She wasn’t a waitress. She didn’t pour coffee. She didn’t get tips. The waitresses were supposed to share but they didn’t.
The Mug had a promotion. After you had come ten times and gotten your Mug ticket stamped, the owner painted a coffee mug just for you. You chose your colors and spelled your name, and the owner had those plain fat mugs you could decorate at a paint-it-yourself pottery place, although Hannah never had, and the next time you came, your very own mug was hanging on a peg on the wall.
The customers simpered over their mugs. It was a pain to hang them back up on their stupid little pegs, because the pegs were just barely long enough. Once Hannah had dropped a mug and it broke and the customer actually cried. The owners said if Hannah broke another one, she’d have to leave.
It was hard to find jobs where they didn’t ask questions. Jobs where you didn’t need a car. It was time to demand more money from Frank. Thanks to the publicity and the Internet, she knew Frank’s address and phone number. Fear of the FBI had stopped her from calling. But so much time had passed! The FBI was too stupid to find her. And since Frank would be in plenty of trouble if Hannah got caught, because he could have turned her in, Frank would have no choice. He’d have to give her more money.
He still had a landline. She’d call until she got him. He was old and had to be retired by now, and he ought to be home in the evening.
Hannah did not recognize the voice that answered the phone. “This is Barnette Bank and Trust,” said Hannah firmly, using the name she generally chose for scoping out tricky situations. “May I speak to Frank Johnson?”
“I’m sorry, he isn’t home. May I give him a message?”
The female voice didn’t sound like her mother. But it was years since Hannah had heard her mother’s voice. “Is this Mrs. Johnson?” asked Hannah.
“No, I’m their daughter, Janie. How can I help?”
Even though Hannah had known that her parents loved the Jennie/Janie more than they loved her, she had not really understood that the Jennie/Janie thought it was her house, and that these people were her parents! She probably thought their money was her money.
Frank still had money, Hannah could tell. The girl’s voice was all soft and serene, the way people’s voices were when they had everything they needed and more.
Just because Frank hadn’t turned her in didn’t mean the girl wouldn’t! And even though the girl was so grasping she even snatched parents, she wouldn’t show any decency toward Hannah. She wouldn’t be grateful that Hannah had given her these parents. She would want Hannah locked up.
“I’ll email,” said Hannah, proud of her superb self-control. “Can you give me his email address?”
“Sure. Who is this, please?”
Wait. The girl would tell Frank that the bank had called. Hannah often used her grandmother’s name and had wrongly used it this time. There might be a Barnette Bank, or Frank or even the girl might be smart enough to make the connection. Hannah had no email address she could give the parent thief. Nor would it be safe to blackmail Frank by email.
Hannah had only one option now. She had to see Frank in person. Two thousand miles stood between them. When you did not have a car, could not afford a train, had no ID to get on a plane, and could not miss work or you would be replaced, how could you make such a journey?
It’s her fault! thought Hannah. She kept the rage out of her voice. “I’ll call again,” said Hannah smoothly. “Good afternoon.”
“Thank you for calling,” said the sweet little voice of the vicious little parent thief.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Stephen did not think he had ever phoned Janie before.
“Stephen!” cried Janie. Her voice was exactly like his mother’s. He had never noticed that. Perhaps Janie and his mother had never before been equally happy and excited.
He summoned all the affection he could. “Hey, little sister. Congratulations. I’m happy for you.” And he was. He had always liked Reeve in spite of it all, and he thought Janie would be okay in Reeve’s hands. Janie was not an independent sort, foraging for herself, striding out to conquer the world. Janie wanted her hand held.
Stephen loathed holding hands.
After Jennie had disappeared, Stephen’s father had escorted Stephen and Jodie to school every morning. Not once had they been allowed to walk in or out of elementary school without their father tightly gripping their little hands. These days, Kathleen often reached for Stephen’s hand and he often shoved it in his pocket and he never explained.
He said to his sister, “You’ve always wanted to be married.”
