The Long Way Home (14 page)

Rita couldn’t help but notice Marnie was in a grumpy mood that morning. When she asked about it, Marnie said, “I just don’t like this whole setup. I operate better when I know what to expect. I didn’t count on the car breaking down and us staying at someone’s house we don’t even know. I wish we could just get in the car and leave right now.”

“None of us wanted this to happen,” Laverne said. “It just did.” Laverne’s attempt to make Marnie feel better only seemed to make things worse. Out of the four of them, Rita decided that Laverne and Marnie seemed the least compatible. Jazzy found Laverne’s lack of tact adorable, and Rita was unfazed by it. Only Marnie had no patience for it.

“None of you seem to grasp the urgency of this trip,” Marnie said, through gritted teeth. “I need to get to Las Vegas as soon as possible.”

“If you wanted to go faster we could’ve flown, but you didn’t want to do that,” Laverne said, to which Marnie gave her the kind of look Melinda would have called “killer death ray eyes.” To Rita it looked like Marnie was on her way to a meltdown.

“Now, now,” Rita said. “We’re all tired, and this little bump in the road was upsetting to all of us. I know it’s been rough on you, Marnie.” She patted Marnie’s arm in a motherly way, which seemed to calm her down. Impulsively she opened her arms. “Do you need a hug?”

Marnie shrugged and started to walk away, but then seemed to think better of it and turned back. She surprised Rita by throwing her arms around her neck and resting her face in the crook of her shoulder.

“Oh, it’ll be okay,” Rita said. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

“Much ado about nothing,” said Laverne. “You’ll see.” Rita gave her a stern look that went unnoticed. Laverne was not one for subtleties.

Marnie leaned into Rita, who patted her back and made soothing noises.

“I just really miss Troy.” Marnie’s voice quavered. Rita heard the words and could have sworn she felt the pounding of the younger woman’s heart—or was it her own? Missing a child had connected them in some way, even if their circumstances were vastly different. “Sometimes it seems like I’ll never see him again.”

“Don’t be silly, of course you’re gonna see him again,” Laverne said.

“It’s just I’m not used to being away from him. I’ve spent nearly every day with him since he was four years old. And it’s been so long already.”

“Trust me, no one understands missing a child as well as I do,” Rita said.

Marnie pulled apart abruptly. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking—”

“It’s all right. Just put it in perspective. Troy is in a safe place, and you’ll be there by tomorrow,” Rita said. “You’ll see. I’ll drive through the night if we have to.”

Marnie wiped her eyes. “That was so insensitive of me. Please forgive me. I’m so, so sorry.”

Rita waved it away. “You’re entitled,” she said. “Don’t worry about it.”

Marnie clearly felt bad about complaining to Rita, but neither of them spoke of it again. Instead they spent the rest of the morning cleaning up the breakfast dishes and getting their things together so they’d be ready to go as soon as the car was ready.

By the time Mike arrived to pick them up, their suitcases were packed and piled by the door in preparation for their departure. Mike filled the doorframe with his imposing build and in a booming voice called out, “Hello, ladies! Are you ready for lunch?” He wore a white cook’s shirt with a loose bandana around his neck. It looked out of place with his khaki shorts, white socks, and hiking boots, but presumably it was practical.

“I am,” Laverne said. “I’m starving.” She looped her purse over her shoulder and gestured to Marnie and Rita. “Let’s get a move on, gals.”

“Should we take our suitcases along?” Marnie asked eagerly. “So we can go to the garage from there?”

The expression on Mike’s face changed. Rita sensed bad news coming. “Um, about that. I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but there’s been a little glitch.” His mouth twitched into a nervous smile.

“What kind of glitch?” Marnie asked.

“Well, here’s the thing,” Mike said. “There’s more to it than just the alternator. Jason had to order another part too, so it’s going to take longer than he thought.”

Marnie looked aggravated. “But you told him we have to leave today, right?”

“I did,” Mike said. “I’ll take you to the garage after lunch and you can talk to him yourself. The last I heard there was a delay. That’s all I know.”

