When Malcolm sensed the beat slowing, he went where he least wanted to. “You know I have to ask you this, right, Sammie?”
“What?”
“Rachel’s mom.”
“What about Rachel’s mom?”
“Nice try. What have you decided?”
“Decided? That’s a tricky word. It’s more like settling.”
“Settling?”
“I’ve settled on not doing anything right now.”
“Really?”
“See, I told you it was tricky.” Samantha closed her eyes. “I’ve settled on not deciding until after all this winds down.”
“Can you do that?”
Samantha smiled and opened her eyes. “I don’t know, I can’t decide.”
“Nice. . . . Well, I’m just glad it’s not me who had to figure it all out.”
“Tell me about it. It’s been weighing on me. I’ve researched it, had a few confidential and extremely hypothetical conversations with the commonwealth’s attorney, made a few calls to Kansas City. How do you report a crime years later that you know was self-defense when no one seems to know, or care, if the victim is dead? I can’t find the neighbor; I can’t find a report. I can’t find a single reason to make that poor woman have to relive a second of that nightmare. All I’ve got is confirmation from Rachel’s school that her mother called to withdraw her from school and requested her records be transferred. That’s it.”
“And yet you’re obligated,” Malcolm said.
“That I am.”
“So you settled.”
“Just until after the party, until Rachel gets things figured out for herself.”
“And then what?”
“I guess I’ll decide then.”
The conversation went to Rachel and Noah, Noah’s broken heart, and Rachel’s unwillingness to face the family again.
“Can I ask you another question, Sammie?”
“Shoot.”
“You think Mom and Dad are cool with this?”
“Cool with what?”
“With selling. With moving on. Do you think they’d be OK with it?”
“Ahhh . . .” She let the word fade into a sigh.
“I worry about that sometimes,” he added.
“Honestly? I wouldn’t let it bother you.”
“Wouldn’t you do the same?”
“Definitely.”
“That’s helpful, thanks.”
“Look, Malcolm, I was ticked off when you told us you’d sold the place—”
“I noticed.”
“And did you notice I didn’t come around for what—a week?”
“Something like that,” he said.
“Then it hit me one day. Dad wouldn’t have taken a poll. He would have done what was best for him and Mom. And that’s exactly what you did. How can I be angry about that? And you said it that night, right? Am I going to run it? No. Is Noah? No.”
Malcolm sat up. “But did I do what’s best for me and Rain?”
Samantha also sat up and they faced each other across the bed. “Of course you did.”
Malcolm looked out the bedroom window toward the Inn. “I don’t know.”
“Uh-oh, is my older brother having second thoughts?”
“Not second. More like fifth.”
Samantha circled the bed and sat next to him. “It’s just cold feet, Mal, that’s all.”
“Is it? I’ve started having these weird dreams, sis. These dreams where I wake up every day bored out of my mind with nothing to do. And what if Rain and I don’t have anything in common without the Inn? What if we sit at the table every night and just stare at each other? This is all we’ve known. We’ve never lived any place but here.”
“You’re being ridiculous. You know as well as I do that isn’t going to happen. If anything you guys will be even stronger without this place. This is just a spot on a tourist’s map, Mal. You and Rain will be great wherever you end up. You know that.”
“I guess. It still feels like a member of the family is dying, and I don’t want to say good-bye. Is that weird?”
“Not at all. Come on, Mal, you fell in love with Rain on that swing out there. You raised your son here. We’re all going to miss it, and if we didn’t feel that way there would be something seriously wrong with us.”
“You’re probably right. It’s just gotten tough lately.”
Samantha held up a hand and began to count. “Let’s see. Number one, you started the summer with an exciting engagement. Number two, your knuckleheaded brother Matthew announces he’s lost a small fortune and his wife, which would have completely devastated our parents. Number three, you decide to sell the Inn. Number four, your almost-daughter-in-law found out her mother had been lying to her most of her life. Number five, wedding’s off and a gargantuan celebration that—thanks to A&P—has completely grown beyond our control is on. That’s a busy summer.”
