by Marcy Blesy
“Are you okay?” he asks concerned. “Do you want me to get Lawson?” Of course, Lawson would be his go-to guy. Lawson is responsible for his even having a job to begin with.
“No. I just need to get out of here, and…please, let’s go now.”
I grab the newspaper clippings but leave the alarm clock as I push Pete toward the door. I pick up Helen’s binder on my way out which I deposit in the laundry room, not even leaving time to say goodbye as Pete and I exit the floor on the staff elevator. While riding down, my phone dings.
Finn: Everything okay? You missed your next check-in.
Me: Not okay but…
Were you in my room?
Me: Huh? I wasn’t in your room.
Finn: What? Why did you say that? You’re at work, right?
I glance at my phone, confused by the conversation. Then it becomes all too clear and my breathing accelerates to a point I can no longer control. “Peter, get me a bag…”
“What? Reese, what’s the matte…”
“A bag?” I whisper.
Pete drops to the floor of the elevator and thrusts open his toolbox. I hear clanging, like he’s empting something. Then he shoves a small brown paper bag at me. “Here. New nail bag. That’s all I’ve got.” He points at me, looking red in the face himself. “Reese, breathe. Good. Breathe again.”
I listen to his voice, feeling the rhythm of my heart slow. The elevator door dinging bolts me upright, setting all of my nerves on alert. I throw the bag back to Pete and dash out of the elevator and down the hall toward the lobby exit, imagining Pete staring at me as I run away.
Chapter 12:
When I get outside to the lawn, I am blinded by the bright light of the morning sun. Only a few guests are present, most reading the morning paper or sipping coffee. I put my hand over my eyes to block the sun and turn in every direction. Where is he? Why is he here? I feel like I’m starring in a nightmare movie, but my time playing the role of the victim was used up a long time ago. I’m so tired of it all. When will it end?
Finn: Where are you? I’m mowing out front.
Finn: Coming to find you.
Finn: Reese????
I enter my text back to Finn when I see him coming through the lobby doors of the lodge toward me. He starts running, and if it weren’t one of the oddest, scariest moments of my life, I’d have laughed at the silliness of the two lovers running toward each other across the distance of the lawn as if in suspended slow motion.
“Thank God!” he says, throwing his arms around my waist and pulling me close.
I soak in the smell of freshly mowed grass and feel safe. When I pull away from Finn and look into his troubled eyes, it is the first time I realize that I have been crying. “Sorry,” I say, wiping away the wet spot on the front of his t-shirt.
He cups my chin in his hand so that our identical glistening eyes are locked. “Don’t ever apologize.” He kisses the top of my head.
“I…I got scared. I found some…evidence to suggest that my dad’s here.”
Finn pulls back and nods his head in understanding. “What kind of evidence?” he asks, full of concern.
My phone dings, making both of us jump.
Lawson: Are you okay? Pete told me you wigged out.
I slip my phone back in my purse. “I’ll show you later. You need to get back to work.”
“Let me take you away, Reese. Just you and me.” He pulls me in close again, and I try to focus on the beating of his heart, but I can’t. Dad. Samantha. Baby. I can’t get any of it out of my mind, the thoughts jumbling around like the heavy cycle of a washing machine.
“I can’t go anywhere. I have to work. You have to work.”
“Reese, you can’t go back to work.”
“I’ll be fine. Sorry I scared you.”
“Quit saying that! Where are you going now?”
“I have to see Luis and admit that his trusted clipboard with all of the problems of the day is missing.”
“You should tell him what’s going on.”
“No way. No one needs another reason to distrust me.”
“If you don’t text me in half an hour I’m calling Mr. Oakley myself and talking to him.”
“I’ll text you. We have a lot to talk about later,” I say, kissing Finn one more time for good luck.
He wrinkles his brow. If he only knew the mountain of information I’d learned this morning. “You be careful.”
I shake my head in understanding and walk back toward the lodge.
My phone dings again.
Lawson: I think your dad is here.
Me: No thanks to you.
