Back to Life (18 page)

Lindsay

S
o now probably isn’t the time to tell Jane I snuggled with her son. Although we never really did determine if it was actual snuggling, did we? This much I know: when he’s not standing here, I obsess on how ridiculous it is that I’m tempted by a man sharing the same name as my late husband. Utterly obscene, in fact. But then I see his boyish grin, his gorgeous face, his warm eyes, and soft-spoken manner, and reason flies out the window. It’s as if something clicked between us that can’t be turned off—but that’s exactly why it should be. Ronnie’s life is in turmoil at the moment. He doesn’t know who his father really is, his mother has been lying to him his whole life, and I’ve been aiding and abetting the deceivers.

What’s he going to think when he finds that out? Will his fantasy of me pop?

What’s Jane going to think when she finds out I’ve been kissing her son?

What’s Bette going to say about my Christian love for all involved?

And then there’s Jake. This man I loved, once upon a time, back from the dead (to me) to stake a claim in a future he thinks I promised him if he broke off his engagement.

Oh yeah, I’m fried. Anyway you look at it.

I’m stunned at how different Jane is now from the calm artist who arrived on my doorstep with a cat. She’s weak from her illness, stunned by the arrival of a dangerous stranger, and worst of all, the whole of it seems to have broken her spirit.

I’ve been there. I’ve paid the price for my past, and it’s not fun. I can look at Jane and see she’s aged about ten years in the last two months. That’s the thing about life—you can run, but you can’t hide. Eventually, our past catches up with us, and the wave is that much higher, the longer we’ve waited. It’s stronger and more powerful, ready to pull us back into the depths.

Bette paces the room, and I turn the computer on, and type in my mother’s many names. The last known husband’s name shows something in San Dimas. I dial the number, and I hear Nick’s familiar voice. I’m silent for a time as I take it in.

“Hello? Anybody there?”

“Nick?” I finally say. “Is that you?”

“Lindsay? Well, by golly, girl, where ya been?”

“I’m here in L.A. still. Are you by any chance…are you still married to my mother?” I bite my lower lip as I wait for his answer. The thought of my mother being close by brings an excitement in me that I can’t explain. I feel like this could be it. This could be the time we finally see eye to eye.

“Baby girl, your mama’s in the hospital. Some days she remembers me; some days, she don’t.”

I gasp and cling to the side of the desk. “No, Nick. No, don’t play with me. Put her on the phone. Is she telling you to say that? Put her on the phone right now!”

“Lindsay, honey. Your mama’s not here no more.”

I knew this could have happened, but the reality of it makes me sick to my stomach. I can never make it up to her. I can never make her proud of me, or tell her I was grateful for what she did do. What she was capable of. “Do you think she’d recognize me if I went?”

“She might, Lindsay. She always remembered you as the best thing she ever did. So maybe it would be good for her to see you.”

“What city is she in?”

“She’s right here, in San Dimas.”

“Is her health good, other than her memory?”

“Yes, she’s strong as a horse. Just the mind is gone. You remember how your mama liked her cookies? Well, she went into a diabetic coma, and she wasn’t right when she came out of it.”

A diabetic coma. The irony of my mother forgetting me for the same reason Jane struggled earlier isn’t lost on me. It’s like a great cosmic joke that is in no way funny.

“She told me not to call you, Lindsay. When she’s lucid, she said that you wouldn’t come anyway.”

“Nick, you know that’s not true. You know it.”

“Well, I knew it, but I was trying to go along with her. When she knows who I am, I want her happy.”

“So she didn’t try to find me.”

He’s quiet. He doesn’t want to tell me what I already know. That she never gave a thought to me in her life, that telling me I was the best thing to ever happen to her was a lie.

“I’ve made a mess of things.”

“Your mama was a stubborn woman, Lindsay. You come here and visit me when you’re ready, and I’ll take you to her. There’s more chance she’ll remember if you’re with me. You got the address? I got some of her things for you. Some of the memories in picture books and her ear bobs and things. Stuff she’s not going to be using there.”

I nod. “I’m going to go now, Nick. I’m not up to talking.”

“No, course you’re not. You call here when you’re ready, you hear?”

“I will, Nick. I promise.” I hang up the phone and run into Bette’s arms and just let her hold me while I sob it out. All the regrets, all the realities that come with ugly truths from the past. It never seems to end. “My mom, she’s in a home now…I guess her memory’s gone, Bette. Why did I wait so long? Now I can’t tell her that I loved her. I forgive her. I always did, but I didn’t know how to go to her.”

“Oh, honey, you told her. You did tell her. She didn’t want to hear it is all.” Bette pats my back soothingly.

