Untethered

by Julie Lawson Timmer

  “But you were all, ‘I’m not sure this is the right timing,’” Allie continued, addressing her mother again, “and, ‘Let’s wait and see how it goes,’ and, ‘You don’t want to make any change now, in the middle of a semester.’ And now, the very day I decide that I want to stay here, you show up and tell me I have to leave? How is that fair?”

  “There’s no requirement that a mother make only those decisions that are fair,” Lindy said. “And I’ll thank you to lower your voice. Not only are you going to wake the girl, but you’re going to wake the entire neighborhood. I’m not sure how you speak to Charlotte, or how you used to speak to your father. But you are not going to stand there and lecture me.”

  “I don’t raise my voice to Char because she doesn’t pull this ridiculous . . . surprise . . . shit on me!” Allie yelled. “I don’t want to go with you! How do you like that? I might have wanted to before, but now I don’t. I don’t need you, and I don’t want to be with you! I want to live here! I do live here! This is my home! It’s where I’m from! It’s where my friends are, and the people who matter to me!”

  Silently, Char caught Allie’s attention. She shook her head and drew a finger across her throat, warning the girl not to go on. Everything Allie was saying was valid, and in a fantasy world, Char would pile on with her. She would blast Lindy even harder than Allie was doing. List for her in great detail all the ways she had failed her daughter. Make it clear that she, of all people, had no right to accuse Char of falling down on the job of raising Allie. At least Char had taken on the position. Lindy had quit years ago.

  But this was the real world. And telling off Lindy was out of the question unless Char was prepared for the other woman to speed off into the night with her daughter immediately and forbid Char from making contact ever again. Char had a different result in mind, which meant she needed to keep her feelings about Lindy to herself. Allie did, too.

  Lindy stepped toward her daughter and took her by the arm. “Allison Waters Hawthorn! Don’t you speak to me like that!”

  “Don’t you tell me what to do!” Allie yanked her arm out of her mother’s grip and stepped away. “Or how to talk! It’s been four months since Dad died, Mom, and you’ve been nowhere! What did you think was going to happen? How did you think I was going to feel, after all this time—”

  “That’s not true at all!” Lindy said. “I flew here immediately to be with you that week. In a snowstorm, I might add, and after canceling some extremely important meetings—”

  “You came here for five days, two of which you spent with your friends! And then, when I went to see you over break, you spent the entire time at work—”

  “Which, I explained to you, was because of the time I had taken off to come up here—”

  “Oh please!” Allie said. “You explained? There is no explanation, Mom! Don’t you get it? There’s no excuse! I needed you, and you weren’t there for me! And it sucked!”

  “Allison!” Lindy said. “That is enough!”

  “No,” Allie said, her voice low now, determined. “It’s not enough.” She pointed to Char’s car. “Now, there’s someone who needs me. And I’m going to be here for her. Because I know what it’s like when the people you’re counting on aren’t there for you.”

  Allie looked to Char, who was staring at the girl, stunned by what she was saying to her mother. “Tell her, Char,” Allie said. “Tell her what we talked about. Tell her how we both want me to stay here. Tell her about Morgan. Tell her—”

  Before Char could speak, Lindy held a hand up. “Save your breath, Charlotte,” she said. “This is not a committee decision. This is a parenting one. And I have made it.”

  “But you can’t!” Allie said. “You can’t just fly in here and announce you’ve made a decision like this and—”

  “Oh, but I can,” Lindy said.

  “Char!” Allie pleaded.

  “Well,” Char said, holding both hands up to calm the others down, “it’s not up to me, of course—”

  Allie gaped. “What? But you told me you would—”

  Char shook her head, urging Allie to stop. A direct request that Lindy leave Allie in Michigan would never work, not now. She was calling an audible. Same end goal, change of strategy, she tried to tell Allie with her eyes. Trust me.

  Allie didn’t catch on. She made a noise and crossed her arms. “Great,” she said. “Just like always.” She walked away several steps and planted her feet, her back to the women.

