by Dan Kolbet
"So, it's his?"
"Whoa, there," she says. "No way. Mix? No. It's not his."
"Then who?"
She takes a deep breath.
"That's why I need your help. I need to get out of here. OK? Mix was my dealer going back a long time. But he was always nice to me. Not like some other people. Maybe it was because he knew you from school or something. So when he found out I wanted to get clean, he helped me out. That was our relationship. That's it. He didn't resent me for wanting out of the life."
"Good," I say, cheering inside that Mix wasn't going to become family.
"But I've got to get away from the father," she says. "And I need to disappear."
Chapter 48
"The father's name is Glen and he's not a bad guy, Billy," she says, starting to cry. "He's just not. He's just confused. Like I was. He doesn't want to be addicted. But you know, when it happens, it happens."
"No, I don't know," I say. "Tell me what happened."
"We were together a couple times over the last few years, but I was all over the place and so was he. He traveled around. Hitchhiking mostly. Wasted like me. We hitchhiked together too. Had a lot of fun. He is a drinker. But when I wanted out, he couldn't come with me. I asked, but you've got to make that decision on your own. Nobody can force you and he couldn't or wouldn't quit. He got really mad."
"Mad like how?" I ask.
"He was drunk."
"Yeah, I get that. What did he do? Did he hurt you?"
"He didn't mean to."
"Of course not." I say this dripping with sarcasm. "They never do."
"It was an accident. About a week ago we were at some bar downtown. You know the one with the mechanical bull?"
"I can't say I'm familiar with it, but go on," I say.
"Don't worry, I wasn't drinking, obviously, but Glen was—a lot. And if I think it's a lot then it's really a lot. He was having a good time. Playing pool. There was a Gonzaga basketball game on the TV and everyone was watching that too. Then all of the sudden Glen and this guy just start going at it. Glen takes a punch to the face and then tries to tackle this guy who is twice his size. He gets tossed around like a rag doll and he's yelling something at the guy."
"What was he so upset about?" I ask.
"He was screaming, 'If you think you can just take it, you're wrong, A-hole' or something like that. It was very loud and hard to make out. Anyway, he got thrown into the table I was sitting at and I was pushed out of my chair and onto the floor. I'm eight months pregnant. That can't happen. I know he didn't mean to do it, but stuff like this doesn't happen to sober people. I can't be around that anymore. And I don't think he's going to change when the baby is born. And I don't think he's going to leave me alone. He says he loves me, but I just can't do it anymore."
"I think you made the right call by breaking it off with him," I say.
"Yeah, see, I didn't actually break up with him, I just sort of disappeared and didn't tell him where I went."
"So he doesn't know where you are?"
"No."
"Is he looking for you?"
"Yes, that's why Mix agreed to set me up here, so I could lay low. But no matter what, I can't let that happen again. Not with my baby around. I thought that you'd take me to your cabin in Montana."
"You want to go there? Why?" I ask.
"To get away from it all. What better place?"
"You'll be a million miles from everything a baby needs," I say. "You'll be totally alone. Isolated. What happens when you need to buy milk or diapers?"
"I'll go to the store. That's what you did," she says.
"It's not that simple April. It was just me. You don't want to do that. You'll go crazy without anyone else around. Taking care of an infant completely alone? No thanks."
"I need to put distance between me and Glen. And you're not using the cabin anyway," she says. "Why not?"
I realize that she wants to run and hide just like I did when Jane and Aspen "died." The reasons are totally different, but something tells me that the ending will be the same. Regret for drastically changing her life and that of her unborn child.
"I understand why you might want to, but it's not safe for you and a baby alone. It's that simple. I mean, maybe in the future after the baby is a little older, but I remember what it was like with a newborn. You're going to want some reinforcements."
"Then what do you suggest, since you seem to know everything," she says with a sneer, obviously upset with me.
"There are lots of reinforcements at the Cedar House."
"Jesus Christ. With Mom? Did Mix get you high on something? No bueno."
"She means well," I say.
"Yeah, like a lion means well when it eats a gazelle. And according to Kendall, you and Mom aren't exactly buddies lately. Oh, and how is Aspen anyway? Kinda big news on that end, big brother. My niece is alive?"
Kendall had told April about Libby and Jane and everything that had happened when I brought her back to Spokane the first time. How Mom had shut me out and didn't want to see, let alone talk to Libby. She also knew we went to Minnesota, but not exactly why.
"Aspen is good. She's Libby now though," I say.
"Right, Libby. Where'd that name come from?"
I keep wondering that myself. I agree with Gracie that Libby is pretty darn close to Billy, but it's an idea that I'm not comfortable with, even now. Like salt in the wound.
I fill her in on Libby, Ella, mysterious Alex, and what I've uncovered so far about Jane and the secrets she was hiding from everyone, including my thoughts on the name Libby.
"That's intense," she says. "I'm sorry."
"Yeah, it's no fun, but I can't express how great it feels to have my daughter back. It's a miracle."
"Yes it is," she says. "So why did Mom get all anti-social when you brought Libby to Spokane?" April asks, immediately comfortable with the new name. "Kendall said she wasn't very nice."
