The Long Way Home

by McQuestion, Karen

  She took her hand off his head. “Are you ready to ditch this place and head for home?”

  “Yeah.” He raised himself up on one arm and regarded her quizzically. “But which home do you mean?”

  “I’m taking you back to Wisconsin. Your mom said you can stay with me for six weeks. What do you say to that?”

  He grinned. “Yes, please. I would like that very much.”

  “Someone taught the boy good manners,” Laverne said, winking and giving Marnie a nudge. “Wonder who that could be.”

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Rita lingered at breakfast that morning while the rest of the household bustled around starting their day. Jazzy, who assumed she’d be helping at the restaurant again, had set the alarm and gotten up early to take a shower. Very soon Beth, Mike, Carson, and Jazzy would be leaving to set up lunch at Preston Place. Rita alone had opted to stay behind to wait for Glenn to call her back. They’d last talked yesterday evening, and since then, she couldn’t reach him. It was unusual for him not pick up his cell phone. She’d left two messages for him. In a little while, she’d try him at work.

  While she sat drinking strong coffee, she heard activity in other parts of the house—footsteps along with the sound of the front door opening and closing as different family members loaded the car with the bins they used for transporting stuff to the restaurant. Beth laundered the dishtowels and aprons for the restaurant at home. She wrote up menus and grocery lists and employee schedules from her laptop in the evening, while Mike sat alongside her paying restaurant bills and ordering supplies like fryer grease on his computer. To Rita, the lines between home and work were too blurred. This was a life she’d never want. Mike and Beth were always on the move, either working or playing. They never sat down and read a book or watched television. She longed for her quiet, peaceful home, her husband reading a book on one end of the couch while she did the same on the other end. Just a few days ago she’d wanted to escape her life; now she was desperate to get it back.

  She’d picked up her car from the shop yesterday, and it ran perfectly. Such a relief. It was parked outside now where she could see it through the kitchen window. She longed to put her suitcase in the trunk and just drive off by herself. Without stopping, she could make it home in just short of fourteen hours. Think of that—she could be in Wisconsin by bedtime. Would it be so bad to leave the other women on their own? She’d brought them this far—wasn’t that enough? Yes, she had agreed to do the driving to Las Vegas and back, but so much had changed along the way. Perhaps they could rent a car for the drive home.

  Seeing Davis again was a shock, much more upsetting than she’d let on. The injustice of having him out in the world walking around while her daughter was dead gnawed at her. And the smug bastard didn’t seem repentant at all. Dating a police officer’s daughter, no less. He acted as if nothing could touch him. And maybe nothing could. She and Jazzy had hung the flyers, and that felt good, like she was putting him on notice and warning the rest of the community, but what did it mean in the long run? If he wasn’t welcome here, he’d move on, she was sure of that. Take his charm and manipulative ways elsewhere. Never paying for what he’d done to Melinda. Never getting punished for ruining all their lives.

  Jazzy rushed into the kitchen, towing Carson by his shirt. “Hey, Rita,” she said. “Guess what?” Rita hadn’t a clue and just looked up at her blankly. “Okay, I’ll tell you,” Jazzy said, exchanging an excited glance with Carson. “I just talked to Laverne. She and Marnie picked Troy up from camp and they’re on their way back here! Isn’t that wonderful?”

  Rita drained her mug of coffee before answering. “Great news.” She tried to sound enthused, but her response was flat. “So Kimberly just let her take Troy?”

  “Yep. For the next six weeks anyhow, while she’s out of town. Marnie’s taking him back to Wisconsin to stay with her.”

  “That’ll make the car pretty crowded, don’t you think?” Rita asked.

  “We’ll figure something out.”

  “When will they get here?”

  “Probably not until tomorrow,” Jazzy said. “I mean, it’s a really long drive. I’m sure they’ll have to stop for the night.” Seeing the expression on Rita’s face, she said, “But we were planning on being gone this long anyway, right? We’ll still return right on schedule; you and I just made a stop on the way.”

