“Fern.” Belle shook her head.
Jessie added salsa to her eggs. “You knew her?”
“We met in Moab,” Belle said. “She and Karen came to our camp for lunch. We had a wonderful meal. Pasta and garlic bread. Lots of wine.”
“Then we played poker,” said Fern. “I won, but your grandma made me work for it.”
“Frieda stayed for hours,” said Belle. “She was so funny and wise we couldn’t get enough of her. At first, Karen was overprotective. Something terrible happened on their journey through Wyoming, but we never heard the story. She was very good to Frieda.”
“My mother said Grandma wanted to go home, but Karen wouldn’t let her.”
“No, honey, it wasn’t like that,” said Belle. “They were traveling to California. Frieda wanted to see the ocean, and Karen planned to rent a beach house. They were very excited.”
“That totally contradicts my mom’s story,” said Jessie. “In fact, I was a little afraid to come here because she made Karen sound like such a witch.”
“Not at all,” said Fern.
“Karen doted on Frieda, waiting on her every need,” said Belle. “We were surprised to find out they weren’t mother and daughter, because they were so attached. Maybe they were close because Karen had so recently lost her mother and dad.”
“And by the way, Jessie, she didn’t have any siblings,” said Fern.
Jessie exhaled. “I might have exaggerated.”
“So how do you know her?”
“I only know her because she was the person driving Grandma to Denver. They were coming to see me and Sunshine, because my mother lied and said we were there with her. But we never were. My mother wanted to see Grandma, and used me and the baby as bait.”
“That’s a shame,” said Belle. “Poor Frieda.”
“So when I heard Karen had something for me, I started thinking she could solve my problem, at least for a little while.”
“What about your parents?”
“As far as I’m concerned, they don’t exist.”
Fern cleared her throat. “Thank you for answering our questions.”
“We’re sorry for your troubles.” Belle pushed away from the table and began clearing.
Jessie went in the bedroom to change the baby.
Fern helped in the kitchen until it was clean, and then Belle hung up her apron. “Let’s go for a walk.”
Outside, Fern said, “I don’t know if I believe everything she said.”
“She’s on the run and needs help.” Belle took off down the lane.
Fern caught up. “What if she’s a con, working the neighborhood? What if she got Karen’s name off stolen mail?”
“And hit herself in the face to make it look convincing?”
“Maybe her pimp did it.”
“How can you say that?”
“How do we even know she’s Frieda’s granddaughter?”
“I don’t care who she is! She needs our help. They both do. We can’t just leave that baby homeless.”
Fern reached for Belle’s arm. “Stop. Honey, please.”
Reluctantly, Belle slowed. She swiped a lock of hair out of her eyes and glared into the distance. Most of the time she deferred to Fern’s stronger personality, but not today. Today she would stand her ground. The kids were too important. She had to protect them.
“I’m sorry for all the mess this is stirring up inside you,” Fern said.
“You don’t know anything.”
“Having Jessie and Sunshine here won’t change the past, and it could put us at risk.”
Belle shook her off. “I’m not an imbecile.”
“I know. I didn’t mean—cripes. I’m not saying this right at all.”
“This isn’t about me,” said Belle. “This is about Jessie.”
“Who I don’t trust. She already admitted to lying once.”
Belle threw her hands up. “Oh, honestly, Fern! She’s making it up as she goes along.”
“That’s obvious.”
“She’s desperate for a safe place to hide until she can figure out her next move.” Belle dropped her arms. “And here’s how we’re going to help her.”
CHAPTER 24
ON SATURDAY MORNING, Karen awoke to the raucous crowing of a rooster and remembered that Ida kept chickens. Perfect. The birds would serve as her alarm clock for the thirty days. She jumped out of bed, pulled on a robe, and opened the curtains in the living room to see if she’d imagined it, but no. In the near distance, the gray-blue Atlantic Ocean rippled, practically in her backyard. A man walked along the shoreline, tossing a stick for his Lab. A couple of joggers passed him, making side-by-side tracks in the wet sand. Clouds parted, and the horizon shimmered. The sun broke through overcast that had blanketed the sky.
