He jumps back. “Hey, sorry. Just want you to know we got a room, and it’s the last one they have. We can keep looking if you want.”
“One room?” she says, lowering the window. “Just one?”
“Yeah,” he says, dancing from one foot to the other in the frigid air. “But the guy says the other motels around here are also full-up. They’re sending folks to him.”
“Well, then how is it they have a room left for us?” she asks.
He shrugs. “Dumb luck, I guess.”
“We better take it,” she says.
“Good! Because I gave the guy my card.” He climbs back in and drives them around the L-shaped building to the back entrance and parks. “M’lady,” he says gallantly opening her car door.
Mitsy is a wreck. She can’t believe she has to share a room in a Super 8 Motel with a foreign teenage boy. A complete stranger! But what choice does she have?
Dane leads her up the stairs to the top floor of the two story building. He slips the key in the door of # 210 and holds it open for her. “Oh, I forgot to tell you, the guy says there’s a bit of a leak in the roof. But he said it’s not a big deal, and anyway he gave us a 20% break, so we can probably afford to split a bagel in the morning.”
Mitsy enters suspiciously, looking upward. Nothing apparent, but the room has a damp, musty odor, and there are brown spots on a few of the ceiling tiles. “We’ll make do,” she says tentatively.
“That a girl,” says Dane. His hand sweeps the garish blue room presentation style. “Which bed would you like?”
“Have I said I can’t believe this?” she asks. “Because I can’t believe this.” She gives him a worried look, and sees that he can’t even look her in the eye.
“No offense, Mrs. M, but I can’t believe it more than you can’t believe it.”
After a minute, she points to the twin bed nearest the stripped down bathroom. “Okay, I’ll take that one,” she says. She doesn’t want to have to pass his bed every time she has to urinate, which is generally quite a lot at night.
They take turns in the bathroom and then lie down on their respective beds. Mitsy’s skin is crawling with just the idea of fleas and bedbugs, not to mention lice. No sooner does he flick the overhead light switch next to his bed then the ceiling tile begins to drip, steadily spilling water on the floor between their beds.
“Hey, Mrs. M,” he says.
She wants to pretend she’s asleep, but no one could sleep through this. “What?”
“You gotta laugh, right?” He starts cracking-up, nearly convulsing, which gets her laughing for the first time in so many years she can’t count.
Ten minutes later she says, “Okay, Dane, that’s enough. This isn’t a fraternity house.” She rolls over, covers her head with the pillow, and shuts down. Tomorrow is another day as Scarlet O’Hara aptly put it in the middle of a war. And if this isn’t a war, she doesn’t know what is.
Hannah
Hannah is happy to be home, but she’d be a lot happier if Jonah were more welcoming. Not that he’s unwelcoming, per se, but he’s welcoming in a stand-offish way that brings out the needy Hannah instead of the impish, fun Hannah capable of winning him back. He probably knows that. That’s probably why he’s doing it. He probably secretly loves the needy Hannah. Needy Hannah needs him. Or maybe he doesn’t love the needy Hannah. Maybe he loves the independent Hannah who can take care of herself. Who’s that? She’s been gone so long she can’t remember which Hannah she is when she’s with him and which one she’s not.
She sips the tall Dunkin’ deep roast she picked up this morning along with a box of crullers and Boston cream donuts which are on the kitchen counter. At some point, depending on how long she stays, she might have to find the time to actually shop for food, but not today. On the other hand, if Jonah agrees to stay for dinner, she’ll find the time. But what would she cook? Just the idea of it freaks her out. But why should it? She certainly picked up plenty of pointers from her efforts in Darien. She’s not a complete nincompoop. So maybe a tuna casserole? Meatloaf? Tacos? Oh my God, she’s so indecisive. Just thinking about all that cooking exhausts her. And anyway, who says he’s even staying.
On the bright side, the sky is all big, open, and cornflower blue. There’s not a flake of snow on the ground. In their stead, tiny white snowdrop flowers are sprouting everywhere. Compared to Connecticut, spring comes a month or so earlier here, though it doesn’t always stay. Sometimes it reverts, so you have to savor the day, which is exactly what Hannah’s doing. She absorbs the heat of the full sun as it enters the picture window, spreading in a wide arc past her yellow couch to the center of the room and back out to the rolling fields. It’s so inspiring. Inspiring but not perfectly perfect.
