Flying Home

by Rachel Ann Nunes

  I am leaving everything here except a few of my documents and my clothes. I will return very soon. I must come back to Lara.

  The phone rang insistently late Friday afternoon, blotting out the tapping noise Liana was hearing even when she wasn’t working on her computer or thinking about her uncertain parentage. Wearily, she let the doll she had brought home from India slide to her lap. Reaching for the phone sitting on the end table next to her easy chair, she wondered if it was Bret asking for the fourth time if she was out of bed yet. Or maybe Austin wanting to go out, or Clarissa asking her to come over. She didn’t want to see any of them.

  “Liana?” It was Clarissa.

  That her adoptive mother used Liana instead of Lara didn’t escape her. Was it the first time she’d used the name? “Yes, it’s me. How are you?” With one hand she toyed with the doll.

  “That’s what I called to ask. I thought you were going to come over for dinner today. I expected you here already. It’s after five.”

  Liana sighed. “I’m just too tired.”

  “You said that yesterday. I’m worried about you.”

  “I’m fine, really. In fact, I’m about to do some work.”

  There was a short silence and then, “Did you read the rest of the journal?”

  “A little. But mostly I’ve been catching up on sleep.” In fact all she wanted to do was sleep, to slip forever into oblivion that did not hold any pain.

  “He’s not coming back, Liana.” Clarissa’s voice was firm, though it held an underlying sadness that bit into Liana’s heart. “We have to go on.”

  What was it about Clarissa that she could find a way to go on? Was it because she was a mother to other children who needed her? Karyn hadn’t seemed able to do much of anything after the death of her baby. Her continuing misery was all too apparent in the pages of the journal, a misery Liana now shared. Surely this was a devastation from which no mother—or sister—could ever recover. And yet . . .

  “Liana?”

  “I know. But I just—” I just can’t seem to function.

  “It’s normal to feel depressed, honey. We all feel it—we all miss him so much. It’s better that we face it together.”

  “I know.” Liana did feel better when she was with them, and that was precisely why she stayed at her condo. She didn’t want to feel better. She wanted Christian. She wanted to be Lara. She wanted her life back. Though far from perfect, it was much better than what she had now. If only she had been able to appreciate that before.

  “I do have some good news,” Clarissa said. “I don’t know if he told you, but your young man came by yesterday morning and took a look at those papers we brought back. He’s pretty sure they’re written in Russian. He may be able to find out something.”

  “He’s not my young man.”

  “Well, his charity does a lot of work in Ukraine, and he said some of the older documents they deal with are in Russian. So I made a copy for him, and he e-mailed it to an employee of his in Ukraine to see if he’s right. And I sent another copy to a friend of mine who works at a university in California. We’ll have word back soon if the papers contain anything useful.”

  Liana swallowed hard. “That’s good.”

  “But Lar—Liana, it doesn’t matter.”

  “I know,” Liana whispered, though it did matter. When she and Clarissa were finally becoming mother and daughter, why did Liana feel it was all about to end? Could she save either of them from further anguish?

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come over? Or I can come there.”

  “I’ll come tomorrow, M—Mom. I need to get a little work done. I haven’t worked at all since—” Oh, dear God, she thought, lifting her face toward the ceiling, will I always measure time by Christian’s death?

  “You should take some time off. Your dad and I are thinking about going to Bret’s cabin for a week or so. We’d love it if you’d come.”

  “We’ll see.”

  Liana hung up, wondering why she couldn’t accept Clarissa’s love. They had been so close the past week—a closeness Liana had long craved. Why was she pushing her away now? Was it the same reason she was pushing Austin away?

  “Because I need to know who I am.” With a sense of desperation, she opened the pages of Karyn’s journal, and her mind was immediately absorbed into the life of the woman she had so long believed was her mother.

  Before she had finished even one entry, a banging at her front door jolted her from Karyn’s life. “All right, all right. I’m coming.” She figured it was Bret again; he’d been over three times in the past two days, playing big brother.

