Last Family Standing

by Jennifer AlLee

  As I stumble toward the bathroom, Ranger sits up and pokes his nose at me. Laughing, I sit on the floor and hug him.

  “I envy you, Ranger. It is so easy to make you happy.”

  Tongue lolling out of his mouth, he lies on his side. He’s so soft and cuddly, I decide to lie down too, and use him as a pillow. Beneath my cheek, the rhythmic beating of his heart reminds me of the tide rushing in and rolling out. Just for a minute, I’ll lie here and relax.

  Just for a minute.

  36

  I wake up the next morning curled on the floor, and Ranger has made his escape. How I could fall asleep down here is beyond me, although, it’s ten times more comfortable than that bumpy bamboo floor in the shelter.

  Twenty minutes later, I’ve showered and faced the challenge of getting dressed. Since I lost so much weight on the island, all of my pants are too big. The only thing I could find that would stay on was a pair of drawstring shorts, tucked in the back of a dresser drawer.

  Downstairs, Ranger is prancing in circles by the front door, reminding me that life goes on as usual, whether I’m ready for it or not.

  “I get the hint.”

  I grab his leash and snap it to his collar. Ranger and I have gone for a morning walk almost every day since I brought him home from the animal shelter. There’s no reason not to keep that up.

  It’s just a little after eight, but the morning air is already hot and dry. A quick check of the sky reveals a smattering of puffy, white clouds and not the slightest chance of rain. The neighborhood is quiet, but what movement I do see is totally normal: two women jogging, a man working on a car in his driveway, another woman pulling weeds from the planter around a tree. There are no bats, no monkeys, no cameramen lurking around every corner, no game show host. Funny how I actually miss some of those things. Not that I’d admit which ones.

  “Monica!”

  Now there’s a familiar voice. I turn and smile. “Good morning, Mr. Williams. Good to see you.”

  “And you.” He and Caesar rush up to me. As I scratch the big dog behind one ear, Mr. Williams stares at my bare legs. “Goodness, you really took a beating out there.”

  Oops. By finding shorts that fit, I’ve inadvertently put every bruise, bump, and bite on display. “I guess you watched the show, then?”

  “Oh yes.” He nods with such vigor, I’m afraid he may pull a muscle in his neck. “When I saw you walk out on that beach, I almost tossed my popcorn.”

  I sure hope that’s not a euphemism for something else. “I haven’t seen the episode yet.”

  Caesar strains on the leash, but for once, Mr. Williams stands his ground. “How do they get so much on film? There must be cameras everywhere.”

  “Pretty much.” If only Ranger would give me an excuse to walk away. But he’s so busy sniffing Caesar, he couldn’t care less if we stand here all day.

  From the way Mr. Williams is scratching his chin and looking at me through narrowed eyes, I can tell he’s deep in thought. Then he points a finger at me. “You made it to the end, didn’t you?”

  “What? Why would you say that?”

  He points at my legs. “Some of those bruises look quite new. The only way you’d get them is if you were playing right up until the end.”

  Oh man. It’s no problem to keep myself from blurting out game details in casual conversation. It’s another thing altogether to be asked a direct question and have to evade it. I can’t lie to the man’s face, so I try to throw him off with humor.

  “You know, I could just be naturally clumsy.”

  “You could, but I’ve never seen you bruised up like this.” He grins, obviously proud of himself. “No, ma’am, I believe you played all the way to the end.”

  I underestimated Mr. Williams. He doesn’t just watch the show, he’s a fan. And there’s no way he’s letting go of his theory. So I tell him the truth.

  “We’re not allowed to discuss details. But you already know that, right?”

  He laughs. “Right.”

  “Besides, what fun would it be if I told you now how it all works out? It would take all the suspense out of watching.”

  “Good point.” He reaches out and pats my shoulder. “I’ll be seeing you. And I’m rooting for you and your daughter.”

  Sensing this is his moment to move, Caesar jerks on the leash again. This time, Mr. Williams pays attention and waves good-bye as they walk on.