“Maybe there’s another mechanic nearby who has the part?” Marnie’s tone was frantic. “Or maybe he could get the part from a junked car. Used parts can still be good.”

“Trust me, I told him you ladies need to get on the road as soon as possible, and he’s working as fast as he can,” Mike said gently. “He’s a good guy. I’ve known Jason for twenty years.”

The vein in Marnie’s forehead stood out. “But what if he—”

“Marnie,” Rita said sharply. “There’s no point in arguing about it. We’ll go to lunch, and then talk to the mechanic after that. We can find out what our options are at that point.”

“I wasn’t arguing,” Marnie said, miserably. “I was just offering suggestions.”

“Let’s think positively and take the luggage along,” Mike said. “If the car is ready, you won’t have anything holding you back.” Marnie looked only remotely comforted by this suggestion.

On the way to the restaurant Rita mentally set aside Marnie’s misery and the problem with the car. The anticipation was building. She was going to Preston Place. Was she deluding herself thinking that Melinda had guided her here? No, she didn’t think so. It felt right.

Rita never used to think in terms of spirits or the world beyond this one. She’d accepted what she’d learned in Sunday school as a kid. Everything happened for a reason, and when you died, if you were good, you went to heaven. Really, really horrible people went to hell. She never questioned any of it, not even when her own parents died. Living in the real world had seemed like plenty. She had Glenn and Melinda, friends and family, her beautiful home. She loved to garden and sing in the church choir. So much to do, she didn’t have time to dwell on anything that wasn’t in front of her.

And then Melinda was murdered and life as she knew it was over.

At the funeral, surrounded by friends and family, Davis’s absence stood out. And when Glenn finally reached him on the phone a few days later, he was abrupt and didn’t want to talk. They were puzzled and hurt, but figured Davis was grieving as well. When Davis left town without notice, they didn’t know what to think. And when Melinda’s friend, Tiffany, came to their house shortly thereafter, what she had to say confirmed what they’d suspected, but didn’t want to believe. “I think Davis killed Melinda,” she said, tears filling her eyes. She told them that Davis’s alibi, his brother, had told her a different story of what happened that night. Davis hadn’t spent the night at his brother’s apartment, as he told the police, but actually left the bar around midnight to go home. The brother said that Davis had left enraged that Melinda kept calling his cell phone. “Melinda was going to break up with him,” Tiffany said. “She told me so. She was tired of his jealousy and the fighting.” Rita and Glenn listened, horrified. They reported this new information to the police of course, but Davis’s brother stuck to his original story, and Davis, by then, was long gone.

After that Rita found herself on a spiritual search—looking for meaning in all the pain. She studied the Bible looking for references to death and the hereafter. She read up on near-death experiences. When she broached the subject, an amazing number of friends confessed to having mystical experiences. One friend, a widow, woke up with the feeling that her husband was snuggling up against her. She even felt his breath on her neck. It wasn’t a dream, she said. Another friend’s son fell off a scaffold and felt something catch him halfway down, slowing his fall. A drop that could have been fatal left him with only a broken arm. Her own cousin swore that she’d been looking through photo albums, thinking about their grandmother, when she spotted something out of the corner of her eye. “It was Grandma,” she said emphatically. “Standing in my dining room watching me.”

“What did she look like?” Rita had asked, fascinated.

Her cousin had shrugged. “Like Grandma, but like a hologram of her. It was only for a few seconds, and then she was gone.”

When she told Glenn about it, he was skeptical, but Rita believed it. Her cousin had always been truthful.

She considered all of this on the drive to Preston Place and tapped her fingers on the window in anticipation. In the front seat, Marnie, also deep in thought, stared out the window, although Rita guessed they had far different things on their minds. They passed other houses on the country road and eventually made it onto a highway where they saw the first sign of civilization—a gas station with an attached convenience store.

“Is that the mechanic place that has our car?” Marnie asked.

