Her Best Catch

by Lindi Peterson

  “I see that. Dear, I don’t want to alarm you, but I need to talk to you. As soon as you get settled, that is.”

  Uh-oh. What’d Mother do now?

  “Let me take this upstairs and I’ll be right down.”

  “Why don’t I come up with you? I don’t know what time your mother’s coming home, and well … ”

  “You don’t want to get busted talking about her,” I finish.

  “Up the stairs,” Grandma says.

  Lugging my luggage up the stairs makes for a slow ascent. But we make it. As I start to unpack, Grandma sits on my bed.

  “So, what’s up, Grandma?” I ask as I throw my clothes out of the suitcase into the clothes basket. Unpacking is easy.

  “It’s Nina. She’s been acting strange this week.”

  “Strange, how?”

  “First off, her tan. Do you think there’s something behind her folly?”

  Grandma Fola is normally very rational, but I’m not sure what’s so strange about a tan.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Well, she’s been making a lot of phone calls. Whispering. Going outside to talk on her cell phone if I’m around.”

  I take my toiletries from the suitcase and set them on my dresser. “Has she been going out? On dates?” I don’t even ask about her friends, because she hasn’t been out with them in ages.

  “Not this week. She’s been home every night but tonight. And that’s another thing. She’s stayed in her room every night. Door shut. I’m telling you, Allison, something’s going on.”

  “Did she work this week?”

  “Yes. She had her two or three shifts during the day. But the few glimpses I caught of her at home she was singing to herself. Humming. Smiling, a lot.”

  A man. Mother has found the “right” man.

  “Grandma, I think you’ve been very observant, but I don’t think we need to be concerned.”

  “You’re probably right, dear. But I’ve known your mother for so long, and I’ve never known her to be secretive.”

  “Maybe she found something or someone she wants to keep to herself for a while.”

  I certainly understand that.

  And I understand Grandma Fola’s concerns. She wants what’s best for us. Mother and me. Losing her only son wasn’t easy for her, especially after losing her husband.

  But we’ve all three become closer, bonding in a special way. We’ve been able to work through the tragedy in our hearts one day at a time.

  Together.

  CHAPTER 26

  Huge chickens force their way through the party guests, cackling, daring them to try and capture them for a barbecue. Trelvet chases the chickens with really long forks meant to spear meat. They (Trelvet, not the forks) are screaming at the chickens. “Stop! Start acting like grown chickens! You were raised to be barbecued!”

  The chickens are shouting back. “Don’t put us in the fire! We’re better raw. Raw chicken is good!”

  Meanwhile my mother, who is tanner than ever, stands in the middle of the crowd asking everyone if they like her spray-on tan. She holds a very large aerosol can and is yelling out offers to spray anyone who wants to be as tan as she is.

  After the dream, (or morningmare) I lie in bed for a few minutes praying. My prayers are selfish. They are basically about food. I pray Velvet has found a decent caterer and the food will be good, fairly inexpensive, recognizable and above all, cooked.

  I swing my legs out of the bed and sit up. My clock reads six-thirty. I have my alarm set for seven, so I flip the button off. It’s annoying to be downstairs and hear the alarm go off, especially when Grandma and Mother are still asleep.

  I want to be downstairs before my mother. I have a birthday card for her. In it I’ve put her present, a certificate for a full day at the spa.

  We always put our cards in front of the coffee maker. Being avid coffee drinkers, we are assured the recipient will see the card the first thing in the morning.

  After doing my usual morning routine, I grab her card. I pad my way quietly down the stairs, trying to avoid the squeaky ones.

  I flip on the kitchen light. To my surprise there is already a card in front of the coffee maker. Did Grandma Fola beat me to the coffee pot?

  As I near the counter, I see the card is addressed to me. In my mother’s handwriting.

  How weird. I grab the envelope. There’s no card inside, just a letter. I turn on the coffee and lay her birthday card/present on the counter.

  The familiar gurgling of the coffee machine eases my nerves as I slide into my chair at the kitchen table.