  “If you’d give me a chance,” Char called after the girl, “I was going to say, it’s not up to me, of course. Lindy’s your mom.”

  Char watched as Lindy’s face softened. Some day, Char would have to share this secret with Allie. Hand Lindy all the power and she wouldn’t use it. Fight her for it and she’d blast you into outer space. Lindy’s nastiness was the trees. Char was looking past it and concentrating on the forest.

  “If you could just hear me out,” Char said to Lindy. “Before you make your final decision.”

  Lindy started to speak and Char cut her off. “Please.”

  “Fine,” Lindy said. “But I—”

  “All I want is a chance.”

  Lindy nodded. “Fine.”

  Allie turned around, uncrossed her arms, and moved closer.

  “I’m sorry I lied to you,” Char said to Lindy. “It was wrong. I should have told you the second I knew she was missing.”

  Char saw Allie roll her eyes. The girl would get over it, Char told herself, once they were in the house, with Morgan tucked safely in the guest room bed and Lindy off to her hotel, prepared to fly back to LAX alone.

  “As for letting her get so far away with the car, I’m sorry about that, too. I’m not sure what else I could have done, honestly, except maybe lock up the keys—”

  “Which you might have thought of, given the kind of kids she’s been hanging out with lately,” Lindy said.

  Char took the hit without reacting. Allie didn’t. Char saw the girl’s hands go to her hips, her torso angle forward toward her mother, her mouth open. Before Allie could launch another offensive and undo the small amount of peace that had settled among them, Char spoke again: “Allie and I have talked about those kids, and she has decided she won’t be spending time with them anymore. She realizes they’re not the best influence.”

  “I’m not sure why you felt the need to let her come up with that decision on her own,” Lindy said. “Keeping teenagers out of trouble takes a firm hand, Charlotte. Firmer, I think, than you have.”

  It was tougher to take that hit without flinching. What do you know about keeping teenagers out of trouble? Char wanted to scream. The forest, not the trees, she told herself. She put her hands behind her back and clenched them into fists, spread them wide, clenched them again. She took a deep breath and forced her lips to stop pressing together in an angry line.

  “I need to be firmer,” she said. “I agree. I intend to be. I think both girls will benefit from a more . . . structured environment. And I will provide that—”

  “You’re prepared to provide a structured environment for my daughter and the terribly disturbed little girl you’ve now decided to take in?” Lindy said. “Forgive me if I don’t find this reassuring.”

  Char forced herself to take another deep breath. To stop fantasizing about punching Lindy. Screaming at her. She cleared her throat. “Let’s not speak that way about a ten-year-old,” Char said, fighting to keep her voice even. “Morgan is . . . a girl with a sad history.” She said it slowly, trying to keep the anger from coming out in her words. “I don’t think I’d call her ‘terribly disturbed.’”

  “Of course you wouldn’t,” Lindy said. “Which might make you a lovely human being. But does not, I’m afraid, make you the best choice for looking after my daughter.”

  “Allie will be fine,” Char said. “I promise.”

  “A
week ago, you’d have promised me Allie would never dream of running away, or violating the law.”

  Clench fists. Open. Clench. Open. Char didn’t argue and Lindy smiled. It was a good sign, Char knew. She had played the first part exactly right—refrained from telling Lindy off, admitted everything Lindy had accused her of, apologized for all the wrongs Lindy had complained of. Now, to remind Lindy what was in it for her if she backed down.

  “What if we give it a trial run?” Char said. “I understand all of your concerns. But I also know you’re very busy right now. You have all of those destination weddings, Allie tells me. The planning for those, the advance work, the travel, it must be overwhelming. And pulling Allie out of school in the middle of the term, starting her at a new place down there, will be a huge disruption. For Allie, but also for you. Why not spare yourself the hassle? Why don’t you just leave her here until the end of July, when your schedule finally eases up?

