Mind of Her Own (14 page)

She called Cleo, and the dog bounded across the lawn, her tongue swinging freely from her mouth. “Let’s go inside, girl. You probably need a cool drink of water, and I need to make a phone call.”

Inside the house, she took off her jacket and placed it on the hook by the others. It felt good to see it there as part of a coat family, like she was now—part of something bigger than she remembered. She grasped the phone and dialed. Beth answered on the first ring, and after a few minutes of niceties, Jazz went to the subject that was bothering her.

“Can you tell me about the stories I wrote as a kid?” Her throat tightened as anxiety rippled through her.

“Stories? Oh, those little make-believe things you wrote?” Beth asked.

“Do you have them stored somewhere?” A flow of excitement knocked out the anxious feelings as she pictured boxes of short stories that only she would probably appreciate. She wondered if she wrote animal stories or stories about people, maybe about her best friends.

“No, I didn’t keep those. If I remember right, it seemed you were always bothering us with some kind of outlandish problem or idea.”

Her joyful spirit fizzled. No record of her early work, no books currently in bookstores, and only two chapters written of her new book.

Maybe she could still get some of the blanks of her life filled in, at least. “When did I write them? How old was I?”

“You were writing cute little stories before we went to Mexico, but when we came back, you were . . .” Beth stopped.

“What? What was I writing when you came back?” Jazz pounced through the phone line with her words.

“You started writing dark stories about people being killed and children being kidnapped. It was upsetting to your father and me, and we asked you to stop writing them.”

“Who did I write about? What did I say?” Her curiosity increased her heart rate.

“I don’t remember now.” Beth sighed.

“Do you remember if I stopped writing when you asked?” Puzzled, Jazz tried to glean some meaning from this information.

“Of course you did, dear. You were always a good girl.” She could hear the pride in Beth’s voice.

Jazz hung up the phone, and her stomach churned. Something felt wrong. She didn’t know what, but the cramps in her stomach insisted she needed to figure it out, and she didn’t think they were from the dinner she’d eaten.

In the distance small motorboats raced across the lake, leaving wide wakes that bounced against the shoreline. Jazz felt soothed by the rhythm. The lake didn’t have the color or smell of her beloved ocean, but it was water. The campsite Collin had reserved jutted into the rocky beach. A host of scraggly pines and ash trees with their bright-yellow leaves separated their space from the rest of the campground, giving them privacy. She let the warm rays of sun massage her shoulders. Collin had said it might be the last of the warm weather.

Jazz swatted at a fly as she stood in the doorway of the unzipped tent. Five sleeping bags lay in a row across the floor. The army-green edges of blow-up mattresses peeked between the plaid bags and blue flooring, mocking her with pretend comfort. “I’m not sleeping here,” she said under her breath.

She jumped at the touch of Collin’s hand on the small of her back.

“Why not? It’s perfect. We aren’t sleeping together.” He pointed to one end of the line. “That’s your bed, and I’m over there.” He swept his hand to the other end. “The kids are between us. See, I’m following your rules.”

She placed one foot on the nylon floor.

“Stop! You have to take your shoes off and leave them on this rug.” Collin pointed at the rough welcome mat. “It keeps the tent cleaner.”

Grasping the pole that held the awning upright, she started to balance on one foot to remove her shoe.

“No! You’ll yank down the entire tent. Look . . .” He collapsed onto the floor of the tent with his legs sticking straight out the door. Bending his knee, he yanked off one sneaker and then the other. “That’s how you do it.”

“Terrific. I get to practice yoga while camping.” But she followed his example. Once her feet would no longer endanger the tent floor, she swung them inside and stood. “There isn’t any room.”

“Enough space for all of us to sleep comfortably,” Collin said.

“Couldn’t we have a girls’ tent?” she pleaded, offering her best beguiling smile. “Like down the road at the Sleep Inn, Sleep Tight?”

“No, come on, Jazz. Give this a chance. It’s a great way for a family to bond.”

“In these quarters you don’t have a choice, do you? I mean, it’s like a slapstick comedy in here: if one person rolls over, everyone has to roll.” Jazz sank down on her appointed bed, or tried to. She bounced, then slid to the side. “This isn’t going to work.”

Collin took her hand. “Please, Jazz, try it—for the kids, for us?”