  She was wrong. Austin stood on her small porch, his black hair looking as though he’d been riding in her convertible. “What do you want?” she asked, without expression.

  “Come on,” he said. “We’re leaving.”

  “Leaving?”

  “I have a surprise for you.”

  Liana looked down at her blue plaid lounge pants and T-shirt. “I’m not dressed.”

  “You look fine.”

  “I have work to do.”

  “It can wait.” He lifted his chin in a way that told her he wouldn’t take no for an answer. “What you need is to get away from here.”

  “You sound like my mother.”

  “Smart woman. Come on, it’s just a drive.” He grinned and added, “Please?”

  The idea was beginning to appeal to her. “Will I need anything?”

  “Well, if you do, I still have your suitcase in the back of my truck.”

  “Oh, that’s where it went.” She rubbed absently at a place on her inner left arm above her wrist, wincing when she realized she had a long ugly bruise there, though she couldn’t for the life of her remember how she’d done it. “Well, let me at least change into some jeans and grab my purse.”

  A few minutes later, dressed in black jeans and long-sleeved white T-shirt, she was in his truck, heading for her surprise. They talked easily, and Liana admitted to herself that she had missed him these past two days. Strange that he had become an important part of her life in such a short time. She didn’t even want to think what that might mean.

  After an hour on the freeway she became suspicious. “How much longer for this surprise?”

  “Well, quite a bit actually.”

  She stared at him. “What?”

  “We’re going to the farm. Mercedes is expecting us.”

  Suppressing the brief surge of joy at the idea of seeing Mercedes and the farm, Liana let herself grow angry. “Who do you think you are?”

  He glanced up from the road uncertainly. “Austin?” he ventured, and then, “Hey, your mom wanted you to get away. You said so.”

  “My brother just died. I should be with my family.”

  “Then why weren’t you?” When she didn’t answer, he continued, “Look, I know this is a hard time for you. I was Christian’s friend, and I miss him, too. And I care about you. Please let me help.”

  “You aren’t my knight in shining armor, as I keep telling you. I’m a big girl, and I certainly don’t need you swooping in on your white horse and whisking me off into the sunset to live happily ever after.”

  She watched his Adam’s apple go up and down his throat as he swallowed. “Not a white horse,” he said, shaking his head with mock dejection. “A white truck. And it’s not off into the sunset. It’s only Wyoming.”

  Her lips twitched, and she had to struggle to keep a serious face.

  He brightened. “I did buy you something, though.” Reaching under the seat, he pulled out a sack. “I hope they’re the right size.”

  A large shoe box tumbled from the proffered sack, falling open to reveal a pair of brown leather cowboy boots. She groaned.

  “Well, try them on.”

  “I am not wearing cowboy boots. No way, no how.”

  “Yes, you will. It’ll be better when we’re riding the horses.”

  “Horses?”

  “I thought it would be fun. What
do you think?”

  She stared at the boots.

  “What if I fall, Daddy?” Liana gripped the horse’s mane tightly.

  “Daddy’s got you. I’d never let you fall.” His arms went around her, making her feel secure. She was on top of the world!

  She giggled. “This is fun! Can we come again?”

  “Sure. When I come back from the villages.”

  “We planned to go riding the day after they came back,” she said to Austin, “but they never came back.” Now she finally understood her fear of horses.

  “I came back.” He met her eyes briefly before returning his gaze to the freeway. “I’ll always come back, if you want me to.”

  She stared at her hands. His words reminded her of Christian and how at the airport he’d promised always to be around. “You may not always be able to keep your promises. Sometimes it’s beyond your control.”

  Austin seemed to understand that she was speaking about something different now, something entirely unrelated to horses. “I guess, then, you just do your best. Now how about a little Kenny Rogers?” He tossed her the CD, and the tension building between them vanished.

