Mindy peeks her head into the break room as she says, “Please don’t kill the messenger. This is not my fault. I swear.”
Mindy is usually full of exuberance and confidence, so the pensive look on her face is disconcerting.
“What’s up?” I ask, trying not to smile at her petrified expression.
“Your mom’s here.”
“Like physically here or like spiritually here?” I retort with a feeling of dread growing in my stomach.
Mindy rubs the bridge of her nose. “Unfortunately, I mean really here — like in Aidan’s office here. Tara’s running interference by showing her pictures of all the famous people they know. I don’t know how much longer it'll last. Your mom and Jude are shooting evil looks at each other like laser beams.”
“I thought you were supposed to warn me when stuff like that is going to happen,” I complain.
Mindy looks surprised. “I did warn you! You didn’t listen.”
“When did you warn me?” I ask. “The only thing you said was ‘old pain would resurface’. My foot’s currently in an air cast, anything could be old pain. How was I supposed to know you meant my mother?”
Mindy shrugs. “It’s part of the rules of my gift, I can’t tell you anything which will affect the outcome unless it’s life or death. I’m sorry I couldn’t say anything more. It’s like a riddle. You have to figure it out on your own.”
“Okay, I can sort of respect that — but you were more specific about my broken luggage,” I reply with a frown. “In the grand scheme of things, I think it would’ve been more helpful to know about this.”
I struggle to get up on my crutches and find my mother. It’s not difficult; I just follow Jude’s glowering stare.
“Ma, what are you doing here? Oregon is a long way from New York although I can’t help but notice you had no trouble finding this place.”
My mom spins around in a grand gesture. Her long flowing fur coat and high heels are decidedly out of place in the casual environment of the recording studio where the typical uniform consists of jeans or yoga pants and sweatshirts. As usual, my mother's makeup is impeccably done and finished off with bright red lipstick and perfectly arched eyebrows.
She purses her lips at me in triumph as she responds, “Those Air B-n-B folks are so helpful. I told him I was writing a blog on all the independently owned businesses in the area, and he told me all about Aidan and his company. I guess he’s pretty big stuff around here."
“Ma, Aidan is pretty big stuff everywhere. I’ve been trying to tell you. But I’m sure you didn’t come here all the way from New York to talk about Aidan. Why are you here?” I ask as I hobble over to give her a hug.
She gives me an air hug, trying to avoid touching me. “You wouldn’t return my calls when I wanted to check on you. Are you doing enough physical therapy? If you had been doing your dance training like you’re supposed to be doing, you wouldn’t have hurt your ankle to begin with. Dancers have very strong ankles.”
Tara steps up and interjects, “With all due respect, Ms. Keeley, I was a professional dancer for years. It wouldn’t have mattered if Tasha danced for hours every single day. She would’ve still been hurt when she fell off the stage. That’s how it works.”
My mom puffs up with indignation as she turns to me and asks, “Are you going to take the advice of a has-been ballerina? I am your mother and I know what’s best for you.”
“Actually Ma, I'll take Tara’s advice — in addition to being an exceptional athlete, she studies martial arts and kinesiology. She knows more about body mechanics than anyone I know.”
My mom whirls around on me and hisses, “I am so sick of these people! It’s always Aidan this and Tara that. Do you think they’re somehow special? They’re like the rest of us. They still put their pants on one leg at a time. They’ve just managed to get a few more breaks in life.”
Mortified, I close my eyes and harshly whisper, “Mother, stop it. You are embarrassing me where I work. These people are my bosses! Knock it off.”
“What kind of bosses are these people? They’re willing to let you throw away a lifetime of singing and dancing lessons so you can go be a college student and get drunk and high with all the rest of the stupid young people in America.”
“They’re the kind of bosses who want me to succeed,” I answer in a brittle voice. “They care more about me as a human being than a dollar sign. They want me to be happy.”
“You could’ve been somebody and been happy. I don’t get this New Age mumbo-jumbo. If you would’ve stuck with me, you would’ve been in the middle of your Miss America reign and you could’ve written any ticket for any career you wanted. Instead, you’re following these guys around like they’re related to some Woodstock band. For the life of me, I’ll never know why you wanted to throw everything we have built together away to sing for these grifters.”
“Ma! Listen to yourself. You don’t even know what you’re talking about. I’m happy here.”
“How could you be happy here with all those death threats? Someone is threatening to blow you up. Being a pageant girl would be so much safer.”
I have never been so grateful to be on crutches in my life as my knees buckle and I sway. Jude catches the movement out of the corner of his eye, and he swoops in to catch me and escort me over to a chair.
After I sit down, I look up at my mother and ask, “I’m sorry, Ma, can you repeat what you just said?”
Jude meets Logan’s gaze above my head and nods tightly. Logan’s features are grim as he observes the conversation.
Aidan signs, “I’m sorry.”
Everyone except my mother seems to understand that something monumental is about to occur. My heart is beating so fast and hard I can barely hear over the sound of my racing pulse.
My mom smirks at me. “What’s wrong, Tasha? Have all those years of playing on stage damaged your hearing?”
