Green Card

by Elizabeth Adams

  Liz, it's Will. I was thinking about our plans for the holiday and wanted to know if you plan on flying to your parents. There's a small airport about twelve miles away that would be easy to fly into. I can leave Wednesday around five. Let me know what you want to do.

  She hit erase with a huff and skipped to the next message.

  Ellie, it's your mother. I've prepared the guest room for you and that husband of yours. Jenny said he was tall so I hope the bed is long enough for him. I'm expecting you Wednesday by six. The last train gets in at four-thirty and Heather or your father can pick you up, just be sure to let us know which one you're taking. We'll have a light supper then I'll need your help with the pies. Heather is absolutely useless in the kitchen! Sometimes I think that girl has feathers for brains! And of course Tiffany went and used my pie plates for some biology experiment. She's set her heart on some boy who's a bit of a nerd, sounds like, even though he is quite the looker. She's having him over to study every afternoon and they're doing God knows what in my kitchen—

  The message ended abruptly when the allotted time ran out. She shook her head and clicked over to the next message.

  Liz, it's Will. It's midnight and I just wanted to make sure you're all right. Please don't take the subway this late—it isn't safe. Call me if you want me to pick you up. See you soon.

  Delete. Next message.

  Liz, I'm really starting to get worried. I just woke up and you're not here. Please call and let me know if you're all right. I don't want to have to start calling hospitals.

  She groaned and looked at the time stamp—seven forty A.M. With a sigh of resignation and a slight roll of the eyes, she sent a quick text to Will.

  I'm fine. On way to class—see you at dinner tonight.

  ***

  Liz walked into the small Italian restaurant and gave her coat to the maître d. “Right this way, Mrs. Harper.” She followed him to their usual table toward the back of the restaurant and pretended not to notice when the waiters followed her with their eyes.

  Will was another story. He was immediately aware of her presence, as was every other red-blooded man in the vicinity. That was one thing he appreciated about her—she dressed to flatter her own figure. He studied her evenly as she came toward him, her body encased in a soft cashmere sweater dress. Even though it was up to her chin and down to her wrist, it was still incredibly sexy. Probably because the deep green color suited her skin perfectly and brought out her eyes, or maybe it was because the fabric looked so soft, like it was begging to be touched. It hung on her perfectly, outlining and hugging her curves without exactly clinging. It was mysterious and revealing all at once. The brown leather knee-high boots weren't exactly helping. He caught himself staring at the bit of skin revealed between her boots and her hem and it wasn't until she sat down in front of him that his focus shifted.

  “Hello, William,” she said evenly.

  “Hi, Liz. How was your day?”

  “Same as always. Yours?”

  “Good, though I was worried about you. Where were you last night?” he asked quietly, leaning toward her and capturing her hand under his on the table.

  She looked at his hand and said, “I spent the evening with Jenny and Laura. By the time we finished it was late and I was too tired to go back to the apartment, so I slept on Laura’s couch.”

  He nodded. “You know I would've come and gotten you?”

  “I didn't think of that. I just wanted to sleep. I was perfectly fine at Laura's.”

  He nodded silently and placed their order, veal Parmesan for himself and pumpkin ravioli for Liz. She pursed her lips and he asked, “What?”

  “You ordered for me.”

  “So? I've ordered for you hundreds of times before. You don't have to get sour about it.”

  “What if I hadn't wanted ravioli? And I'm not sour!”

  “I'm sorry. Did you want something else?” he asked sarcastically.

  Liz looked down sheepishly—she was planning on ordering the ravioli anyway—then back at him with a look of defiance. “It's the principle of it. You should at least ask a person what they want instead of just assuming that you know what's best for them. I might have been in the mood for calamari, or mushrooms, or pizza!”

  “You hate calamari. You always think you're going to like it, then you order it and you hate it. The only mushrooms you like are Portobello and they weren't on the menu tonight. And you hate the pizza here because the sauce is too sweet.”