Karen padded into the kitchen. She found coffee packets in one drawer and sweetener in another. As she set the coffeepot to brew, she thought about Jessie’s phone call yesterday. Something didn’t feel right, but maybe it was her imagination.
She poured a cup of coffee, pulled on a sweat shirt, and went outside to savor the morning. The rooster had quieted, and Ida’s kitchen light was on. Karen unfolded a lawn chair at the top of the slope. The dog walker and joggers were gone. It was just her, a gentle breeze, and the small waves breaking softly on the sand, smoothed from the night’s high tide. No chatty walkers threatened to intrude on her solitude. No self-appointed group leader pressured her to commit to the day’s social calendar. Karen sipped the hot brew, joyful over her decision, immersed in the sounds of the island and nothing more.
When the cup was empty, she thought about going for a walk, taking either the shoreline or the bicycle path along the road. She yawned and stretched, deciding on the latter, saving the beach for another time.
As she passed Ida’s backyard, the hens busied themselves finding breakfast while the rooster, a colorful fellow, eyed her with malice. A pink bicycle with fat, beachy tires leaned against the house. Across the road, the bike path circled the interior of the island, which resembled a jungle. Easing into a trot, she turned east, momentarily reaching for her headphones, but the day was awakening to a chorus of birdsong with a backdrop of surf, a composition more glorious than anything electronic. Her sneakers trod silently along the bike path, careful to step across the cracks buckling from the roots of giant oaks and ancient pines.
Presently she discovered the sweeping lawn of a soccer field, deserted now except for a gardener kneeling over a sprinkler head with his tools. On the far side of the playing fields, a pathway cut through thick vegetation. Following the path, Karen found a boardwalk leading across sand dunes and followed it to its end, a viewpoint spanning the eastern coast of the island. She leaned against the wooden railing, inhaling the salty, damp air. Gulls wheeled and cried overhead while long-legged shorebirds played tag with the surf. Pillars of golden light beamed from breaks in the clouds as the sun rose up out of the calm, gray Atlantic. The placid waters stretched to the horizon, as featureless as her beloved Dakota prairie, and as deceptively placid.
The clouds began to dissipate, leaving the sky a bracing blue, and Karen turned back. As she walked up the driveway, Ida waved to her from the kitchen window.
Karen propped the door of the trailer open, untied the cargo net, and began to move in properly. Everything inside the trailer was small—the closets, cabinets, and refrigerator—but having lived in an RV for the past couple months, she was used to traveling light. In fact, she’d pretty much emptied the trailer in Paradise Shores, except for her plants. She hoped Belle remembered to water them. The basil in particular was important to keep alive, having been grown from a cutting out of Frieda’s garden.
Soon, three business outfits hung in the small closet, shoes lined up under them, and a couple of purses fit on the overhead shelf. The queen-sized mattress raised up on a hinge to reveal storage space underneath, where she stashed the empty suitcases.
The bathroom’s small medicine chest filled up quick
ly with her personal items. The rest went in the cabinet under the sink, alongside a roll of TP, a box of tissues, and some cleaning products.
In the kitchen, she opened a tall, skinny cupboard to a vertical row of pullout shelves. The shelves contained paper napkins, condiments, and spices, all new and unused. Other cabinets held cups, cookware, and utensils. The silverware matched, the pots and pans all had bright copper bottoms, and the cups and glasses were lined up in the cupboards in even numbers, as if no one could trouble to use them.
She hummed as she worked. The sun rose, sending a warming breeze in through the screen door. The overcast had burned off, leaving a bright blue sky. Back at Paradise Shores, the campsites were close enough that one could hear the neighbors talking, but here Karen heard nothing but birdsong, wind, and surf.