“You’re right. I want to be married just like all my parents. For better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health.”
“I have to admit,” said Stephen, “that when the worst came, our real parents and your Connecticut parents stuck to each other. I’m not there. I love being with Kathleen, but part of me never wants to connect like that.”
Janie considered this. “If Kathleen feels the same, you’re okay.”
“I wouldn’t ask. I might end up having to make a commitment.”
Janie said, “I’m making more commitments than just to Reeve. Outsiders wouldn’t realize just how much of a commitment.”
Stephen could never predict Janie. She could go in any direction. He hoped she did not intend to hurt their parents. However, with Janie, intent didn’t matter. She hurt them all the time anyway, just by choosing to be with the other mother and father.
His sister said, “Our wedding will be in church, Stephen. With God as our witness. I’m not actually Janie Johnson, even though I graduated from high school as if I were, and I’m at college as if I were. But in church, for my wedding, I will be married as Jennie Spring. Father John will say ‘Do you, Jennie, take this man, Reeve, to be your wedded husband?’ And I, Jennie Spring, will say ‘I do.’ And a minute later, I will be Jennie Spring Shields. Janie Johnson will be finished. I’m retiring her.”
Stephen said something he had never expected to say. He would have signed up for the Marines and made a commitment to them rather than use these words. But he used them. He said to his sister, “I love you.”
Reeve was on the phone with his older brother, Todd.
“Wow, man,” said Todd. “It took me years to work up to a marriage proposal, and then only because Lindsay gave me a deadline. I didn’t even know you were still seeing Janie.”
“Me either. She had a catastrophe. A true crime writer doing a book on the kidnapping hired a researcher and instead of being honest and just asking for an interview, the researcher pretended to be a grad student and he was dating Janie.”
“So she’s marrying you on the rebound, huh?”
“No, she’s marrying me because she’s loved me since middle school. And her name is going to be Jennie from now on. I don’t know how that’s going to work. I don’t personally know anybody named Jennie. I’m thinking of writing her name on the back of my hand so I have ready reference.”
“Speaking of hands, did you get Janie a ring?”
“No. It wasn’t a ring situation in the airport.”
“It’s a ring situation now. Trust me. I know women.”
“He doesn’t really,” said another voice. Todd had the phone on speaker, and his wife was talking. “I know women,” explained Lindsay. “Congratulations, Reeve. Now go buy a ring.”
“I don’t have any money. Can’t we just tattoo them on our fingers?”
“No,” said Lindsay. “And if you don’t have any money, get a loan. It doesn’t matter how tiny the diamond is. She wants one anyway. Do you know her ring size?”
“I do, actually. Sarah-Charlotte dragged us to a craft show once and my job was to carry the junk they bought, and they spent like half an hour trying on rings at a goldsmith’s booth even when they couldn’t afford a single thing there. But Janie and I are going to be engaged for only seven weeks. She doesn’t need a ring.”
“You know nothing,” said Lin
dsay. “Years can roll by and your bride will still be waiting for her engagement ring. Better you should buy it right now and when she flies back to Charlotte for her next visit, you’ll do something incredibly romantic and give it to her.”
“I already did something incredibly romantic,” said Reeve. He was thinking—Janie’s coming back down? Of course, I want her to, but I have to work. I just got assigned my first college baseball game. The College World Series is coming up. I can’t be thinking about rings. I’ll be putting in twelve-hour days. I’ll be out of town half the time.
“And you have to come up here several days before the wedding,” said Todd, “because you have to get a tuxedo.”
“I have to wear a tuxedo?”
“Yes,” said his brother. “You’re in a church in the afternoon with your bride. You’re going to see her at the far end of the aisle, all in white, the most beautiful princess in the world. She deserves to look down that aisle and see the handsome prince, not some slob in an old team jacket.”
“That opinion doesn’t sound like you,” said Reeve.
“It isn’t like him,” said Lindsay. “It’s like me. I dictated that sentence.”
“Want to back out now?” teased his brother.