But nothing can soothe this ache. When will the regrets end?

Jane

S
it down, son.” I can’t bear to look him in the eye. I should have told him the minute I came to this forsaken city.

“I don’t want to sit down, if you don’t mind. I just want the truth, and no more partial truths or half-truths or anything else resembling a lie. I want the truth. You even told Ron’s little trophy wife more of the truth than you told your own son.” He shakes his head, the treasonous thoughts on the tip of his tongue. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“We were in Mexico, for one thing. I never married your father, and the Catholics didn’t take kindly to that back in the day. You went to Catholic school. It was bad enough you were a gringo from a broken home.”

“That explains why you didn’t tell others. It doesn’t explain why you didn’t tell me.”

“Ron sent us money while we got on our feet. He always wanted
us to come back, but we weren’t compatible, Ron and me. I had nothing but contempt for him, and every time I looked at him, I saw this pale shadow of your father. The man I did love. You shared Ron’s name, and I didn’t want to explain that you were his brother’s child. What would you have thought of me?”

“Maybe I wouldn’t have understood at eight, but at some point, I got old enough to understand the truth.”

“And by then, I’d been telling the lie so long, I was far more comfortable with it than the truth. I knew Ron would remember you in his will, so as far as I was concerned, I did what was best for you.”

“When did I ever care about money?”

“It was what I could do for you, Ronnie. I wanted to do what I could. I knew if I ever got into financial trouble, Ron would be there as long as the lie was there. But Ron lost heart in the end. He found God and wanted me to come clean about everything. He wanted me to bring you here to meet your father in jail. When you moved here, I thought certain he’d find you, but I guess his trophy wife kept him busy enough. That and the bouts with alcohol.”

“I want to know it all. From the beginning.” He’s still pacing, his brawny arms clasped together behind his back.

“Ron had a brother. He had two brothers. The younger one was killed by a police officer that night.”

“What night?”

“Let me finish. Ron and Mitch. They had a little brother. Tommy. He was always in some sort of trouble with the law. One night, he got high on something and took a gun. He said someone owed him money at the pawnshop, and he was going to get what was his. Well, a pawnshop is no place to take a gun, let me say that first. It wasn’t like it is today, where you just get money on credit so easily. If you didn’t have the money back then, it was all-encompassing; you didn’t gas up your car and you didn’t get to work.”

“Spare me the trip down American nostalgia lane and stick with the facts.”

His coldness hurts, but I want this over as quickly as possible. Like ripping off a band-aid. “The pawnshop owner didn’t unlock the door, so Tommy never made it inside. The police showed up, and Mitch—that’s Ron’s brother and your father—stayed to talk some sense into Tommy. He never thought his little brother had bullets in the gun or that he’d shoot. But he did. He shot a policeman dead. The policeman’s partner, in turn, shot Tommy dead. Mitch witnessed the whole thing.” Jane looks to me. “Ron ran before any of the shooting occurred, convinced that Mitch could talk Tommy down, and it would end well. He’d always done it before.”

“But he didn’t.”

“No, he didn’t. Tommy was killed, and Mitch was there for the death of a police officer. He’d known why Tommy had gone down to the pawnshop, and that was all it took to convict.”

“That doesn’t explain why you married his brother, Mom. You were supposedly in love with this guy.”

“Ron convinced me that we could raise you, and Mitch would be out soon when his conviction was overturned, and everything would be fine. Just without Tommy.”

“How long did we live with Ron?”

“Do you remember him?”

“Not at all,” he tells me.

“You were almost three when we left. I tried to stay for your sake, I really did, but the longer we were there, the more Ron seemed to forget that Mitch ever existed. The more he seemed to see you as his son and me as his wife. I’d already betrayed Mitch once. I couldn’t do it every single day of my life. Believe it or not, we left because I couldn’t pretend anymore.”

“So why not tell me the truth at some point?”

“Mitch never returned my letters. He never commented on the pictures I sent. I assumed at some point, he couldn’t forgive us, so we just went on with life. That’s what you do, Ronnie, you just go on with life. Ron obviously wanted to make it up to us. His will was his way of doing that. Bringing me back here was in a sense giving me back to his brother.”

He steels himself and crosses his arm. “Thanks for the truth. Goodnight, Mother.”

“Ronnie, don’t go just now!” I run behind him and grab his arm, but he shakes me off.

“I need some time.” He pulls open the door, and outside, the police officer and Mitch are still talking, shooting the breeze as if my whole life hasn’t unraveled in the last thirty minutes.

Mitch smiles and puts out his hand. “Ronnie.”

