Random Acts of Kindness

by Lisa Verge Higgins

  She stripped every linen in the house, pulled down the towels, and piled them up. While the washing machine vibrated in its alcove, she pulled a stool by the counter and used a butter knife to open the bills and the credit card offers, the belated get-well cards, tossing the outdated grocery circulars and the mail-order catalogs into the recycling bin. She cleared a shelf of books she would never read and placed in their stead her new collection of hats. When that had all been taken care of, she booted up her computer and took a rag to the smudged front window while she waited for updates to load.

  The square of light coming through that window had passed from one side of the room to the other by the time she finished her e-mail. She ate a dinner of grilled zucchini from her own garden while she clicked through the photos of the reunion in Pine Lake that the ladies continued to post to the blog. Her favorite shot showed all of them posed in the same formation as the high-school graduation picture. She set that picture as the background on her computer.

  She gazed at her friends as her throat started to tighten. She’d set out on this trip convinced she’d been a fool to believe that one person could ever change the world. And yet seven people had managed to make a profound change in hers.

  Maybe, after you’ve thrown enough good Karma into the universe, it gathers and boomerangs back.

  And maybe it wasn’t the world that needed changing.

  Claire reached into her pocket and pulled out the business card that Jin had slipped her last night. Scrawled on the back in Jin’s messy script were a name and a phone number for an oncologist in Portland. He was a colleague, Jin had told her, working on a stage IV double-blind clinical drug trial for a targeted form of chemo for a certain type of breast cancer. Jin warned that she might not qualify. Jin warned that it might be too early in her treatment to even think about something like this. Still, Jin encouraged her to call and get more details. Every promising new drug ever developed, she said, began with a trial just like this one.

  Claire glanced out at the afternoon light. Her sisters would visit tomorrow morning. They would sit on the couch while sunlight set fire to the frizz of their hair. They’d perch on the edge, the three mages, trembling with hope and fear, to deliver the speech they’d no doubt been planning from the moment Paulina returned from Kansas with the news that Claire was bypassing radiation and chemo altogether.

  We’re going to beat this.

  Claire glanced at her computer screen to check the lateness of the day. Office hours were not yet over. She still had time.

  She picked up the phone.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Rise and shine, Noah.”

  Noah’s face was buried in his pillow, but Nicole could sense the rolling of his eyes. She understood his annoyance. Anyone would be pissed off at being woken up at six fifteen in the morning to the sight of their mother shaking a bottle of pills.

  “Come on.” She cracked the bottle open and tipped a pill into her palm. “You’ve got fifteen minutes before your father leaves without you.”

  Noah took his time rolling over, grunting all the while. The neck of his T-shirt stretched to one side. His black hair stuck up at odd angles, not much longer than her own hair, now coming in thick. After Noah’s release from the residential facility, they’d determined through trial and error that morning was the best time for him to take his meds. In these few moments in the semidark, Nicole could still see a glimmer of the amenable young boy lurking behind the stubble.

  He opened his mouth like a bird. She laid the pill on the back of his tongue. His throat flexed as he swallowed. He rose up on an elbow to take the glass of water she held out for him. After much discussion, Noah’s main therapist had agreed to whittle Noah’s meds down to a single mood-​stabilizing drug. Nicole had promised her son that if he took this one drug, she would forgo the usual tongue inspection. They could reboot their relationship on a basis of mutual trust.

  So far, so good.

  “Turkey or ham for lunch?” She slipped the bottle of pills in the pocket of her bathrobe as she stood up. “I bought some soft rolls yesterday.”

  He swung his legs out from beneath the covers and answered with another grunt.

  “Turkey then,” she said, swiveling on a heel.

  “No chips.”

  She paused. “Are you sure?”

  “I have to cut back or I’ll never make the team.”

  Since Noah had begun jogging with Lars, he’d lost some of the puffiness from the long merry-go-round of potent meds. She held on to the hope that Noah’s surprising urge to try out for the track team would serve the dual purpose of getting him to a healthy weight as well as start a lifelong habit for the sake of the all-natural, mood-smoothing endorphins.

