I nodded.
“She’s leaving LA,” he continued. “She and Nick broke up. Just as well. He’s got a big promotion he needs to focus on. I think she’s headed to Phoenix—some marketing job.”
I knitted my brows. The news saddened me. Nick and Jesse had introduced me to Derek at a party in Anaheim more than a year ago. I thought they were a great couple. Jesse hung on Nick’s every word. I wondered what happened.
“She OK?” I asked.
“Sure, I guess.”
He hit a button on the radio, ran across a country music station, grimaced, and hit the button again.
“So, what’s new with you?” he asked.
“Mostly wedding preparations. Angela’s wedding is a week from this Saturday. I think Elizabeth and I tied a million little red bows on bags of bird seed last weekend.”
He looked puzzled.
“You know, to throw at the bride and groom for good luck,” I explained.
“Uh, yeah.”
“My aunt is making a few alterations to the dress and making centerpieces for the tables. I guess they’ll have a ton of family staying at the house. I don’t know how she does it. She’s pretty amazing.”
“Hmm.” He pursed his lips and nodded, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel to the rhythm of the music.
“Hey listen,” he said, “I’m headed up north in the morning. I have a client up in the Flathead Lake area, Kalispell. I will be up there for the week. The guy bought a recreational property up there and invited me up for a look and to go over his portfolio. Also, I’m looking at a piece of commercial property the corporation is thinking of acquiring for a new office. I won’t be back this way till next Saturday. You busy then?”
“Well, yes. Like I said, the wedding is next Saturday in Hamilton.”
“Oh, yeah. OK. Well, I’ll be driving through on my way down to Denver by next Saturday. Got a conference there. Hamilton’s on the way, isn’t it? So maybe I can come down that way a little early. I’ll just stop by the wedding on the way through.”
Why did that send shards of fear into my abdomen? Derek and my uncle Martin in the same room? And I’m pretty sure my cousin Jack, whom I was raised with, never liked any boy I ever brought home. Derek in a little town like Hamilton? He would be as comfortable there as Leonardo DiCaprio at bingo night.
“How’s your mother,” I asked, changing the subject to catch my breath.
“She’s OK. You know, same old Mom.”
Derek’s mother was a frail woman who lived alone in a tiny basement apartment. The view from her kitchen table was the neighbor’s garbage fence, and her only companion was a small TV with a twisted rabbit ear antenna. I remembered how her face lit up when we went to visit her once. One of those rare occasions she saw her son.
We pulled into the parking lot in front of the massive wooden beams and steep pitched roof of the Montana Club Restaurant. We went inside and waited under the watchful eyes of Chief Joseph and General Custer staring out from antique gold frames. The hostess seated us next to a massive stone fireplace.
The cocktail waitress stepped up to offer us a drink. “Soda for me,” I said.
Derek arched a brow. “You sure? Not even some red wine?”
We’d had this conversation before. I never drank. Ever. I was cured of any inclination of this kind after watching my mother, dressed to the nines, fall down our apartment stairs when she came home after a few too many. I looked at her lying there in a pile, her red dress thrown up over one shoulder, her hair caked with mud. It made an indelible impression on my young mind.
Derek looked over the menu, then checked his watch. “How long do you have?”
“I told them I’d be back at two.”
The waitress, a tall girl with sleek dark hair bounced to our table.
“Salmon OK with you?” Derek asked.
“Actually, I was looking at the shrimp salad.”
“I’m sure you’ll like the salmon. Just get that,” he insisted. “Two salmon,” he told the waitress, “baked potatoes, blue cheese on the salad.”
The waitress collected our menus and was off before I could object. I hated blue cheese. Once, when I was in junior high, I ate some of the gooey stuff at a friend’s house. It tasted just as bad going down as it did coming up. Anything marbled with green mold can hardly be considered fit for consumption. Sure, maybe I had a touch of the flu that day, but blue cheese was pretty much a “no sale” for me after that.
But I shook myself inwardly. The dressing was not a big deal, I told myself. Nevertheless, I felt a prickle under my skin. Derek was a force of nature, I believed. I felt small in the splendor of his presence, like a leaf in the wind.