Ronnie takes his hand and the two of them embrace. The moment is not lost on me—that and the irony that I should be the one left out of the beautiful reunion. I slowly let the door close and leave father to son.

“My life is in ruins,” I tell Bette as she comes down the stairs.

“So is Lindsay’s. Maybe the two of you could help each other. I’m going to get home. Lindsay’s just found out her mother has lost her memory, and she’s pretty upset. I think this is a time for the two of you to come together.”

“You’re leaving?” I ask incredulously. “Isn’t this the sort of thing you do, Bette? Make people feel better when their lives fall apart?”

“I’ve found God puts us where He wants us. Sometimes that place is very uncomfortable, but until we change our behavior, we stay there. Sometimes, even after we change our behavior, there are consequences. You girls can work this out and be there for each other.”

“You’re saying this is some sort of divine grounding?”

“I’m saying that when we don’t let our kids be who they are, we’re the ones who suffer. I speak from experience. Your life isn’t in ruins, as you might think. It’s always darkest before the dawn.”

I need a cliché right now? “I signed my life away to get my son that money.”

“He never asked you to do that. I’ll call you in the morning.” Bette stops at the door when she sees Lindsay come out of the kitchen, her face red and puffy.

It’s clear she’s been crying, and I feel a pang of guilt at the sight of her. She has a pink suitcase in her hand. It’s clearly expensive leather, and it’s never been used. It’s as pristine as the day she brought it home from the store. “What are you doing with that?”

“I’m going on vacation. I need a vacation.”

“Lindsay, this is your house. You need a vacation from me, and I’m leaving.”

“I’ve already booked a cruise. I’m leaving in the morning from the Long Beach pier, sleeping at a little hole-in-the-wall hotel so I don’t have to get up too early. I need a little sunshine and buffet-style eating, and I’ll be fine. It’s what my mother might have done. I wish I’d given her the opportunity to come with me a few years back.”

“A cruise?” Bette says. “Lindsay, by yourself?”

“Why not? I never do anything by myself; it will be good practice. What trouble can I get into on a boat?”

“What trouble, indeed?”

Lindsay purses her lips. “Well, if I do get in trouble, you’ll never hear about it. Look at it that way. What happens on the boat, stays on the boat. I promise not to fall off. That’s the only trouble you usually hear about.”

“I’m sorry about your mother, Lindsay.”

“Thank you.”

Bette makes her way to the front door and holds her hand up in a wave good-bye.

“Tell Haley not to worry, Bette. I’ll call her. I have everything for the wedding shower under control. Promise!” She pulls her bag behind her and walks out the door before Bette has had a chance to leave.

“Father in Heaven, I will be in deep prayer for Lindsay.” Bette stands with her eyes closed.

“Why do you say that?”

“Trouble follows her. She’s going to have more than that pink bag tailing her.”

“Lindsay will be fine.” She’s a scrappy little thing, and the good news is she’s out of my son’s life for good now. I can only pray that I’m not.

Lindsay

A
cruise. Never thought of myself as the cruising sort, but as I walk down the gangplank and show my passport, I realize escaping into the bowels of a boat might be exactly what I need more of in life. Just like
The Love Boat
, I can guest-star for a week in a different role, and then go home to my life, no worse for the wear.

Why shouldn’t I live a life of virgin daiquiris with paper umbrellas, listening to bad pickup lines at the poolside bar? It’s as good a cause as any to find myself. Maybe. Clearly, it wasn’t selling suits, or I wouldn’t be this tall. It wasn’t helping single mothers with their money, or one of my friends might have said it was a good idea. And it can’t be planning wedding showers, because I don’t have that many friends.

I’m stuck, so naturally, I turned on the television and saw
Titanic
playing. Granted, most people wouldn’t think of going on a cruise when watching
Titanic
, but my luck on land hasn’t been very good, so it can’t be that bad on sea. There wasn’t a lot of prayer involved other than the deep desire to get away.

As Penny often says about her twins, I create my own weather patterns. Where I go, storms seem to follow, and at some point, I have to say to myself, what did I do to create this Category 5?

What better place to work on all that than a cruise? There will be no one to mix me up, no one to tell me I’m doing it wrong, and most important, there will be no Jake and no Ronnie to make me believe Prince Charming can rescue me from my pathetic self. Ron, God love him, he was a good man, but he didn’t fix my problems, my fears, or my abandonment issues. He only helped me avoid them with cold, hard cash and tasks to keep me busy.

I’ve brought my Bible and an excess of self-help books, and if a girl can’t get fixed in a week’s worth of solace, prayer, and self-help books, I don’t know that there’s hope for anyone.

“Tickets, please.” A young steward takes my ticket and scans it. “Welcome to the
Exploration Princess
, Mrs. Brindle.”

