The Long Way Home (16 page)

Marnie adjusted the visor to block the glare, and turned out of the parking lot. Carson had programmed Kimberly’s address into the GPS for them, so they were all set. It felt odd to be driving someone else’s car. Heck, after the last two days of being a back-seater, it felt weird to be up front like a grown-up. One nice thing about having Rita drive, Marnie never had to pay attention, but could look out the window and let her mind drift. There would be no more of that. Now she had to be on top of things. Watching for turnoffs, looking out for the semis that often changed lanes indiscriminately—all of that fell to her now. Laverne wouldn’t be much help. Of the other three women, Laverne would have been her last choice as a travel companion, but having her here was better than being alone.

As if she’d read her thoughts, Laverne said, “Kind of bizarre having it be just the two of us, huh?” She pronounced the word like
bee-zarre
.

“Yes. It does feel strange.” Marnie turned onto the highway. They’d be on the expressway soon. “I’m not used to this car either, so that’s another thing to get used to.” A cardboard pine tree dangled from the rearview mirror, clearly the source of the Pine-Sol-like scent.

“My son has a Toyota Corolla like this one. Never had a lick of trouble with it. No siree, that thing runs like a top.”

“Hmmm.” Marnie wondered if she’d be able to stand listening to Laverne for the rest of the day. She’d have to, that’s all there was to it.

“Yep, it runs like a top.” Laverne opened the glove compartment and gave the contents a poke.

“Are you looking for something in particular?”

“Nope, just fishing around. You can tell a lot about someone by looking through their stuff.” Laverne rooted around some more. “No drugs or contraband. Insurance info, Kleenex, a five-dollar bill, a Triple A card. This boy is responsible.”

“That’s good. I’d like to think he’s a good person, because I’m pretty sure he’s sweet on Jazzy.”

“Yeah, for sure he’s sweet on her, and it goes both ways,” Laverne said, shutting the glove box. “That girl took to him like they were meant for each other.”

“They connected awfully fast, don’t you think?” Marnie said, craning her neck to look at the GPS.

“That’s how it is a lot of the time. You know how that goes.”

“Yes.” But Marnie didn’t really know. Looking back, it almost seemed like Brian had craftily picked her, like he’d been looking for just the right gullible woman and she’d wandered into his net, all wide-eyed and innocent. Lured in by the promise of love. Which is basically how it worked out, seeing as she segued from babysitter to girlfriend to live-in lover. And after all of that she got demoted to the guest bedroom. How had she not realized that this was probably the plan all along? It was because of Troy, she realized. At some point she
had
realized how little Brian valued and loved her, but by then, it was all about that little boy and what he needed. And he needed her just the way she needed him. And that was enough.

Laverne broke into her thoughts. “Bet you can’t wait to see Troy. It’ll be a real good reunion.”

“I hope so,” Marnie said. Despite what Matt Haverman had said, some part of her still worried that her appearance on Kimberly’s doorstep wouldn’t be a welcome sight.

“It will be,” Laverne said confidently. “That mother-to-son bond is strong.”

“Except I’m not technically his mother.”

Laverne snorted and waved a hand dismissively. “That’s not important. Everyone says blood is thicker than water, but I’m here to tell you that that’s a load of crap. I’m speaking from personal experience here. I got three kids and my oldest boy is technically my stepson. Not that I think of him that way. I raised him from little on. Just like the rest of ’em, I fed him, taught him to tie his shoes, took care of him when he was sick, helped him with homework, and so on and so forth. Didn’t make a bit of difference that he wasn’t born to me.”

“And do you feel the same way about him as you do about the others?”

Laverne’s head bobbed up and down. “Heck, sometimes he’s my favorite. Depending on the day.”

“That’s good to know.” The voice of the GPS spoke up then, directing her toward the freeway on-ramp.

“There’s no stopping us now,” Laverne said, exuberantly hitting the dashboard with her palm. “I can’t believe I’m going to Las Vegas.”

“Me either.”

They were on their way.

Rita drank a cup of coffee in the back of the restaurant and thought about her encounter with Davis. She was still shaken up, still wondering what it all meant. She’d had some vague hope that talking to Davis would give her answers about Melinda’s death. Instead he’d brushed her off and walked away.

She sighed heavily and Mike, who was nearby chopping onions, paused. “Did you need something?” he asked.