His touch sent ripples of heat through her. She wanted to please him, to say yes to anything he asked, but he wasn’t hers.

“Jazz?”

It would help if his voice didn’t soothe her like hot fudge on a sundae. “One night. If I don’t like it, I can leave?”

He considered her offer and then smiled. “Deal.”

She realized he still held her hand and began to pull away.

He held on tighter and leaned in to kiss her.

She didn’t move. Her heart beat faster. Her mind screamed
“run,”
but her lips said
“yes.”

The kiss lasted only a second. Jazz couldn’t remember another time when a kiss had felt so wonderful. Dazed, she shook her head to wake up from the dreamlike trance she’d fallen into.

Collin brushed her cheek with his hand and stood. “Thank you for not rejecting me,” he said over his shoulder as he pushed through the loose screen door.

Jazz lay back on her sleeping bag, hugging the feeling of being wanted. She savored the feel of that kiss. If she were Louisa, she could have Collin’s kisses anytime she wished.
Please, God, let me remember this part of me if I turn into Louisa,
she prayed.

Slapping at mosquitoes hours later, Jazz couldn’t imagine why she would ever want to be Louisa. “Tell me again why you didn’t bring any repellent?” She winced as she hit her thigh again, missing the offending insect. The bite marks on her legs told her who was winning this war.

“I told you I’m sorry.” Collin tossed more dead leaves into the fire.

“Does smoke really keep them away, Collin, or do people die from lack of air so they don’t know they’re still having their blood sucked from their bodies?” Jazz waved the offending smoke away.

Madison giggled. “Yeah, Dad, does it work?”

“Maybe it has something to do with what you burn,” Collin replied.

Joey threw a potato chip into the fire. He and Tim scooted closer to watch it burn.

“Back up, boys. You won’t have any eyebrows left if you get too close. The fire will melt them off your faces.” Collin stood, ready to pull them away from the fire. He relaxed when they moved back.

“That’s okay. We don’t need them,” said Tim. “Mom’s always pulling hers out with tweezers. I don’t want to do that when I get old.”

“Don’t be stupid, Tim. Women do it to make us look good,” said Madison. “Bushy eyebrows scare men off.”

“You aren’t a woman, so how do you know?” Joey asked.

“Stop. She knows, Joey, and she’ll be a woman soon,” Jazz said. “Tim, you need some eyebrows to help protect your eyes, so don’t be burning them off.”

Thwack.
Missed another one.
Her leg, where she had been repeatedly defending it, glowed bright red in the firelight. “I think I’ll go to bed. At least it will be bug-free in there.”

“Me, too.” Madison unfolded her colt-like legs and stood, ready to follow.

“I think it’s time we all went inside,” Collin said.

* * *

Thunder woke Jazz. She struggled to loosen herself from the sleeping bag as lightning lit the inside of the tent. “Collin!”

“It’s just a storm, Jazz. Don’t scare the kids,” he muttered as he flung his arm over his eyes to block the lightning flashes.

“Dad? I’m getting wet,” Madison said as she scooted off her mattress and onto Tim’s. “Move over.”

Tim didn’t move, so Madison pushed him. “Dad?”

Only a snore from Collin answered back.

“Madison, want to make a run for the van?” Jazz whispered.

“It won’t be comfortable,” Madison whined.

“At least it won’t be wet inside.” She wasn’t about to stay in the tent any longer. Madison could stay and fight off the puddles that were forming by the bed if she wanted to.

“We could recline the seats,” Madison suggested, seeming more willing to run for it.

“Grab your pillow.” Jazz fought her way to the end of the makeshift bed and felt around for her shoes.

“I’m ready,” Madison said. “Should we tell Dad we’re going?”

“I don’t think he’ll hear you if you try,” Jazz said as Collin began to snore louder.

“What time is it, anyway?” Madison asked.

Jazz pushed the button on her watch and groaned. “It’s a little after twelve.” She thought about spending at least six hours in the van with the windows rolled up. It would be stifling.

Jazz felt around on the floor until she found the jeans Collin had been wearing. Locating the pocket, she retrieved the keys and pushed the Unlock button. “Go get in the van, Madison.”

The zipper pull clicked as the teeth separated, allowing Madison to squeeze through and run to the van.

Using her hands to feel in front of her for wet spots, Jazz crept to Collin’s side. She shook his shoulder and whispered, “I tried. I can’t do this. Madison and I will be back in the morning.” She waited to see if he responded.