  Carson said gently, “You know you’re welcome to stay at our house as long as you need to. My folks are fine with it.”

  “Yes.” Rita swallowed back her disappointment. “Your family has been wonderful, and we certainly appreciate it.”

  Jazzy came up behind her and looped her arms around her neck. She whispered, “I know you’re feeling down, but things will get better, you’ll see.”

  Rita patted her arm and said, “Are you saying that as a psychic, or an eternal optimist?”

  “A little of both, I think.” Jazzy released her hold and then, pulling back, gave her a look of concern. Rita knew that look. Since Melinda’s death, she’d seen it many times. People felt so inadequate when a fellow human being was in emotional pain. She’d gotten good at consoling friends when their well-meaning attempts to bolster her spirits backfired.

  Rita summoned up a small smile. Jazzy meant well. There was no point in making everyone miserable. Even so, when they all set off to the restaurant, she was glad to have the house to herself. To keep busy, she organized her suitcase in preparation for leaving the next day, then went outside and tidied the interior of the car, scooping up candy wrappers and plastic bottles. The back was particularly messy, with potato chip crumbs on the seat and something sticky on one of the windows. She wiped the back windows down with a damp paper towel, the best she could do for the time being. When she got back inside, she cleaned up the breakfast dishes and poured herself another cup of coffee and checked the time. Only thirty minutes had passed. Waiting for Laverne and Marnie to return was going to be torturous.

  Rita was vacuuming the living room, pushing the cleaner in straight, even rows, when the doorbell rang. The first time it rang she only paused, not sure what she had heard. The second time confirmed it was indeed the doorbell. She shut off the vacuum and listened. There it was again: the loud chime of a doorbell. She considered letting it go and not answering at all. After all, under normal circumstances no one would be home anyway, but something made her lift the curtain and look. The car in the driveway, a boxy blue thing, didn’t look familiar. She couldn’t see who was at the door from this angle but they were persistent—the bell kept ringing at regular intervals.

  “Yes?” she called through the closed door. “Who is it?”

  “Rita? Is that you?”

  She fumbled with the lock for what seemed to be an interminable amount of time, and yanked the door open to see Glenn, a bouquet of flowers in hand, a smile on his face.

  He’d always had an unusual way of smiling, lips closed, almost sheepish, and that was how he smiled at her now. She once asked him to do it differently. “Show some teeth,” she’d suggested. When he complied, she burst out laughing. The toothy smile looked forced and uncomfortable. His natural smile was more him somehow.

  Rita stared at him in disbelief. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?” he asked.

  She stepped out and threw her arms around him, crushing the flowers, letting the warm air into the house and the air-conditioned air out into the world and not caring at all about Beth and Mike’s electric bill. “I have never been more happy to see you in my entire life,” she said.

  She kissed his cheek and his ear and his neck, until he said, “All right now, I get the picture. I’m glad to see you too.” Such a dear man.

  Finally, she let him inside, where he presented her with the flowers, still fragrant and colorful, if not quite as perky as they’d been a few minutes before. She held them across one arm and admired them before setting them on the kitchen table. “Whatever are you doing here?” she asked, leaning against the counter.

/>   “You want me to go?” he teased.

  “Heavens no!”

  He put his arm around her shoulder, the way he used to do when they were dating. “I heard it in your voice on the phone—you sounded so lost. I knew you needed me. So I called work and told them I had to take a few days off for a family emergency, hopped on a plane, rented a car, and found my way here. I saw the Crown Victoria outside, so I kept ringing that doorbell. My next stop was going to be the restaurant.”

  “So you came for me?” Rita was touched and relieved. Part of her had feared the worst.

  “Of course. Why else?”

  “I was afraid you came to kill Davis.”

  “I’d like to, believe me.” He looked down at the floor and took a deep breath before meeting her eyes.

  “Did you want to go see him and talk to him yourself?” she asked quietly. “I know where he lives.”