  “We can give you a full report about how things are going. You could even come up and see for yourself. I think you’d find things are going perfectly fine up here, and you could return to California confident that Allie’s doing well, staying out of trouble. You’d be free to put all of your energies into your business, without having to worry about her.”

  Lindy put a finger on her chin, plainly considering Char’s suggestion. Char forced her lips not to curve into a victory smile. Don’t push when you’re this close to the yes, she told herself. “I’ll just,” she said, pointing to her car, “check on Morgan, while you think it over.”

  Walking away, Char allowed herself a quick grin. It had taken everything she had not to let Lindy have it, not to blast her with five years’ worth of built-up frustration and resentment. But she had kept the endgame in mind, and she had played it perfectly. Now, to work the same magic on the Crews tomorrow.

  “What?” Char heard Allie say behind her. “No!”

  Char spun around. “Allie?”

  “You can’t do this!” Allie screamed.

  Char jogged back to the girl and her mother. “What?”

  “She said no!” Allie said, her hands covering her face. “She said she’s taking me! Now! Tell her she can’t!”

  “I don’t understand,” Char said to Lindy. “I thought—”

  “You thought I would ignore the danger you allowed my child to put herself in because of your lax oversight?” Lindy asked. “That I would ever trust you with her again after you lied to me about where she was?”

  “I’m sorry!” Char said, her heart racing.

  She hadn’t expected this, and she felt as though she were on the backs of both heels. No strategy came to her, just sheer desperation.

  “Lindy, please! Try to understand! It’s been such an emotional time for me and Allie since January. She hasn’t been at her best, and neither have I. But I’m the adult. All of this is my fault. You have every right to be upset with me, but please don’t take it out on Allie!”

  “Take it out on her?” Lindy said, and her voice dripped with acid. “Are you implying that having my daughter move home with me is some kind of punishment?” Lindy’s eyes flashed and Char was certain she saw victory in the glow, as though Lindy felt that, with that comment, Char had given her justification for the horrible thing she was doing.

  Char wanted to punch her hand through the hood of Lindy’s car. It had been the worst of all possible things to suggest to Lindy. If there had been any chance of Lindy changing her mind, Char had, with that stupid statement, destroyed it.

  “Mom, please,” Allie begged. “You don’t really want me.” Lindy moved to object but Allie forged ahead. “You don’t. You never have. And it’s okay. I know I said some . . . things, a few minutes ago. I was mad, and I’m sorry.

  “But please,” she choked. “Please, don’t do this. Ground me if you want. For the rest of the school year, even. All summer, too. Come up with the worst punishment you can think of. Char will see it through, we promise.”

  Char nodded mutely, her throat so thick she couldn’t get a sound out.

  Lindy opened the passenger door of her rental car and pointed inside. It took everything Char had not to dive on the woman, pin her down, and yell to Allie, “Run! Get in my car! Drive!”

  “You can’t,” Allie sobbed, tears running down her cheeks. “You can’t make me go!” She gestured to the back of Char’s car. “You can’t make me leave her!”

  “Allison,” Lindy said.

  Allie was hyperventilating now, doubled over.

  “Get in the car.”

  “I c-c-can’t,” Allie gasped, a hand on her stomach, and it was clear the girl was telling the truth. She wasn’t simply staging a protest against her mother but was frozen in place, unable to move.

  Char chased her voice out of her thickened throat. “Lindy, please. Do we have to do things this way? You’re angry. I can see that. Do you really want to do something this drastic out of anger? What if you take the night to calm down? Think it over. Decide if this is really what you want. Maybe by morning you’ll feel differently. And if you don’t, we can discuss it then. Calmly.”

  “I’ve been thinking about it the entire way from Los Angeles to Detroit,” Lindy said. “I don’t need another night. Plus, I think that given the emotions we’ve seen tonight, a clean break would be best. Repeating any part of this tomorrow would be a bad idea. For all of us.