  “An apple then. Get dressed fast. Your father’s already stretching.”

  She closed the door and padded down the stairs toward the kitchen, where she’d set coffee to brewing. Christian and Julia didn’t have to wake up for another half hour, which gave her enough time to slice strawberries and cook up some real oatmeal.

  Lars wandered in, shaking his legs as he paced in a little circle in the kitchen. “Is he coming down?”

  “Five minutes.”

  “He take his meds yet?”

  “Half-asleep. Just like the doctor ordered. Do you think his crankiness at dinner last night was a blood-sugar thing?”

  Lars grimaced. “He’ll tell me if there’s anything going on in school.”

  She nodded, grateful, as she poured herself a cup of coffee and added some half-and-half. Within a matter of weeks, it had become clear that Lars had a way of coaxing Noah to open up emotionally that was far more successful than anything she’d ever tried. A simple precept, but one she’d nearly forgotten: a teenage boy needs the advice of his father.

  She took a quick sip of her hot coffee and let herself enjoy a moment of hope that even though she still spent every moment with Noah trying to gauge his emotional temperature, there might be long, blissful stretches bereft of mood swings and school suspensions and dismayed calls from teachers.

  Her son now bounded down the stairs with all the grace of a water buffalo. He popped his head into the kitchen. “Dad?”

  Lars straightened. “Ready.”

  Nicole heard Noah say, “Beat you to the park.”

  “Like hell you will.”

  Lars bolted out of the kitchen, and then they were off, pounding out the door and slamming it in their wake, their voices fading as they tore down the street.

  Then Nicole’s day began as it usually did, as Julia stumbled down the stairs complaining about how noisy Noah had been, followed by Christian rubbing his eyes. Nicole served them hot oatmeal and juice, then emptied the dishwasher and put away the pots drying on the rack. She officiated the bathroom fights as she picked up towels and dirty clothes. By the time Lars and Noah returned from their run, Julia was fixing her bangs in her room and Nicole was sorting laundry while testing Christian in Spanish. Noah showered quickly and then charged down the stairs, hair wet, for the mad dash for backpacks, purses, lunches, car.

  Lars, wrapped in a towel, grabbed her arm before she ran out the door. “Good luck today.”

  Her breath faltered, remembering the day’s plans. “It’ll be fine.” She nodded. “I know I’ll be fine.”

  “Good luck anyway.”

  He smelled of hot water and soap. He tasted like bubble-gum toothpaste.

  She dropped the kids off at two schools and then swung by a bagel store to buy her second cup of coffee. She lingered in her car before setting the cup in the holder and heading toward the local hospital. In the parking lot, she ran her hand nervously over her head, feeling the crisp growth feather through her fingers. She became mindful of the return of that old balking reflex. The idea that she didn’t need to do this, that she had everything under control at home, that her life was clipping away at its usual frantic but controlled pace.

  For now.

  Nicole signed in at the front desk and too
k the elevator to the second floor. Her heels clicked on the linoleum floor and echoed down the corridor as she searched for the right room. She zeroed in on a schedule taped up on the wall beside one door. 9 a.m. Support Group for Parents of Troubled Teens.

  As she walked in, Dr. Jayson, her therapist, waved to her from the donut table. Four other women and two men were already present.

  Nicole joined them amid the circle of chairs.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Mom, please come pick me up. This is so awkward.”

  Jenna grimaced as she heard Zoe’s discomfort beamed through the cell phone. She struggled to unlock the front door to her house while squeezing the cell phone between shoulder and ear.

  “Honey, I don’t know what to say.”

  “Sissy’s making cookies in the kitchen,” Zoe wailed. “Like Natalie and I are ten years old again and we’ve come over to ice the gingerbread men.”