  My hands shake a little as I open the envelope.

  Dear Allison,

  Thank you and Fola for wanting to make my birthday special by cooking me a nice dinner. I hope you haven’t gone to too much trouble because I have decided to take a vacation. (At this point I inhale sharply and clutch my chest.) The week you and Fola were gone was eye-opening for me. I haven’t been truly alone for any length of time since your father died. Remember I told you I enjoyed being by myself? Well, I need more time like that. I’ve started my healing process. Which is why I decided to vacation alone. I’ll be back one week from tomorrow. We can have our special dinner then. Thank you for understanding, sweet girl. I love you, and tell Fola I love her too.

  Until next week,

  Love, Mother

  I reread the letter. Then reread it again.

  Vacation? Today? As in my mother’s gone? Won’t be around at all?

  The coffee pot beeps, letting me know my daily dose of caffeine is ready. I need more than caffeine today. Looks like I need a miracle.

  Coffee is a good start, though. My favorite mug is in the cupboard. It’s the one with the beachy, sunny, sandy scene.

  I also grab the bag of Hershey’s kisses out of the freezer. Yes, I know chocolate is not a healthy breakfast, but a drastic problem requires a drastic solution.

  Should I wake Grandma Fola?

  No. Not yet. Grandma had been on the right track last night but I had brushed off her concerns. I think I’ll let her sleep a little longer.

  After fixing my coffee, I slip back into my chair at the kitchen table and read my mother’s letter again.

  Where could she have gone?

  I think back to my dream, remembering how relieved I was when I awoke and realized it was just a dream. Now I wish the dream scenario was real and this was the dream. At least in my dream, my mother attended the party.

  Sipping my coffee, I try to concentrate on where she could be. The letter gave no clues. None.

  First things first. I need to determine her mode of transportation. I go to the garage and look. No car. I quickly go to the front door, open it and look out at the driveway.

  My Celica sits all alone.

  Okay. She left on her own. No kidding. Her letter stated that she liked being alone now. Why couldn’t she start her healing process next week? Tomorrow even?

  Lord, forgive me for being so selfish!

  The sun is rising, so I make my way back into the house. I don’t think the neighbors want to see me standing outside in my pajamas.

  Back to the kitchen, coffee, chocolate and the letter.

  It’s five minutes until seven.

  Time to call in reinforcements.

  Time to call Trelvet.

  By eight-thirty, Trelvet, Grandma Fola and I have compiled a short list of possible vacation spots. Places she and Daddy talked about visiting. A couple of mountain resorts they had previously visited.

  “Allison. This is unreal,” Velvet says. She’s had that wide-eyed look ever since she’s showed up.

  We are all in the kitchen, two pots of coffee and half a bag of kisses behind us.

  “I think it’s going to be okay,” Trent says. “We’ll find her in time for her party.”

  “I’m glad you’re so confident,” I say.

  “Don’t forget. I’m waiting on a call back from my mom,” he says. “She might know of some places we hav
en’t thought of. And if she doesn’t get my message, she and Dad should be here about noon anyway.”

  Trent’s parents were coming up for the party to surprise my mother. His mother and my mother are best friends. Trent’s parents had moved to Florida not too long after Daddy died, but Dara and Mom had kept in touch through letters and phone calls.

  “You’re right. Maybe Mother told your mom about her plans,” I say.

  “I doubt it,” Trent says. “Mom would have said something. You know she can’t keep a secret. Why do you think I didn’t tell her about the party? Dad was the only one who knew. He told her they were just coming for a weekend visit.”

  I laugh then stand. “You’re right. I’m not thinking straight.”

  “Between the coffee and chocolate you’re also on a caffeine high. Maybe you should lay off the stuff for a while,” Velvet says.

  Her insights are generally appreciated, but I will eat chocolate when I want to eat chocolate.

  “I’ll be fine,” I reply, stuffing another handful of chocolate kisses into my mouth. They’re not Ashton’s kisses, not even close, but they make me feel a little better.