But Reeve found that he wanted a situation where the woman in his life would know how to handle stuff, the way Lindsay knew. Would give him instructions about what to wear and what to say. A woman who knew the puzzles of church aisles and tuxedos.
He and Janie would have an excellent division of labor. He would concentrate on sports stats; Janie would handle their lives.
Jennie, he reminded himself. I’m marrying somebody named Jennie.
Kathleen usually dressed in two minutes or less. It was one of the things Stephen appreciated about her. But she was not back yet. Obviously dresses, especially borrowed dresses, were not as fast. Mandy might even be suggesting makeup, and a special hairdo, and even stockings, which Stephen had never seen on Kathleen’s legs.
Stephen’s cell rang. It was Brendan. He hadn’t heard Brendan’s voice in months. Had Brendan broken a leg? Was his athletic career over? Did he need money? Surely Brendan didn’t want to discuss weddings. “Hey, Bren. What’s up? You okay?”
“I kind of wanted to talk about the book. You know. The true crime thing. I gave the guy a couple interviews. I read a few pages in a chapter.”
“I decided to get involved too. We’re meeting with the researcher in half an hour,” said Stephen. “Kathleen’s coming with me.”
“That’s impossible. I just saw him.”
“Either he hopped the next plane or the author has more than one researcher. Calvin Vinesett is really sinking money into this. Or the publisher is. So tell me. What’s the problem?”
“There’s just something off about the whole approach,” said his brother.
Brendan was aware of approaches in book writing? Stephen began laughing.
“I feel like Calvin Vinesett doesn’t care about the crime,” said Brendan. “Like he’s picked out some other crime. The crime of being a lousy parent. True crime books—well, I haven’t read any, actually. I’ve hardly read any books ever. But they have to be about the crime, don’t they?”
“I’ve never read a true crime book either,” said Stephen. “I can’t even watch police and attorney TV shows because we lived inside a crime for so many years. Crime rots you. A piece of me is rotten because of Hannah Javensen. I’m always fighting the rot. I’m always afraid it will spread.”
Brendan would have said that his older brother had few emotions. He would have said Stephen was a sort of human tire iron; that Stephen could race right up to any kidnapper, shoot her dead, walk away, and party. “I bet Kathleen wants you to get all emotional and say stuff like that to her,” Brendan told his brother. “I bet you don’t, either.”
“I’ve never said it to anybody. Even myself. Quote me and die,” said Stephen.
They laughed. Brendan thought that maybe going home this summer wouldn’t be so awful after all. Of course, Stephen wouldn’t go home. He’d moved his life west. People who wanted to see Stephen had to go to Colorado.
Stephen said, “You coming to the wedding?”
“Wedding?”
“You read your email, Bren?”
“Now and then.”
“July eighth. Janie and Reeve. Our church. Our house. Go to Reeve’s Facebook page and check it out.”
“I’ll look later. I gotta tell you something first. Why I called. The title of the book Calvin Vinesett is writing? It’s The Happy Kidnap.”
Reeve watched as responses to the video popped up on his Facebook page.
—Yeah, dude, like you’d compromise working at ESPN (whoever thought you’d be the one to get that job!) by getting married!
—Marriage? Like I believe you want to start taking out the garbage and unloading the dishwasher. Next you’ll claim you’re going to graduate school!
—Come on, man, Reeve hasn’t proved to my satisfaction that he ever graduated college to start with!
—I’ll believe it when I get the engraved invitation from Mr. and Mrs. Johnson.
—Reeve. A, You’re too young. B, You’re immature.
—But she IS the prettiest girl on earth. Congrats. Or is this April Fool’s?
—Love what your high school friends are writing. And just as a sidebar, maybe this’ll bring the kidnapper out! Maybe she’ll want to come to the wedding and drink a toast to you. And you’ll toast her back! After all, you wouldn’t know Janie if it wasn’t for the kidnapper.