  He cleared his throat. “It’s tempting, but honestly—I don’t know what it would accomplish at this point. Not to mention I’m afraid of what I might do to him. I would like to end him.” His voice was crisp now. “But we already lost a daughter. I’m not going to prison on his account.”

  Glenn was serious, she knew. Since Melinda’s murder they’d experienced everything from soul-sucking fatigue to uncontrollable rage. Counseling had helped them confront the pain and manage their anger, but it still crept up on occasion. Maybe it always would.

  He looked around and broke the silence. “Where are your friends?”

  “Marnie and Laverne aren’t back from Las Vegas yet, and Jazzy is at the restaurant with Mike and Beth and their son. There’s kind of a romance going on between Jazzy and Carson. It’s really sweet to see.”

  “Do you think they’d mind if I stole you away?”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  He leaned in and whispered in her ear. “The house is lonely without you, Rita. Really lonely. And you sounded like you’ve had enough. Why don’t you just come home with me?” When she started to object, he put a finger to her lips. “Hear me out, first. I know you don’t want to leave your friends in the lurch, so my thought was we could leave them the car, and you can fly home with me. When they get back, we can make arrangements to pick it up.”

  “You’d let them drive the Crown Victoria?” Rita asked in surprised delight. “But that’s your pride and joy.”

  “Ahem,” Glenn said. “A little correction—you happen to be my pride and joy. The Crown Victoria is just the best car I’ve ever had, but it’s insured and replaceable. Not that I want to replace it,” he added hastily. “I’m just making the distinction.”

  Rita led the way into Preston Place, eager to introduce Glenn to Jazzy and the Kent family. The restaurant wasn’t open yet, but the front door was unlocked, so they let themselves in. Beth stood on a chair, writing the specials on a whiteboard. Jazzy and Carson were in the process of rearranging tables, pushing and pulling four-tops so that they lined up to make one long banquet table. All three stopped what they were doing when the door slammed shut behind Glenn. Jazzy looked up surprised, and blurted out, “Glenn is here?” in such an incredulous way that Rita had to laugh. Beth got down from the chair and wiped her hands on her apron before coming over to say hello.

  “This is my husband, Glenn,” Rita said. Carson shook his hand and Jazzy gave him a big hug like he was an old friend.

  “Have we met?” Glenn asked Jazzy.

  “No, but I recognized you from pictures and from how Rita described you.” She stepped back and sized them up. “You two match.”

  “I hope so,” Glenn said. “We come as a set.”

  Mike came out of the kitchen to see what the commotion was, and Glenn greeted him warmly with the kind of backslapping only men could get away with. “Thanks for saving the ladies when the car broke down. You’re a good man.”

  The group chatted for a few minutes, Glenn describing how empty the house was in Rita’s absence (“Cripes, the ticking of the clock was driving me crazy.”) and how he impulsively booked an early flight and came right away. “I hope you don’t mind,” he said, “but I’m stealing her back. I need her.”

  Rita had never heard him speak with such devotion. Apparently absence did make the heart grow fonder. He reached over and rested his hand on the small of her back. She wondered at how she could have taken his love for granted in recent years. When you pared away the stuff of life—the obligations, the irritations, the illnesses, and pain—this connection, this love, was all that really mattered. It was trite, a platitude cross-stitched and framed in the gift shop at Cracker Barrel, but that didn’t make it any less true. She saw the way Carson looked at Jazzy and thought, They’re so enthralled with each other, they have no idea all that lies ahead. Maybe it was best that way.

  “You’re stealing my Rita away?” Jazzy wailed theatrically, putting the back of her hand to her forehead. “All of my friends are abandoning me.”

  “Poor baby,” Rita said.

  Glenn explained that they planned to fly home and leave the car so the others could use it to get back to Wisconsin. “We can work out the logistics of getting the car back when you return,” he said to Jazzy.

  Carson stepped forward. “I don’t want to goof up your plan,” he said, “but I have another idea.” They all waited attentively while he collected his thoughts. “Why don’t you just go ahead and take your car? I’ll take responsibility for getting the ladies home.” He made a sweeping, gallant gesture with one hand.