Derek clasped his hands in front of him and leaned on his elbows. I still couldn’t get used to his being here. It was as incongruous as an ostrich in a chicken coop. His bronzed skin and platinum hair—he was like an ad for a Montego Bay Resort. I was pretty sure nothing but his devotion to his company could drag him this far north. He had implied I was part of the reason he was taking management responsibilities for the office in Montana. I wanted to believe him, but sometimes it was hard to see through his charm. I often wondered what lay beneath.
I remembered that last goodbye in LA just before he left town. We met at a café on Santa Monica Beach, ate veggie burgers and watched the sun set over the water. We both said we’d call or we’d get together, but I don’t believe either one of us thought we would. I don’t think either one of us knew why. I felt there was something more I should say, but in the end, I just watched him walk away between the palm trees and primrose bushes.
But fate threw us a curveball and here we were again. I wondered what fate had in mind. I wasn’t sure how he would handle being here. He hadn’t even experienced winter in the Northwest. I wondered if he had the fortitude to watch salt-laden road grime cake his silver Corvette.
“So, what do you do for entertainment here in old Missoula,” he still said it with an S sound instead of a Z like the locals, “when I’m not in town?” He cocked his head and gave me a crooked smile.
“Work. Lots of work. And uh … my friend Bobbie and I took in a movie last week.”
“Very exciting.”
“And the wedding, of course. I’ve spent a lot of time down at the ranch.”
“Ranch? I thought you said your uncle was a veterinarian? He’s the one you lived with when you were a kid, right?”
“Yes, my uncle is a vet, but remember he keeps a private herd of bison down the valley? I told you about it. You know, buffalo. It’s a small ranch. Sort of a hobby—a passion, I guess.” I could see Derek’s eyes glazing over. “Anyway, we have the shower for Angela this Saturday. I helped address dozens of announcements for the wedding a few weeks ago. We picked out flowers—I never knew there were so many shades of red …” I trailed off. He nodded absently and signaled the waitress to refill his water glass.
He reached over and placed his hand on mine, tracing gently along the knuckles with his thumb. His lips pulled into that winsome smile.
“You look great, Jenna.”
A smile crept across my face. His hand was warm on mine.
Derek’s phone buzzed. He retrieved it from his pocket and checked the text, scrolling along the message. He typed in a response, then laughed at his comment.
The smile faded from my face. I once saw a massive pendulum that hung from the ceiling in the old Salt Lake City Library. It circled around, its tip scraping a fine line through a pile of sand, creating a repeating, curved design. No motor, no electricity. It moved on its own, responsive to the imperceptible swaying of the rotating earth. I felt like that pendulum. How was it that Derek could look so beautiful and melt my heart one minute and make me crazed with anger the next? It was as if an invisible force chafed between us.
But maybe most couples feel this way, I reasoned. Was I looking for some Jane Austen version of a man, emerging from the misty heather, dressed in shirt ruffles and riding boots, dark hair clinging to his dam
p forehead, ready to sweep me off my feet? What did I know about men anyway? A girl without a father is hardly an expert.
The waitress brought us our salads. I picked through the lake of blue cheese dressing that slimed the plate, trying to rescue a green leaf here and there. I finally gave up and put my fork down.
Derek talked about the seminar he had just attended by an investment guru he admired and followed. The man’s business philosophies could make a big difference in his career, Derek thought, and could help him leverage a partnership in the firm someday.
The waitress brought us our plates heaped with gigantic portions of garlic mashed potatoes, thick slices of bread, and pink salmon, still sizzling. More food than I could eat in three days.
Derek listed companies he’d studied and their potential. He talked about percentages of net change, deflation, inflation, upsides, capital stock prices. “And the S&P 500 impacts all of that on nearly a daily basis,” he said. “Of course, government regs do, too.”
He went on. Numbers were swimming before my eyes.
When the waitress cleared our plates, Derek leaned back in his chair. “You sure you can’t drive up to Kalispell with me?”
“I have work. Remember I have to be back by two.”
“OK, sure. “
On the drive back to the airport, he told me he was expecting a big raise. His clientele was growing. He was impressing the boss. Had him wrapped around Derek’s finger.
He stopped at the curb just outside the baggage claim area.