He didn’t. She pushed the button on her watch next to his face to see if he responded to the light. He rolled away from her.

At the doorway she whispered, “Bye, boys. Enjoy the night.”

* * *

Collin woke from the best sleep he’d had in a long time. The diffused light coming from outside the tent made him wish he could wake this way every morning. His stomach growled. He’d be making scrambled eggs, toast, and coffee over an open fire.
Just a few minutes more,
he thought as he sank back into sleep.

He dreamed of living on a mountain with Jazz by his side. They had a log cabin, no electricity or water. They were a mountain couple, not needing more than each other to survive. Jazz whispered something—did she say she loved him? He felt her touch his face.

“Daddy, wake up.” Tim poked him in the ear with a finger. “I’m hungry.”

“Me, too,” Joey said. “Where’s Madison and Jazz?”

The dream popped from Collin’s mind, but the aftereffects stuck to his memory like gum in his hair. He pushed Tim’s hand away from his head. “Maybe they’re outside.”

“It’s raining, and the van is gone. Did they go to get us breakfast?” Joey asked. “I wish they would have taken us with them. I’m cold.”

Collin raised himself up on his arm and looked over to where Jazz should have been sleeping. Her pillow was gone, and so was Madison’s. Little rivers of water ran down the side of the tent next to Joey’s bed. The corner of his sleeping bag had sucked the water like an absorbent paper towel, spreading it across the bottom of the bag. No wonder he was cold. Collin scratched his head. Where did Jazz go?

“Well, boys, let’s get dressed and make a fire. I’m sure they will be back soon.”

Tim and Joey bumped into each other as they tried to pull on shorts and socks.

“Where’s my shoes?” Tim yelled, flipping his brother’s T-shirt into a puddle on the tent floor.

“Where did you leave them?” Collin asked while tying his sneakers.

Joey grabbed his shirt and smacked Tim on the head. “We left them in the van, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Collin sighed. The weather report had been warm and sunny all weekend. This trip was not turning out like he’d planned. “Stay in the tent until I get a fire going, and then you can sit there until Jazz and Madison get back.”
And it better be soon,
he thought.

The cold rain soaked through the back of his shirt while he huddled under a tree. No food, no matches, and no cell phone. They were all in the back of the van. He had left everything locked safely inside, away from the morning dew. Jazz had taken everything with her. His earlier dream of living like a mountain family seemed more torturous than idyllic.

Poking his head through the tent door, he saw two uncomfortable boys huddled together. “I have bad news, boys. We’re not going to have breakfast or heat until Mom and Madison return.”

“Are they bringing doughnuts?” Tim asked.

“When are they coming back? I’m hungry,” Joey said.

“I don’t know. Want to play cards while we wait?” Collin stepped inside and rummaged through his duffel bag. “I’m sure I have some in here.”

Tim peered over his shoulder. “Do you have any candy in there?”

“I don’t think so, Tim Bear, but I do feel something.” He pulled out an unopened chocolate-peanut-butter-with-cranberries energy bar. “What do you say, guys? We’ll split it three ways.”

Tim wrinkled his nose. “No thanks.”

“Me neither. How old is that? You should check the expiration date,” Joey said.

“It’s been in there a long time. It’s probably older than you.” Collin tossed the bar back to the bottom of the bag. “We’ll leave it until we’re almost unable to move from hunger.” As the first wafts of breakfast smells from the other campsites entered their tent, he added, “And that might not be as long as we think.”

Pipes knocked in the wall behind Jazz’s bed as the occupant in the next room turned on the shower. Jazz awakened with a leisurely stretch and flung off the heavy comforter. It felt early, but the line of bright sunlight sliding through the curtains let her know it wasn’t. She climbed out of the comfortable bed. In the bed next to her, the only thing visible was a strand of Madison’s blonde hair. She gently shook Madison’s shoulder. “Wake up. It’s late.”

Madison groaned and rolled away from Jazz. “Just a few more minutes?”

“No, we can’t. I planned for us to be back before the boys woke, but it’s almost ten.” Jazz walked to the bathroom. “As soon as I’m out, you’re in, all right? So don’t go back into a deep sleep, Madison Girl.” Not receiving any indication that Madison had heard her, Jazz flipped on the television. She surfed the channels until she found cartoon robots. She had discovered how much Madison hated cartoons and hoped the screeching voices would wake her. She smiled when Madison popped up from the bed.