  Jazzy gave him a pointed look. “That’s very nice of you, Carson,” she said. “But the ladies can get themselves home, thank you very much.”

  His face went slack. “I didn’t mean to offend anyone,” he said, backpedalling. “Just wanted to help.”

  “I know,” she said, her voice softer. “But we’re very capable. We got here on our own, and we can get back the same way.”

  The group nodded in agreement, nobody pointing out that technically they didn’t get there on their own, since the car broke down and they had to be saved. No one mentioned that the ladies would have been completely sunk if not for the motorcyclists coming to the rescue.

  “We’d have to take the rental car back,” Glenn said, “but that’s not a big deal.” He nudged Rita. “What do you think? I’m game.”

  “You really don’t mind if I go?” Rita asked Jazzy, getting a sudden surge of guilt. She knew she wouldn’t like it if one of the other women changed the plan and left her in a bind. And the timing wasn’t the best now that Marnie would have the boy with her. Still, with Glenn here, the thought of getting in the car and just driving home was appealing.

  “Of course I don’t mind,” Jazzy said. “I took a look at Marnie’s wallet. She’s got like four credit cards. We can rent a car as easily as anything. There’s no point in you sticking around here.” She made a shooing gesture. “Get out of here, lady. Why are you still hanging around?”

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Marnie still felt under the influence, so she didn’t argue when Laverne said she’d take the first shift for the drive back. Before they took off, Laverne rooted through her Ziploc bag and found some over-the-counter medication to bring Troy’s fever down, and more pain medication for Marnie. Then she popped something in her own mouth. She called it a “pick-me-up.”

  Marnie, once disapproving of Laverne’s pharmacy, now felt something more like gratitude. Really, who was she to judge? Maybe doctors in the United States were too strict about medication anyway. Whatever worked was her new philosophy. At least for the time being.

  Troy took the left side of the backseat, curling up and resting his head on a pillow the camp had sent along with him. Marnie was on the other side—just an arm’s reach away, but close enough to check on him. Having both of them in the back was Laverne’s idea. They’d be out of the sun for the most part. The GPS told them it was a twelve-hour drive back to Mike and Beth’s house. The thought of twelve more hours in the car was almost more than Marnie could bear. But they
needed to keep going. In her mind, the interstate was the yellow brick road, and Wisconsin, the Emerald City.

  For someone who hadn’t driven in a long while before that morning, Laverne drove smoothly. Marnie relaxed once they made it to the freeway. There was something soothing about the hum of a car moving at top speed.

  “Marnie?” Troy said, his voice slightly muffled by the pillow.

  “Yes, Troy?”

  “I miss my dad.”

  This was not what she expected to hear. He missed Brian? Brian, who kept everyone at arm’s length? Brian the workaholic? She drew in a breath before answering. “What do you miss the most, hon?”

  “Everything really.” Troy sounded like he was holding back tears, which made her want to cry herself. “He always had good advice if I had a problem. He never got mad like some dads. He always said, ‘Just do your best.’ And when I got good grades he’d say, ‘That’s the way to do it!’”

  True enough, she thought.

  “And remember how he always loved your cooking? He’d always eat like three helpings of your roasted vegetables. He said you made the best vegetables in the world.”

  “Yes, he loved my roasted vegetables.”

  “We were so happy,” Troy said miserably. “No one ever yelled or argued at our house. You and Dad always got along. I could do what I wanted.”

  “Was there yelling at your mom’s house?” Marnie asked.

  “There was nothing at my mom’s house,” he said, getting more upset with every word. “I’m not talking about my mom. I’m saying I miss Dad and how things were at our house.” He turned his head toward her for just a second and she saw him blink away tears.

  “Okay, I’m sorry I interrupted,” she said. “I should have let you talk.”

  “I just miss my dad is all,” he said, and settled back into the pillow sniffing.