When the truck was unpacked and the Airstream had started to feel more like home, Karen set her computer and files on the dinette; laid out her pens, pencils, and charts; and propped three small whiteboards against the back of the sofa. Each whiteboard represented a project, and each completed project represented a significant paycheck. She wrote a bulleted list on each board, indicating the necessary progress from start to completion.
Her first project would be the employee handbook for Ben’s young company. Although most of the work could be done on the island, Karen planned to take advantage of her proximity to Savannah and drop in on Ben weekly. She also wanted to reassert herself in town so it wouldn’t look like she’d been run off.
Karen gazed out at the ocean as the laptop booted. Unbelievable that this would be her office for the next four weeks. The sun, well up now, lit the deserted beach, the sand sparkling as the tide receded. A driftwood log, weathered silver gray with time, would serve as a picnic bench when she broke for lunch.
She glanced back at the screen and frowned. Her mobile Wi-Fi unit wasn’t picking up a signal in this remote end of the island. Apparently, perfection had its limits. She locked the trailer, threw the laptop on the passenger seat, and headed for the village. She circled around the small shopping area, looking for someplace that might sell electronics, but nothing looked promising. She would have to drive to the mainland.
At the main highway, she turned north toward Brunswick, crossing the river and wetlands. The soaring white cables of the Lanier Bridge resembled a line of tall-masted sailboats chasing each other across the sky.
In town, she was assailed by signs trying to entice her to play the tourist. In one direction lay a seaport that predated the Declaration of Independence. In the other, the highway branched toward the Golden Isles, with shopping, restaurants, and resorts. Directly ahead, the road led to the historic HB Plantation. Faced with so many intriguing choices, Karen made a mental note to return at some point and explore the town.
She located a big-box electronics store and found a salesclerk. “I need some kind of Wi-Fi reception booster for my trailer,” she said. “I think it’s supposed to go on the roof.”
“What kind of trailer do you have?” When she told him, the man chuckled. “I don’t think that’ll work. In case you haven’t noticed, the Airstream has no ladder, and the outer skin will dent and scratch if a mosquito lands on it. So you’ll need a scaffold to get up there.”
Karen didn’t see that happening. “What else would you suggest?”
“Instead of a roof mount, how about this?” He reached into a nearby display case for a box containing a device the size of a paperback. “This is an antenna. You connect it to your computer, and it pulls in a signal. Now you’re in business for less than three hundred bucks.”
Karen winced. She had barely arrived on the island and was already in the red. She thanked the man and completed her purchase.
Back at the trailer, she followed the instructions and was rewarded with Internet reception. She logged onto Ben’s network, more determined than ever to make money, given the hole she was digging. After a couple hours of work, she would have lunch, go for a rejuvenating walk, and then dig back into her projects. Her business would fly. One way or another, good things were about to happen. She could feel it.
The phone interrupted her thoughts. “Hey Fern. How’s it going?”
“Are you sitting down?”
“Why? Is something wrong?” She listened while Fern explained, and realization grew. This was why Jessie had tried to find out where Karen lived.
“So if you wouldn’t mind,” Fern said, “it would just be for a couple weeks—maybe three. Long enough for her to find an apartment nearby.”
“Can’t she stay with you, or with someone else? I’m not sure I’m comfortable having someone who I don’t know stay in my RV.”
“In a way you know her, being she’s Frieda’s kin.”
“And besides,” said Karen, “the trailer isn’t really set up for a baby. There are probably a lot of hazards.”
“You’re trying to make excuses. Look, they need shelter, your trailer’s empty, and I’m here to keep an eye on things. It’ll work out fine and you’ll feel good about helping.”
Karen stood looking out the window. What a crazy idea. Why hadn’t Jessie sought refuge at her mother’s house in Denver? Now she knew why Jessie’s phone call had felt so odd. She’d played Karen for the information, planning to go and see her, no doubt expecting Karen to give her shelter.
