To Run With the Swift

by Gerald N. Lund

  “Wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” he boomed. “Big day. Very exciting.” Then he instantly sobered. “What a shocker. We had no idea what you were going through. No idea.”

  Dad gave him one of his crooked grins. “Wasn’t much time to stop by City Hall and report.”

  He barked with laughter. “No, I suppose not. But it all turned out well, thanks be to the good Lord for that.” He turned to us kids. “And you three. My, my. Who would have guessed that we had heroes right in our very own town?” He corrected himself quickly. “Well, two heroes and a heroine. That’s amazing. Well done.”

  “Thank you.” I was beaming a little now too, finally.

  Then he got right to business. “Sorry to interrupt. I know you’re busy, but we wanted to talk to you about a proposition.”

  As he said that, I noticed that Joel was now off the phone and standing at the door of the office watching.

  “A proposition?” Mom said.

  “Yes. We would like to declare Saturday as ‘Honor Our Heroes’ day in Hanksville. I’ve already spoke with LaVere—” He stopped to take a breath, looking at Clay and the Deputy Director. “He’s the high school principal over in Bicknell. He’s agreed to bring over the marching band. He was thrilled, actually. And I was just talking to the mayor of Green River, and he thinks their high school will come too. Heck, I wouldn’t be surprised if Moab doesn’t want to join in as well. I mean, this is a big deal, people. There’ll be a free hotcake breakfast in the morning and a barbecue that night. We’ve already called a fireworks place in Salt Lake, and they think they can put up a fireworks show by then.”

  He was almost bubbling as he looked around at us. “It’ll be a real celebration.”

  “Awesome,” Cody whispered beside me.

  I looked at Rick. He looked pretty much like I expected—like someone had just jabbed him in the backside with a very long needle.

  “Well, well,” Clay said to Mom. “How about that?”

  Mom was frowning. “I ...” She shook her head. “Sounds like a lot of fuss over nothing.”

  “Nothing?” John was shocked right down to his boots. “This is hardly nothing, Angelique.”

  “I know, but ... it just seems like a little much. We were hoping to let this all die down.”

  My mind was racing. A parade? Fireworks? Just for us? It was pretty dizzying when you stopped to think about it. One part of me was thinking about how ridiculous I was going to feel. And what did one wear on a float? I pictured me and Rick and Cody waving and throwing candy to the kids. Then it hit me: No floats. Not with just two days’ notice. On the other hand—

  Behind us, Joel cleared his throat and came forward. “Joel,” said Dad, “this is Mayor John Brackston, from Hanksville. He has—”

  “I heard.” He turned to John. “That’s a wonderful idea, Mayor. However—” He took a quick breath. “I’m afraid the McAllisters won’t be available this weekend.”

  “We won’t?” Mom and I said it almost exactly together.

  “They won’t?” the mayor cried in dismay.

  “No, I’m sorry. Something’s come up,” Joel said, looking at Dad. “I was just coming out to talk to you about it.” Then he turned back to the mayor. “But hold that thought, Mayor Brackston. I think when the time is right it would be a wonderful thing to honor this family.”

  Then Grandpère, who had been strangely quiet since this whole thing had started this afternoon, spoke. “It’s kind of you to think of us, John. Thank you.”

  As our mayor left, you would have thought someone had just burned down his restaurant. Joel waited until he was gone, then motioned for us to sit at the table. As we did so, I saw that he held several slips of paper in his hand. He didn’t join us, but stood at the head of the table.

  “Mack, Angelique, I apologize. I should have conferred with you before saying no, but there has been a new development.” He looked at Cody, who was in half a pout. “Sorry, Son. But I think we can compensate for your great loss.”

  “He’ll get over it,” I said, with some satisfaction.

  “What is it?” Mom asked.