  I’ve been home for less than twenty-four hours and only the first episode has aired and already I’ve been grilled by a friend. Suddenly, my relaxing little walk around the neighborhood has taken on an element of stress.

  Anticipating some resistance, I wrap Ranger’s leash more securely around my good hand and turn back toward home. Sure enough, he pulls back, probably thinking of all the bushes and flowers and paving stones he hasn’t had a chance to sniff yet.

  “Sorry, buddy.” He looks up at me with soulful eyes and wags his tail like a feathery flag. In his own doggy way, he gets it. “It’s time to go home. We’ve got a road trip to plan.”

  ***

  “Ah, Nikki, I knew ya couldn’t stay away from me for long.”

  Chuckling, I lean back on the couch. Duncan is nothing if not predictable.

  “Believe me, I can go a very long time without talking to you. But now I need to talk to you about Jess.”

  “What about her?” His tone turns completely serious. “Is she all right?”

  I hurry to assure him that she’s fine. “But her mother, Susan, is not.”

  With the exception of making affirmative noises here and there, he doesn’t interrupt until I finish telling him the story. When I’m done, his response is immediate. “When are ya leaving for California?”

  “As soon as I can get things tied up here. Probably in the next two or three days.”

  “Can ya hold on, Nikki?” Without waiting for an answer, he starts talking to someone on his side of the phone, but the voices are muffled. He’s probably covering the speaker with his finger. A few minutes pass before he comes back on. “Are ya still there?”

  “Of course.”

  “I can be in Las Vegas on Wednesday, and we can go ta Jess together.”

  His statement is so completely beyond the scope of what I’d been planning, my mind goes blank for a moment. “You want to drive to California with me and my dog?”

  I must sound as dense to him as I feel, because his laugh booms through the phone. “Sure, we could drive, Love, but we’ll get there a lot faster if we take my plane.”

  “If we . . . your plane?”

  “Yes. My plane.” He pauses, and I realize he’s surprised by my surprise. “Ya don’t know what I do for a living, do ya?”

  “No.”

  “And you didn’t know back when we dated, did ya?”

  Now I’m getting frustrated. “I didn’t think you had a job. Isn’t that why you were at culinary school? To become a chef?”

  A garbled sound comes from his end, which I’m pretty sure is some not-very-nice Scottish sentiment. “Seems we have a lot to talk about. For now, give me your email address and I’ll have my secretary send ya all the flight information.”

  “You have a secretary?” He’s just one surprise after another.

  “As I said, we’ll talk.” The tension is still in his voice, but I can almost hear a smile come on. “And yes, Love, ya can bring your dog along.”

  By the time we hang up, my head is spinning. Duncan has a secretary. And a plane. What else does he have?

  I jump up and hurry into the spare bedroom I use as a home office. Twenty-six years ago, it wasn’t commonplace to Google everyone you met, and in the years since, I hadn’t thought about Duncan enough to care. But now, I need answers, and I can’t wait until Wednesday to start getting them.

  I type slowly, making sure I spell his name correctly. Duncan McAllister.

  Enter.

  No . . . that can’t be right. I double check the spelling. Hit enter again. And fall back into m
y chair.

  About 1,800,000 results.

  Which isn’t all that surprising. There are obviously lots of Duncan McAllisters in the world. What is surprising is the first entry, which has a picture next to it. A picture of the Duncan I know. And a link to a website.

  McAllister International.

  My finger hovers over the mouse button as I brace myself for what I’m about to read. Then I take a deep breath, and jab it with my fingertip.

  It’s a slick website with multiple tabs for each division of the company. But what interests me most is the “About Us” tab. One click, and there he is, looking handsome and professional in a dark suit, his hair still too long for the corporate world, but his smile so charming that you forgive him for the hair.

  Duncan McAllister, CEO.

  No way. The carefree man I knew, the one who breezed in and breezed out, wasn’t serious enough to run a corporation. And if he worked for this company back then, what was he doing at culinary school?