  Jenna flicked on the lights. She slipped her dripping umbrella into the umbrella stand and clanked her purse on the hall table. “I suppose Sissy is just trying to make you feel welcome—”

  “Welcome,” Zoe snarked. “She’s got a bowl full of stale popcorn she expects us to string. And she’s playing this ridiculous Christmas music. You know, the old Charlie Brown music?”

  Jenna pictured a much younger Zoe racing into this house with her red reindeer sweater, hopping from one foot to another humming the Snoopy song while she flung her ponytails like floppy ears.

  Poor Nate. Jenna could practically smell his desperation. “That was once your favorite Christmas music.”

  “When I was a kid! Meanwhile, Dad is in the other room cursing and making all this noise trying to mount the new TV on the wall.”

  Jenna bit her tongue so she wouldn’t release the ungracious laugh that rose to her lips. “Zoe, he’s been looking forward to having you over for a good long stay, now that they have a house.”

  “It’s just too weird. I feel like I’m stuck in one of those black-and-white Christmas movies where everyone smiles too much and pretends everything is all right when it’s all twisted and stuff.”

  Jenna kicked off her heels and nudged them toward the pile by the door. She padded to the kitchen. Nicole had warned her that this was going to be part of the new paradigm. Though Jenna and Nate were a few weeks from being officially divorced, the dysfunction in that other household would always seep into hers, simply because it would always involve Zoe.

  Her gut instinct was to get back into the car, drive across town, fetch Zoe, and shelter her from the inevitable difficulties that came with a new stepfamily. Jenna would have loved to spend the evening pulling out the old ornaments and decorating their own Christmas tree. She’d have loved to watch Elf while sipping eggnog with Zoe. That was what they’d usually do in this house that now held fewer of Nate’s sculptures—and no more Nate. But Zoe hadn’t yet spent a full weekend with her father, never mind a whole week. Now that Nate and Sissy had settled into a new house, he was determined to settle into the shared-custody arrangement.

  “Okay, tell me this,” Jenna said, opening the fridge to see what’s for dinner. “How awkward is it?”

  “Like what?”

  “Is it missing-the-goal-when-you’re-wide-open awkward?”

  “Not even close.”

  “Is it burping-while-you’regiving-a-class-presentation awkward?”

  “No!”

  “Is it getting-your-period-in-gym awkward?”

  “Mom!”

  “So then it must be I’m-going-to-need-time-to-get-used-to-this awkward.”

  Zoe sighed, and it was a sigh that Jenna could see, as if the girl were standing right in front of her with her gaze rolling toward the ceiling.

  Jenna said, “Do you remember after I got this new job at the bank, when I told you how uncomfortable I felt every time I walked into the office?”

  “I know, I know,” Zoe muttered. “You told me you felt like you were exploring the dark side of the moon.”

  “It took me weeks to figure out that I shouldn’t talk to my boss before her second cup of coffee. But now it’s hardly awkward at all.” Jenna felt a little frisson of excitement. “Today I even hung around for the Christmas party.”

  A Christmas party where she’d summoned the courage to walk across the room to strike up a conversation with that stock analyst she’d just met, the one who was fluent in Chinese. She’d been curious about a phrase she’d heard during yesterday’s talk with the factory manager of a company they were researching in Guangzhou. The analyst had shuffled his feet. He’d bent his shoulders down in a shy way that she recognized all too well.

  Seeing it through Nicole’s eyes, she thought, Interesting.

  Zoe sighed into the phone again. “So you’re not going to pick me up.”

  “Not until next week. Eat one of Sissy’s gingerbread men for me, okay?”

  “You want me to disembowel it?”

  “Absolutely. Tear it apart, limb by limb. Pick out its eyes. Anything that makes you feel better.”

  “Okay.”

  “Love you, pumpkin.”

  “Love you, too.”

  Jenna ended the call and stared at the screen. She would be alone for a week, the longest stretch she would be without Zoe since she had returned from Pine Lake. Though she would miss her daughter, Jenna suddenly found herself in possession of a freedom that shimmered with possibilities.

