The first couple days in the RV, in which she always awoke fearing Lenny had found her, Jessie had felt restless and unsettled. When she confessed her fears to Fern, the older woman went and bought reinforcing locks for all the windows and doors. Then, Fern took her to the hardware store and helped her install child locks on all the cabinets. Rita, the trucker lady, bought her a slow cooker for meal preparation, and Doc helped her construct a bunch of mobiles to hang in front of the windows and catch the light.
So the trailer was beginning to feel more like home. She had watered the little plants in the kitchen window—basil and thyme—and now they were thriving, and Fern and Belle lent her a laptop so she could see about restarting her classes. Most days, she sat outside at the picnic table under the awning while Sunshine napped, and she carried the baby around the camp a few times, but that was exhausting, so they didn’t go far.
She had snooped around, looking for the envelope from Grandma. She hadn’t found that, but she did manage to unearth a sewing machine—a total score, because Jessie was an ace seamstress. In high school she’d won a 4-H competition by sewing a winter coat, complete with three layers of underlining and interfacing.
When Patti and Doc brought Sunshine back, she gaped a happy smile at her mother. “We saw bunnies and lizards and birds,” said Patti. “And she wanted to grab the ducklings and play with them.”
“That’s so cool. Thank you,” Jessie said.
“See you down at the beach.”
Jessie took the baby inside. At five minutes to ten, she answered the door to two women who, except for the fact that one was white and one black, could have been sisters. Candace, the blonde, wore blinding diamond earrings and a visor with Pebble Beach stitched on the edge. Margo wore a red straw hat accented with a purple and gold scarf. Gold hoops adorned her ears. Both women wore rhinestone CRS pins on their bright pastel T-shirts—or maybe they were actual diamonds.
Margo grasped the handle of a shiny new stroller with balloon tires and a sunshade with a colorful fringe. “We assumed you could use this. You can go four-wheeling with this sucker. I had it custom-made to use in beach sand, but my grandkids never visit. It’s yours if you want it.”
“Are you serious? This is awesome!” Jessie lowered the baby into the stroller. “Look, she loves it.” The four of them set off toward the beach, Margo pushing the stroller. On the path behind them, Rita hurried to catch up. She held a shopping bag full of plastic measuring cups, bowls, and spoons to use as toys.
Down at the beach, Fern anchored an umbrella deep in the sand. Belle hurried over. “How’s my baby this morning?” She bent to kiss Sunshine. Jessie lifted her out of the stroller and set her on a blanket next to a pillow and a teddy bear.
Fern gave the umbrella one last twist and wiped her hands on her shorts. “Anybody thirsty? I made a pitcher of Bloody Marys.”
That was another thing Jessie had discovered about the group. They sure did like to drink. Jessie did, too, but she figured by the time you were old, you’d probably stick with iced tea or water.
The women arranged their chairs around the blankets, forming a wall in case Sunshine headed in the wrong direction. The baby toddled from chair to chair, accepting pats and hugs and fingering bracelets and buttons. Occasionally, she let herself be held.
With the ladies fawning over Sunshine, Jessie was free to enjoy herself. She inched her chair to the water’s edge and dug her toes into the wet sand. A sailboat carved a path through the sparkling waters, and a pelican dove for fish. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, lulled by the melody of birdsong and splashing water. After only a couple days in Key Largo, she already knew she never wanted to leave. With its soft, fragrant breezes and tropical beauty, Paradise Shores was unlike anyplace she’d ever been.
Of course, her experience was limited to Denver, where she had grown up in a gated, self-important community, and the outskirts of Atlanta, where she’d lived in a single-wide with her abusive boyfriend. Her situation was bad now, but there’d been a time when Lenny was good to her. They’d met while snowboarding in Colorado, Jessie on Christmas break from college and Lenny—well, Lenny was hanging out. But he’d offered to buy her an Irish coffee at the top of the lift, and they’d smoked a little pot behind the warming hut. Then she’d thrown up. He’d helped her get back down to the base and given her his number before they parted in the parking lot. She stopped by the drugstore on the way home.