  Trent pushes his chair away from the table, the noise of it grating on my caffeinated nerves. He stands.

  “Velvet and I are going to my house to finish getting things ready. Relax, Allison. We’ll find her. In a couple of hours we’ll be back over and make some phone calls. Keep trying her cell, and I’ll let you know the minute I hear from my Mom.”

  Velvet and Trent both give me hugs. I see them to the door and out, and I feel abandoned. Then I meet Grandma in the hallway.

  “I’m going upstairs to shower,” she says. “Trent’s right, dear. We’ll find her.”

  “Thanks for not saying I told you so, Grandma Fola.”

  “I didn’t tell you anything. I had no idea this was going on.”

  “Maybe not. But you knew something wasn’t right. When am I going to learn to listen to my elders?”

  “When you’re an elder. Now, don’t fret. She’s a grown woman, and I’m sure she’s fine, and as far as the party goes, well, we’ve got quite a few hours to find her.”

  She hugged me, too, before going upstairs. Tragedy breeds hugs.

  Okay, in the scope of life an A.W.O.L. guest of honor isn’t a tragedy. I know this. But for this day, in my life, it is.

  Unless we can find her.

  A knock at my front door startles me.

  Mother? No. Of course she wouldn’t knock at her own front door. But maybe it’s someone who knows where she is?

  I fling open the door.

  Ashton.

  His warm eyes and gorgeous smile comfort me. But only for a moment until I remember he won’t know where my mother has gone, and his smile, more often than not, bears bad news for me.

  “Hi,” I say.

  His smile fades. “Hi, to you too, and what’s wrong?”

  I don’t care about how transparent I am, but why does he have to catch me in my pajamas again? The extra ratty ones.

  “Let me change and I’ll tell you about it.”

  After seeing him into the living room I fly upstairs and change, brush my teeth, and fly back downstairs.

  I peer around the corner. There he is, sitting on the floral couch, an apprehensive look on his oh-so-gorgeous face.

  I don’t know why he’s here. I don’t know what else we can say or not say to each other. I know my heart has strong feelings for him, but my brain tells me I need something else. Tells me I’m not going to be happy with a traveling boyfriend, husband or whatever Ashton might be in some hypothetical relationship.

  “Tell me what’s going on,” he says as I walk into the living room.

  Memories of me standing rooted to the flower-patterned rug after his kiss assail me. But that was a different time, a different day.

  “Today is my mother’s party.”

  “I know.”

  “And she has disappeared.”

  His eyes widen. “Have you called the police?” he asks.

  I sit next to him on the couch. “Not that kind of disappeared. She left a letter stating that she’s taking a vacation. Alone.”

  “Where to?”

  “That’s the mystery. No one knows. She didn’t tell anyone.”

  “Are you worried?”

  “Not in the ‘Is she okay’ way. I just want to know where she is.”

  He scoots closer to the edge of the couch. “I know what you mean.”

  Brother. Here I am, moaning about my mother taking a week-long vacation, and Ashton doesn’t even know where is mother is ever. Doesn’t even know if she’s dead or alive.

  Remember that perspective?

  I look at Ashton and notice he has an envelope in his hand. No, two envelopes. It’s a real envelope day. I hope these two won’t hold more unpleasant surprises.

  The way he’s holding them I can only see the back. Now that I’m really paying attention, Ashton seems somewhat fidgety himself.

  I don’t think either can be a “Dear Jane” letter. We’ve already had that conversation. So I wrench my eyes away from the envelopes and look at him. A very nice sight, always.

  “I wish I could help in some way,” he says. “Find your mother, I mean. But I can’t. In fact, I need to leave in about five minutes.”

  Okay. What’s going on?

  “Okay. What’s going on?” I ask, out loud this time.

  “I’ve been called up. The Seattle Mariners want me. My plane leaves early this afternoon.”

  Seattle? Not Cleveland? I guess that wasn’t him calling after all.