“Was that supposed to cheer me up?” Malcolm playfully slapped her hand out of the air.
“Did it work?”
“Not so much.”
“How about ice cream?”
“That would help.”
They turned off the lights and slowly strolled back to the Inn.
“I love you, Mal.”
“I know, sis. And I kinda love you back.”
“But you’re still a doof.”
Chapter 36
11 Days to the Celebration
Rachel watched a tape-delayed town hall meeting on C-SPAN and ate takeout from her favorite Indian restaurant.
Noah watched America’s Got Talent and munched Taco Bell.
She’d spent another day proofing a twelve-page memo on the history of the drug trade in Washington’s Anacostia neighborhood.
He’d seen a movie with a roommate, spoken to his mother on the phone for an hour, and worked on a painting of the Shenandoah River A&P had commissioned for no reason other than to keep him busy. Noah sent Rachel a text from his couch.
Noah: tacobell for dinner . . . you?
Rachel: tandoori chicken
Noah: hot date?
Rachel: c-span
Noah: me too!!!
Rachel finished her dinner and replaced the noise of the television with the music of Ingrid Michaelson. She changed into pajamas and lay on the couch, not ready yet for bed but tired from an early morning and a commute home made longer by a broken-down metro car. She propped her head on a throw pillow and hummed along softly to the music.
Noah ate his second Beefy Bean Burrito in one hand and held his cell phone in the other. He laughed out loud as a comedian in her eighties made jokes about NASCAR and monkey space travel.
Noah: AGT funny tonight!!!
Rachel: Zzzzzz tired
Noah: go on txt date?
Rachel: short one :)
Noah: what time u have to b home?
Rachel: :)
Rachel and Noah had continued to see one another since the incident, as Noah half-jokingly called it in order to cope with his daily painful reruns. But the dates had been much less frequent and much more awkward than a couple in love should expect. Rachel missed him—she couldn’t deny that—but she didn’t miss the roller coaster of planning a wedding with people she hardly knew in a town in the middle of nowhere to someone she hadn’t known very long.
With the lights dimmed and Ingrid singing in the background, it was easy for Rachel’s mind to wander to less murky memories. Mountain biking alone in West Virginia. Her first day in an exclusive private school outside Denver. Sightseeing in Athens as a twelve-year-old.
As he often did, Daniel had brought Stephanie and Rachel on an extended business trip during the middle of the school year on the promise his stepdaughter would get assignments from school before leaving and work on them as they traveled. She always did what was given her and more. While Daniel spent his days wooing a prospective high-dollar trade client, mother and daughter would enjoy a private tour arranged by the concierge at their four-star hotel. They to
ok pictures at Hadrian’s Arch and the Roman Forum. They ate lunch near the Theater of Dionysus and walked the ancient cemetery of Kerameikos. Over a decade later Rachel still remembered the awe she felt at the archeological site.
Noah: what you thinking about right now?
Rachel: Traveling.
Noah: where?
Rachel: Greece.
Noah: when?
Rachel: Long long time ago w/mother and Daniel.
Rachel: What are you thinking about?
Noah: you
Rachel: :)
Rachel rolled to her side and picked up her stuffed squirrel from the coffee table. She remembered the day it had arrived with her repaired bike and brand-new Oakleys to replace the pair broken in the accident. She pinched the squirrel’s fat cheeks and smiled. No one had ever gone to such lengths for her and she wondered how different things might have gone during the summer if Noah had simply written a check for a new bike and disappeared. “You know how much drama you created, chubby?” she said to the squirrel.
Noah also wondered how differently his summer would have unfolded. The thought crossed his mind every single day as the Good-bye to Domus Jefferson celebration neared. He toggled the menu on his phone and flipped through photos of Rachel on the National Mall, both of them at the Newseum, at Arlington National Cemetery, and sitting on the swing in the backyard that he would soon bid farewell to forever.