Sure enough, she was pregnant, thanks to homecoming and all the partying she and her friends had enjoyed a couple months earlier. Her mother was on her practically before Jessie flushed the test strip. Sandy made her life intolerable, so Jessie called Lenny, and a week later he was out front with a U-Haul truck.
At first she was excited. Well, as much as she could be while throwing up all the way to Georgia. When they pulled in his driveway, her heart sank at the sight of his beat-to-shit trailer home, but she made the best of it.
Now that situation had gone bad, too. She was out on the streets again, this time with a baby. Honestly, sometimes she thought she was brain-damaged or something. As smart as she’d been in school, she kept messing up her life. What was she supposed to do now? Where would she go? How would she support the two of them?
“Are you Jessie?” The voice clawed into her reverie, and Jessie opened her eyes. A twig-thin woman with a huge rack stood in front of her, holding a bundle of cloth.
“Somebody said you sew. Can you fix this?” The woman unfurled a brushed suede jacket. “It doesn’t fit me anymore since I got my latest boob job, and I’m heartbroken.”
Jessie took the jacket, turned it inside out, and examined the seams. “Put it on, and button it.”
“Right now?”
“Unless you want to wait until after I’m through with finals.”
“Well, gosh no. And hi, I’m Gina.” She pulled the jacket on over her swimsuit and stood obediently as Jessie tugged and pinched the fabric, assessing it.
“It needs letting out in the bodice and the shoulders, and it could be more fitted in the waist. Plus, if you want, I could do something with the cuffs. They’re pretty ragged.” She helped Gina out of the jacket. “I could have it for you in a couple days. At my rate and the number of hours it will take, I can do it for eighty dollars.”
“I used to pay my girl ten dollars for a little job like this!”
Jessie held it out to her. “Maybe you should have her do it, then.”
“All right, fine. But I want it by Thursday.” Gina walked away.
“Cool.” Jessie nodded and sat back down, her sunglasses hiding her shock. The old chick went for it. Eighty bucks! She fought not to smile, to laugh out loud. Fern caught her eye and gave her a subtle nod of approval.
Two hours later, after snacks and plenty of attention, Sunshine got cranky. While the baby drifted off in her playpen, Jessie checked her voice mail. Lenny had left dozens of messages, some filled with vitriol, threatening to report her for kidnapping. Then he turned maudlin and weepy, begging her to come home. The angry ones were tapering off in favor of self-righteousness.
“You know I’ve been working my ass off,” the first one said. “It’s not easy, putting you through school and taking care of the kid.” Jessie scowled. All she wanted was an apology and some acknowledgment of his behavior, so they could go to counseling and work their way past this, but he sounded as if everything was her fault. Hers and the baby’s.
His messages continued. “I probably should have said it sooner, but I was burning out. Work’s been a bitch.”
That was a laugh. If it weren’t for his unemployment pittance and the occasional sale of weed, they’d be living on Jessie’s thrift-store resales on Craigslist. On top of that, she kept house and took care of the baby. And worked on getting an education, so one day she could obtain a good job and make money. Lenny acted like he was the only one doing anything. She clicked on the next message and the next. He never once mentioned the fact that he gave her a black eye, and he never, ever, sai
d the word sorry. He didn’t ask where they were or express any worry or concern. Not that it would have made a difference.
That evening, she fed and bathed Sunshine, read her a story, and tucked her into bed. Then she warmed up a couple of pork chops Belle and Fern had given her, along with instant mashed potatoes and a green-bean casserole from Rita. She opened a bottle of Riesling that had been a gift from the ladies, poured herself a glass, and took a bite of her meal.
She was peaceful and happy here. Why couldn’t she and Lenny have that? They had, when she’d first moved in with him. When she suffered with morning sickness and puked in the toilet, he’d asked about her with kindness in his voice. When the baby was born, even though he was too squeamish to be present in the delivery room, he’d sat in the waiting room all night. True, he never changed a single diaper, and he’d started complaining about all the time she spent on schoolwork, but all couples had their problems. A child added pressure, especially one that wasn’t his.