“Are you still there?” asked Fern.
“Let me call you back.”
Karen went outside to think. Other than the fact that they had Frieda in common, there was no connection. And Karen had the envelope, but when she’d offered to mail it Jesse had practically flipped out. Well, probably the girl didn’t have an address at the moment. But still. She was a stranger. Karen didn’t want her living in her RV.
Like it’s so special. Your precious trailer.
Karen sighed. Don’t interfere, Frieda.
I let you live in my Roadtrek for six weeks, and that was a lot more special to me than that old fifth wheel you call home.
It’s not my problem.
Sure, go on. Let that little baby head on up the road with no place to go. Maybe they can sleep in their car. There’s an idea.
Dammit, Frieda. Was this your idea?
A few weeks. That’s all they’re asking.
Karen sighed again, put both hands on her knees, and pushed herself up. She went back in the trailer and called Fern, who was overjoyed.
“But you’re responsible, Fern. Anything happens to my trailer, it’s on you.”
Karen hung up. She knew she should get back to work, but as usual, human drama and all its tentacles of logistics and worry were dragging her down. She went outside and sat in her beach chair, staring out to sea, trying to find her motivation for business. Instead, thoughts of Key Largo bounced around in her head. The audacity of Fern and Belle, the horror of domestic violence, and the need for refuge—Frieda, Jessie, Sunshine. On the one hand, she was happy. On the other, a virtual stranger would be sleeping in her bed, using her bathroom and kitchen, and entertaining the CRS ladies in her home. And a one-year-old would be toddling around, finding all kinds of loose things to get in trouble with. She wondered what the child looked like and felt a weight on her chest at the thought that Frieda never got to see or hold her.
The least Karen could do was let Jessie use the trailer while it was empty, until she found another place to live. And Fern, for all her arrogance, would make sure Karen’s RV was well-maintained. Still, Karen decided she needed to talk with Jessie soon and get a sense of the girl. She rubbed her face and then stared out to sea, thinking of Frieda. Are you happy now?
A raven, riding a branch in the giant eucalyptus overhead, began to laugh.
Karen chuckled. It was too ridiculous to believe, but it made her happy nonetheless. After a while, she went inside, fired up her computer at the dinette table with a view of the Atlantic, and began to build her future.
CHAPTER 25
JESSIE PUT THE BABY in the playpen and did the dishes. As she finished wiping t
he last spoon, there was a knock on the door. Every morning since she’d moved into Karen’s trailer, that knock had occurred—the CRS ladies coming to play.
“Are we too early?” asked Patti.
“I saw a family of ducklings over by the pond this morning,” said Doc, “and we thought Sunshine would enjoy seeing them.”
“She’s already dressed.”
They strolled off down the path, the scientist and the retired firefighter holding the baby and pointing out a line of pelicans flying overhead. Jessie watched them go. She and Sunshine had lucked out. From the first day, someone was always offering food or clothing or baby clothes and toys. Not to mention they practically begged to be able to come in and play with the baby.
Later today, the ladies were coming to take her and Sunshine for a picnic on the beach. Jessie felt a little anxious. These old women were retired, their own kids long-since grown. They would expect to enjoy an adult conversation while the baby played quietly. Which would never happen. Sunshine was much too busy to let anybody complete a sentence.
And what would she say to them? She had nothing in common with the ladies. Old people didn’t have much going on, which was why they were starved to have young people around. So the afternoon would be totally boring. A couple days ago, Jessie had gone with Belle to see Eleanor, but after five minutes, the older woman had fallen back asleep. Jessie didn’t understand the point of the visit, except maybe that Eleanor half-smiled at the baby. It was all very sad. Jessie personally didn’t want to live past sixty-five, maybe seventy, tops.
On the other hand, no matter how boring their company, it would be good to go somewhere. Jessie was beginning to develop a bad case of cabin fever.
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