“In a way, I hope they did,” I reply quietly.
“I said, I wonder how you can be happy with all those death threats hanging over your head,” my mom repeats.
And there it is. Right there, out in the open for everyone to hear. All the members of the crew look at each other in disbelief.
“Ma, what have you done?” I ask in a voice I hardly recognize. My shock is palpable.
My mom is finally becoming alert to everyone’s shift in mood as she asks, “What do you mean?”
Aidan steps forward and faces my mom down. “What she means, Mrs. Keeley, is that the contents of those notes were kept strictly confidential on the advice of law enforcement. The only way you could have known what was in those notes was if you wrote them yourself.”
My mom flushes bright red and then blanches to a pale shade of white as Aidan continues to wait for an answer.
“Well, uh…” My mom starts to tremble and fans herself.
Stella steps forward and offers my mom a bottle of water. I hold up my hand to stop her. “Don’t worry about it; this is just part of her deal. She used to do this all the time when we were on the pageant circuit to get sympathy from the judges. She’ll be fine as soon as the attention is off her.”
“Why you little cow —” my mom sputters.
“Careful now, Ms. Keeley,” Jude says. “You and I have talked about respect before. Your daughter’s name is Tasha. She asked you a question. In case you missed it, I’ll ask it again. What did you have to do with the threats against us?”
My mom glares at Jude as she leans forward in her chair, trying to get in my space. “She made me do this. I told her to stay with the pageants and do it my way — but she had to go and follow Aidan around like he was her dad or something. It was sick. I tried asking politely, and it didn’t work. Then I tried convincing Dottie’s doctors she needed to stay in the hospital so Tasha would come home, but even that wasn’t enough. The last straw was when she wouldn’t even take my phone calls. I knew I needed to do something to get her attention. I figured if she was too scared to stay on the tour,
she’d have no option but to come home and be with me.”
Tara is the first to regain her power of speech. “What good would it do to have your daughter back home with you if she is so sad and angry she doesn’t even want to talk to you?”
“I figured once I had her home, I could convince her she loved the pageant life. It worked once. Why wouldn’t it work again?”
My jaw is completely slack as I’m listening to my mom essentially rationalize her whole terrorism campaign against me. “Mom, I was never really happy doing pageants, you know that. I only did them to make you happy. I am an artist who loves to create music. I’m not the type of girl who fits well into the pageant system. I’ve never been the type they look for. If I wasn’t happy the first time, I would be miserable if you made me do it again.”
“Why do you hate it so much?” my mom asks with a look of bewilderment. “Why do you hate me so much? I only tried to provide what was best for you.”
“Ma, this was never about you. I love you, but I don’t love when you try to turn me into something I’m not. I’ve never been very good about fitting into cookie-cutter molds and pretending to be somebody else. That’s just not what I’m about. I’ve never been.”
“Then why are you onstage every day?” my mom snaps bitterly.
“I’m on stage every day because I perform songs which matter to me. The lyrics have a message, or they make my audience happy. It’s about my talents as an artist and a songwriter. It’s not about how beautiful I am or how I walk. It is about who I am as a human being — and I’m proud of that.”
“If you’re so proud of it, why are you leaving your singing career behind too?” she argues as if she’s discovered some huge hole in my logic.
“You’re right. I struggled with my choice for a long time — almost too long. It cost me a whole year of progress because I was afraid of letting someone down.”
“See? I’m right,” my mom declares. “You don’t know what you’re doing with your career. That’s why you should’ve left it in my hands, if you would’ve done what I ask you to do, you might’ve even had some huge career like Gretchen Carlson or one of the other huge newscasters. Beauty contestants do quite well on network news. Haven’t you noticed?”
I shake my head in disbelief. “Ma! I’ve never even expressed an interest in doing news, network or otherwise. There are only two things I’ve ever wanted to do in my life. One is to be a pediatric oncology nurse,, and the other is to be a musician. Aidan and Tara have gone above and beyond the call of duty to make sure my second dream has come true. Next year, I will start working on the dream I’ve had for as long as I can remember to become a nurse.”
“So, that’s it? I’m excluded from your life because you’re better friends with Mr. and Mrs. Perfect over here?” my mom blusters.
I look her dead in the eye as I reply, “No, Ma. That’s not the reason. I’m excluding you from my life because you thought so little of me you felt you could scare me into doing what you wanted me to do. You caused everyone in my workplace a huge amount of stress, not to mention causing police agencies in several cities a huge headache. I’m not okay with that. I’ll never be okay with it.”
My mom’s voice gets very small. “What do you mean, Princess? What are you saying?”
“Ma, I love you, but I’m done dealing with you,” I respond with a determined voice. “I’ve given you several chances to respect my boundaries, and you refused. So I’m going to set the final boundary. I’m not going to have any more contact with you.”
“Well, you can kiss access to your Nana goodbye. She lives with me now and I pay for her Internet access and cable TV. So, if I say she doesn’t contact you, she doesn’t contact you. Two can play this game.”
Aidan, Jude, and Logan simultaneously stand up. “You may think you can compete in the game, but I will win any game you start. Are you sure you want to go there?” Aidan asks with deadly calm.
