” Karen wished they knew how hard it was for her not to cave. She’d been raised to put other people first, but last summer, on the road trip with Frieda, everything had changed. Even if she had to fight for it, Karen loved her new sense of independence, though it scared her at times. She refused to be trapped, ever again, by anyone.
At Eleanor’s RV, Gina answered. “Thank God you’re here. I’m going to be late for my manicure.” She grabbed her purse and ran out the door.
In the bedroom, Eleanor lay quiet under a pile of blankets. Karen sat in a black folding chair next to the bed. “I go away for two days, and look what happens.”
Eleanor held out a thin hand.
Karen took it between both of hers, trying to warm it. “They tell me you’re under the weather.”
“Feeling a mite poorly.”
“Are you in a lot of pain?”
“I have some very good drugs.” Eleanor’s voice faded.
Karen looked around the cramped bedroom, which was filled with mementos from across the globe. Mirrored embroidery from India, a blue-and-white vase from China, and a miniature totem pole from the Pacific Northwest sat atop the dresser. A Japanese silk panel adorned one wall, an African mask the other. Elongated, with bland features, it wasn’t pretty or striking in any way.
“If not for that mask, I’d be dead,” Eleanor rasped. “Look at the cheek.”
Karen went over and peered at the mask. The hardwood bore a gouge on the left side of the face. She turned to Eleanor.
“We were in west Africa. This was around 1960. There was a coup, and our tour guide deserted us. We bribed a man with a car.” She stopped, grimacing. Her hand rested on her belly. “At the airport, the mask was in my backpack. We made a dash for the terminal doors. Somebody fired at us. I saw a bullet hit the cinder block in front of me. Then we were inside. When I got home, I realized what happened.”
“Quite a trophy,” Karen said.
“My husband bought it for me at the start of the trip, in Sierra Leone. The small mouth and eyes symbolize humility. Funny man.”
“When did he pass on?”
“I don’t know.” Eleanor’s eyes closed. “We split up after traveling the world together. Got divorced but stayed friends.”
“I have to tell you something,” Karen said. “Tomorrow, I’m leaving for a month. It’s related to work, and there’s no alternative. I know everybody’s going to be helping you, but still, I feel bad that I won’t be here.”
“For Pete’s sake.” Eleanor labored to rise up on one elbow. “Fern probably tortured you over that, didn’t she?”
“I should be here to help.”
“I knew it would come to this. Sometimes I wish I’d just left a note in my RV and drove my truck off a pier.” Eleanor fell back and stared up at the ceiling. “What good is it going to do if you hang around? Nothing will change the outcome.”
“We’d feel better.”
“Exactly. But I wouldn’t.”
Karen smiled. “It’s all about us.”
“They’re hovering around because that’s how they manage. They feel bad. But I’m at peace. I—” She stopped, gasping.
“What’s happening?” Karen knelt on the floor next to the bed. “What can I do?”
Eleanor waved her off. Karen sat at the edge of her chair, ready to bolt for the phone, but the older woman’s breathing returned to a calmer, steadier rhythm. Sunlight beamed through stained-glass panels hung in the windows.
Eleanor sighed. “I will admit to being surprised at the rapidity.”
“Me, too.” Karen turned back to the bed and took Eleanor’s hand again. “It doesn’t seem fair.”
“Speed of decline is a blessing. I don’t want to die—what idiot would? But I’m curious about the next place.” She withdrew her hand and tucked it under the blanket. “Don’t let those old biddies hold you back. I never did, up until yesterday.”
“They mean well.”
“Yes, and that’s the problem. You can’t hate them for it.” Eleanor opened her eyes and smiled at Karen. “Save yourself.”
Karen watched her drift back into silence. Humility wasn’t the first word that came to mind when she thought of Eleanor. Yet the woman was quiet about it, living a strong, peaceful life without pissing off her community. Karen wished she could have gotten to know her sooner. What a mentor she could have been.
An hour later, a light tap on the door told her the next shift had arrived. Karen locked up her trailer and headed for Jekyll Island. It was what she wanted, she told herself—plenty of room to spread out and the silence to hear herself think.
As she headed north on the Overseas Highway, her phone rang. She didn’t recognize the number but figured it might be related to work, and anyway, it would be a good distraction, regardless. So she answered it and got a surprise.
CHAPTER 20
“THIS IS JESSIE. FRIEDA Richter’s granddaughter?” Jessie hoped Karen wouldn’t freak. “I saw you at my grandma’s funeral. We didn’t have a chance to say hi.”
There was silence on the other end. Then a soft voice said, “That was because your mother pretty much chased me away. How are you?”
“I’m sorry about that. I would have liked to talk with you.”
“Frieda wanted to see you and the baby.”
“I know.” Jessie struggled with what to say next. On the hotel-room bed, Sunshine, playing with her toys, laughed and babbled inside the pillow walls of her makeshift baby jail.
“Frieda left you an envelope. Can I mail it to you?” asked Karen.
“No! I mean, the problem is, our mailbox is wrecked. I mean, we’re having problems with our mail delivery right now. It’d be great if you could hang on to it until I get that resolved, and then I’ll call you back.”
“That would be fine. You have my number.”
Jessie couldn’t let her hang up yet. “Wait, Karen? Can you tell what’s inside it? I mean, can you get any kind of an idea, by feel or holding it up to the light?”
“No, it’s one of those superpadded jobs. It’s not heavy, but it is a little bit thick. Could be her memoirs.” Karen chuckled.
“Would her memoirs be funny?”
“It’s not that,” Karen said. “You didn’t spend much time around Frieda, did you?”
“Not since I was a little kid.”
“That’s a shame. She was a wonderful human being.”
“So you live in Florida?”
“I do, in Key Largo.”
“That must be nice. Whereabouts?” Jessie grimaced. She sounded like a stalker with a bad script.
“Paradise Sho
res. Why?”
“Well, maybe sometime I could bring the baby and we could visit.”
Just then, Sunshine chortled at a toy and said, “Mama.”
“She sounds adorable,” said Karen.
“She’s an awesome little kid. I am so lucky. I just wish Grandma could have met her.”
“She really wanted to. That was the whole point of our road trip.” Karen paused. “But don’t feel bad. She had a great time. It was like she was starting her life all over again. At ninety, she was curious about everything and excited to see things and go places.”
“Thanks for saying that. I’ve felt guilty ever since. And I hate my mother for her part in this.”
“Don’t spend your energy on that,” said Karen. “Maybe you could come visit sometime. I could meet Sunshine, and we could share stories about Frieda.”
“I would love that.”
“Okay. Well, you have my number.”
“I’ll stay in touch.” Jessie hung up, a smile threatening to crack her face in half. The call had gone better than she expected. She found Key Largo and programmed it into her GPS. In eight hours, she’d be at Karen’s.
CHAPTER 21
AS KAREN LEFT THE KEYS behind and crossed to the mainland at Homestead, the clouds opened up with a tropical downpour. She’d secured her luggage under a tarp, so she wasn’t worried. With the wipers on high and traffic light, the only thing missing was music.
She slid Fleetwood Mac into the CD player and advanced to “Landslide.” The CD had been a going-away present from Curt, and the song made her a little sad, but it couldn’t compete with the excitement over her next moves. Breaking away from North Dakota and fleeing to Key Largo had clarified her thoughts. She still had a fire in the belly, one that demanded freedom of movement. Her marriage had faltered, due in large part to her focus on work. Until she figured out how to do business and pleasure together, she wouldn’t commit to a relationship.
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