  “You’ve got to be kidding. You just played one of your country songs three times in a row. I’ll admit Kenny grows on you, but some rock music would go a long way toward a little sanity right now. Remember you could get five to ten for kidnapping if I called the police. I have my cell.”

  “Did you bring some CDs?”

  “You know I didn’t.”

  “Sorry, then.”

  “Sorry, nothing. We’ll listen to the radio.” She tried to turn the channel but received only static.

  He gave an apologetic half shrug with his left shoulder. “It’s broken. Not sure what happened. It’ll only play CDs now.”

  Liana groaned. “Next time we take my car. Not only is it a lot cooler car—and I don’t mean colder—but the radio works and it has some good CDs.”

  “So, there’s going to be a next time?” Austin grinned at her.

  Liana rolled her eyes and folded her arms across her stomach. “I can tell this is going to be a very long trip.”

  CHAPTER 26

  Diary of Karyn Olsen Schrader

  Friday, January 5, 1979

  It has been a year since I lost my precious Lara. And still I go on. I don’t know how I do it. Guenter has been understanding. I know that he still feels a deep pain regarding our beloved daughter’s death, but he is a man and can never know how a woman’s heart clings to her child, how all her hopes and dreams revolve around a tiny smile, a sigh, a soft groan in the night as her baby searches for her breast. All that is gone. I keep thinking of my poor baby all alone in that cold grave. Sometimes I feel I’m a walking corpse, lifeless like the still forms of the poor that Guenter and I and the other volunteers have to send to the morgue each week—those that could not survive despite our best efforts. Like Lara. Oh, how much I miss my baby!

  The only comfort I find at all is when we visit the orphanages here in town. These are unwanted children, especially those who have been born with diseases. What did they do to deserve abandonment? Why don’t their parents understand that they are gifts from God? I hold them and rock them as we care for them. I thought it would hurt too much when Guenter first suggested that I accompany him, and it does hurt—terribly—but strangely there is comfort, too. I like the baby orphanage the most, where the children up to four years old are housed. When I care for them, it’s almost as though I can see beyond the veil of this earthly life into heaven where I must believe my Lara is now. Must believe or lose my sanity altogether.

  I’m not supposed to be allowed in the orphanages at all. The Soviets are afraid that the truth about the poverty and neglect these children endure will make it to the outside and turn world opinion further against them. It’s a sad thing to see a country with so many orphans. Don’t they understand that children are the future? I know it’s simply that the people can’t care for so many children, and birth control is expensive, but still I can’t understand.

  I have not yet conceived. I don’t believe I ever will. Lara was my one and only chance at motherhood. I don’t even like Guenter to touch me, though I haven’t told him so, and I continue to accept his advances. What once was so precious between us now only reminds me of failure.

  Austin looked over at Liana, who had curled up on the seat and fallen asleep, her long hair splayed everywhere. Every now and then a lone passing car would light up the cab, revealing her features. She looked much younger now that her brow was relaxed and the sadness in her blue eyes hidden. He hoped he was doing the right thing, taking her to Wyoming. But at least Mercedes could pick up the pieces if it was a failure.

  He was so tired he could barely keep his eyes open. He wished for the fourth time since midnight that he had stopped at a hotel. But he had been in a hurry to get Liana to the farm, to have some time with her in case she decided to end their relationship before it really began.

  One other thing besides the woman next to him kept him driving. He would have to keep his promise to her, and that meant it was time to go see his father. This trip would help determine not only the direction Liana’s future might take but also his own.

  A soft moan drew his attention from the road back to Liana. He reached out to smooth her hair, enjoying the soft feel of it against his skin. At his touch, she gave a startled cry.

  “Liana? Are you all right?” She didn’t answer, and he realized she was dreaming. “It’s okay,” he murmured. He pulled to the side of the road just as Liana sat up with a sudden jerk. “It’s okay. You were dreaming.” He flipped on the cab light.