  She huffed indignantly at his look of smugness. “So what is this? Prove-how-well-you-know-Liz night?”

  “I'm not trying to prove anything. I simply ordered a meal for my wife that I knew she would enjoy. That's all.”

  She bristled at his use of the word “wife.” She looked away and sipped her wine, refusing to respond. Will let out a ragged sigh and ran his hand through his hair.

  “You should be careful with that. Don't want to go bald prematurely.”

  He glared at her. “That's an old wives' tale and you know it.”

  “Just saying.”

  They finished their meal in silence, though they did smile at each other when he helped her with her coat under the watchful eye of the maître d.

  “Want to walk back? It's a clear night,” he asked as they exited the restaurant.

  Liz looked up at the sky, then around at the brightly lit street corner. “Sure, why not?”

  He took her gloved hand in his and started down the street.

  “Are you looking forward to the holiday with your family?”

  “I guess,” she answered.

  “Did you want to come back Saturday or Sunday?”

  “I thought I'd take the Sunday morning train back.”

  “You don't want to fly?”

  “I don't want my family to know you have your own plane, no.”

  “I thought you said they knew about me?”

  “Of course they know about you, they just don't know everything about you.”

  “How is that possible?”

  “Easy. I didn't tell them.”

  “Didn't they ask questions?”

  “Of course they did. They asked what you did and I told them you worked with computer chips. I'm pretty sure my mother quit listening after that. Dad just wanted to know if you paid your bills on time and if you had a savings account. Once I assured him you were financially viable, he dropped the questions.”

  Will furrowed his brow, unsure how to respond. He couldn't imagine being that lackadaisical about his own family. “Well, that sounds easy. Though I'm a little surprised.”

  “I'm not. My parents trust my judgment. My mom would love for me to marry a rich man, because of the security and the fancy Christmas gifts, but I think her idea of rich is more along the lines of a surgeon or a lawyer. As long as she's sure I'm well looked after and that you are handsome enough that she won't have ugly grandbabies, she won't ask too many questions. Dad just doesn't want me to marry an idiot or a loser. That's about it.”

  Will nodded. “So are you excited about going home?”

  “Yes and no.”

  “Care to elaborate?”

  “I'm not excited about lying to my parents and all my old friends, but it will be nice to see everyone.”

  He nodded and they went the rest of the way in silence.

  ***

  Liz felt her phone buzz in her pocket and quickly looked at the text. The train takes 6 hours. Are you sure you don't want to fly?

  She quickly answered. How will I explain a private plane to my family? They'll notice when they pick us up and once they know, my mother will be out of control and my little sister will have a Christmas list a mile long.

  She set down the phone and went back to studying. Five minutes later she was interrupted by another buzz. We could fly into the bigger Tri-Cities airport instead. It's not as close but it wouldn't raise as many questions. We can rent a car from there so no one has to pick us up.

  Her first instinct was to tell hi
m to forget it and that she would go on her own by train like she always did, but she forced herself to consider his suggestion. It actually wasn't a bad plan.

  How long will the plane take?

  Will smiled when he read her response. Less than 2 hours. Private plane means no long security lines either.

  Liz sighed. That definitely sounded a lot better than six hours on a train and another in the car. You win. We can take the plane. But I have to be there by 6 to help with the pies.

  Deal.

  25

  Thanksgiving

  November, Wednesday before Thanksgiving

  7 Months Married

  The small private plane landed at the Tri Cities Regional Airport at five-thirty the day before Thanksgiving. Will had spent the entire time on the phone between his assistant in New York and his cousin in London, going over details of the merger they were working on together.

  Liz sat hunched over her laptop, finishing the draft of her last essay for her Women of the Classics class and working on her presentation for Literary Critiques. Professor Wheeler still wasn’t impressed by her, but so far she had a low B in that class. Her final paper was weighted in such a way that she could pull her grade up to a low A if she got a good enough score on it. Convincing Professor Wheeler to give her a good score was the hard part.