  Joel was clearly not happy with what he was about to say. “This is not unexpected, but things are happening much faster than I thought.” He lifted the papers and waved them back and forth. “I’ve just been on the phone with my executive assistant in Washington. She’s been fielding a stream of phone calls and emails. We’re barely an hour past the news conference and already excerpts are being aired in the national news media—Fox News Channel, CNN, MSNBC. The word is out and spreading like a wildfire.”

  Mom sighed. “I’m not sure I want to hear this.”

  He looked at his papers. “What I have here are invitations for you and your family, Angelique.”

  “Invitations?” she said warily.

  He began reading the slips one by one. “All five of you are invited to be on the Today Show with Matt Lauer. Ditto for Good Morning, America. Fox News has offered Danni and Rick their choice of appearing in the morning with Fox and Friends or on The O’Reilly Factor that night.”

  “Me?” Rick exclaimed. “I’m not part of this.”

  I gave him a pitying look. “You’re the one who got shot rescuing a damsel in distress, Cowboy. Of course you’re part of it.”

  “What about me?” Cody asked.

  “The Disney Channel wants to do an exclusive with you,” Joel said with a smile.

  “Awesome!”

  Joel went on. “David Letterman wants all three of you kids on, as does Jay Leno.”

  “Jay Leno?” I exclaimed. “Shut up!”

  Evidently Joel had raised enough teenagers to understand the meaning of my last exclamation, for he took it without a blink. “Leno could be a problem because his studio is in California. All the rest are in New York. And these are just the main ones. We have four or five other inquiries, and we think that number will double by morning.”

  “I warned you,” Clay said. He made quote marks in the air with his fingers. “‘Teenage Kids Outwit International Kidnappers.’ This is the kind of stuff journalists dream of.”

  Joel set the papers on the table and sat down. “Before you decide how to handle all this, here’s something to consider. In addition to paying all travel expenses, several are offering ‘incentives’ if you agree to be on their shows.”

  “Define incentives,” I said.

  “Picking you up in their private jets. Luxury hotel accommodations. Perhaps an extended stay in New York. A couple of producers are even offering to set up education trust funds for the three kids. Danni, Cody, and Rick could come out of this with ten, maybe even fifteen thousand dollars each, salted away for their college educations.”

  Judging from Cody’s eyes, you would have thought an alien had just walked into the room. “Ten thousand dollars? Seriously? For just talking to people? You’re kidding, right?”

  Joel solemnly shook his head. “You’ll find that in our business, we don’t kid much, Cody.” He leaned forward, focusing on Mom and Dad now. “I know that you have reservations about all the glitz and the attention, but you can’t just wave your hand and make it go away. The Wayne County Sheriff’s office called to say news crews and paparazzi are already swarming Hanksville. Motels from Price to Blanding are booked solid. Every van and SUV at the Salt Lake International Airport is rented or reserved. We heard from Capitol Reef National Park that their phone lines have been swamped all day. They expect lines of cars to show up by tomorrow. Guess what the number-one inquiry is?”

  “Leprechaun Canyon,” Rick said quietly.

  “Exactly. The BLM says their website on the Irish Canyons can’t keep up with the traffic. They already have a request to film a reenactment of the events that took place in Cathedral Valley with Danni, Cody, and Rick starring as themselves.”

  “Cody wasn’t there,” I noted
for the record.

  But then I saw Mom’s face. She looked deeply dismayed, so I jumped in before she made up her mind. “It’s New York, Mom. How many times have you and Dad talked about going there? So let’s go. We’ll do five or six shows—bam, bam, bam—and then stay on for a few more days. Go to some Broadway plays. Visit the Metropolitan Museum of Art.”

  “See the Statue of Liberty,” Cody added.

  I could see Dad watching Mom closely, trying to gauge how she was taking it. “Danni’s right, Hon. It would be a great experience for us and the kids.”

  Then I had an absolutely brilliant idea. “What if I promise that while we’re being interviewed, I just happen to mention the fact that you are a successful western artist? You’ll have New York galleries begging to show your works.”