  She flicked her thumb over her smartphone and opened her contacts list. She scrolled down the names. Sydney and Lu. Riley, still fixing up the main lodge in Pine Lake. Jin back at her clinic in Salt Lake City. Maya off on a dig in South America. Nicole, weeks into therapy, working hard on the New Year’s launch of her updated life coach website.

  And Claire in Oregon, newly bald as she finished her scaled-back chemo, as she geared up for the clinical trial.

  Jenna paused. Her thumb hovered over Claire’s name. On the last video blog entry, Claire claimed she was running low on material, so instead she introduced Bertha the goat to all her friends. Although the video had made Jenna laugh until she spit coffee on her keyboard, she also sensed that her friend might be going a bit stir-crazy in the woods.

  Jenna pressed the Call button and lifted the phone to her ear. She glanced out the kitchen window to the car parked in her driveway. Before the first ring, she’d mentally packed, called in a few vacation days, and made the time-distance calculation to Roseburg, Oregon.

  “Hey, it’s your fairy godmother,” she said with rising excitement, as Claire picked up the phone. “Make a wish.”

  Reading Group Guide

  Random Acts of Kindness

  Lisa Verge Higgins

  A Letter from the Author

  Dear Reader,

  I guess it’s no secret that I adore traveling. Those of you who’ve read my previous books have already journeyed with me to India and Burundi in The Proper Care and Maintenance of Friendship and all over Europe in Friendship Makes the Heart Grow Fonder. So I’ll confess that the cross-country expedition in Random Acts of Kindness mirrors a road trip I once took with an interesting young man. That adventure made me realize that any guy who can abide retro music, fast food, and driving ten hours through cow country is definitely worth marrying. He’s now the father of my three girls.

  Like most young couples, my husband and I imagined that we would continue our bohemian way of life after we had children. Yes, I can hear you all laughing. We might have attempted that lifestyle if our kids weren’t so sensitive to car and air sickness. Instead, we sought adventure only a few hours from home in old Catskill resorts, kitschy Adirondack towns, and rustic cabins in the Poconos. We ate meals in community halls, played board games in the main lodges, danced the Chicken Dance and the Hokey-Pokey, and were entertained by ventriloquists and Elvis impersonators. We toured caverns and old farms, took hayrides, and visited petting zoos. Veterans of gritty European backpacking trips and one voyage around the world, we teased each other that we no longer v
acationed abroad—instead, we vacationed in 1956.

  And yet we loved every minute of it. Those very different journeys are what inspired me to create Pine Lake. This college resort town in the historic Adirondacks is the home of our perpetual youth. In Pine Lake, folks escape from trouble, heal in body and mind, and often stay for good.

  With a great, heartfelt sigh, this happy traveler is going to nestle in for a while. I’ll be keeping tabs on Claire, Jenna, Nicole, and all the other Pine Lake women, even far-flung Maya and Dr. Jin. I hope you’ll join me for the next book to discover what Riley makes of Camp Kwenback and learn exactly what happens when Three-Tat Tess comes back to town.

  It’s a natural evolution: all roads lead to home.

  Discussion Questions

  Lisa Verge Higgins loves to meet new readers. If your book club has chosen a book by Lisa and you’re interested in arranging a phone or Skype chat, feel free to contact her at http://www.lisavergehiggins.com/contact.htm.

  Random Acts of Kindness is written around the theme that even small acts of generosity can cause great changes in people’s lives. Jenna’s initial kindness to Claire kicked it all off. Is it possible that Jenna’s first act of generosity ultimately led to Nate’s final change of heart?

  Road trips are the quintessential American vacation. We travel for pleasure, for curiosity, for education, or just for a change of scenery. Have you ever driven cross-country or taken an extended driving trip with friends and family? Was the trip a disaster or a success? During those long hours driving, what did you learn about your traveling companions that you hadn’t known before? What did Claire, Nicole, and Jenna learn about one another that they hadn’t known before?