Meant to Be (19 page)

“This is Kim Peterson,” I tell the woman who
answers the phone. “I'm Patricia's daughter and I—”

Oh, you must want my mom,” she says quickly. And after a while another voice comes on.

“This is Shannon.”

“Shannon, this is Kim, Patricia's daughter.”

Oh, Kim, is Patricia there? Can I talk to her?”

“Well, I wanted to talk to you first,” I say nervously. “I mean, my mom is pretty sick, and I don't want her to get upset or anything.”

“Does she even want to talk to me?”

“Oh, yes, she definitely does. But I haven't told her that I found you yet. I wanted to be sure.”

“Oh, okay. What's the plan then?”

“I want to tell Mom that I found you, and then if it's okay, we'll call you back. Is this a good time?”

“Yeah, it's fine. I'll tell Maya to stay off the phone.”

“Is that your daughter?”

“Yeah. On a good day.”

I'm not sure how to respond. “Okay then, I'll talk to Mom and then we'll call.”

“I'll be here.”

So I find Dad and tell him my news. “Do you think it's too late to call tonight? I don't want to wear Mom out or anything.”

“Let me see how she's feeling.”

As it turns out, Mom is totally thrilled that I've found Shannon. “I want to talk to her. The sooner the better.” Then she smiles. “I knew you could do it, sweetheart!”

So we get Mom comfortable in her chair by the bed,
bring in the phone, and with trembling fingers I dial.

“Do you want me to go?” I ask, uncertain.

“No, stay. Both of you stay”

So Dad and I both sit on the bed and wait until Mom says, “Hello, this is Patricia. Is this Shannon?” And then she starts crying. “Oh, it's so good to hear your voice again. How are you?” Long pause. “Oh, that's too bad.” Another pause. “Oh, I'm doing okay. I've got some help in the house now, and I feel like I have a little more energy now.”

Then Mom asks her about her life, her family, kids, where is she living, and then mostly just listens. I wish she was talking on a speaker phone because I'd like to hear the answers. Finally, we can tell that Mom's getting tired, and Dad gives her a signal to hang up.

“You can talk again tomorrow,” he says quietly.

“Well, I guess I should go for now,” Mom says in a weary voice. “But I'd love to talk to you again, Shannon. Can I call you tomorrow?” Pause. “Oh, I'd love to see you—and your daughter too—do you think it's really possible?” Another pause. “That would be wonderful, Shannon. Yes, we'll talk tomorrow. Take care, sweetheart. And just know that I love you. I've always loved you. Good-bye.”

Mom is crying again when she hangs up and Dad helps her to lie down in bed. “You need to rest a little, Patty.”

She leans back and closes her eyes without protesting.

“You can tell us about Shannon later.” He pulls the blanket up over her. “After you've rested a little.”

She sort of nods without talking, and Dad and I tiptoe from the room. I really want to hear more about this mysterious aunt, but I realize I'll have to be patient. And if what we heard Mom saying was true, maybe we'll even get to meet her.

I dedde to distract myself with a letter for my column, but it takes a while before I find something that's a little bit light.

Mom was up early this morning, sitting in the breakfast nook with a cup of tea. For a moment I almost thought that everything was back to normal, but then I noticed the dark hollow circles around her eyes.

“How are you doing?” I asked as I poured a glass of orange juice and waited for my bagel to pop up.

“Wonderful,” she said with a smile.

I spread some cream cheese on my bagel then took my breakfast over to join her. “Are you going to talk to Shannon again today?”

She nodded. “Yes! I'm so happy that you found her, Kim. Thank you so much.”

“Where does she live?”

“Beverly Hills.”

“Beverly Hills? As in California?”

“Yes, isn't that something? She told me that she'd
been married to someone quite well-known, but that they'd divorced about ten years ago.”

“Someone quite well-known?” Was it possible that my mystery aunt was someone famous? Or at least associated with someone famous? Interesting.

“She has a teenaged daughter, just a couple years younger than you, Kim. Her name is Maya, and it sounds like she's quite a handful.”

“Yeah, she seemed to have an attitude when I talked to her.”

“The good news is that Shannon wants to fly out with Maya to see us. We're going to try to nail it down today Isn't this exciting?”

I nodded as I chewed a bite. “I can't wait to meet them.”

As usual, I gave Nat a ride to school, and as usual she acted like Ghost Girl. Seriously, I'm not sure how much longer I can take this. When I asked her about counseling, she just ignored me. Finally I started up this monologue about locating Shannon, filling in the parts where Ghost Girl would respond if she was willing.

“She sounds really interesting,” I say

“How's that?” I ask for Ghost Girl.

“Well, for one thing she lives in Beverly Hills, and for another she was married to someone famous.” I pause.

“Someone famous?” I ask with the kind of interest the old Nat would've shown.

“Yeah, but we don't know who yet.” Another pause.

“Do you think he's a movie star?”

My turn. “The thought went through my head. And on I go, amusing myself as I drive us to school. By the time we get there, I'm seriously wondering if Nat might need electroshock therapy before she goes into a complete comatose state.

“You need to snap out of this,” I tell her as I lock my Jeep. “You're really starting to freak me.”

“Sorry.” But the tone of her voice doesn't really sound sorry. It sounds angry and frustrated and stuck. It's like she's trapped in this place, and she can't get out.

“I wish you'd go see Marge,” I say as we go inside.

She says nothing, and I decide that for my own health's sake I better just let Nat deal with her own problems today. Although I do pull something sneaky.

We have this anonymous box in the counseling office where people can drop in notes of concern about themselves or someone else. Oh, I know a lot of kids make up stuff—either to be funny or to get someone in trouble—but I've heard that some serious notes are put in there as well. It was originally set up as a way to inform a counselor if someone was having suicidal thoughts or perhaps planning to bring an automatic weapon to school to wipe out a science class.