“I hate that show.”

“I know.” Jazz grinned. “Call your dad on his cell phone and tell him we’re leaving soon. I don’t know where my phone went.”

When Jazz came back from washing her face, Madison had dressed in her jeans and T-shirt. “Is Collin mad?”

“Beats me. My phone is dead.” Madison pushed past Jazz. Just as she entered the bathroom, she called out, “Besides, didn’t he put his phone in the van with the food to keep it safe?”

Jazz felt the blood rush from her head to her feet. “I didn’t see him do that. Hurry, Madison, we have to get back.”

She gathered the pillows they had brought along, collected the books they had been reading, and had the keys in her hand when Madison came strutting out the bathroom door, hands full of tiny bottles.

“I’m taking these. They’ll be cool to take when I go to a sleepover. Can we stop in the lobby downstairs and get breakfast?” Madison asked.

“I don’t think we better. I imagine there are going to be some very hungry males waiting for us.” Her foot tapped as she waited for Madison to tie her shoes.

“Then we’d better bring them food so they don’t have to cook,” Madison said. “They can stuff their mouths and won’t be able to yell at us.”

“Good idea. We’ll stop for doughnuts. Now let’s get going.” Jazz guided Madison out the door. “I’ve got all our stuff, and I used the video checkout system. All we have to do is find the best doughnut shop in the universe.”

* * *

At the campsite, Collin attempted to make a fire using matches and dry kindling from a neighboring camper. He was worried. Their neighbors had offered the use of their cell phone, but when he tried calling Jazz, she didn’t pick up, and Madison’s phone went straight to voice mail. He didn’t want to call his friends and admit his crazy wife had taken his daughter and left him and the boys. They had to return soon.
Madison probably insisted on stopping for some important hair item,
he tried to reassure himself. He would continue to treat this as a fun challenge for his sons.

“Now remember, boys, when Mom and Madison get back, you have to pretend you’re really hungry.” Collin paced in front of the two sitting on the concrete table. “We’ll tell them later about how we found neighbors to give us food.”

“It was fun begging for food.” Tim grinned. “I’m going to try that when we get home.”

“No, you’re not. I told you this was an exception.” Collin frowned and stopped in front of his son. With his finger under Tim’s chin, he tilted the boy’s head. “Right? No begging at home.”

“Okay. But it was fun.” Tim’s lower lip trembled. “Is Mom coming soon?”

“I’m sure she’ll be here in a few minutes.” Collin looked up as he heard a car coming slowly down the blacktopped street. He scowled. “That better be them.”

It wasn’t. The glum faces of his sons looked at him for reassurance, if not answers. He needed to turn this back into an adventure, fast. “Let’s go for a hike, men. There’s a little store down the road. Who wants a candy bar?” He was thankful Jazz had not taken his wallet along with her.

“Me! Me!” the boys yelled. Tim and Joey slid off the picnic table, big toothy grins splashed across their faces as they followed their dad.

* * *

Jazz pushed the accelerator harder. “I can’t believe it took us so long to get these doughnuts. Hand me my cup?”

Madison reached across the van and held out the coffee. “Careful, it’s hot.”

The tire fell into a pothole. Jazz bumped the cup with her hand, and the hot liquid spilled onto her lap. “Ouch!” She glanced down at her leg.

“Watch out!” Madison cried.

Jazz looked up to see the van shooting straight at a pine tree. She didn’t have time to react, and the front of the van struck the trunk. Both air bags shot from the dashboard with a loud bang. For a second the world turned white and silent. Then a hiss began as her bag deflated into her lap.

Stunned, Jazz gasped. “Madison, tell me you’re okay.” She reached across the seat and touched Madison’s face. “No blood or cuts.”

“I’m okay. Are you?”

Jazz grimaced. “I think so.” As a mother, she still wasn’t doing well. Twice now she had failed. Losing Tim and now involving Madison in an accident. What if the third thing killed one of the kids?
Be quiet,
she told the voice in her head.
You’re just saying that because you’re a writer and you always wonder “what if?” It doesn’t mean it will happen.