  She shook her head. “Bribes from the producers. Bribes from my own kids. Pressure from my husband. The FBI telling me that it’s only going to get worse.” She turned to Clay and Joel. “So what happens if we just say no? What if we don’t care about their incentives? What if we just say that we are not going to put our family in the national spotlight?”

  “It’s too late for that,” Clay said gently. “You are in that spotlight, and all you can do now is try to control it as much as possible.”

  She swung on Grandpère. “What do you think, Dad? And you don’t need to remind me that the feathers are already scattered on the wind. I get that, okay?”

  He was thoughtful, obviously carefully considering her question. “Tempting as your solution is, my dear, I fear that Clay is right. It could create an even bigger problem.”

  “Like what?” Mom said.

  “If we refuse to talk to the media, then they’ll go elsewhere for their information. They’ll be interviewing every kook, goofball, airhead, and ditz from here to New York. And what they’ll get from them will be wild speculation, half-truths, opinions—”

  “Even pure fabrications,” Clay added.

  “So,” Grandpère finished, “I say let’s go to New York and give them the truth. Let’s not turn this into a worse sideshow than it already is.”

  Mom’s gaze was locked with Grandpère’s for a long time, but still she didn’t relent. “I—I don’t know, anymore. I don’t want this to change our kids. I don’t want it to change us. Can it never be the same again?”

  Grandpère got up and went around to stand behind her. He started massaging her shoulders very gently. “I know it is discouraging, but it is not hopeless,” he said. “If you’ll pardon another metaphor, we need to remember that the media are like California surfers. They’re out there, offshore, sitting on their boards, searching the horizon for signs of the next big wave. When they spot it, they start paddling madly out to meet it. The race is on to see who gets there first and who catches the longest ride. But even as they catch that wave and start riding it into shore, they’re already looking over their shoulders for the next big one.”

  Joel looked at him with renewed respect. “A perfect analogy, Jean-Henri.”

  Bending down, Grandpère kissed the top of Mom’s head. “All we have to do,” he said to Mom, “is pray that the next wave is not far behind ours.”

  We sat there watching Mom, not making a sound. I don’t know about the others, but I was holding my breath. Finally, there was a slow nod, followed by instant relief. “All right, I agree.”

  “Wicked!” Cody cried, leaping to his feet.

  I started to punch the air, then stopped halfway up. “And Rick too, right?”

  Rick had his head down and was examining his hands. “I think our family would rather face the media back here.”

  “I understand,” Clay said. “But back here it will be your whole family, Rick. Go to New York and get this over with, and I think they’ll leave the rest of your family alone.”

  “When would all this take place?” Dad asked.

  “Well, that’s why I suggested to Mayor Brackston that you might not be available on Saturday,” Joel said. “Here’s what I’ve been thinking. You head home tonight—with an escort, of course—and get a good night’s sleep. In the morning, pack your things—let’s say enough for a week—and then drive over to Moab. I’ve already told The Today Show that there’s a good chance you would accept their offer for a private jet. They’re just waiting for your approval. With that, you’ll be in New York by late tomorrow afternoon. That will give you Friday, Saturday, and Sunday to see New York before you start the first interviews Monday morning.”

  Cody was up and doing a little dance. I was in much better control. I turned and punched Rick hard on the shoulder. “Seriously wicked!” I said. “Rock stars, Ramirez. That’s what I’m talking about. Just like I said.”

  Mom was still less than excited about this. “How many shows?”

  “Good question,” Joel said. “We’d recommend you accept five, maybe six of the invitations. The ones who will give you the best and widest coverage. And we’ll say no to all the rest. Let’s say that would take Monday through Wednesday. You’d be back home by Thursday night.”

  Mom’s head was down. “In time for the parades, the paparazzi, the news crews, the crowds.” She shook her head. “Will it never end?”