“No, thank you,” she said, manners at the ready even when it wasn’t her best day. “If anything, I should be helping you. Are you sure there’s not something I can do?”

“You ladies are our guests,” Beth said, unloading a tray of dirty dishes. “It’s bad enough we put Jazzy to work. Although she was a lifesaver, I’ll give you that much.”

At two thirty the restaurant closed, not to open again until dinnertime. Beth flipped the sign around and locked the front door.

“What do you do now?” Rita asked. “Siesta?”

Beth laughed. “I wish. Generally we prep for dinner. Sometimes, if we’re caught up, we leave and run errands. But that doesn’t happen too often.”

“And you do this day after day after day,” Rita said. “I can’t even imagine. Having a dinner party for eight people makes me nervous. I can’t imagine cooking and serving so many on a regular basis.”

“We love it,” Beth said, and to her husband, “Right, hon?”

“
She
loves it,” Mike said. “A real people person, this one.” He jabbed a thumb in her direction. “And if she’s happy that’s all I care about.”

“You are one smart man,” Rita said. “You’ve discovered the secret of a happy marriage.”

From the front of the restaurant she heard peals of laughter coming from Jazzy, followed by her saying, “Oh, you!” and the snap of a towel. Rita couldn’t help but smile. They were like children, those two.

Jazzy found washing dishes at the restaurant to be enjoyable. She whistled while hosing off the plates and arranging them carefully in the square plastic rack. She didn’t even mind being surrounded by steam and the smell of detergent. “I’ve never seen anyone do dishes so joyfully,” Carson had said.

“I’m happy most all the time, as long as I’m doing something helpful,” Jazzy said.

“Yeah, I’m getting that,” he said. He looked pretty pleased himself, the way he wrapped up trays of food to store in the cooler. There was a simplicity to restaurant work that appealed to Jazzy. People came in wanting food and drink, they got food and drink. Everything else existed to support that need. Customers had to be seated, drinks required ice, food needed to be cooked, and dishes had to be cleaned. Getting the timing right was the trick of it all.

After helping serve lunch, she welcomed the mindlessness of cleaning up. As she scraped and rinsed and stacked, she was startled by a sudden flash of vivid images. She saw a police station and a lady in uniform, clearly a police officer. She paused and closed her eyes, bidding whoever it was to send more.
What does this have to do with me?
she thought, questioningly. In a moment, she had her answer when she saw an image of herself at the station with Rita. Together they sat across the desk from the female officer who was listening intently to what Rita had to say. They were, she realized, filing a report. The police officer came into focus now. She was in her late forties or so, with brown shoulder-length hair threaded with gray. Not the kind of woman to pay much mind to her appearance. Still, she looked kind. She saw this police officer writing something down, and she heard the word
ditz,
which made her smile. Melinda was coming through forcefully today. A name came into her head as clearly as if someone had spoken it. Davis. It was rare for her to experience that kind of clarity in a psychic message. Again: Davis. And then, after that, she sensed the spirit of Melinda receding. It was over.

“Got it,” she said aloud. “Will do.” Certainly, she was now talking to herself. Still, you never knew for sure. Her grandmother had told her that spirits lurked even when they couldn’t be felt.

Rita was finishing her coffee when Jazzy came through the swinging door ten minutes later, holding up a ring of car keys. “Look! I got permission to use the car. We’re free to go.”

“Where are we going?” Rita asked, bemused.

Jazzy said, “Beth and Mike said we can borrow their car for the rest of the day, because they’re staying anyway. They’ll call later when they need a ride home.”

“Honestly?” Rita said. These people were the most trusting souls she’d ever met. They’d picked up strangers stranded on the highway, let them use their cars, and opened their home to them. Amazing.

“Yep.” Jazzy went back behind the prep counter and retrieved her purse.

As they made their way to the car in the parking lot, Rita said, “I was hoping we could talk about my encounter with Davis and what you think it all meant. I was pretty rattled by it.”

“We can talk, if you want,” Jazzy said, unlocking the car door with a beep. “But I tend to think action speaks louder than words. And there’s something we have to do.”

Once they’d cleared the on-ramp and were back on the expressway, Marnie gunned it. Traffic was moving briskly enough, but she felt the need to be the front-runner. Anytime she approached a cluster of vehicles, she maneuvered deftly to the front of the pack until she had the lane to herself.