• • •
Jodie need not have worried about what to say on the phone to her sister. Janie talked enough for a dozen girls. “… and we’ll get married in your church. My church. It’s the only church I’ve ever been to. Mom’s made an appointment for me with Father John. Mom says you can’t put a formal wedding together in seven weeks. But at least the gown will be formal. And can you get here soon, Jodie? Mom says there’s a really wonderful bridal mall. When exactly are you getting home? What color do you want for your dress? You choose.”
“You’re not asking Sarah-Charlotte?”
“Yes, but she’s a bridesmaid, and probably also Reeve’s sisters, Lizzie and Megan, and his sister-in-law, Lindsay, but maybe they’ll have to buy their own dresses separately, just in whatever color you pick. We’ll invite everybody we can think of to the reception, because Mom and Dad say that in a backyard we can be pretty basic. Chips and salads, and Dad will grill hamburgers and hot dogs. You should see Dad. He just can’t stop grinning. He actually picked me up and whirled me around in the air. ‘Father of the bride!’ he kept shouting. And laughing.”
Their father was a bear of a man—big, broad, wide, sometimes with a great bushy red beard and sometimes clean-shaven. His voice was the same size as his body—even his whispers were shouts. Jodie couldn’t wait to get a bear hug from Dad. She knew just what it was like to be lifted up and swung in a circle.
“And you know what else?” said Janie. “Dad said that Frank can be father of the bride too. He thinks we can have Frank in his wheelchair, and we’ll rent him a tuxedo, and Dad can have me on one arm, and push Frank in the wheelchair with his free hand, and both my fathers will walk me down the aisle.”
Oh, her father was truly the best man, figuring out how to have the other father in their shared daughter’s wedding.
“Because I have the best parents in the world,” said Janie. “We do, I mean. You and me. Okay, so it took me a few years. But I’m proud to be Jennie Spring. Even if I’m worried about Miranda.”
“You’ll be in some beautiful white gown and everybody will be weeping and Miranda will be so happy for you, Janie. So you were at Reeve’s for the whole weekend? What’s Charlotte like?”
“Charlotte?” repeated Janie. “You mean the town? I think it had trees or something. Buildings. I’m sure I saw buildings. But who knows? I was looking at Reeve.”
“What about college? You dropping out?”
They laughed hysterically.
Jodie said, “Remember how intent we were on getting into the exact right college? And we worried about our essays and our SAT scores and we visited campuses and wanted the exact right place for our personalities?”
“Exactly. And now, I’m like, whatever. They have courses? You get a degree? I’m there.”
“I would have been horrified a year ago,” said Jodie. “But Haiti brought me to my senses. Wherever you go will be fine.”
“Probably, but I want to talk about dresses.”
“Reeve must not think dresses are important or he wouldn’t be scheduling your wedding in a minute and a half.”
“He wants me, Jodie. He wants me in his life, and he wants me now. I can look forever and I won’t find another guy who wants me to marry him right now, this minute, because he can’t stand living without me.”
Jodie had so much thinking to do after Haiti. What was sorrow in America compared to the suffering she had seen? And even living in Haiti, she only saw the suffering. She herself did not suffer. An American volunteer could always get on the next plane and go home.
Through Haiti, Jodie had caught a glimpse of eternity, and she did not want to lose her memory of it. When she got back to America, she would need to live alone for a while. Not at home. Not sharing a dorm room. Not sharing an apartment. Certainly not sharing a life. She would run from any guy who wanted her to marry this minute. If he couldn’t hang on for a few years, who needed him?
But a sister’s wedding, that was different. “I’m due to fly out in ten days,” said Jodie Spring, “but I haven’t saved the world here, and the new group of volunteers has arrived, and we’re short of beds. I’ll change my plane. Don’t go to the bridal mall without me.”
Kathleen had not worn high heels since forever. Mandy’s stunning yellow leather heels, with a frosting of yellow leather roses, were so high Kathleen could hardly stand erect, let alone walk. But she conquered that in a minute and walked up to Stephen all slinky and sexy and grinned at him.
Janie Face to Face Page 13