Jazz wrinkled her nose. “Stinks in here.” She opened the van door and stepped out. Seeing the front of the van mashed by the tree, she said, “I’m toast. Collin is going to kill me.”

Madison came around the other side of the van, wiping dust from her face.

“We’re miles from town, but not too far from the campground. Think you can walk about a mile?”

“Do I have a choice?” Madison said.

Jazz held back the smile of relief at Madison’s sarcastic tone. At least she knew Madison was normal. “No, not really. We could wait and see if someone comes along, but it’s almost lunchtime.”

“Dad is going to be so mad.” Madison zipped her jacket. “How are you going to explain this?”

“I don’t know. The truth, I guess.” Collin would be mad. Her rating as a wife had to be around a zero. First jail and now this.

“How are we going to get back home?” Madison asked.

The road stretched far into the distance. “Let’s just walk. Maybe some answers will miraculously come to me.” Jazz reached into the car, grabbed her purse and keys, and locked the van.

Madison fell into step next to her. “Did you hit your head hard?”

“I don’t remember; I don’t think so, why?”

“You have blood,” Madison said, “on the side of your face.”

Jazz raised her hand and touched the spot. Sticky. “Is it bleeding a lot?”

“No, some of it’s dried already. I was wondering since you hit your head again if you’re Jazz or Mom?”

Madison’s hopeful face peered at her. “It doesn’t work that way in real life.” Jazz wished she knew what answer Madison wanted to hear, but she only had one to give. “I’m still Jazz.”

“Okay, then.” Madison turned away, and Jazz couldn’t read her expression. The flat tone in her voice gave no indication.

What seemed like hours passed by before Jazz saw the little hut where the park attendant kept wait for new arrivals. Her feet hurt. Her ears buzzed from listening to Madison’s relentless litany of how her life couldn’t get any worse. Her only hope right now consisted of a ride from the front of the park to their campsite. Beyond that, she didn’t care anymore.

She should have cared.

She should have been praying, Jazz realized as she saw Collin pacing the campground. The ranger pulled into the small gravel driveway next to the tent.

“Thank you for the ride,” she said as she and Madison climbed out of the golf cart.

“No problem,” the ranger said as he turned off the engine.

Collin walked over. “What happened?” He grabbed Jazz into an embrace and inspected her face.

“She’s still Jazz, Dad.” Madison pushed past him. “By the way, I’m okay too.”

Collin released Jazz and reached out to snag Madison by the arm. He pulled her close. “I’m glad you’re safe, too, pumpkin.” He gave her a quick kiss on the forehead and let her go.

“The van hit a tree,” Jazz said. “The airbags came out, and we walked back to the park. We had doughnuts for you and the boys. They’re still in the van, though.”

“Excuse me,” the ranger interrupted. “Is there someone I can call for you?”

“I have a phone. Did you bring it with you, Jazz?”

“No.” She sighed and leaned against the side of the golf cart. “It’s still in the van.”

Collin frowned. “Everything is in the van, Jazz, including the boy’s shoes.”

“Sir, your wife thinks the car is about a mile from the park entrance. I can give you a ride in my car, and we’ll pick up the kids’ shoes and your phone.”

“Thanks. I can call someone for help then, along with the insurance agent.” Collin hopped into the golf cart.

* * *

Collin finished packing the last of the camping equipment into the rental van. He looked up to see Jazz watching him. As soon as she noticed his gaze, she dropped her stare. He thought if it were possible, she would curl up on the ground and cover herself with a blanket in an effort to be invisible.

He didn’t know what to say to her. He had handled everything wrong in his marriage. At least he felt that way after reading some of Louisa’s journals. He knew Jazz was fragile, and he couldn’t express the anger he felt.

He slammed the back door of the van. “Everyone in?” he asked Jazz as a way to start the conversation.

“Yes,” came the quiet response.

“Let’s go, then.” He held out his hand as an offering of forgiveness. She hesitated, then took it. He gave it a gentle squeeze. “It will be okay.”

She smiled a half smile at him. “It will be more work for you. I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“I feel bad the camping adventure turned out all wrong.”

“It’s a trip we won’t forget though, will we?” Collin leaned over and kissed her forehead. She didn’t back away from him this time. Instead, she tipped her head and brushed his lips with hers. His heart pounded. This kiss made the problems of the weekend seem small. Could it be possible she was beginning to accept him as her husband?