He imagined life without the accident, without the initial trip with Rachel to Woodstock when she first fell in love with the valley, and, he suspected, with him. He hoped she regretted none of it—not the engagement, not the friendships. Not even learning the truth about her past.
Noah: I miss us
Rachel: You mean usa?
Noah: no a, just us ;)
Rachel: Not fair to the a :)
Noah: I miss you and me, better???
Rachel: :)
Noah: talk to your mom?
Rachel: Not yet
Noah: :(
Rachel knew she needed to reconnect eventually. She couldn’t live her life forever without her mother in it, and she feared what might happen if Stephanie were left alone for too long. Her mother’s friend, Arianna, had even left a voice mail begging her to call her mother back. Rachel wiped the face of her Blackberry on her pajama top and committed to herself once again to make the call home and take the first step, no matter how painful it might be.
The phone chimed again as she gave extra attention to a makeup smudge on the screen.
Tyler: Hey
Rachel: Hey back
Tyler: Plans tomorrow after work?
Rachel: Not sure
Tyler: Make some with me?
Rachel: What?
Tyler: Dinner, dancing
Tyler: Hello?
Tyler: You in a tunnel?
Rachel: Maybe
Tyler: Maybe in a tunnel or maybe to plans with me?
Rachel: See you at work :) I’m tired. Long day
Tyler: I’m patient ;)
Rachel deleted the messages immediately and began scrolling through her missed calls. She felt guilty. Guilty that she hadn’t shut down Tyler’s increasing interest in her, guilty that she wasn’t sure if she wanted to, guilty that she’d avoided her mother but had taken several calls from Daniel and twice found flowers on her doorstep after work. She and Daniel had promised to share a meal together again and resume their conversation on his next trip through town. He was in a constant state of apology about deceiving her. Rachel looked around her apartment and was reminded that Daniel had furnished virtually everything she owned. She made another commitment that one day she’d have the money to replace his generosity with items of her own.
Noah: heard from a&p?
Rachel: Yes
Noah: me too. almost every day now
Rachel: She has a crush? ;)
Noah: who doesn’t?
Rachel rolled to her back again and readjusted the pillow. As she had many times since learning the truth about her mother and father, Rachel pictured the funeral. Was he in a plain brown wooden box in a Kansas City cemetery? Was he cremated? Did they look for us? Where is he now? Is there a heaven or hell or someplace in between for people like him who don’t know which they are? Or who they are? Is there a place for people who deceive their family, even in love? Is there a place for someone like me?
Noah: u there?
Rachel: Still here
Noah: what r u thinking?
Rachel: Not much
Noah: fibber
Rachel: :)
Noah: then ask me
Rachel: What are you thinking about?
Noah: u
Noah: that I hope one day we’re normal again
Rachel: What’s normal again?
Noah: normal is me and u . . . as long as we’re together
Rachel: That’s sweet
Noah: it’s true
Rachel: Fun date, off to bed now
Noah: kiss at door?
Rachel: No way!
Noah: xoxo
Noah: too late
Chapter 37
7 Days to the Celebration
“Rachel? This is Anna Belle Prestwich calling—A&P. Your voice mail must really like me by now because it always picks up. . . . I have my calendar here on my ample lap and I see the big day is getting close and I don’t have a commitment from you yet. Are you coming? Please tell me you’re coming, dear. I just got a call from the caterer and they need to know immediately whether you’re coming. I know, it’s very pushy on their part, but they’re professionals so I can’t argue with them. I promised I would call you and ask—
“Putin! Get off the stove! Sorry, dear, the cat was on the stovetop licking something from the burner. Remind me to scrub that later, would you?
“So the caterer asked me to call you. They really, really want to know if you’ll be there and, if the answer is yes, will you be eating the chicken, steak, or fish? We’re doing all three. And why not? A day like this doesn’t come around that often. It’s a good-bye to a home away from home for this old lady and plenty of others.