  “We’re on the early flight from Detroit in the morning. We need to get to the airport hotel tonight. Angrily or calmly, dramatically or quietly, I will be taking my daughter home in the morning.”

  Char felt numb. This was happening. There were no more tricks she could pull to get Lindy to change her mind. There was no point in continuing to discuss it with her, or in begging her to reconsider. The only hope now was to make the last moments in the driveway go smoothly, so Lindy wouldn’t leave in a rage, annihilating any chance of Allie seeing or talking to Char and Morgan in the near future.

  “In that case,” Char said, pointing to Allie, who was still doubled over, gasping for air, “maybe you could give her a minute to get herself under control? She could go upstairs, take some deep breaths, splash some water on her face. Put a few things in an overnight bag. Calm herself down enough that she could come back out and spend a few minutes with Morgan, to say good-bye. It would all help, I think. I’m sure you don’t want to walk into the hotel while she’s like this.”

  Allie looked at her mother. “Please.”

  “I don’t want you going inside and building up another head of steam and coming out here to argue with me again,” Lindy said. “But if you promise you’ll just do those things: calm down, wash your face, pack a very few things into a very small bag. Say good-bye. And then get in the car without further incident.” She looked from Allie to Char, making it clear she expected both of them to commit to the promise, with the elder responsible for ensuring that the younger one stuck to her word.

  “You go grab some things,” Char told Allie, “and I’ll wake Morgan.” Allie nodded, straightened, and shuffled past Char toward the house. “It’ll be okay,” Char said. She pressed the house keys into Allie’s hand, then wrapped her arms around the girl, pulling her tight.

  “Everything will be okay,” she whispered. “But you need to stay calm now, okay? And when you come back out, you need to keep it together. No more arguing with her. I know it’s hard, but you need to do it.”

  “But—” Allie said.

  “Shhh,” Char said. “I know everything you’re thinking, and you’re right. But this is the way we need to handle it now, okay? Please? Can you do this?”

  Allie nodded. Char hugged her tighter, then released her, and Allie walked toward the front door.

  “Maybe you should go with her,” Lindy said, pointing as the front door closed behind her daughter. “To make sure.”

  “She’s not going to sneak out the back
, or lock herself in her room, or . . .” Char tried to imagine what other foolish things Lindy thought Allie might do, but came up with nothing more, so she gave up and walked back to her car. “I’ll get Morgan.”

  “I don’t want that younger child creating a scene, either,” Lindy warned.

  Char brought her hand in front of her chest, where Lindy couldn’t see it, and made a fist. Except for her middle finger, which she left extended. “She won’t.”

  Forty-five

  Lindy didn’t ask how Char could be so sure that Morgan wouldn’t cause a scene. In the end, Char wished she hadn’t been right. She wished Morgan would cling to Allie and refuse to let go. She wished the girl would scream and howl that she wasn’t going to let it happen—she wasn’t going to let Allie get into the car. She wished Morgan would throw herself on Lindy’s hood and refuse to let go unless Lindy agreed to leave her daughter behind.

  “I’ve come to wake you up,” Char whispered to Morgan, leaning inside the back of the car and shaking her gently.

  “We’re home?” Morgan rasped. She sat up and rubbed her eyes. She peered into the front for Allie, and not seeing her there, looked outside the car. “Did Allie go inside already? Who’s here?”

  Char told her who was there. And she told her why. And what would be happening when Allie came back outside. And she knew, even as she drew her head backward, out of the car and away from Morgan, that she didn’t need to take her ears out of the range of a shrieking child.

  Morgan sat back against the seat, opened one hand, and poked at it with the finger of the other. “Is she ever coming back?” she asked quietly. “To see us? Or no?”

  “I believe she is,” Char said. “I’m going to talk to her mother about it. To see if she can come for a few weeks in the summer. For starters. But I can’t make any—”

  “No promises,” Morgan said, nodding as though she had heard the caveat many times before.