  She looked at him, her eyes wide and frightened, hand against her chest. Her breath came in rapid gulps, and he could see her pulse beating furiously in her white throat. He tried to hold her, but she pushed him away.

  Then slowly, the confusion left her face. “I—I’m sorry. It’s the dream. It’s always the same dream.”

  “What dream?”

  “I used to think it came from the time after my parents died, but now I think it was much earlier.” She shook her head. “I guess I’ll never know.”

  “Do you remember it?”

  “There’s a child. She’s crying—silently, though—and a woman is consoling her, but she won’t stop crying. There’s another woman, too, and she’s also crying. Then there’s this hideous scream that goes on and on.” Liana shuddered.

  Austin reached out to her, and this time she accepted his embrace. After a long moment, she drew away. They stared at each other, and Austin felt her eyes travel over his face, pausing over his left eye.

  “You never told me how you got that scar,” she said.

  Instinctively, he reached up and felt the old wound that disappeared into the high arch of his black hair.

  “I tried to get them rows straight, Father. I did. I can do them over.”

  “Get out of the way. I’ll do it myself.”

  Not satisfied with Austin’s slow descent from the tractor, his father pulled him down by the back of his shirt, letting go before his feet were on the ground. He toppled forward, his head cracking against the side of the machine. Pain shot through his skull. He held his hand against his head, already slick with blood that seeped under his fingers and ran down his face.

  His father gave a snort. “Get yourself up to the house. See your ma.”

  Austin obeyed. Near the barn, dizzy with pain and loss of blood, he’d fainted.

  “Austin! Austin! What happened?” Mercedes’ anxious voice drove him to consciousness. He was lying on the ground near the barn, his sister kneeling next to him.

  “I hit my head on the tractor. Dad. . . .” He couldn’t tell her more; his thoughts were all muddled.

  Her expression darkening, she took the cloth from the egg basket she was carrying and pressed it over his wound. Austin felt as though all his brains were leaking into that cloth.

  “Am I dying, Mercedes?”

  “N
o. You’ll be okay.” But her voice was scared. “Come on. Let’s get to the house. Lean on me.” Pain knifed through his skull as he climbed to his feet, feeling as weak as a newborn calf.

  Mercedes half carried him in to Mother, who turned pale and took him to her own bed. There, she bathed the wound and made the bleeding stop. Ever so gently, she wiped the blood from his face and hands with a wet cloth. The cloth was rough, reminding him of his puppy’s wet tongue, but her touch was much softer, lulling him almost to sleep. Then she set aside the cloth and stroked his cheek with her fingers. He could see through his lashes that her eyes were filled with tears.

  When Father came for lunch, Mother was wearing her town dress, her face firm. “You’re takin’ us in to see the doctor. The boy needs stitches.”

  “I got work to do.”

  Mother didn’t back down. “I can’t drive that old truck of yours, so you’re gonna take us now, or I’ll find a way to drive it, and I won’t be comin’ back.” It was the first and only time his mother had stood up to his father, and that almost made it worth the pain.

  Grandmother arrived at the hospital as they were leaving. Even Austin could see that her eyes glinted with anger as she glared at his father. “If you ever lay a hand on this boy again, I’ll sell the farm right out from under you—you do remember who owns it now, don’t you? You’ll lose it all. I swear to the Lord above that I mean every single word. You may treat my daughter like a piece of manure—she’s a grown woman and makes her own choices—but I’ll be hanged if I let you hurt my grandchildren.”

  Austin sighed, pushing aside the memory. His father had never touched him again, but he continued to strike fear into Austin’s heart every time he raised his voice.

  “Austin, are you all right?” Liana’s brow creased with concern.

  Austin was tempted to tell her the scar had been the result of an accident, but it hadn’t really been an accident. His father had wanted to hurt him that day, perhaps not as badly as he had been hurt, but the intent had been there. Austin now believed that his father might have grown more physically abusive after that day, if not for the threat of losing his farm. That painful, ten-stitch gash in Austin’s head might just have saved his life.