  They walked to the rental counter and got the keys for their car, Liz rolling her eyes imperceptibly when she realized Evelyn had reserved a luxury vehicle for them.

  “Mind if I drive?” she asked as they put their bags into the trunk.

  “Not at all,” Will answered after a slight hesitation. “You know the area best.”

  “Thanks.”

  They drove the first forty-five minutes in silence, listening to the radio quietly in the background. As they passed yet another sign for a horse farm, Will broke the silence.

  “Are we getting close?”

  “We’ll be there in about fifteen minutes. You feel ready?” she asked, her voice softer than it had been in weeks.

  “Mostly. You?”

  “Same.”

  They lapsed into silence again until Liz pulled off the highway and onto a narrow country road. A few miles later, she turned into a picturesque drive surrounded by a white fence and lined with poplar trees that had lost all their leaves. There was a wooden sign reading Barrett Farms to the right of the drive. About a quarter mile up the gravel lane, they came upon a large pink Victorian house that Will recognized from the pictures he’d seen.

  “It’s quite lovely,” he said quietly.

  “Yes, my mother has a good eye for this sort of thing.” She pointed to a small building that looked like it had once been a carriage house of some sort. “That’s the gift shop over there. If you go over the hill and take the fork to the right, you’ll hit the entrance to the tree park.”

  Will nodded and noticed the small sign pointing the way to the various farm offerings. They parked and Will took their bags out of the trunk. They were half way to the house when a blonde blur ran past Harper and jumped into Liz’s arms.

  “Lizzy!” the blur squealed.

  “Tiffany!” Liz laughed and hugged her sister tightly. The two rocked back and forth for a minute before Tiffany grabbed her sister’s arm and tugged her into the house, talking a mile a minute. She nodded at Will but otherwise ignored him.

  Just inside the doorway stood an attractive woman in her early to mid-forties in jeans and a pink top, a floral apron tied around her waist.

  “Hi, Mom!” Liz hugged her mother tightly, then stood back and looked at Will. “This is my husband, William Harper. William, this is my mother, Loretta Barrett.”

  “I’m pleased to meet you, madam.”

  Loretta’s eyebrows shot up. “The pleasure is mine, William. Please, call me Loretta. Come on in and hang up your coats.” She patted Liz on the back and squeezed her hand.

  A dark-haired girl with eyes the same shade of green as Liz’s appeared around the corner. “This is my sister Heather,” Liz said.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Heather,” said Harper. As Heather hugged her sister, he noticed that she was maybe an inch taller than Liz and had her coloring, but her figure was willowy, more like Jennifer’s.

  “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

  “You two head upstairs and get changed. We’re heading out to Papa’s in twenty minutes,” Loretta said.

  “Papa’s? Why? I thought we were making pies,” said Liz.

  “Most of them are done already. And the Powells are doing something tonight. We can’t miss it.”

  “The Powells? What are they doing?”

  “Didn’t you hear me say we only have twenty minutes? Go get changed! And wear something pretty!”

  Liz rolled her eyes but turned to head upstairs.

  “I’ll help you,” said Tiffany.

  Liz looked at her in surprise but quickly agreed and walked with her sister while Tiffany continued telling Liz all about her boyfriend, Ryan, and how he was so smart and cute and funny and the best boyfriend ever.

  When they reached the guest room, Liz smiled and shooed her sister out, telling her she’d see her in a few minutes.

  Will placed the bags on the floor at the foot of the bed. It was spacious with a queen sized four poster bed in a dark cherry finish and covered in rows of frilly pillows and a fluffy duvet folded at the foot. There was a bench at the end of the bed, a nightstand on either side topped with a lamp, a low dresser on the adjacent wall and a chair and lamp next to the window.

  “Sorry about all the frills. Mom loves lace,” Liz said as she flicked the trim on a bolster pillow. “And flowers.” She smiled and looked at the striped wall paper and floral curtains.

