A Journey by Chance (5 page)

Gina hadn't been inside a bowling alley since…probably not since she was 15 years old and visiting Valley Oaks.

It hadn't changed. Loud laughter, a continuous thumping of balls hitting the wooden lanes, and the crashing of pins echoed off the low ceiling. The scent of French fries mingled with stale air and damp shoe leather. Someone else's shoes.

Oooh.
She wrinkled her nose, scooted around in the molded plastic chair, and stared at her bare feet in sandals. A clammy rented bowling shoe dangled from her hand.

“Here, Gina.” Lauren sat down beside her and handed her a pair of white athletic socks. “I brought these for us.”

“Whew, thanks! You're a lifesaver.”

“Are you any good?”

“I doubt it. It's been a long time.”

“Did you meet everyone? Most of them are in the wedding. A few couldn't make it, and a few brought spouses. We thought it'd be fun to divide the group in half for two teams. Since there are eight guys and eight gals, we can keep the couples together.”

Gina leaned over to tie her shoe and mumbled, “Wouldn't want to split up the couples.”

She mingled with others, trying to learn the names. Brady seemed to keep his distance, making it easy for her to avoid the richest, most handsome guy in town. She smiled to herself.

Lauren's fiancé, Aaron, sought her out. They had met briefly at Aunt Lottie's dinner, but because he arrived late, his time had been occupied with meeting all the relatives.

She liked him. He obviously adored Lauren. Like his cousin Brady, he was tall with blue eyes and blond hair. The resemblance ended there. His mannerisms were gentle, an attentive doctor's personality. He asked her intelligent questions without prying and was grateful that she had agreed to be in the wedding and able to spend a few weeks beforehand in town. He didn't tell her any jokes.

She soon began to relax. She reminded herself that this was part of the special time she wanted to spend with Lauren. Maybe she could just let go for a bit.

It wasn't until she stood at the end of the lane with a heavy ball in her hand that she realized bowling was a new activity since her injury. She'd have to gauge her steps carefully in order to keep her balance.

It didn't quite work. As the ball dropped from her fingers, her left leg gave way and she rolled ungracefully onto her side. Her legs flew up as first her elbow, shoulder, and then head hit the floor.

“Ow!”

Her feet plopped down and she lay still, taking inventory.

There was no hole to crawl into.

She was lying in a
bowling
alley, literally in the alley itself, set somewhere in the middle of
cornfields
.

Her friends were
thousands
of miles away.

Her leg wasn't right.

Her job wasn't right.

The plastic hair clip was cutting into her head.

The weather was unbelievably
putrid
.

Could life get anymore dreadful than this?

It could. She sensed Mr. Homespun himself would be the first to her rescue.

“Are you all right?” Brady asked as he knelt beside her.

She burst out laughing.

It had been a long time since Gina had laughed so freely. What an absolutely ridiculous situation!

Brady helped her to a sitting position. She pulled the clip from her hair and continued laughing while she rubbed the back of her head.

Aaron and then Lauren peered over Brady's shoulder. “Are you all right?” they asked.

She nodded and giggled.

“Can you stand up?” Brady held out his hand.

She wiped tears from her eyes.

He grasped her hands and pulled her to her feet. “Is that a smile on your face?” He leaned toward her and scrunched up his eyes.

“Probably,” she giggled. “So what if it is?”

“Well, it's about time. Welcome to Valley Oaks, Gina Philips.” He tilted his head toward the alley. “Care to pick up your spare?”

One lone pin stood in the right corner. How in the world had she done that? She shook her head. “I don't think so. Bowling just got crossed off my list of fun things to do.”

“Oh, come on. I'll catch you this time.”

She laughed again, along with him. Eventually the others talked her into rolling the ball down any which way she could. She walked to the end of the lane, holding the ball in both hands, then dropped it with a little “oomph” to send it on its way.

She missed that spare, but never her turn. The evening turned out to be rather enjoyable.

Even Brady Olafsson seemed less annoying.

After church the next morning, Aunt Lottie napped. Gina and her mother settled on the front porch swing with unsweetened iced tea and gently pushed, creating a slight breeze in the hot afternoon.

“Well, that was different,” Gina commented.

“What was?”

“Church. Kind of informal.”

“Not like home, that's for sure. The pastor makes Jesus sound, oh, I don't know. Maybe approachable is the word.”

Gina nodded. “Everyday and real. Like the people. Although Brady Oleo wasn't everyday. He wore a nice pair of jeans and no cap.”

Maggie's forehead creased.

“You missed him at the open house. He wore mud-caked boots and jeans! Unbelievable.”

“That's the Olafssons.” Maggie stared out at the street.

“Did you know—” The phone shrilled through the screen door. “I'll get that.”

Gina hurried to the kitchen. “Hello.”

“Hi, Gina. How are things in Podunk?”

“Dad! Hey, I promised not to call it that. How's work?” She always asked him about work. It was synonymous with “How are you?” As a top executive in a national land development company, he traveled more than 50 percent of the time. Work was his life.

“I'll be in Chicago in a couple of weeks, and I may run down to
Valley Oaks
.”

“Very good, Dad! Mother would appreciate that emphasis.”

