Desert Gift

by Sally John

  “Things like my parents splitting up? Like that’s got nothing to do with my future? You’ve kept me in the dark about everything except how wonderful your marriage is. Which, apparently, was all smoke and mirrors.”

  “It was not! We do have a wonderful marriage. Your father is going through a midlife crisis and that happens to the best of men. And it hurts the best of marriages.”

  “But I bet you have all the answers for it, don’t you?” He stood abruptly and held an arm out toward Emma. Everything about his body language indicated he was distraught.

  The girl moved to his side and he draped an arm around her shoulders. They exchanged a few quiet words in French.

  Jill’s cheeks shone with two bright pink spots. The rest of her seemed drained of color and energy. She did not stand. “Connor, I appreciate that this news disturbs you, but I do not appreciate your attitude. If you want to be treated as an adult, then act like one.”

  He turned from Emma. “You’re right, Mom. I apologize for the attitude. As an adult, I’m here to say that I came all this way to introduce my parents to my fiancée. I thought it would be a happy occasion. Obviously it’s not, so we’re going to leave now. I’m taking Emma home to meet Dad. That gives you another reason to go home.”

  Jill stared, speechless.

  “You know, so you can spend time with your future daughter-in-law?”

  Her jaw went from slack to rigid.

  Connor shook his head as if disgusted. “Maybe by then you can tell us congratulations.”

  Jill said, “We just met.”

  “Oh, forget it.” He turned and gave Viv a quick hug. “Bye, Aunt Viv. Tell Uncle Marty hey.”

  She whispered in his ear. “Congratulations. I’m sorry.”

  “Not your fault.”

  As Viv returned Emma’s hug, she saw Jill stand.

  Gentle Connor, fury written on his face, hugged his mother. He released her and, to his credit, made eye contact. “We’re traveling with Emma’s parents. I’ll be in Chicago March 23.”

  “Okay,” she whispered. “I’ll come.”

  Viv breathed a quiet “Yes!”

  Jill held out her hand to Emma. “I am sorry we had to meet under these circumstances.”

  The girl nodded politely. “I am also. Good-bye.”

  Viv watched the young couple walk away. They did not turn around before disappearing from view.

  She plunked back down on the chair. A lifetime ago she had suffered three miscarriages and an early hysterectomy. She and Marty were sad, but deep down she was all right. She wasn’t so sure she was cut out to be a mother. She probably would have been like Jill. In her sister’s enthusiasm not to be like their mother—a bystander at best during their childhoods—Jill smothered Connor with attention, all sorts of unnecessary, overbearing attention. Viv marveled at his ability to fly the coop.

  Jill said, “I should go home.”

  Viv sighed to herself in relief. “Okay. We can get you on the red-eye tonight or a direct flight first thing in the morning.”

  Jill shook her head. “Viv, I blew it with Jack. I blew it with Connor. I blew it with my career. I ruined it all. Where would you go if you ruined it all?”

  Viv didn’t even need a heartbeat to ponder her reply. “To Pops.”

  “Yeah. I’m forty-five years old and I want my daddy.”

  Viv watched the pink spots fade from Jill’s cheeks. Her complexion turned grayish. The light in her eyes went out.

  Viv bit her lip. They were in the middle of Hollywood, hours of busy freeway traffic from home, with a group of seniors who were probably looking for her by now. Her tears would have to wait.

  Chapter 22

  Chicago

  Jack admitted to himself that he had not considered the ramifications of his actions, not really, not in the comprehensive, exhaustive manner that one would expect of a physician. In many ways he was still too caught up in the moment, adjusting to the everyday how: how to begin the day, end the day, eat and sleep without that other who had been there beside him for the past twenty-five years.

  Now, though, as he sat at his desk and listened to his son vent and grieve on the phone, he began to sense the ripple effects of his actions.

  “Dad, I just wish I’d known before I showed up to surprise you guys.”

  “I didn’t know myself until it happened.”