“Address?” he asked.
“For … ?”
“Wedding thing. Hamilton.”
Despite my reluctance, I gave him directions for the church in Hamilton. He said he thought he would make it there by the reception at least.
“Hey, I’ll meet your family,” he said with a wink.
I winced internally.
He came around to my side of the car and let me out. He kissed me sweetly, then reached into the back seat of the car and handed me a bag of clothes.
“Will you wash these up for me?” He smiled. “I appreciate it. See you at the wedding. I can pick them up then,” he said, then drove away.
I stared at the heavy bag in my hand. The handle dug into my fingers.
Chapter 3
dc
In the early hours of the morning, the dream haunted my sleep once again—the man in the ball cap, the green field, the eyes staring at me from the benches. The scene shimmered and faded from my mind as I lingered between two worlds, confused, until my alarm clock shattered the silence. So strange, I thought.
I dressed for work in a muddle and chugged down a green smoothie—a concoction of spinach and blueberries that I love. Why did I have this dream? I’d heard of people having recurring nightmares about spiders or zombies, but this was nothing like that. Who was this man? And why did I feel drawn to him? He didn’t seem like anyone I knew, and he was older than me with those wisps of gray in his hair.
I grabbed my car keys and shook my head. Back to reality.
A
I was at my desk in the supervisor’s office when Mark walked in. As the Delta station manager, he monitored all flight schedules, hired and fired, handled budgets, worked with local airport authorities, and gave support as needed to keep customers satisfied. It was a lot to handle, but amidst it all he never failed to maintain an excellent rapport with all the employees.
“How’s it going?” he asked absently as he shuffled through the papers in his hand.
“Just going over some schedules. What’s up?”
“Not much. You ever been to Hawaii?”
Instantly I could smell the ocean and hear the wind rattling through the palm trees. “Oh yeah. I spent a week there with some buddies last year. We could have easily stayed a month.”
Our flight was free, of course, because we all worked for the airline. The three of us had practically ten bucks among us. We roamed posh hotels during the day. At night, we evaded security officers and slept on the beach whenever possible. We hung out in cafes when it rained and drank fruity Hawaiian drinks with little umbrellas in them—mine virgin. We hiked up Haleakala in the warm rain and sat on the beach watching surfing contests. The sheer freedom of it all was like a drug.
“Why do you ask?”
“Supervisor job there. ‘Ramp/Service Agent Supervisor,’” he said, tossing the papers on my desk and pulling out a bag of peanuts. “I’d take it myself, but with the kids I don’t think my wife would go for it. Hawaii is too far from Grandma’s.” He tossed a handful of nuts into his mouth and leaned up against a file cabinet. “You remember Calvin Reynolds? I think you worked for him in LA for a while. He landed the general manager position for Delta at the Honolulu Airport and he is helping to build a new team there for their services expansion. It could be a sweet job.”
A job in Hawaii! It was so tempting. I could wake up every day in paradise and eat fresh golden pineapple right from the field. Calvin had been a great boss, a dynamic leader; it would be fun to work with him again. I wondered if my roots would hold me in Missoula for long. And what about Derek?
“So, here’s the scoop on the security guard. You know, the one you ratted on Monday?” He pointed a finger in my direction.
“Hey, I just said I saw the guy. It was strange. I came across him asleep in a back room upstairs. I mentioned it to Mike in security.”
“Well, he was checking in early, then going to sleep for a couple hours to get some overtime. I guess there were some other issues with him too. Anyway, Mike sent him down the road, so he’s gone.”
“I suppose I should feel guilty, but oddly enough, I don’t.”
“Well, I have a meeting with the airport board,” he said. He downed another handful of nuts and walked out the door, nearly colliding with Britney.
“And keep an eye on Britney,” he said. “She keeps flirting with the pilots.”
Britney giggled and swept her long blonde hair behind her ear. “Phone’s for you, Jenna,” she said and left the room.
“Hey, Jen.” It was Bobbie. “Sorry to call you at work, but your phone didn’t ring through. Again. You really should consider a different provider.”
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and stared at it. It looked fine, but I rebooted it anyway.