Anyway, I take a few minutes during first period to write an anonymous note about Natalie. I figure it can't hurt. I use my left hand to write it, and the handwriting doesn't look anything like mine.

I'm worried about Natalie McCabe. She is extremely depressed and refuses to see a counselor. Natalie is usually very upbeat and positive, but she has been like this for at least two weeks, and I think she needs professional help.

Then right before lunchtime, I ask Matthew to drop it in the box for me, just in case Nat happens by.

“The deed is done,” he tells me when we meet up again in the cafeteria. It's the first time I've really talked to him today, and I can't wait to tell him about my Aunt Shannon. I've already started calling her that. I hope she doesn't mind.

“That's very cool,” he says as I hand him my chocolate pudding to finish off for me.

“Yeah, I can't wait to hear more about her. She and Mom are discussing travel plans today.”

“How is your mom?”

Matthew already knows about hospice and everything. “She seems to have perked up,” I tell him. “She was up early this morning, and I'm thinking this whole thing with her sister might help her to get better, or at least to hang on longer.” As much as it hurts to say those words, I am trying to get myself to a place where I'm not fooling myself anymore.

“So you've given up on the miracle?”

“No,” I say quickly. “I'm still praying, and I know that God could heal her. I'm just not certain that He will. I mean, God lets people die every day It's not like you
can exactly hold Him back, you know. It's more about trusting Him, about believing that He's got this all figured out and has a reason for His timing.”

Matthew really seems to consider this. “I guess that makes sense.”

“Seriously?”

He nods. “Yeah, more sense than some of the stuif I've heard.”

“Wow.”

“So, you all ready for the big night?”

I grin at him. “I think so.” He still hasn't told me much about “his plan” for the evening—-just that it'll be special and that I won't be disappointed. “It doesn't involve a stretch limo and a bunch of alkies, does it?” I asked last week, and he just laughed. “Not this time.” I'm also sure that it doesn't involve a “group” date like I suggested a few weeks ago.

Of course, he reminded me that our “group” date at the Harvest Dance didn't really work out too well. Besides, neither Cesar or Jake are going to the prom, although Marissa is going with Robert. And while I told her it'd be fun to see her there, I had absolutely no desire to “double” with those two. I've also heard that they've booked a hotel room afterward. Well, that's their choice—not mine. And thankfully I'm certain that Matthew has no such plans.

I also heard another rumor today, one I seriously hope Nat hasn't gotten wind of since I'm sure it would push her right over the edge: Torrey and Ben have
“secretly” gotten back together, and they are “secretly” going to the prom. Marissa told me this little news flash in art. How she heard about it is a mystery, but I have a feeling she could be right. Just the same, these lips are sealed.

“It's all settled,” Mom tells me after school today. “Shannon got a great deal on airline tickets—she used one of those websites where you make an offer, and she just called to tell me it was accepted. She and Maya will be here on Monday.”

“Monday! That's fantastic, Mom. But doesn't Maya have school?”

“Maya is home-schooled,” Mom informs me.

“That's cool.”

“So, do you have everything ready for the big night?”

“I think so.”

“Maybe not everything…” she says mysteriously

“Huh?”

Then she pulls out an envelope and hands it to me. I can tell that it's from a beauty salon downtown. “What's this?”

“A certificate and an appointment. I had Julie, the hospice worker, pick it up for me today I thought you could get your hair and nails done tomorrow. Actually it was her idea, but I think it's a good one.”

“Oh, Mom!” I throw my arms around her. “This is so
awesome. Thanks. I was just going to do my hair myself, but this is way better.”

“The appointment is for ten in the morning,” she tells me. “And I hope you don't mind that I made an _ appointment for myself too. ”

“That is so cool, Mom. What are you going to have done?”

“It's been quite a while since I've had my hair cut, and I don't want to look like an old frump when Shannon gets here—she was always so fashionable. And I thought I might even get my nails done too.” She laughs now. “Just for fun.”

I hug her again. “That is way cool, Mom. I can't wait!”

And so I'm feeling really hopeful about Mom now. It's like this thing with Shannon coming to visit really has given her a new lease on life—and that's totally cool with me.

Just for fun I try on my prom dress tonight, along with the amazing shoes that I ordered online. They finally arrived this week and are absolutely perfect. I've never had a pair of real designer shoes before, but I got a great deal on these by ordering them from one of those overstock websites. They are none other than Prada, and while I really have no idea whether they're really “in style” or not, they were the perfect color of turquoise with high spike heels and lots of cool straps, and I happen to think they look fantastic. Plus they were really marked, down. No way would I ever pay full price for something like designer shoes!

Even though Mom's already seen my shoes, she hasn't seen them with my dress, so I go and find her reading a magazine in the living room and give her a little “preview” show.

“Very glamorous,” she tells me. “And are you wearing those earrings too?”

I reach up and touch my diamond studs. “Yeah, I thought they looked nice.”

She smiles. “They look lovely.”

Now my dad comes in and whistles the way dads do when their little girls are all dressed up. “I thought the prom was tomorrow.”

“It is. This is just my dress rehearsal.” Then I point out a shoe. “I hadn't actually seen my shoes with the dress yet.”

“Very nice.”

My mom clears her throat. “Oh, Allen. Is it okay if we give it to her early?”

Dad kind of laughs, and I immediately demand to know what “it” is.

“Well, since the cat's out of the bag…” He winks at Mom. “I'll be right back.”

“I wasn't sure,” she says to me with uncertainty. “I mean, you might've had something else, something, well…but I saw this in an ad, and I asked Dad to get it and…” She sighs. “Here he comes.”

Dad comes in with a small velvet box that is obviously jewelry, and he hands it to Mom. “You give it to her.”