  “But that was over two weeks ago! I left Rome last night! And it’s not that hard to reach me!”

  Well, that was debatable, given that the kid seldom checked for messages on his phone or e-mail. But Jack did not go there. “Connor, the truth is I don’t understand what I’m doing. I only know I don’t want to be married any longer. I couldn’t bring myself to say that to you.”

  “Because you’re embarrassed that you and Mom are not the picture-perfect couple everyone thinks you are?”

  Jack tugged on his earlobe. He’d always encouraged Connor to speak his mind. It was the thing he himself most appreciated about his own father, who never belittled Jack because he spoke out of inexperience.

  Or because he spoke a disconcerting truth.

  “Yes, I am embarrassed to some extent. I liked being a poster husband.”

  “‘Liked.’ Past tense, meaning up until now.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Until what? Your car accident? Which brings up another point.”

  Jack gave him a brief overview of that night. “It wasn’t a big deal. The cut is healing fine.” He heard a discreet knock on his door. “Hold on a sec.”

  Sophie poked her head inside, a question on her face.

  He nodded in reply and mouthed his son’s name. Yes, he realized his patients were stacking up, but Connor came first.

  She gave him a thumbs-up, supportive as ever, and shut the door.

  “Connor, I am sorry you were blindsided. How did you leave it with your mother? Are you going down to San Diego with her?” There was no response, and Jack thought he heard a muted sniffle.

  This was why God hated divorce.

  “Son, are you okay?” Such a dumb question.

  Connor inhaled shakily. “I have some news too. Good news, but Mom . . .” He cursed softly.

  Jack shut his eyes. Connor’s pain did not stem from Jack’s actions alone. Like Jill, he was sociable, well-liked, straightforward, confident. He even resembled his tall and lanky Grandpa Wagner. But there had always been an underlying tension between mother and son.

  Like between husband and wife?

  “Dad, I met a girl.”

  “Emma.”

  “Yeah.” There was a grin in Connor’s voice. “How’d you remember? I only mentioned her once.”

  “It must have been your tone when you mentioned her.” The kid had been obviously enamored of a fellow student. “She’s French, right?”

  “Right. From Paris. Smart and beautiful. We have the same interests, et cetera, et cetera. Anyway . . .” He paused. “Anyway . . .” He stopped talking again.

  “You love her.”

  “Oh, Dad.” Regret was in his tone. “I wanted to tell you in person. We’re engaged. And we want to get married soon, in Chicago. April 11 will be our last Saturday in the States, so sometime before that date.”

  An avalanche of reactions hit Jack. Don’t be ridiculous. You’re too young. Didn’t you just meet like five months ago? Think it through. Marriage is not all it’s cracked up to be. Look at your mother and me. What a waste of time and effort! The only good, lasting thing about us was . . . you.

  The only good, lasting thing was Connor, his son, who at twenty-three understood only that he did not want to live without the woman he adored. She was the only person on the face of the earth who made him feel good and right and accepted and worthy and able to leap tall buildings in a single bound.

  Jack chuckled. “Wow! Connor, that’s wonderful. Congratulations. Is she there with you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Put her on.”

  “She’s kind of shy.”
There was a muffled exchange. “Here she is.”

  “Allô, Jacques.”

  “Bonjour, Emma. I’m afraid that’s the end of my French. Congratulations.”

  “Thank you very much. I love your son.”

  “I do too.” He spoke briefly with her, listening to the voice that had captured his son’s heart. It was a pleasant one, shy and confident at once in its mix of languages and accents.

  Connor came back on the line. “We’re meeting her parents in San Francisco tonight and doing some touring between here and there. I’ll be home the twenty-third. They’ll arrive later that week.” He offered more details of what they had in mind for a small wedding. “Okay?”

  “Great.”

  “Dad—” his voice broke again—“Mom hardly spoke to her.”

  “Oh, Con. Tell Emma not to take it personally. Your mother is hurting. I’ve hurt her badly.”

  “No. She would have been like that anyway. She always told me she’d have a hard time giving me up to another woman.”