It would be perfectly perfect if she could plop the Michaels’ Darien chateau, complete with all its delicious architectural and interior flourishes, right on top of this exact hill. Dream house on dream property. Why can’t she have both? Who says she can’t? If she publishes…when she publishes…her book, or when she gets back with Jonah (or both!)—her dream mansion on her dream plot will be spare change.
“Hey,” says Syd behind her.
Hannah jumps. “Whoa, you startled me! Those quiet little cat feet of yours!” She’s just glad her coffee’s half gone so it didn’t spill all over her new heather-blue angora tunic and sleek black leggings.
Syd, on the other hand, isn’t wearing anything sleek. She’s drowning in gray jersey pants with a purple tee-shirt, lost in their slouchiness. Mitsy’s had too much subliminal fashion influence on this child. Godiva darts out playfully from behind Syd, but Syd’s not playing. She moves slowly.
Hannah says, “I’ll let her out.”
“Thanks,” says Syd, yawning. “I’d still be asleep if she hadn’t jumped all over me.”
“Ooo,” says Hannah. “Better not let momzy know she slept on your bed.”
Syd nods unenthusiastically.
“You okay, cookie?” Hannah asks.
Syd nods, yawning again. “Just tired. Weird dreams. Somewhere, I don’t know, on a big vineyard.”
“A vineyard, wow! Sign me up for that dream. Mine was on some crazy cliff in a smoky house in the smelly middle ages.”
“What?” says Syd.
“My dream. The middle …”
“No, no, just…I’ve been there, too.”
“That’s funny,” says Hannah grinning. “I didn’t see you.”
“Yeah. I don’t know,” says Syd. “Just…weirdly familiar.”
“If only they hadn’t met on the Irish Sea…” says Hannah for no reason. She’s never even been to the Irish Sea, and couldn’t point to it on a map if you offered to pay her entire debt in exchange for the right answer. Although obviously it’s near Ireland. If an Irish Sea even exists.
“That’s it,” says Syd, wide-eyed. “The Irish Sea.”
Hannah sips her coffee, thinking. “Is that why you named the filly Ireland?”
Syd shakes her head groggily, wanders over to the couch and drops. “I don’t know why I named her that,” she mutters. She curls into the corner of the couch, knees to chest. “You need more furniture in here,” she says.
“Working on that,” says Hannah. She lays her cardboard coffee cup on the jelly cabinet sideboard and cinches the belt of her tunic. “Go treat yourself to a Boston cream donut,” she says. “That’ll wake you up.” She herds Godiva through the kitchen to the mudroom. The pup is confused by the new floor plan, so Hannah keeps leaning down, nudging her forward. “Be right back,” she calls back to Syd.
Hannah is not so secretly hoping to see Jonah pass by on his way into the village. He’s showing the old Johnston estate this morning, she thinks…or wants to think, since that would take him right past the farm. Best to be visible from the road, ready and waving. She got up at 6AM so she’d be presentable whenever he passed by, or better yet, stopped by. She wants to prove she’s a reformed woman, an early riser liberated from her previous lazy habits. N
ot that she ever thought of herself as lazy, but he does.
And then of course she’ll have to initiate that awkward conversation with Aaron today, when she delivers the oral bill for all her hard work and dedication. Fair is fair. Of course if she had her own money she’d have taken care of Syd for free, but she doesn’t. She needs the money. Facts are facts. And Jonah won’t believe a word Hannah says if she hasn’t paid all her bills, or at least made a dent in them. He doesn’t get the fact that her plunge into irresponsibility was a result of her depression over his departure. Or maybe her plunge came first, she can’t remember. There were too many plunges. At any rate, Jonah’s departure certainly didn’t improve things.