"I still don't know."
"Then what makes you think she's going to be all lovey-dovey toward me?"
"Because you're her daughter and she wants you to be good. Happy. Mom's nuts, but she doesn't want anything bad to happen to you or her grandchild."
"Then you ask her if I can stay there," she says.
"There's no asking. She lives there because I let her move in because Dad was sick. It's my call. And besides, you were staying there before the rest of us anyway."
"That's true, but what about Glen?"
"I'll take care of Glen."
"That sounds very Sopranos of you," April teases. "You aren't going to whack him, are you?"
"I've got that on my list of options, yes, but it's not first."
"How very kind of you," April says with feigned deference.
"Hey, you're my little sister, if he's gotta sleep with the fishes, then he's gotta sleep with the fishes," I banter back.
"I think that's a different mafia movie," she says.
"OK, then I won't whack him."
"Good."
"So, what do you say?" I ask. "Want to make it like old times again, living under one roof with Mom?"
"How could I possibly resist that adventure?" she says.
"Yep. It's like a rollercoaster that won't let you off, even if you barf all over the place."
"Cute," April deflects.
Chapter 50
The sun has set and it's after dinnertime when April and I arrive at the Cedar House. I hit the remote button and open the garage door. Seconds later Kendall emerges through the garage to greet us. Before I even step out of the truck, she's standing at my door, holding a picture up to the window.
"Oh, hi, April!" she says, putting the picture down and running around to the other side of the truck to hug her aunt.
"You're so big!" she says.
"I've been indulging my love of cheese steaks, I can't deny that," she says.
April's face beams at Kendall and the affection is certainly reciprocated.
"What's this?" April sa
ys, looking at the folded paper in Kendall's hand.
"Oh, it's for Uncle Billy. Come over, into the light," she says, and we follow her into the garage.
On Trevor's workbench, Kendall unfolds a waxy piece of 11-by-17-inch paper.
"It's just a quick rendering, but I think it's a pretty good one," she says.
Centered on the paper is a drawing done in fine tip markers. Deep red lines, shaded beautifully with oranges and blacks. A man stands in the center of the drawing, carrying a briefcase, walking down a flight of stairs to a taxi cab waiting at the curb. The attention to detail is astounding. The man has his hand on the head of a little boy sitting on the stairs. He's tousling his hair.
In gold letters across the top, read the words, "Your Loss." Then at the bottom of the page, superimposed across the top of the taxi cab are the words, "A Novel by Billy Redmond."
"Ethan drew it," Kendall says.
My first thought is seeing poor Ethan with his manhood zipped up in his fly, but I push that image out of my head and look at the book cover.
"This is better than pretty good," I say. "It's actually really great."
"Yeah, it looks like it could be a professional one," April says.
"You should thank him for me. This is cool," I say.
"He can finalize this on his computer in a few days and we can upload it to the publisher's website immediately after that," Kendall says.
"Honey, that's great, but the publishing house picks the cover art, not the author," I say.
"Not when you publish it independently. We talked about this. With your name recognition, you don't need a big publisher to get your book out there."
"It needs editing, though," I contend.
I hear a click of the latch from the door that leads into the garage. Michelle joins us, rubbing her arms because of the cold weather.
"I took care of that," she says. "It was about time I put that English minor to some use."
"You're not as terrible a writer as you let on," Michelle teases. "It didn't need that much editing at all. OK, yes, it did; but we're all good now. I spent some serious time smoothing over the rough edges."
"Really?" I ask.
"Really," Michelle and Kendall confirm in unison. Kendall explains that Michelle had been getting chapters of the book as Kendall typed them out, then made editorial notes on them. Kendall input the edits too.
"My friend Cooper—he's a teacher too—does professional freelance editing on the side and did the final review of the book too," Michelle volunteers. "So it wasn't just us amateurs going through it. You've got a nice book here. It's ready for prime time."
Michelle doesn't wait for my reply, but turns to April.
"You must be April," she says. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
I pick up the cover and examine it a bit closer. It really is perfect and certainly not what I thought the cover should look like, which means it's probably just right.
We walk inside to find Gracie and Mom sitting on the living room floor playing a game of Connect Four with Libby. It's peaceful in the house. There's a radio playing in the background. Libby and Mom are actually talking. Whatever hiccup they had before seems to have dissipated. I'm grateful.
Michelle, April, Kendall and I sit on the couches and watch the game. I realize at that moment that everyone who is important to me is sitting in this room. The entire world could burn to the ground and I'd have everyone I need right here with me. Need. That's a new one. I need them. I do.
There's no denying it now, no way around it. These women—from the cute little first grader, to the old one in the lime green pants—are my family. The people who will keep me safe from the big bad world out there. And in return, I've promised to do the same for them until I can no longer fight for them. I pledge at that moment to be the best man that I can be. The best uncle, son, brother and boyfriend I can be. What else do I have to offer but this?
Michelle slides her hand on top of mine and our fingers intertwine. A warm sensation passes through me. Happiness? Contentment? Maybe a mixture of both. It doesn't matter anyway. It feels good and I don't ever want it to go away.