“Thank you. And it’s Miss. Miss Brindle.” I look down and see my wedding ring and I yank it from my finger and shove it into my pocket.

“The elevators will take you to the eighth floor, Miss Brindle. There’s a buffet being served in the Starburst Room, and your dinner is at eight o’ clock. Enjoy.”

“I plan to.”

I used to be a tough girl. I’ve turned into a whiny, soft person that I detest. I’m like Bette without the substance.

“So who is it going to be?” Cherry asked me as I left the condo last night. “The handsome one with the nice—ahem—backside, or the sweet, young son of your ex-husband. He probably has a little
money now. And those eyes…” She sighs. “Can you imagine what it’s like to wake up to those eyes?”

Hearing Cherry talk about men like that is always disturbing, and it never quite loses its shock value. “It’s not going to be either. I’m off to have some fun.”

“You go, girl! Woowoo!” she squealed as I left. I laugh just thinking about it.

“What’s so funny?” a man in the elevator asks me.

“I was just thinking about my neighbor. She was excited I was going on a cruise.”

He gives me one of those smiles and nods as though I’m crazy myself.

I think back to her advice. “Lindsay, don’t waste your life on appearances. Look at my face—looks forty, doesn’t it? My chest, maybe twenty-five, but honey, there ain’t no denying I am an eighty-year-old woman. I feel it in my bones.” She releases her grip and pats my arm. “You go sail around the ocean and come back, ready to commit to someone or something. You’re not a loner like us. Hear that much. I may be just the crazy old lady who lives across the porch from you, but I learned a thing or two in these decades.”

Maybe I should have gone to a spa—less contact with humanity there. Bette’s expression told me exactly what she thought of the cruise, and the fact that Cherry approves doesn’t say much for my choice. I have this knack for creating conflict, and only when I’m in it do I see the steps that I took to get there. I like to think myself a victim of circumstances, but really now…I’ve stopped a wedding from happening, I’ve kissed my dead husband’s nephew and I’ve offended my houseguest by breaking the one promise she asked of me. I couldn’t have stumbled into all of that, could I have?

As I step off the elevator, my cell phone rings, and I look at it to see that it’s Haley. I plop the suitcase down and answer. No doubt
she’s calling because of Bette’s panicked phone call to her. “Yes, Haley?”

“Girl, I don’t know what you’re up to, but you do remember me right? Your best friend? The girl you saved from a lifetime of chocolate frosting and nights of bad TV psychology? I feel like you’re running from me, and I can’t keep up. Where have you been?”

“I’m not up to anything.” I’m not in the mood to be around a bride, full of hope for the future. Even if she is my best friend.

“I know, Bette says you’re going on a cruise.”

“Don’t I deserve a vacation? I just wanted to have some time to myself. Mull things over a bit. I don’t even know what to say about my mother. She wasn’t all bad. Right? Maybe I’ll like the woman she’s become. Who knows?”

“Well, I suppose so. I wish I could take some of this from you.”

“But you can’t because you’re the charmed one, remember?”

“It’s when I stopped wearing rhinestones, my life suddenly got so rocky. I’m thinking a cruise is an excellent place for you to pick up a new wardrobe. A tacky, vacation wardrobe.”

“I got the invitations out for the shower. Did you see them?”

“They’re gorgeous. I can’t wait to see everyone. My mother has forgiven everyone, now that I’m marrying a man my own age. She invited Gavin’s wife to come down with her for the shower.”

Gavin is the man Haley’s mother hoped she would marry. “That has to mean Hamilton’s in like flint now, huh?”

“And why wouldn’t he be? How on earth did you book a cruise so fast?”

“They had the presidential suite still open for this week. They usually upgrade it if it’s not sold, and it wasn’t so I gave them my credit card number, and for the next four days, the suite is mine. The storm in the condo should have blown over by the time I get back. Jane will have found a new place to live, or better yet, be on
her way back to the life she lives in Mexico. Jake will figure out what to do with his sorry, commitment-phobe life, and if I had to guess, it’s to run into his bride’s arms and beg forgiveness. Ronnie will have realized he made a mistake—” My voice trails off.

“Wait a minute. What was that?”

“Nothing. Look, we’ll talk when I get back. It’s four days; you’ll survive without me.”

“What did you do? You can’t leave me hanging like that!”

“Uh-oh, you’re breaking up. Better run!” I snap the phone shut and pause outside my double-doored suite.

I open the door and jump onto the bed, stretching out wide across the king-size mattress. I pull out a book. “Okay, Dr. Phil. This is the last time I take a bald man to bed with me.”