  “No, it’s fine. Nice really.” Though the room was very feminine and definitely country, the colors flowed well and it wasn’t entirely unpleasant to look at. It felt comfortable and loved. “It reminds me of Andrew’s grandmother’s place in Oregon.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Her farmhouse is a lot like this.”

  She waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. “I guess Jen will be comfortable while she’s there, then.”

  He nodded and unzipped his suitcase and began hanging things in the closet. “Where’s the bathroom?”

  “Down the hall, second door on the left.”

  He looked dismayed at not having an ensuite, but set his toiletries bag on the bureau without a complaint. “I guess there’s not time to shower.”

  “No, not really. I’m just going to wear a simple dress. You can wear that if you want, just lose the jacket.” She gestured to the navy suit and blue button down he was wearing.

  He looked at his outfit and sighed at his wrinkled trousers and the tiny mustard stain on his cuff from the sandwich he’d had right before they boarded the plane.

  Liz caught him looking at it and began rolling up his sleeve so that his forearm was exposed and the stain hidden. He looked at her silently while she worked, thinking that this was the first time she’d willingly touched him since their fight. It felt very different from the obligatory touches and kisses she bestowed on him when they were out in public.

  Abruptly, she let his hand drop and stepped back, her eyes on the buttons of his shirt. “That should take care of it. And it makes you look more relaxed.”

  He nodded but didn’t say anything. They stood silently a few moments longer until Liz shook her head and continued unpacking her bag.

  “Where's this place we're going to?” he asked as he turned his back on her and unpacked his own suitcase.

  “It's called Papa's.”

  “Papa's? Papa's what?”

  “Just Papa's.” She smiled at his confused expression. “Come on, Harper, haven't you ever been to a honky-tonk before?”

  His eyes grew alarmingly wide and she laughed at his discomfort. “I'm just kidding. It's not bad—just a big dance floor and a band and a bar. It's like a club, only country. Yeah, a country club.” She smirked at him. �
�That should make you feel right at home.”

  She left the room to borrow a pair of cowboy boots from Heather and Will mentally prepared himself for a difficult evening.

  They were in the foyer waiting for Tiffany when they heard loud steps coming from outside accompanied by a dog barking.

  “Daddy!” Liz squealed as she ran to open the door. On the other side was an excited chocolate colored dog who happily jumped up onto Liz’s belly and enthusiastically licked her face when she leaned down to hug it.

  “Jake! Outta my house! Neal! Get that dog of yours out of here!” Loretta shouted.

  Liz gently pushed Jake’s paws off her and scratched his head, then looked up to see her father smiling slightly in the doorway.

  “Elizabeth,” he said simply before pulling her tightly into his arms. She squeezed her father tight and tried not to cry when she smelled his familiar scent of fir trees and firewood.

  “You must be William,” her father said.

  “Yes, I’m William Harper. You must be Liz’s father.”

  “Neal Barrett. Good to meet you.” Neal held out his hand and Harper shook it firmly. The two men regarded each other silently for a minute until Loretta interrupted and told them to stop standing in the middle of the room and get out of everyone’s way.

  When they arrived, the parking lot was packed and they ended up parking in a field off to the side of the building. They’d all piled into Loretta’s SUV while Tiffany drove them there, stating she needed the practice, while Neal rode in front next to his youngest daughter, calmly instructing her when she would go a little too fast or too close to the yellow line. Teaching the girls to drive fell on him since Loretta would scream and hang on for dear life as she shouted that they were about to be killed. Unsurprisingly, Tiffany took every opportunity she could to drive with her father.

  The group walked into the unassuming metal structure, Will and Liz at the very back. She grabbed his hand and he squeezed it reflexively and looked at her, but she was staring straight ahead. As they stepped through the entry and into the main room, there was a loud roar as the entire room full of people yelled, “Surprise!”