She checked her voice mail again, playing the last six or seven, trying to read into his words the truth of what she should do. There was a new one—from Karen.
At first, Jessie didn’t want to have to talk to the woman she’d tricked. Then she remembered Grandma’s gift and called Karen right back. “Before you say anything, please understand how sorry I am, and how grateful.”
“I’m doing it for your grandmother,” Karen said. “How’s my trailer?”
“It’s great. Thanks for letting us stay. How’s Georgia?”
“Peaceful. Do you have any questions about how things work?”
“No, Fern showed me.
“Good. And you know I’ll be home at the end of the month, right? In about three weeks? At which time you’ll need to have found another place to stay. Sorry, I know that’s blunt, but the trailer’s not big enough for all of us, and that’s when I’m coming home.”
“We’re looking for a place. Everybody’s keeping an eye out.”
“Good,” Karen said again. She seemed at a loss for words, so Jessie dove in.
“You know that envelope from Grandma you were telling me about? Is it here?”
“There’s a key under the coffee tin in the first cabinet. It unlocks the outdoor storage compartment by the trailer hitch. Look there.”
Jessie got off the phone in a hurry, went outside, and found a plastic file box. Inside, she found a fat envelope with her name on it. She tore it open.
Inside was a rubber-banded bundle of black-and-white photographs. In the top one, standing in front of St. Joseph’s church in Dickinson, were Grandpa Russell; Grandma Frieda, holding infant Jessie in a flowing white baptismal gown; and Jessie’s mom and dad. Her mother wore long, straight hair and granny glasses and a floor-length dress she’d made herself, held up by a drawstring that tied behind her neck. Her dad, skinny and with lots of hair, wore a three-piece suit, complete with vest.
Jessie fell back on the bed. She needed money, not pictures. Maybe it was Grandma’s way of trying to get them all back together again, but Jessie would never return home. She would never speak to her mother again. Her dad had sided with Sandy, so Jessie was done with him, too.
She put the envelope back in the compartment, where it could stay for all eternity as far as she was concerned.
CHAPTER 26
AT THE END OF THE SEVENTH day on the island, Karen emerged from the trailer like a hermit coming out of her cave. Her cupboards were bare, so she drove to the village for dinner at the café, to be followed by a trip to the grocery store. Windows rolled down, she took in deep breaths of the salt air, happy to be out and away from her self-imposed isolation.
Every day on Jekyll Island consisted of eating, sleeping, and working. The only variation was a daily walk, at which time she waved at Ida twice. Once on the way out, and once on the way in. That was the extent of her social life.
It was fun for the first few days. She’d really made progress—on everything except the app, which was proving to be more of a hassle than she’d expected. And she hadn’t heard from Curt, which disappointed her, but guilt over New Year’s Eve kept her from calling him.
At a patio restaurant on the wharf, she ordered shrimp creole and a salad, along with a glass of wine, and enjoyed her meal in the company of a half dozen tourists. For an introvert, it was enough, and her spirits lifted, but she missed Curt. She’d made gentle overtures, texting him photos of island sunsets, live oaks draped with moss, and the glittering coastline in the brilliance of sunrise, but he hadn’t responded with so much as a thumbs-up or happy face. Maybe that was the way it was supposed to be. For all their chemistry, she respected that he had a life in North Dakota, and she had her work. Maybe he was as independent as she was. Maybe they weren’t meant to be anything more than old friends, getting together from time to time for hot sex and fond memories.
She paid her bill and parked in front of the grocery store.
You can pick things up with him after the work is done, she told herself, pushing a basket through the deli section. This is only temporary. You’re a big girl. Suck it up.
And the work was paying off. Already her commitments were expanding. She had contract agreements stretching into the next ninety days. Soon her bank account would expand as well. She was accomplishing so much. The degree to which she could focus, living alone in the trailer with no social life, was thrilling. It was also somewhat depressing.