  Typing as fast as I can with one hand, I go back to Google and do another search. After a little digging, I come up with his biographical information. He’s forty-eight years old, married once, divorced, with two children, both boys. Oh wow. I wonder, during those times when he and Jessica talked on the island, did he tell her that she has half brothers?

  Moving on, I come to the part about McAllister International. Patrick McAllister, Duncan’s father, ran the company until 1988 when he suffered a massive heart attack and died.

  1988. The year we met. The year he left.

  I put my hand to my mouth, and for a moment, I feel the pain again. I was convinced that Duncan chose to leave me and that everything he’d told me had been a lie. It never crossed my mind that he might have had a good reason for leaving.

  Would things have been different if I’d known? If he’d been able to tell me why he was leaving, would I have kept the baby?

  Shaking my head sharply, I close each window with a click of the mouse. I know everything I need to know for now. If I keep going over it, I’ll just drive myself crazy with what-ifs and whys. He’ll be here Wednesday, and then he can tell me his side of the story.

  I pick up my cell phone and dial Jules as I walk back to the living room. She isn’t going to believe this.

  37

  Why didn’t you tell me you’d be gone for over a month?”

  “Nice to talk to you, too, Mother.”

  For the last two days, I’ve been avoiding the phone, but when I saw it was Mom calling, I had the urge to talk to her. Maybe it’s because she and I have something in common, now that I’m just past being a mother in name only. Maybe being away for so long made me miss her. Whatever the reason, as soon as she barks at me without so much as a hello first, I regret the decision.

  “Don’t avoid the question, Monica. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because I couldn’t.” With a sigh, I open the sliding glass door and step out onto the patio. After my time on the island, I have a new appreciation for being able to sit outside and enjoy the dry, desert air. “All the contestants have to sign confidentiality agreements. Nobody was allowed to talk about it ahead of time.”

  “I’m surprised confidentiality is something that concerns you.”

  “Excuse me?” I have no idea what she’s talking about, but the tone in her voice warns me to prepare for a scolding.

  “You obviously have no problem exposing our family’s secrets to the world.”

  Here we go. “I never kept my pregnancy a secret. There was just never a need to discuss it before.”

  “And now there is?” Her voice takes on a shrill, brittle pitch. “What would possess you to do such a thing?”

  “She asked me to.”

  Silence.

  “She wanted to meet me. I couldn’t say no.”

  “Of course you couldn’t say no. But you could have met her somewhere else. A coffee shop, a mall. For heaven’s sake, you could have met her on top of the Empire State building if you had to be dramatic. But on a reality show?”

  Despite the tension between us, I have to hold back a laugh when she accuses me of being dramatic. This from the Queen of Drama herself.

  “Mom, you knew I was going on the show. You gave them my information. You even told them about Duncan.”

  “Yes, but I didn’t fully realize what that meant. I didn’t expect you to be so open about why you were there. I don’t understand it,” she continues. “It’s bad enough to have that shame in your past, but to flaunt it on television, well, it’s undignified, to say the least.”

  My cheeks start to burn, and I no longer find any of this amusing. “I didn’t flaunt anything. But I’m not ashamed, either. I made a young, impulsive mistake, but now that I’ve met Jessica, I don’t regret any of it.”

  “How can you say that? Especially now that you’ve met her, can’t you understand how wrong you were?”

  “Jessica is a warm, lovely young woman. I will never regret having her.”

  Mom’s rapid-fire response halts. Then she sputters a bit before continuing. “That’s not it at all . . . you are completely misconstruing my words. Your mistake wasn’t having her, it was giving her away.”

  The anger recedes. At least now, we’re back to the same old argument. “Mom, I know you never agreed with my decision, but it was for the best. Really.”

  “But if you’d raised her—”

  “Then she’d be a different person today. Believe me, she had a happy childhood. Her parents love her. How can I be anything but happy now for her?”

  Whether she’s pondering the answer or keeping her consternation to herself, I don’t know. But I’m more than happy to take advantage of her silence.