  Jack thought of his own mother’s relationship with Jill. It wasn’t pretty. “Moms are like that. No other woman is good enough for their son. Vice versa is true. If you were my daughter telling me about a guy, I’d be googling him already. I’d be asking you for bank account information, fingerprints, family history, genetics.”

  “Got it.” Connor blew out a breath. “Thank you for your support.”

  “Emma sounds like a good match for you.” He heard the but in his own voice. “I’d be remiss, though, not to ask the obvious. Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, I’m absolutely sure she’s the one. You always taught me that marriage is a good and honorable thing. Has that changed?”

  Good question. He loved Connor more than anything in the world. Jack wanted to revisit every moment he had lost his temper with him or made a bonehead parental decision or missed an opportunity to spend five minutes with him. He would redo those moments. He would make everything right so that his child never experienced wounds that he had unintentionally inflicted because he was, like every father before him, enrolled in on-the-job training. Mistakes came with the territory.

  In this moment now—could he protect Connor from further harm?

  Of course not. All he could do was tell him the truth.

  “No, Con, I still believe that marriage is good. When I met your mother twenty-five years ago, my world changed. She made it a better place. If Emma makes your world a better place, marry her. Live in that better place.”

  A silent moment passed and then Connor said, “What happened to your better place?”

  Jack rolled his eyes. “I’ll get back to you on that one.”

  Connor groaned. “Big help you are. See ya, Dad.”

  “See you, Son. Give your Emma a hug from me.”

  After he hung up the phone, Jack sat still. Stronger than the pull on his conscience to get back to work was the pull of his son’s question.

  What had happened to his better place?

  A litany of responses sprang to mind. They all began with Jill.

  Jill did this. Jill did that. Jill did not do this. Jill did not do that. Jill wanted this. Jill wanted that. Jill. Jill. Jill.

  And what was Jack doing the whole time?

  Evidently not caring about the disintegration of his better place.

  Chapter 23

  Sweetwater Springs

  In the passenger seat of her sister’s car, ignoring the desert landscape zipping by them, Jill lifted her cell phone high and checked its screen for the umpteenth time. “Godforsaken country.”

  “Which you are totally missing.” Viv reached over and poked her arm. “Look out the window.”

  Jill looked. “I see dirt, rocks, sticks that call themselves bushes, and an empty two-lane highway going nowhere. What’s your point?”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “And God hath forsook it. There is no cell service.” She sighed, lowered the phone, and bit a fingernail. “I can’t believe I let you convince me to bring my bags. All I want to do is spend a few hours with Pops. I need a Pops fix.”

  “Give it a rest, Jill. You need serious time off. You cannot take care of Jack, Connor, your friends, and your fans right now. You need to take care of yourself. Famous people do this all the time.” She threw her a grin. “Think of it as rehab.”

  “With Mom and Pops.”

  “Right. Well, with Pops, anyway. He is the ultimate rehabber. I’ll run interference for you with Mom.”

  “Do I have an addiction?”

  “That phone.”

  Jill straightened her sunglasses and leaned against the seat. Rehab felt like an apropos term.

  Yesterday’s events were the icing on the cake of despair. Jack’s no-show at their special place in Hollywood on their special anniversary deeply pained her, although it had not been a complete surprise. But add the encounter with Connor, and she was brought to the end of herself. She was left with no choice but to face a brutal reality about her family and friends.

  Her husband and son had shut her out of their lives. Her career was either on hold or nonexistent. Viv, Marty, Gretchen, and other friends with whom she’d talked or e-mailed in recent days all had their own lives to get on with. She really had nowhere to go except back to the warthog’s pen or to her dad. If she chose the animal, she wouldn’t have to contend with Daisy; but Skip won out anyway.

  Viv had called him and relayed the lowdown on his elder daughter’s life. She said Jill would be coming for an indefinite stay.

  He replied, “No problemo, kiddo,” and insisted that Jill not wait to come next week with Viv’s scheduled senior trip. She needed to get home ASAP, as in now.