  I can tell he’s trying to keep the excitement out of his voice in consideration of my tragedy. I’m happy for him. Happy for me because I didn’t allow myself to become more involved than I did, and sad for me because I became as involved as I did.

  “Congratulations,” is about all I can manage. But I manage it in a nice way.

  “This is what I’ve been waiting for.”

  I know all too well what he means. He’s all I’ve been waiting for. At least his dreams have come true.

  What is that old saying? Well, not really old as in ancient, but old to me. “If you love something set it free. If it comes back … ”

  Yuk! What garbage.

  “You’re going to be great,” I say. “I’ll look for you on television.”

  He stands. I stand. He’s so close, yet across the country already. His head is in Seattle, on a baseball field, glove on, ball ready to throw. I bet he’ll still smell good, just like he does now.

  And there’s no doubt he’ll look great in his uniform.

  “I wanted things to be different for us, Allison. I really did.”

  His head may be in Seattle, but his body is in my living room, inches from mine. So close I can touch him, but I don’t dare. My grip would reveal what he doesn’t need to know.

  “But this is for the best,” he adds, almost like he’s not sure.

  I blink back tears. Tears I won’t let fall. I refuse to stand in his way, be his regret the rest of his life. I love him too much.

  Why is everything that rips your heart apart for the best? For your own good? So we can learn and grow? If that’s the case I should be learning and growing in leaps and bounds right about now.

  “It is, Ashton,” I say, trusting my voice. “It’s for the best.”

  He looks away. “I’ll still come to Sunday school in the off season.”

  “That’s good. We’ll be looking forward to having you come back.”

  He shoves the hand without the envelopes in his pocket and pulls out a small slip of paper that he sets on the end table. “That’s my cell number. If you need anything ever, you call.”

  His number. Now. When he’ll be three thousand miles away. Better late than never?

  “Thanks.”

  “Promise me you’ll use it if you need or want to.”

  “I promise.” But I can’t picture myself calling him.

  “Goo
d. Well, I better run. Don’t want to miss the plane. Oh, this is for your Mom. For her birthday.”

  He hands me one of the envelopes.

  A lump forms in my throat. He thought of my mother.

  “Can I put this other one in your mailbox?” he asks, holding up the other one, and I see that it’s stamped and addressed.

  Neither envelope is for me, then, and that’s probably good. “Sure.”

  “It’s for Stoney. Remember the kid at the restaurant? I told him I’d let him know if I was going to pitch again.”

  Now I can’t seem to swallow past that stupid lump.

  “I would go by the post office,” he continues on like he hasn’t just done one more thing that makes me regret my decision. “But the taxi driver isn’t thrilled about making so many stops.”

  “Taxi?”

  “Yeah. I don’t want to leave my car at the airport. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

  That’s right. He doesn’t know. Which is why I need to let him go. I grip the card for my mother as if it’s a life line to him, and he holds the envelope for Stoney.

  He glances at his watch. I can take a hint.

  “Have a safe trip, Ashton.”

  “I will,” he says. “I feel really bad about your mom. Is there anything I can do on the way to the airport? Make a call? I don’t know. Something? I’ll keep a lookout while I’m at the airport. Maybe she’s flying somewhere.”

  I laugh. “Yes, please let me know if you see her boarding a plane. And we—” I stop, pondering that little word. We. Trent, Velvet and me. Together again in a moment of crisis. “We’re waiting on Trent’s mom. She may have some suggestions we haven’t thought of.”

  “I’m sure it’s going to turn out all right.”

  I’m glad he’s sure because I’m not. I guess he’s saying all the right words to end our conversation.

  “I hope so,” I say. There. Those are my conversation-ending words.

  He hugs me then places a gentle kiss on the top of my head. We’ve come full circle. I breathe deeply.

  “Don’t forget about me, Allison.”

  Like I could ever forget you, Ashton.

  He backs out of my living room and gives me a thumbs up before he reaches the door.

  I can’t see the door close through my tears, but I hear the click of the knob, his jaunt down the steps, and the sound of the taxi leaving my driveway.