  Clay answered this one. “We’ll keep deputies and highway patrol officers there until the frenzy dies away.”

  Grandpère raised one hand. “What if we were to just disappear instead?”

  That got Joel’s attention. “What was that?”

  “Angelique’s right. All those interviews on national television are only going to pour more blood into the water. The feeding frenzy is only going to intensify.”

  “Disappear where?” Mom said.

  He smiled that mischievous little smile that was so French it always made me laugh. “Well, a strange thing happened this last week, before all of this burst upon us. I got an email from Le Petit Château, of all places.”

  Mom’s head jerked up. “Le Petit Château?”

  I shot to my feet. “You mean the one in France?”

  “I know of no other. It seems that someone has purchased the old homestead, which has been empty for several years now, and they have turned it into an exclusive bed and breakfast and guest house. And they are looking for guests. As an introductory offer—I’m sure to get a guest list started—they are offering half price for up to six guests for the first month.”

  I sat back down, my head spinning.

  Grandpère went on. “For years I’ve wanted to take Cody and Danni there. Let them see the place of their ancestors. So why not now?”

  “Omigosh!” I cried. “France? We’re really going to France?”

  He turned to me. “For you especially, ma chérie. I would like to be the one who shows you the home of your namesake, Monique LaRoche, my mother and your great-grandmother. Maybe even find that Gestapo headquarters in Paris where my father was held prisoner.”

  “Oh, yes, Grandpère. Yes! Yes! Yes!”

  Cody was actually struck dumb and just stood there gaping at him.

  But Grandpère had eyes only for Mom. “You have a graduate degree. I think you could home school the children for a month or two, don’t you?”

  Eyes filled with wonder, Mom finally nodded. “I think I could manage that.”

  Joel interrupted our celebration. “When would you go?”

  “The day after the last interview. We’d pack for more than a week, then simply get on a plane and disappear.”

  Clay spoke to his boss. “In a way, this is like putting them into a witness protection program. If we sent them on one of our planes, there would be no way the media could track them.”

  “I like it,” Joel said. “I like it a lot.”

  “Good,” Grandpère said. “I thought you might, so I took the liberty of reserving us five rooms, beginning a week from tomorrow.”

  “Don’t forget Big B
en,” Cody said. “We have to stop and see Big Ben and Parliament.”

  “Maybe on the way back. But I think we need to go right there, keep the profile down.”

  “Wait,” I said. “You said five rooms?”

  “But, of course,” Grandpère said, turning to Rick. “I also took the liberty of calling your father after the news conference. I explained our dilemma, and he agreed that it was best that you disappear for a time too.”

  “I can’t go to France,” Rick said. “No way!”

  I whirled. “Why not?”

  “I—um—because I don’t have a passport?”

  “Not!” I cried. “That’s not why you don’t want to go.” He was thinking about how much it would cost.

  “But he makes a point,” Clay said. “Do the rest of you have passports?”

  Dad nodded. “We got them a couple of years ago when we took a trip to Canada.”

  Joel looked at Rick. “We can work out the passport, walk it through by hand while you’re in New York. Is there another reason you can’t go?”

  His face turned red. “I ... I can’t just leave my family. Dad needs me.”

  Grandpère went on. “Rick, our family owes you an enormous debt. Mack and I agree that part of the money from the sale of those bags of ore is yours. That is what’s paying for our trip, and that is what is paying for yours.”

  “But—”

  I leaned in and whispered in his ear. “Ramirez, this would be a very good time to shut your mouth and nod your head up and down vigorously.”

  Which he did.

  PART FIVE

  New York, New York

  CHAPTER 17

  Marriott Marquis, Times Square, New York City

  September 20, 2011

  Sorry that it has taken so long for me to finally get around to writing in my journal, but these last five days have been amazing—incredibly wild and incredibly wonderful. Once again, Night-Owl Danni is up and awake while everyone else has crashed and burned.