At the door, Godiva jumps into the matted winter grass and pees a downhill river. Her nose points to the paddock, where the filly throws her magnificent sable head back and neighs. Godiva’s whole body tenses, her ears piqued. Just in case she tries anything funny, Hannah reaches back into the mudroom for boots. The dewy hill would be a sliding board in these slippers, and with her luck Jonah would drive by at the exact moment she landed on her ass. Although, in that case maybe he’d come running? But no, she reminds herself, the idea is to prove she’s responsible. Falling on her ass on purpose would have suited the old Hannah, but not the new one. No more helpless maiden. Maybe.
She keeps her eyes on the pup as she pulls a piece of rope from a hook on the outside wall. The last thing she needs is another big chase. She slips the rope around Godiva’s head like a noose. “Gotcha,” she says.
Godiva squirms uncomfortably, keeping her eyes on the horses. She delivers a deep throaty bark, “Rrrrruffff!”
“Whoa, not very ladylike,” Hannah says, chuckling. “But okay, let’s take a stroll to the barn, shall we?”
On her way down the slope, Hannah thinks maybe she’ll set her novel in fourteenth century Ireland, not that she knows anything about it, but she can always Google. And after all, she has had the odd dream about it, if it even was Ireland. How would she know? As she walks, she feeds story threads through her mental spinning wheel. She imagines the whole scene wherever it is…wait. She stops mid-hill. What was that noise? She turns back toward the house. Huh.
She’s probably hearing things. But what if it was Jonah? What if he parked in the driving circle on the other side of the house and walked through the front door? She waits, listening for his voice, but hears nothing. But would she hear from this distance through closed windows? Probably not, which just proves she’s hearing things in the first place. Her phone rings, and she pulls it out of her pocket. Shit, it’s Aaron. She hesitates, gathering enough moxy to confront him.
“Hello, Aaron,” she says, continuing down to the paddock.
“Hey, Hannah. Just checking on things down there.”
“Oh, I thought you were calling to yell at me again.”
He sighs. “Come on, I didn’t yell. You did.”
An old green truck chugs up the dirt road, and she cranes her neck to see if it’s Jonah. Not that he owns an old green truck, and not that he’d be coming from that direction.
“Maybe I did,” she says. “But you deserved it.”
“So are things okay?” he says. “Syd doesn’t answer. Everybody safe and sound?”
“We’re great,” she says. “Couldn’t be better. Woke up to a smoky sunrise and a perfect spring day. And oh yeah, give a hearty welcome to our latest family member, Ireland. A filly.”
“Ireland, eh? Great name.”
“Syd named her. Of course her registered name will be a mile long, but that’s what we’ll call her.”
“Love it! So all’s well?”
“Perfect.”
“Good, because not only does Syd not answer her phone, but Mitsy doesn’t either. Two strikes.”
“What?” says Hannah, confused. “You didn’t fly home last night?” Godiva pulls hard, yanking, and Hannah slides on the wet grass, her arms akimbo. “Oh my God!” she says, and the phone jumps out of her hand. She gathers her balance by leaning forward, planting her feet firmly on the ground. She’s not going to fall. But it was close. She pulls Godiva in the direction of the phone, reaching for it in the grass. “Hello?” she says. “Sorry, Godiva dragged me down the hill. She’s getting quite large. Did you have any idea how large she would be when you got her?”
“I didn’t fly home last night,” he says. “Airports were closed.”
“Oh. But you tried?”
“Uh huh. I’ll get out of here sometime today, hopefully. Departures are really backed-up, so I don’t know when. But to repeat…Mitsy doesn’t answer her phone.”
Hannah shrugs. “What else is new? Look, I need to discuss money, as unpleasant as that may be for both of us.”
“So you’re not worried about Mitsy?”
“Not as worried as I am about getting paid.”
There’s a long pause followed by, “Okay.”
Hannah hears shrill laughter in the background. “Are you on a sales call?” she says. “Or with somebody?”
“Yeah, sorry. In the hotel lobby, but go ahead. You need money. How much?”
Down at the paddock now, she leans against the four-board fence admiring the newly baptized Ireland—her long awkward legs and the flirty white forelock between her ears. This filly is going to pay her way, Hannah thinks—knows. She’s gorgeous!