Lawson: Come to my room.
Me: Are you drunk again?
I push open the doors to the lodge and throw my phone back in my purse. Luis is standing at the front desk checking in a guest. When he glances in my direction I can tell that he already knows about my failures for the morning. I walk behind the desk and wait until he’s finished with the guest. “Luis, before you start, please let me talk first.” He puts his hands on his hips, ready to challenge any proposal that might fly from my lips, but what I have to say is simply an apology for my ineptitude. I’m tired of making excuses that aren’t warranted. Luis has been here for three years, and he knows everything there is to know about front desk operations. He’s professional, courteous, and smart. I’ll learn a hell of a lot more observing him in action for the rest of my shift than I will trying to muddle through my lists with a quarter of the information I need to do an effective job. Plus, I’ll be safe in the open checking guests in at the front desk.
When lunch rolls around, I text Finn to meet me in the library, telling him that I’ll grab a couple of sandwiches in the deli. I walk across the lobby and open the French double doors that lead into my favorite place at the lodge. I pull the curtains back, the sunshine bathing the room in warmth and light. I am sitting on a couch in front of the massive stone fireplace watching people cross the lawn outside on their way to the pool or lunch or shopping. Reflecting on the last three months, the reality that my life won’t ever be the same isn’t lost on me. If Ted does offer me a permanent position at the lodge, I might never finish my degree at MSU. And what about my family? Sure, my grandparents weren’t exactly present during my childhood, but I suppose being forced to raise your son’s children when he skipped town wasn’t easy for them. Did they know he was keeping tabs on me? Did they supply him with the newspaper articles? Is he really as cold-hearted as it seems he must have been to abandon his children for money? And…did he kill my mom? And what about the information Samantha unloaded before she checked out? I close my eyes and let the sun warm my soul as the new questions threaten to crush my spirit.
“Reese?” The sound of a male’s voice startles me. “Finn?” I ask, sitting up from the couch where I had sunk even deeper into its comfort.
“No, it’s Lawson,” he says, plopping into a chair next to the couch and hanging his long legs over the arm of the chair.
“Ugh. What are you doing here?” I ask, wiping my eyes.
“Nice to see you, too,” he says. “I brought you lunch.” He hands me a hotdog wrapped in aluminum foil. “A poolside café specialty,” he says.
“I wouldn’t know,” I say, taking the hotdog and setting it on the couch next to me. “I was never allowed to use the pool as an employee without fear of repercussions.
“Well, now you can do whatever the hell you want to do, can’t you?” He shakes his head as soon as he’s spoken the words and sighs. “Look, I’m sorry. I guess I’m still a little bitter about everything.”
“Finn’s coming,” I say, “You should go.”
“Finn is going to be late,” he says.
“How do you know that?” I ask.
“Because I told him there was a landscaping emergency.”
“There is no such thing as a landscaping emergency,” I say.
“There is when an underground sprinkler gets cut and sprays all the guests on the law
n walking by. See for yourself.” I look outside where I see guests running from the sidewalk as water turns in circles spraying unsuspecting passersby.
“Why would you do that?” I ask, glaring at Lawson who nonchalantly crosses his arms.
“It’s only a minor issue. He and the guys will have it fixed in no time.”
I glance at my phone when it dings. Sure enough.
Finn: Running late. So sorry. Eat without me.
“How did you know where I’d be?”
“Luis told me you were meeting Finn for lunch.”
“Are you sure it’s not you that’s stalking me?” I ask.
“I know better than to stalk you, Reese. You’ve brought me nothing but trouble since you arrived at Tremont Lodge.”
“It’s been a pleasure meeting you, too,” I say.
“You know what I mean. Look, I wanted to talk to you, and I couldn’t think of any other excuse. And, it worked. Here you are, pretty as can be, even with worry bags under your eyes.”
“Shut up, Lawson. I have to get back to work.”
He puts up his hand and points to the couch. “Please don’t go. I really want to talk to you.”