My mom picks up her purse with a flourish. “You guys want her, you’re more than welcome to her. All I ever tried to do was make her happy. I could never figure out how to do that. Maybe you’ll have better luck.”
Somehow, even though my mom just admitted to a room full of people that she ran a systematic campaign to terrorize me and the people I worked with, she manages to storm out of the room as if I’m the one in the wrong.
Jude steps behind me and hugs me from behind. It’s almost as if he can read my thoughts because he whispers in my ear, “Her bad decisions don’t make it your fault.”
Jerome closes and locks the door behind her, brushing his hands together. “Nothing personal, Tash, but there’s nothing I like better than when the trash takes itself out. Your mama is a piece-and-a-half of work. Whenever the good Lord catches up with her, she'll have a lot of explaining to do.”
I chuckle. “Knowing my mom, she’s probably already got her outfit and makeup ready and her speech rehearsed. St. Peter won't know what hit him.”
EPILOGUE
JUDE
“IS THIS EVERYTHING WE NEED?” I ask as I place the big bowl of salad in the middle of the table.
Mindy looks up at me with a puzzled expression on her face. “What?”
“I asked if there was anything else we need for lunch,” I answer. “What’s with you today? You’ve been off your game all day. Izzy even beat you through the crossword puzzle and that never happens.”
A look of pain crosses Mindy’s face as she answers, “I can’t really explain, I guess I’ve been distracted. I’m thinking about something."
“You want to talk about it? Are you having problems at school? Do I need to have a conversation with somebody?”
Mindy gives me a weak smile. “You’re as bad as my uncles who aren’t really my uncles. No, Jude, this time it’s not about me — but I shouldn’t say anything.”
Tasha walks into the kitchen with her headphones on and she almost hits the counter because she’s carrying a book. I take off her headphones and kiss her. “You’re just in time; we’re about to eat lunch.”
Tasha lifts the lid and peeks into the pot of spaghetti. “Yum. Have I missed anything? I didn’t mean to be gone so long — I got caught up in this book. I love being on vacation. I can’t wait until Hayden and Pennie get here.”
“You haven’t missed anything yet. Mindy’s just about to tell me why she’s been acting like a space cadet all day.”
Tasha immediately focuses on Mindy as she asks, “Is it happening again?”
Mindy wipes away a tear as she nods silently.
“Oh no!” Tasha exclaims, “I’ve been around long enough to know the rules by now. I can’t ask you any specifics, so I’ll simply ask you on a scale of one to ten, how bad is this?”
“Is there a number beyond infinity?” Mindy asks sadly.
“Crap! Is there anything we can do to stop it?” Tasha exclaims as she draws in a sharp breath.
“What? What is she talking about?” I ask, trying to follow the conversation and figure out why Tasha is so upset.
“Remember what I said about the luggage?” Tasha explains. “Mindy has the same kind of gift as Tara. Somehow they know when things are coming. I’ve been hanging around Mindy long enough to know when she’s not altogether with us, she’s having an episode.”
“My tia is like that,” I comment. “So, I take it this is bad?”
“The worst,” Mindy confirms.
“We can’t change it?” I ask, but I can tell from the look on Mindy’s face what the answer will be.
“We can’t. It’s already done.”
“What can we do?” I ask.
Mindy looks at me with haunted eyes as she says, “It’s your turn to step up. Aidan doesn’t have time for you to be scared.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m so sorry, I can’t say more —” Mindy starts to answer as I hear Aidan bellow from upstairs.
“Someone get Logan. He’s outside with Nick on the snowmobiles. We need to go to the hospital.�
��
When we first had the security scare with Tasha, Logan replaced all our cell phones with upgraded models which can be used as walkie-talkies. I push Logan’s code in and yell, “AJ is down. Code Red! A.J. is down.”
I look up at the stairwell which drops down into the open plan kitchen in the log cabin and see Aidan carrying Tara down the stairs. I push the button on the phone again and correct my message using their code names. “Code Red victim is Gracie, not AJ.”
“This is bad,” Logan mutters. “Ask Aidan if he wants to go lights and sirens.”
Aidan reaches the bottom of the staircase with Tara in his arms. Now that she’s closer, I can see her yoga pants have a large trickle of blood going down the leg.
Aidan heard Logan’s question and answers, “Yes, dammit. I want it all.”
Mindy walks up to Aidan and lays a hand on his shoulder as she solemnly shakes her head. “Uncle Aidan, you don’t. It’s too late. They can’t help her. If you do that, the whole story will be all over the news and Howie won’t be able to lead them off the trail. I think you should have Jerome drive. The media already knows that Logan is your security. They already watch for him.”
Aidan looks at Mindy with wide pleading eyes. “Mindy, please tell me this is only something you think and not something you know.”
Mindy grabs his hand and does some sort of sign language gesture as she responds, “I’m so sorry, Band-Aidan. I know.”
“Jude, I don’t think pacing will help the call come any sooner,” Tasha says.
“I know, but they’ve been gone a long time,” I respond as I look at my cell phone for about the hundred thousandth time.
Jude’s Song Page 21