“Hannah? How much?” he repeats.
“Well, what do you think is fair?” she says coyly.
“Whatever you think is fair,” he says. “You’ve been fantastic. A Godsend. I wish you would move in with us.”
“By which I assume you mean Mitsy and Syd,” she says. “Since you’re never there.”
No response.
“Anyway, I’m in a bit of a temporary pinch,” she says casually. “So I could use, oh I don’t know, $10,000 to start?” She grits her teeth.
He coughs, which turns into a coughing jag, which doesn’t give her any confidence. Maybe she should have started with $5,000 and worked up.
“To start?” he says with a rasp.
“Things have been tough,” she says. “But it’s temporary. I’m writing a book. A prize-winner.”
“Hannah, are you in trouble? Confess. What’s the real number?”
“Jonah’s probably moving back in, so it isn’t what it sounds like. It’s just been difficult to manage…”
“What’s the number?”
She turns, resting her back against the fence. Godiva busily digs a hole in front of her. “Fifty grand off the top, but then there are all the repairs…”
“Holy crap.”
“I only asked for ten thousand, Aaron. And…I earned it.”
“That would be $2,500 a week, not that I’m going to argue.”
She grins into the wind. “You’re not?” She dances a little two-step.
“No, but that’s a pretty steep stipend going forward. Is that what you discussed with Mitsy when you signed on?”
“No. When I signed on I didn’t have time to think straight. You all seemed so desperate I was only concerned with helping out.” She pauses. “I would appreciate it if you would not share this with your wife, Aaron. She can be a bit critical if you haven’t noticed.”
She turns toward the barn, placing her right boot on the bottom fence board, leaning in. He doesn’t respond, so she says, “Aaron? Are you there?”
“I’m here,” he says. Moments later, he says, “I’ll give you whatever you need, including the repairs, if you move in with Mitsy and Syd for a year.”
“What? A year? Are you insane? That’s an eternity.”
“I know, but…Hannah, listen. You’ve lived with her for the last month; you know how it is. I can’t stay. I just…I can’t take anymore.”
“What?! What are you saying?!” she says, nearly choking. “And don’t forget I have Jonah to think about.”
“I’m saying…I don’t know. The decision is killing me. Don’t think it’s been easy. It’s been hell.” He hesitates. “And don’
t tell Syd.”
“Don’t tell Syd what?” she says. “That you’re…divorcing her mother! Is that what you’re saying? And don’t you think she’ll notice!”
“No…yes, of course, but I just need some time to sort out the details. And I’m not saying the D word yet. I have to…I just…I need time. And space. When it’s time, I’ll tell Syd myself. I don’t know. I’m just…so confused.”
“I’m not moving in for an entire year, Aaron. You can’t abandon your own child.”
“I’m not abandoning her, Hannah. I adore her, for God’s sake. This…”
“Don’t name it.”
“Fine, this thing is killing me. Us. It’s killing all of us. I don’t even recognize Mitsy anymore…”
Hannah lowers her voice to a growl. “Sydney comes first, Aaron. I’ll do what I can, but you’re her father. All I can promise for now is to continue on with the same arrangement until I’m needed back home permanently.” Although, she thinks, a couple hundred grand, which is what it really amounts to with all the repairs, is a pretty damn good salary for a year’s work. And no more debt! “I’m not giving you a blanket no, though,” she says. “I’ll consider it.”
“Thanks,” he says quietly.
She turns back toward the house, distracted by a noise. Oh my God, there’s…Jonah! All six feet two of him waving enthusiastically. “Gotta go,” she says, waving back while making haste up the hill with Godiva.
“Promise you won’t say anything to Syd,” Aaron says. “Swear?”
“Whatever,” she says, ending the call. Anyway, she can’t have a dead serious conversation like this with her…well, employer practically, when she can barely think straight. Jonah’s here! She slows herself down to a casual walk, leaning down to casually pat the dog’s head, not wanting to seem overly eager. Just…wandering up to say hello. This is going to be a great day, she already knows. She practically has to dig a hole and bury herself to keep from floating.
The Anesthesia Game Page 15