Back at the trailer, she unloaded the groceries and sat down on the sofa with her phone and another glass of wine. She edited a photo of last night’s sunset and began trying to compose a text message.
You should be here with me.
She frowned and hit delete.
Miss you.
DELETE.
Thinking of you.
DELETE.
This is every night from my place. Not bragging ;)
DELETE. DELETE. DELETE.
Hope you are well.
DELETE.
In the end, she sent it without words, hoping he would respond with some kind of clue.
CHAPTER 27
CURT WAS HAVING THE best sex of his life, and it was about to kill him.
Erin went back to UC Davis right after the New Year’s Day debacle, and right afterward, Maddie practically moved in. She had a tendency to run around the house wearing his T-shirts with nothing underneath, her taut, smooth flesh calling to him, her thick, jet-black hair with nary a gray strand falling to his chest as she sat astride him last night, rocking, rocking—
He felt himself grow hard in spite of what must surely be sprained limbs and slipping discs. Maddie lay beside him in the morning light, her hair arrayed on the pillow, her face innocent and clear. So young. He calculated, and proximity to his daughter’s birth year came up fast. He grimaced and went flaccid.
In the kitchen, he poured a cup of coffee and drank it black, staring out the window at the sun coming up over the steaming gray shingles of the barn roof. His mouth tasted bad from last night when, mellowed out from after-dinner cognac, he’d smoked a cigar while they sat on the veranda and looked at the stars. Maddie had crawled into his lap, talking about Hemingway and calling him Papa.
Seemed okay last night. This morning, not so much.
Today they were going to play racquetball. Since everybody would be in church, they’d have the courts to themselves. She meant to sharpen up his game after that first lamentable effort. Curt had held his own for a while but then flopped on the bench, gaping like a landed fish and trying to understand. After years of trekking around the Badlands with students, he’d thought he was in the best shape of his life. His friends couldn’t keep up with him. And yet, he felt ready to keel over at the feet of his young lover.
And the dancing—Maddie would go out every night if not for him. The other night, he’d seen one of his professor colleagues heading for a lecture on increased intuitive awareness in the aging brain, but Curt had had to duck the guy and get home to Maddie, who wanted to try out some new edible lube
she’d bought.
That was a highlight.
But most nights, she stuck around Curt’s house, watching stuff on her laptop while he worked in his office. It distracted him, having her there, but she seemed to want to be around him all the time. She sat in the big chair in the corner of his office, her bare legs tucked up under her bare bottom, staring at her computer screen. She had to be aware of the neural traffic jam she was creating in his head. His work was falling behind.
And hers—when did she study? She had a dissertation to finish. It would mean the difference between a tenure-track position and the life of an adjunct. The difference between a profession and a job. Yet he rarely saw her work on it. The most time she spent on her computer was doing social media and ordering stuff from Amazon.
It’s like living with a teenager, he thought. He poured another cup of coffee and sat at the kitchen table, staring into the near distance.
He heard her making noise upstairs, and she called to him. When he didn’t answer, the shower started in the upstairs bathroom. Eventually she came down, dressed for the gym. She eyeballed his faded jeans and T-shirt.
“You’re not coming?”
“I got a call from an old friend. I need to check on her.” He got up to pour her a cup of coffee. She went in for a hug, and he held her close, resting his chin on her head.
Maddie looked up at him, concern in her eyes. “Who is she?”
“My friend’s elderly aunt.”
“Oh. Okay.”
They sat in silence, him reading the paper and her drinking coffee and checking her phone. “Hey, you know what?” she said. “The rodeo ends today. So this afternoon, let’s go see the bull-riding finals.”
He folded the paper. Glanced out the window.
“You don’t want to.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to. I just have a ton of stuff to do before tomorrow. Can you get a couple of your friends to meet you there instead?” He felt like her old dad, trying to find ways to amuse a bored child.
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