“Make it quick. And don’t piss me off, or I’ll tell Ted you’re back on the booze.”
“Low blow.”
“I learned from the master.”
“Hmmm, I feel like there’s a good comeback there, but I’ll stop.” He puts his hand upright and vows to behave.
And I need an ally. “I think my dad’s here,” I say. “I mean, I am more positive than I was before. I got called to a room today for a noise problem, and I found a Hello Kitty clock like the one I had as a little girl…”
“Hello Kitty?” he asking, raising his eyebrows.
“Don’t judge. I was five.” A slight smile creeps across his face. “And newspaper clippings…”
“Of what?” he asks concerned.
“Articles from my hometown paper following my life in print—stuff like what I was doing in church or school. It scared the hell out of me.”
“That’s when Pete came in.” I shake my head yes. “Do you have a name on record for the room?”
“Yes, the name is J. Treelo.”
“Does that ring any bells?”
“No. I don’t think so. My dad’s name was John, so that could be the J., but Treelo isn’t a name—oh my goodness!”
“What is it?” Lawson asks, sitting up and leaning closer to me.
“When I was little there was a Bear in the Big Blue House book that my dad used to read to me. My favorite character was this lemur who liked to climb. I guess you could say I was a bit of a tomboy. His name was Treelo.” An intense pain shoots through my head and settles into a pulsation near my left temple. “Lawson, you have to make him go away. I don’t have any money for him. I don’t want to see him. It’s too painful.” I don’t mean to cry but the emotions of the day would be overwhelming even for a person with steel emotions.
I don’t even realize that Lawson has moved next to me until he reaches for my shoulders and pulls me close to his chest. “Lawson, don’t…” I say.
“Shh…it’s okay, Reese. I’m really sorry for screwing up your summer. I promise I’ll make it up to you.” He brushes my hair with his hand and lets me cry.
When I pull away to wipe my nose on something other than Lawson’s shirt, I am surprised to see Finn standing at the back of the library. “Finn…” I start to say.
Lawson practically knocks me to the ground as he pushes me away from him and jumps off the couch. “This isn’t what it looks like, man,” he says defensively.
“It looks like you didn’t need me after all,” says Finn to me.
“Stop it!” I say.
“I’m going back to work,” he says, turning toward the door.
“You weren’t here!” I shout at his back. “I just got upset. There isn’t anything I did wrong!” Finn puts his hand on the knob of the door. “It’s not like I had a baby I forgot to tell my boyfriend about!”
“Oh shit,” says Lawson, slinking into a corner of the room. I don’t mean to air dirty laundry in front of Lawson of all people, but I’m so tired of trying to please everyone. Can’t someone just love me for me, flaws and all?
“What did you say?” asks Finn.
“You heard me. This isn’t how I wanted to tell you that I know, but maybe you’ll be a little less judgmental now.” I glance at Lawson who is standing next to the bookshelves, staring wide-eyed between the two of us like he’s watching a ping pong match.
“Who told you that?” Finn asks.
“She left this morning, if that gives you any hints.”
“I think we should talk about this in private,” he says, enunciating his words as if he’s trying very hard not to yell.
“I don’t want to talk about it right now, either. It’s so ugly to even think about, I feel sick to my stomach. I need to get to work.” He doesn’t try to stop me as I brush by him on my way back to the lobby and the front desk where I will spend the rest of the afternoon mundanely checking guests in who are expecting a week of relaxation and fun and distance from their problems. If only the same could happen for me.
Chapter 13:
“I really think you should talk to Finn before you run away from the lodge,” says Bree.
“I am not running away from the lodge,” I say to Bree as she walks with me to my car. She carries my suitcase while I carry my laptop and a small laundry basket. Since I’m going home for a few days, I might as well be productive. “It’s not like I won’t come back to work. I just need a few days to clear my head away from the lodge.”
“I get that,” says Bree, “but Finn’s going to think you’re leaving because you’re pissed at him.”
“I am pissed. He lied to me.”