“Whoa there, Nellie,” Laverne said, shielding her eyes from the sun. “I know you’re in a hurry, but it’s better to be late than dead.” She fumbled down by her feet until she located her bag, then reached in and pulled out wraparound sunglasses. “I hate wearing these dad-blamed things, but the older I get, the more my eyes bother me. You’ll see; it happens to everyone.”

“So much to look forward to,” Marnie observed dryly. “I can hardly wait.”

“Heck, you’re only in your thirties,” Laverne said. “You don’t need to worry about it. You’re good for a while.”

They traveled in silence for a few minutes, passing landscape flatter than Marnie expected, for Colorado anyway. She’d somehow imagined crossing the state line and coming smack-dab into a mountain range. Wasn’t that what Colorado was all about? Skiing and mountain climbing? Clear running water and views to die for? She was still waiting for that.

“It doesn’t bother you?” Laverne asked.

“Excuse me?”

“The sunlight. Doesn’t it bother your eyes?”

“Only a little.” Marnie shifted in her seat and adjusted her visor.

“It wears on me, I can tell you that much.”

“Hmmm.”

“Sometimes it gives me a headache too.”

Marnie said, “If you don’t mind, Laverne, I’m not feeling much for small talk.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“I’d like to drive as far as possible today, and it’s easier for me to concentrate if we don’t talk.”

“Fine by me.”

Marnie glanced over and saw Laverne stiffen, noticed the way her mouth set in one grim line. She said, “It’s not that I don’t like to talk, it’s just that I’m very focused on getting to Las Vegas.”

“And talking will slow the car down?” The way she said it made Marnie’s point sound ridiculous.

“Well, no.” Marnie came up behind a semi and then veered wildly into the left lane. Assertive driving. This is what they should have done right from the start of the trip. They could have put so many miles behind them if Rita hadn’t been so slow and cautious the first day. “I just don’t multitask well.”

“I don’t think that’s it at all,” Laverne said. “I think you just don’t like me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is. I can tell. You always sit next to Jazzy or Rita, if you have a choice. And you act like I annoy you, which is a bunch of hogwash, because I’ve been nothing but nice to you this whole time.” On the word
hogwash
she slapped the dashboard for emphasis.

Marnie winced. Where did this come from? The truth was that Laverne wasn’t really her favorite, but they’d just had a nice conversation about Laverne’s stepson. She’d thought they were good. “I do like you,” she said, in measured tones. “Honestly. If I gave you the impression I don’t, I apologize. I’m having a tough time and I’m not completely myself.”

“Everyone is having a tough time,” Laverne said. “Everyone has something. You’re not alone here. Having problems is something all people have.” She turned away and made a pretense of looking out the window.

“I know,” Marnie said, miserably. “You’re right.” Laverne said nothing. This last stretch of the trip would be very long if they continued like this. She imagined the pained silences going on for hundreds of miles. And it wasn’t going to get any better when they arrived in Las Vegas. Speaking of which, how was she going to explain the old lady when she went to see Troy and Kimberly? How would she even introduce her? They weren’t friends. Until three days ago, she’d never laid eyes on Laverne, even though they lived in the same house. But they were the only ones in the car, and they needed to get along. For the sake of peace, she said, “I guess talking would be fine. I’m sorry I was grouchy.”

Laverne didn’t answer, which just killed her. Marnie hated it when people were mad at her. The quietness between them, which had seemed peaceful a few minutes ago, was now toxic. A void of hurt feelings. When the car went over a bump, they both bounced slightly upward. Marnie felt the pressure of her seat belt on her shoulder for that instant and Laverne must have too, because she finally turned to face forward. “I sure felt that one,” she said. “You really know you’re alive when your head practically hits the roof of the car.”

To Marnie’s relief, she didn’t sound mad. “That’s one thing you can say for Wisconsin. We’ve got good roads, for the most part.”

“We should,” Laverne said, grumbling. “We pay enough taxes.” Now they were back on familiar terrain. Laverne had an opinion about everything. Marnie listened politely as she griped about taxes and road construction. Ironic, since Laverne didn’t even have a driver’s license. Marnie wanted to mention that fact, but Laverne was in the flow now. She moved from tirade to tirade without a transition. “And that bed at Beth and Mike’s last night? I swear it was filled with sawdust. I barely slept a wink!”

This barely sleeping a wink was one of Laverne’s favorite expressions. Which reminded Marnie of something she’d meant to tell her. “Laverne,” she said. “Are you familiar with a medical condition called sleep apnea?”