* * *
I say goodnight to Gracie and watch as Libby and Kendall walk her to her bedroom each holding one of her hands. Her hair, which she'd cut lopsided at her friend's house last summer has now grown out past her ears. I know now that the hair cutting was a cry for help. I don't think she did it for attention. She did it because it was one of the only things in her life that she could actually control. But now, surrounded by supportive family and a commitment from me, her sister—heck all of us—to care for her, she doesn't need to cry for help. I wouldn't wish her situation on anyone, but given everything, she's a lucky girl.
I see Mom smile as she puts her hand on April's swollen belly. The two of them quietly talk by the living room fireplace and I'm sure April is recapping her last few months, just as she did for me. Michelle and I watch from the other side of the room, voyeurs. I hope Mom has the ability to actually listen to April's words, and not offer critiques and the holier-than-thou commentary she's famous for. Probably not. But I'm not going to insert myself into that relationship. They need to bring it together themselves, healing the same wounds that I nursed with Mom too.
With April's looming due date, I suspect that Mom will enjoy being useful in the lead-up to the birth and no doubt afterward as well. Only time will tell. But if April is as honest with Mom as she was with me, then they are headed in the right direction for some mutual understanding. Who am I kidding? Mom is going to drive her nuts and I'm sorry to say I'm going to enjoy it. At least they are together. Annoying and all.
I want April to be a changed person and I want Mom to help her stay there.
"I missed you," Michelle says, pressing up against me from behind. She slides her hands across my stomach and up to my chest and pulls me in close. I can feel her breath on my neck and smell her hair. I've missed her too.
"You did, huh?" I say, toying with her.
"Yes. As much as I try to forget about you, I just can't seem to shake you. It's a problem."
"That's too bad," I say. "You know, I keep leaving town. You think you'd get the hint by now. Guess not."
She squeezes my stomach hard, like the Heimlich maneuver pushing a blast of breath out of me. But I recover quickly, spinning around to see her face. I kiss her deeply.
"Get a room you two!" April calls out from across the room.
I give her the finger.
"I missed you too, babe," I say to Michelle as we walk into the privacy of the kitchen. "I really did."
"So does that mean you'll be staying put for a while?" she asks.
I've been thinking about this ever since we left Minnesota. The question is, how can I explain my need to seek answers about Jane, while not offending the budding romance I have with Michelle? Sure, I could be cold about it and ignore her feelings altogether. It'd be easier. But that's no good. Yet I can't let these unanswered questions linger. If I want to release myself from my past, and fully open myself up to Michelle, I need closure. I need it to be over. I just hope Michelle understands that and understands how it has nothing to do with her or anything I'm missing from her, but everything to do with me and closure that has been nearly 13 years in coming.
"I think I've got one more trip to take," I say.
"Oh, yeah? Where to?"
I tell her about Grandma Ella. I tell her that the Frank I met was really Jane's brother Alex.
"Why would he pose as someone else?" She asks.
"That's the question I've been asking myself since I found out. I don't know why," I say.
"He obviously knew that Libby was in jail."
"Yes, but he could have just admitted who he was and explained the whole thing. He could have said he was anyone in the world. Taking on another person's identity is a whole new level of creepy."
"Right," I say. "But how did he know she was in jail? He's nobody to her. Libby didn't recognize him in the pictur
e."
"So he wasn't around her, claiming to be someone else," she says.
"I guess not."
"Wait, didn't you say he showed you a picture of him with Jane in his semi-truck?"
"Yes, but I wasn't looking at him or the truck. I have no idea if it was his," I say. "I was looking a picture of my dead wife who had aged 10 years since she had supposedly died."
"So the truck could have belonged to anyone?"
"I guess, why's it matter?" I ask.
"Because if the photo of Jane and Alex was taken next to Frank's truck, it means Alex and Frank know each other. And he just pulled out a picture and said, hey, I'm Frank. So this tells me that he wanted to stay anonymous and keep you in the dark."
"The best lies are the ones with some truth to them," I say. "So you're saying that Alex knew about his sister's deception?"
"I think it's more than likely that he did," she says. "Otherwise, why show up and put on a show like that?"
"I'm tired of being lied to," I say. "Just for the record, you're really Michelle Dixon, the girl I dated in high school, fell madly in love with, then didn't see again for decades and who I am now madly in love with again? That's you right? You're not secretly hiding a double life, a couple of kids and a weird brother somewhere?"
"Define weird. You remember my brother, right?"
"I'm serious," I affirm. "Clearly I never asked the right questions before."
"I don't think you should have to ask those questions. When you love someone you tell them everything. You don't hide from them. Oh, and I'm madly in love with you too, since you mentioned it."
This girl really is something special.
"Oh, good, because I thought I was going to have to fake my death and make a run for it if you didn't feel the same," I say to lighten the mood.
"There's been a bit too much of that going around lately," she says. "Let's just stay alive for now."
"Deal," I say.
"I think you should make that trip to Colorado," she says.
"It doesn't bother you that I need to go?"
"As long as you come home to me afterward; no, it doesn't bother me one bit," she says. "I can't imagine what you're feeling, but I know I'd want answers too. It's OK. Go. But promise me one thing."