“It’s not exactly a conversation you lead with in a new relationship. Oh, and, hey, by the way, I had a baby with an old girlfriend. Only I really didn’t because it died.”
We arrive at my car in the employee parking lot. “Look, thanks for your help. The rational part of my brain knows you’re right, but it’s not just Finn that’s stressing me out.”
“I know,” says Bree. “But be careful.” She gives me a hug, and I get in my car to drive away to my hometown far away from the troubles of life…or maybe not.
I have a lot of time to think as Interstate 94 brings me closer to Bridgman. It’s amazing how much my life has changed in only a few months. Of course, I’d always hoped that Tremont Lodge would give me answers about my family. But now there are even more questions. Did my dad go to the lodge with my mother for the purpose of hurting her? Or was her death really an accident? Would Mr. Oakley have wanted me in his life if Mom hadn’t died? And, if so, would I be different from the person that I am now? What role did my grandparents play in keeping these secrets? Was the price worth it for them to keep Blake and me in the dark? And what about Blake? Does he need to know? Or deserve to know? And does any of it even matter?
As I pull into the winding driveway of my grandparents’ farm, the smell of grapes is ripe in the air. Nothing compares to its sweetness that is carried for miles with every gust of the wind. I let down the window to take in the moment—the moment before I confront my grandparents with the truth. I glance at the time on my dashboard—two hours before Blake gets home from school.
Because I’d called and talked with my grandfather about my visit, the fact that no one seems to be home is a bit surprising. It’s not like I expected a welcome party, but a friendly white flag would have been nice, not that I left on horrible terms. They didn’t understand why I cared so much about opening that can of worms as they’d called the closed chapter of my life. That book never ended for me. Why can’t they understand that? Maybe I could blame their silence on their own upbringing by immigrant parents whose time was spent working hard labor jobs just to stay afloat. Who could blame them for not having time to talk to their children about feelings?
I sta
rt a load of laundry and thumb through Grandma’s Woman’s World magazines that litter the coffee table. Headlines like “Seven Secrets to a Happier Life” and “Turning Old Family Photos into Art” taunt me. The sound of the garage door lifting sends a new wave of panic pulsating through my veins, but it’s time for a little more clarity whether they like it or not.
Grandma comes in first. She’s lost a lot of weight which is quite a shock, considering her love of food and not all of the healthy things they grow on the farm, either. Now her sweater hangs perilously close to falling off her shoulders, and her pants are cinched with a drawstring that makes my usually tidy grandmother look like a stereotypical old person who is going senile and can’t dress herself properly anymore. Grandpa follows behind, keeping a steady hand inches from her waist as if offering invisible support. It’s really quite sweet despite being odd. Again, that whole show no emotion thing usually goes hand-in-hand with physical acts of love, too.
“Hi, Reese,” he says, giving me a shaky wave. “How was the drive?”
“Uh, it was good—not much traffic,” I say.
“That’s good,” he says.
“Are…are you guys okay?” I ask.
“We’re fine,” Grandpa says.
The silence in the room is deafening. “Were you at the senior center?” I ask.
“No,” he says.
“Umm…I’m doing a load of laundry. I hope that’s okay.”
“Fine, fine,” he says. Grandma walks down the hall toward the bathroom using a cane that sits against the way. She hasn’t even said hello.
“Is she okay?” I whisper when Grandma is out of earshot.
“Yes, fine, fine. I’m going to go check on her.” He walks toward the hallway but turns back toward me as if he has more to say. “Help yourself to an apple in the fridge if you’re hungry. Good crop this year.” Then he, too, is gone. The story of my life—did I expect anything more?
I sit on the front porch, taking in the sweet aroma again and marveling at how pretty Michigan can look as fall nears. The mid-afternoon sun shines through the trees on the edge of the property. There are lots of workers’ vehicles at the end of the drive, seasonal employees picking apples or prepping the vineyards for the grape harvest. Sometimes in years past I’d watch the workers, many talking in Spanish, and imagine their life stories, giving them amusing, entertaining families with nothing but a happily-ever-after.