  Skip Wagner’s fatherly track record put every Father Knows Best–type dad to shame. The sisters trusted his opinion.

  Viv offered to drive her the two hours over to Sweetwater Springs. Then, practical as ever, she cautioned Jill against unnecessarily spending money. Although Jack made a decent living, their monthly expenses had increased with his move out of the house. Women in Jill’s position—separated with little or no income of their own—counted pennies. Jill should not even consider renting a car or staying in a hotel or even paying for Viv’s gas.

  That was when Jill burst into tears. Marty left the house. Viv congratulated her on the emotional display. It was far better than the zombie she’d been mimicking since Connor’s good-bye. Not even Agnes had been able to crack Jill’s exterior during the bus trip back from Hollywood.

  “Yee-haw!” Viv let out a squeal now and the car shot forward like a cannonball.

  They barreled down a familiar stretch of highway, Viv’s lead foot firmly in place. Jill’s stomach tickled as they hit a series of smooth roller-coaster dips at full speed.

  “Vivian! Slow down!”

  Her sister only laughed.

  It was Wagner tradition to drive NASCAR-style into and out of Sweetwater Springs. Their father was not a reckless driver, but he’d fly along fast enough to make his little girls giggle and their mother fuss. Jill couldn’t find her giggle today.

  A few moments later the road flattened out and stretched like a ribbon before them, disappearing into a mirage of billowy silver curtains. The town was close now, although it lay hidden from view, behind those curtains.

  At the age of eighteen, Jill had hightailed it the other direction, hitting those dips far above the speed limit. With a population of two thousand, her hometown did not resonate with her dreams. In San Diego she lived and worked with her grandmother. The following year, just as eager to live in the city, Viv joined her.

  Since then, Jill had visited Sweetwater sporadically. Sometimes Jack accompanied her. Connor loved the desert and as a teen often went during school breaks by himself.

  Odd, Jill thought, how as a girl she couldn’t wait to leave the small town in the middle of nowhere and how her big-city son could probably live in it happily ever after.

  But with a French wife?

  A chill went
through her. Wife.

  No. Connor and what’s-her-face were engaged. That did not mean imminent matrimony. It did not even mean certain matrimony.

  Where was he now? Had he called? Had he listened to the apologetic voice mail she left last night? Should she leave another?

  Jill checked her phone again. “I have a message!”

  Viv gasped. “Oh, happy day! Sweetwater is connected to the outside world!”

  Jill ignored the gibe and keyed into her messages. “It’s a text. From Gretchen. She says, ‘Someone from Hope Church wants to talk. I gave her your number ’cause you really need to listen to her. Love you.’”

  “You don’t really need to do anything related to work, Jillie.” Viv glanced at her. “Get that through your thick head.”

  “Fine. I don’t really want to talk to anyone about work anyway.”

  “Put the phone down.”

  “I have to see if Jack or Connor called.” She scrolled through a few missed calls from friends. One unknown number; maybe it belonged to that teacher. Nothing from her husband or son.

  Nothing.

  Viv reached over and snatched the phone from her hand. “This only makes you feel worse. From now on anyone who wants to reach you can go through me or Pops. Until you’re ready, this cell stays with me.”

  “Do you want my laptop too?”

  “Nope.”

  Then Jill remembered. “They don’t have Internet, do they? They don’t even have a computer.”

  Viv smiled gently. “You’ll live through the withdrawal.”

  Jill wondered if she would even notice. She felt like the landscape looked—all grays and browns, sticks pretending to be live plants. Both Sweetwater Springs and her future were ahead somewhere, out of sight and unimaginable.

  * * *

  The instant Viv parked the car, Jill’s door opened and she tumbled into her father’s waiting embrace.

  “What took you so long, Jaws?”

  Her ear pressed against his chest, she listened to the rumble of his deep voice. She shut her eyes and caught faint scents of Old Spice, desert air, and automotive grease.