“Do you have time to go to lunch today?” Bobbie asked. “I can’t decide between these three styles for Angela’s hair for the wedding. I need you to look through some pictures with me. And you really need to get your dress picked out. Can we meet at the mall?”
“Sure.” I checked my watch. “How about at one?”
“Think pizza,” she said. “I’ll meet you by the clock.”
A
I was starving by the time I walked in the main door of the mall. Bobbie was waiting by the pillar of the wrought iron clock by Café Dolce. She was easy to spot in her red jacket with a sequined collar.
“Food first?” she asked as she took my arm.
“Definitely,” I said with a hand on my stomach.
“We can come here for gelato after we shop. For those of us who never actually went to Italy, it’s the closest we’ll get,” she said wryly. “Well, maybe pizza counts.”
We sat down to eat our pizza and pored over pictures of formal hairstyles for weddings. Bobbie, a beautician, had been called upon as a consultant for the perfect look. Angela would actually have her hair done by a friend of Bobbie’s in Hamilton, where the wedding was taking place. Updos, braids, highlighted tendrils twisted with tiny flowers—most of them were stunning, but some tipped the scales to the grotesque.
“I put some of these on Pinterest for Angela to show her hair stylist down in Hamilton, but I wanted to ask you which one you thought would look best with the shape of her face.”
I finally threw up my hands. “I like these three, but I default to your expertise.”
She bit her lip and then took out a pen and marked one of the pictures—the winner.
“I can’t believe
the wedding is next Saturday.” I wrung my hands absently. “I’m kind of nervous. Derek is stopping by the reception. He will meet my family for the first time and I’m not sure it’s such a great idea. The timing could be better. A lot will be going on.”
Bobbie looked at me, her lips drawn into a tight line. “Hmm. Derek at the wedding.” She paused, then smiled conspiratorially. “You know, my brother Grant is still available. He’s had a crush on you since third grade, remember?”
Of that I was well aware. Grant was the one who followed me around the schoolyard. He’d even watch me as he spun on the merry-go-round. I thought he’d get whiplash. Broad face, buzz cut, stocky build. He’d basically been square since he was born. Nicest guy in the world though. He was now a detective for the Missoula Police Department—a tough job for such a kind soul.
“And now your dress,” Bobbie said as we left the restaurant.
I cringed. I was far more comfortable in jeans and tennis shoes than in a dress and high heels, but Bobbie was relentless, sweeping through racks of clothes until she found one I actually liked. It was blue chiffon, simple but classic.
“I wish I had your figure,” she sighed. “I’m afraid I’d look like a sack of potatoes in that.”
I tucked the shopping bag under my arm and gave her a hug.
“I appreciate your help. I would have to go naked if it weren’t for you.”
She laughed. “Well that would certainly steal the attention from the bride.”
Bobbie had been there for me when my mother died prematurely of heart disease. I was just sixteen years old, and while I hadn’t seen my mother in over a year, her death hit me hard. It hit me harder than I let on. Bobbie saw through it. We spent hours just walking down by the river and talking. It wasn’t so much losing my mother as it was losing what our relationship could have been, knowing that there would never be a second chance.
I dragged myself through a couple years of college at University of Montana but couldn’t focus. I got on at the airline as a ramp worker after that, and with free flight benefits, I traveled a lot. I went anywhere I could go by hopping on a plane when I didn’t have to work. I lived out of a backpack and stayed in hostels. I had a map I kept adding stickers to. After Hawaii was Puerto Rico, Puerto Vallarta, and even Boston for a weekend. I traveled with a friend to Italy once. We spent a couple of weeks there, including some time in Rome. We visited St. Peter’s Basilica in Vatican City. I remember standing in front of the Pietà, Michelangelo’s masterpiece. Over five hundred years old and still incredible. Carved out of solid marble, it looked soft and alive. The crucified Christ, draped in folds of cloth, stretched across his mother’s lap. The Young Madonna’s expression was so tender and yet so calm, as if she knew without a shadow of doubt that this was temporary—she had not lost her son forever. Such compassion and strength in a mother, such devotion. I started to cry right there with the guard eyeing me. My friend thought I was crazy. Was it crazy to want that kind of love?
Heartbeat of the Bitterroot Page 2