“Well, I'm not coming to the garden spot to sightsee. Our Midwest division ran into a snag on some nearby property. I said I'd look into it. On another subject, nothing new here yet on the Park situation. How are you dealing with that issue?”

Gina answered her dad's straightforward question in a like manner. “I'm not. I don't want to even
think
about it. I'd rather plan the future.”

“All right. It will work out, honey. Don't worry.”

He chatted with her about other things, keeping her on the phone, she knew, until she calmed down. He was a good dad.

While her mother talked with him, Gina sat outside. Her thoughts drifted over the full schedule that prevented her from focusing on the future. She remembered Brady's comment under the oak tree as her mother rejoined her.

“Mom, you know that Brady character kind of rubs me the wrong way. He's just so friendly, but at the same time I sense a chip on his shoulder or something. Kind of like he's not being
genuinely
friendly toward me. Anyway, we were getting into it about being paired up. I said the ceremony was the only necessary time for that, and then he definitely lost his down-home attitude. He said, ‘I don't know what your mother told you,' but he never finished the sentence. Do you know what he's talking about?”

Her mother stopped pushing the porch swing and looked out at the street. “Your dad and I were just talking about some memories. He said you should know.” Her voice trailed off. “Gina.” Maggie looked at her then, and there was sadness in her eyes. “I need to show you something. It may answer your question. I'll get the car keys.”

Gina sat frozen on the swing. Why would there be an answer to that question?

Open, rolling fields surrounded the town of Valley Oaks. Maggie drove Aunt Lottie's old car to one of the edges of
town. A few minutes later Gina's stomach tightened as they turned into an old cemetery enclosed on three sides by soybean fields. Cows grazed on a distant rolling hill. They parked along one of the narrow gravel lanes and climbed out.

“Is this where Grandma and Grandpa are buried?”

“Yes. Do you remember coming here?”

“Not really,” Gina replied, “just that we brought flowers to a cemetery.”

She walked behind her mother between tombstones, many more than a hundred years old with worn lettering. It was a well-maintained place with neatly trimmed grass. They stopped before a small, pink-flecked marble stone. Fresh white roses filled an attached metal vase.

Gina read the engraved name. Rose Lindstrom Olafsson.

Lindstrom? Her mother's maiden name.

Olafsson?!

She read the dates. The girl was born 35 years ago. And she lived only three days. Gina felt as if a hand clutched her throat. “Mom?”

Unshed tears swam in her mother's eyes. “It was before hyphenated names were fashionable.” She gave her a tiny smile. “I did have another middle name in mind. Engraving four names cost…” Her voice trailed off. “I made a mistake, but I didn't want her to leave without her mother's family name.”

Gina sat on the soft grass and let the news sink in. She had a sister.

“Sweetie, I was married to Brady's father.” Maggie sat down beside her.

Another shock wave rolled through her. A baby
and
a husband? Hearing out of the blue that her mother had such secrets was disconcerting. She listened without comment to the story that began at Valley Oaks High School almost 40 years ago. Her mother and Neil Olafsson dated and fell in
adolescent love. By the end of their senior year, she was pregnant.

Their families had never cared for each other. The Olafssons were wealthy farmers. The grandparents had been able to purchase land during the Depression rather than lose it like so many others. On the other hand, the Lindstroms, a family of seven, lived in town, not far from the railroad tracks. Grandpa Martin worked in the factory that built the tractors and combines that the Olafssons purchased.

“I stayed home from college and worked, determined that I was on my own and that I would make it work. By October, Neil was fed up with his family. We were legally adults and so much in love.” She shrugged. “We eloped. His parents almost disowned him. Mine let me live at home while he went back to school. Rosie was born December 27.”

Maggie wiped a tear. “Her skin felt like velvet, like a rose petal. There were complications. Anyway, we were too young. When she died, we didn't have to be married. Neil went back to school. I went to a different one.” She sighed. “I never would have lasted as a farm wife. We got divorced. I met your father. End of story.”

Gina didn't think so. “Why didn't you ever tell me?”

“And tarnish my image?” She gave her a sad smile. “I felt so guilty. I wanted to be the perfect mother to you. There was never a right time. I'm sorry.”

“I remember calling you old-fashioned and uptight and mean and stricter than any mother on earth had a right to be.”

“I didn't want you to live with the baggage I had. I should have told you why. Your dad always told me to. It was the only major thing we disagreed on. I'm so grateful I found him. Without him, I wouldn't have you.”

Now Gina cried. They sniffled for a few moments. “Did you bring these roses?”

She nodded. “But some were already here. I thought Aunt Marsha probably brought them…” Her voice trailed off again.

Was this the chip on Brady Olafsson's shoulder? “Do you think Brady holds this against me? But why would he?”

Her mother dabbed at her eyes. “Oh, I imagine he's heard poisonous remarks at impressionable times growing up here. Neil's mother—that would be Brady's grandmother—always blamed me for getting pregnant. Then for Rosie's death. Then for the divorce. I couldn't win. I'm sure I was known as ‘that hussy.' You're probably referred to as ‘that hussy's daughter.' In a small town like this, the past never goes completely away.”

“Is that why you left?”