“What?” Mike glanced over. “Oh no, that’s just a gas station. Jason’s place is west of here. When you see it, you’ll know it’s an auto shop. All he does is repairs and tires.”

They drove the rest of the way in silence. When they pulled onto the asphalt parking lot, Rita’s heart sank. There was nothing special about the building. It had been a converted something or other, most likely a small warehouse, and not much had been done to disguise that fact. The front door was covered by a small striped awning. Above the awning a large wooden sign spelled out “Preston Place” in painted letters. To one side of the door was another sign: “HOMEMADE PIES.” Why would she be led here? It wasn’t even the type of place Melinda would have liked.

As they pulled up in front of the restaurant, Rita saw Beth flip the window sign so that the word “OPEN” faced outward. Beth opened the door with a smile. “Welcome,” she said, ushering them in.

The restaurant was empty, except for Jazzy, who wore a white apron and had a bunch of menus clutched to her chest. She rushed toward them. “Look, guys, I totally work here now!”

Normally Rita would have responded, but she was busy looking for meaning in this restaurant. Her eyes searched the room, finding nothing of significance. Overall, it looked comfortable and clean, but somewhat worn and old. The scuffed floor was dark hardwood. The light fixtures were hanging bulbs dangling beneath metal cones. A glass-fronted refrigerated case held at least a dozen varieties of pies. The floor space was filled with tables covered in checkered oilcloth and topped by glass candle-holders encased in some kind of netting. Three booths sat along one wall, the wood not matching anything else in the room. It was as if, Rita decided, they’d bought the booths at another restaurant’s going-out-of-business sale. Some people might think the décor was eclectic, but to her it seemed to be a mishmash of styles.

Carson came out of a swinging door carrying a tray of pies. “Hi, ladies,” he said cheerily, before opening the door to the pie case and adding the new arrivals. Jazzy turned her head and the two of them exchanged smiles like they had a private secret.

“Give me one of those menus,” Laverne said, motioning to Jazzy. “I’m starving.”

“No, no, no,” Jazzy said, pulling them away. “You don’t get to see them until you’re officially seated.”

“You do look like you work here,” Marnie said. “You fit right in.” And she did. Her hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, her T-shirt was tucked in, and the apron was wrapped expertly around her middle. She held the menus like an experienced hostess.

Jazzy said, “I don’t just look like I work here. I
do
work here. Sherry called in sick.” She rolled her eyes as if to say,
You know how unreliable Sherry can be
. “So I’m covering for her for lunch. Right this way. I’ll show you to your table.” She called out to Beth, “Okay if I put them at table eight?” When she got the okay, she expertly maneuvered them around tables and straight to a booth.

Laverne slid right in and Marnie did the same on the opposite side, but Rita couldn’t stand it another minute longer. She grasped Jazzy’s arm and said, “Do you know why we were led to Preston Place? Have you heard anything from my daughter?”

Jazzy shook her head and placed the menus on the table. “Nothing at all, at least not yet.” She gave the room a quick glance. “But I think we’ll know something before the day is done. This place just feels right, you know? Familiar. Like I’ve been here before.”

It didn’t feel that way to Rita. “But don’t you think you’d know something, if this is the place? The name matches so perfectly…” She wrung her hands. “I thought you’d know right away.”

“It’s not always so cut-and-dried,” Jazzy said. “Just sit back and go with the flow. If something is meant to happen, it will.” She patted Rita’s arm in what was supposed to be reassurance.

New Age advice. Not what Rita needed right now. Reluctantly she slid into the booth next to Laverne, who was hunched over the menu.

“Seems like mostly sandwiches,” Laverne said, running a finger over the entrees.

“There’s soup too,” Marnie said.

Rita didn’t even look at the menu. She’d seen Marnie and Laverne exchange a glance when she’d asked Jazzy for an update.
They think I’m loony,
she thought.
A grief-stricken mother who can’t accept reality
. She couldn’t blame them. This whole thing was pretty out there. Still, what mother wouldn’t hope for one last message?