“Come join us, dear. The past is the past. Noah says you’re still speaking to him and messaging and working things out. That’s the best news I’ve heard in such a long time.
“So come to the Inn and celebrate with us. It’s the end of a chapter, isn’t it? The end of one, the beginning of another. Wedding or no wedding, you’re a member of this family now. Everyone who spends a night at Domus Jefferson becomes a member of the family, doesn’t matter your last name.
“I think Putin is having some type of Cat-heimer’s disease—I don’t know if there’s such a thing—but he is back up on the stovetop licking the same spot of something that he’s already cleared off. PUTIN!
“All right, dear. I hope you’re still listening. This little celebration is important to a lot of people. I am still hoping your mother and stepfather will join us. Your mother has not returned my calls, but Daniel did and he was very kind. I told him we’d like to meet him and even though he’s never been out here, he’s still welcome because he’s a part of your family and you’re a part of ours. If you speak to him, please make sure he knows that I wasn’t pulling on his chain or rope or whatever the expression is; the offer is sincere. We would love for him to come. Also tell him I need to know whether it’s chicken, steak, or fish.
“I saved the best for last, dear. It’s a little surprise I’ve been holding out. This is my final card up my sleeve. I’ve spoken to Noah’s parents and they agree that if you come, you should get one of the guest rooms in the Inn. How about that, Rachel? My Land-a-Goshen, I pray this voice mail thing is still voice mailing all this.
“It’s quite an honor, Rachel. The Inn rooms are being saved for family and the closest loved ones. Noah, Angie and her husband, Matthew—and did I tell you Aunt Allyson is coming from Vegas? A few others, too, and you. You! Everyone else is staying at one of the hotels. I’ve booked most of the Hampton Inn just in case w
e have last minute RSVPs who need a place.
“As I’ve already said, you can come Saturday, Sunday, Monday, even Tuesday. I don’t care. Of course, dear, we’d love to have you as long as you can be here. But this has turned into quite an affair; we could put the county fair to shame with this extravaganza. Samantha says she might have to have the sheriff’s department handle some traffic congestion on Route 11 because there’s not enough parking up by the Inn. Imagine that!
“We have some people who are coming for the entire thing. Steve and Gail at Blue Canoe Crew are putting together a river rafting adventure for Monday. The water will be cold, but we already have some people on the list for it. There will be some people fishing, of course, and I suspect a lot of others will drive up and see the leaves.
“But really Tuesday is the big day and we want you here. Food, games for the younger kids—I’ve even ordered one of the moon bouncing, space blowup things. Noah wanted one, can you believe it? Yes, you can.
“Oh, and the gazebo is just about done! You must see what Malcolm has done with it. It’s about twice as big as he originally thought. You could marry a whole crowd of people in there at once if you wanted to. It’s really so lovely sitting on the hill. He’s even gone and repainted the swing a fresh clean white so it matches. Those people taking over here have no idea what love and sweat that man is leaving behind.
“Oh, and you will not not not believe the letters I have here for you and Noah. You should have the book, Rachel. Maybe one day things might change, or not, but the letters are very touching. There is good advice here. Sound advice from people who love you two kids. Even if you decide it’s not right to keep them with the wedding off and all, you should read them once anyway.
“Will we see you? Please call me. Or message text me. I don’t much know how to reply to those, but I see them on my phone. Nothing would make this widow happier than seeing you. I know a young man who feels the same way. He misses you. He wants you close whether you’re on the trail to the altar or not. . . . I’m sorry, I promised myself . . . Forget it . . .
“Let me leave you with a joke. Knock-knock? You’re thinking, Who’s there? And I say, It’s Rachel. You answer back, Rachel who? Of course I answer, It’s Rachel Kaplan and I’m here to say good-bye to Domus Jefferson and eat some lemon chiffon cake. Let me in!
The Wedding Letters Page 18