  “The day she was born, when you gave my picture to her parents . . .”

  “I suppose you’re going to yell at me for that, again.”

  I haven’t yelled at her yet, but that’s beside the point. “No. I want to thank you. Because if you hadn’t given them the picture, Jess wouldn’t have found me.”

  “Well.” Her voice shakes, just the tiniest bit. “I’m glad.”

  It’s not an apology, but it’s a start.

  ***

  There were times when I thought Wednesday would never come, but now that it’s here, I want to turn the clock back a bit. About a month and a half would be good.

  “Thanks for driving us to the airport.”

  Jules smiles without taking her eyes off the road. “You couldn’t have stopped me if you wanted to. I need to get a look at this private plane.” She jerks her thumb over her shoulder, pointing to where Ranger is curled up on the back seat. “You sure you want to take him along? He may not enjoy the ride.”

  “Yeah, I promised Jess. She wants to meet him.”

  “I predict they’ll fall in love with each other.”

  “Of course they will. And Ranger will fall in love with Duncan, too, just like Jess did.” I shut my eyes as I lean back against the headrest. “It’s going to be a regular love fest.”

  “Sounds like you’re not feeling much love right now.”

  My head lolls in her direction. “I’m nervous.”

  “About?”

  “All of it. Seeing Jess again. Seeing Duncan again. Meeting Jess’s parents.” I wrinkle up my nose. “How weird is that? I’m going to meet my daughter’s parents.”

  Jules laughs. “You’ve got the material there for a whole other reality show.”

  “Don’t say that. Rick might think it was a good idea and send out his army of steady-cam dudes.”

  “Rick, huh?” Her voice drips insinuation. “Sounds like you got to know Rick pretty well.”

  “I don’t know him any better than any of the other contestants. Well, maybe a little better, but that’s just because we flew to the island together.” There’s also the fact that Bruce told me Rick likes me, which sounds so much like something straight out of grade school, there’s no way I’m mentioning it to Jules.

  “Whatever you
say.” She turns her attention to the airport signs. “Which terminal are we going to again?”

  “Terminal three. Private flights.” I shake my head. “I never thought I’d be flying on a private jet twice in two months.”

  “Watch out. People will start thinking you’re too good to fly coach.”

  I frown at her. “If you weren’t my best friend, and you weren’t operating a vehicle, I’d slap you for that.”

  “Ah ha! The diva behavior begins!”

  Before I can show her just what a diva I can be, we arrive at our destination. And there he stands, Duncan McAllister, former collegiate bad-boy turned current corporate executive bad-boy. Not that he looks like a CEO. His shadow of stubble, tousled hair, Hawaiian shirt, and cargo shorts emphasize his casual approach to most things in life.

  I open the door and he steps forward, extending his hand to help me out of the SUV. “Good ta see ya, Nikki. And my island friend, Julia.” He goes to her as she walks around the vehicle, and pulls her into a hug.

  Yep. Everybody loves Duncan.

  She hugs him back, then she pushes him away and pokes him playfully in the chest. “I should be mad at you. All that time we spent talking, and you never said a word about owning Scotland.”

  “Ah, now you’re exaggerating,” he says with a wink. “I only own about half of Scotland.”

  I clip the leash to Ranger’s collar and let him hop out onto the tarmac. Just as predicted, he goes right to Duncan, who squats down to ruffle his fur.

  “This is Ranger,” I say, even though the introduction is unnecessary.

  Since the two males are bonding, I hand the leash to Duncan and head to the back of the SUV where Jules is pulling out my luggage. “You should have let me get those.”

  She shrugs her shoulders and slams the hatch shut. “No problem. It’s part of Julia Braemer’s all-inclusive chauffer service. And your stuff smells a whole lot better than the sports equipment bags I’m used to hauling around.”

  Between her three sons, Jules is a fixture at just about every junior sports event in the valley. She’s the kind of mom I like to think I would have been, if not for the circumstances. But now, I’m a different kind of mother altogether. I’m a mother who will do just about anything to support her daughter.