“I’m sure you all want to know what happens next. Crew, you guys already know how this works, but bear with me while I break it down for the cast.” He turns toward the three tables we’re all gathered at. “Our crack editing staff has been working on assembling episodes since your first day on the island. So by the time you get back home, the first episode will already have aired.”
The first episode. Funny, despite all the cameras, the challenges, the confessional visits, I’d kind of forgotten that the show really isn’t over. In fact, it’s just beginning.
“A word of caution to all of you,” Rick continues, his voice and expression now serious. “As soon as that first show hits, there won’t be any question about who the cast is. Everybody, your friends, your family, even strangers, will grill you for information. It is imperative that you don’t give away anything that happened on the island. You can discuss events after they air, but do not hand out spoilers.” Then he grins. “And if you have any trouble keeping mum, just remember the confidentiality agreements you signed and the penalty for breaking them.”
Nervous laughter ripples from our tables. Now Rick addresses the entire group, telling us that we’ll be receiving a schedule of when our flights are leaving. Then he thanks us all for a great season and tells us to enjoy our lunch. As he walks over to one of the crew tables, the waiters come back out with plates of grilled chicken, garlic dill baby potatoes, and green beans.
I don’t know what possesses me to glance at Jess, but when I do, she’s staring right at me. Our eyes meet and she sits a little straighter, her mouth curving up the tiniest bit. I try. I try to feel empathy for what she must be going through. Try to move my face into something warm and pleasant. But I can’t. Instead, I turn away and look down at my plate, even though it holds no interest for me at all.
***
After all that time on the island, sleeping outside and being exposed to the elements, I thought I’d never again want to leave the comforts of a climate-controlled roof and four walls. But here it is, my second night in the hotel, and I feel as though I’m suffocating. The air in my room is too cold when the AC is on, but stuffy and stale when it’s off. I’ve got to get out of here. I grab my sweater and my room key and head out the door.
The hotel is small, but exclusive, and our group has taken over the entire thing. It’s nice to know that, at the very least, I have a level of anonymity here. Strolling down a paved walking path, the breeze from the ocean ruffles my hair. I pass two men talking to each other, one leaning against a palm tree, and both smoking. They look vaguely familiar, and I think they might be camera operators. Now that they’re off duty, they smile and wave when they see me, then dive back into their conversation.
I follow the path around a curve and find a small cluster of beach chairs facing the ocean. Picking the nearest one, I stretch out, pulling my sweater close around me as I put my head back and close my eyes. This is exactly what I needed. It feels so good to be close to the sand but not on it, to be clean and dry as a gentle breeze caresses my skin, and to enjoy the sounds of the tropics while not being terrified that a monkey will chew off my face in my sleep. Wow, I really was a pitiful mess. Remembering how scared I was those first few days makes me laugh.
“Is this a private party, or can anybody join?”
The laughter flees as I open my eyes and see Jess standing next to me. Either this is a big nasty coincidence, or she followed me out here. Either way, there’s no point in me being rude. “It’s a free beach.” A casual wave of my hand indicates that it won’t bother me if she sits down.
“Thanks.” She sits in the chair to my right, but instead of stretching out like me, she sits cross-legged, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees.
She doesn’t say anything else, and I wonder if she’s thinking about the last time we were out on the beach together at night. That had been such a great night. I really thought it was a turning point for us. But now, I know it was simply how she chose to play the game.
This would be the perfect time for a waiter to materialize with a tray of refreshments. What I wouldn’t give for a skewer of pineapple chunks and cherries in a tall glass of brightly colored punch, topped with a festive paper umbrella. At least that would take my mind off how totally and utterly awkward this situation is.
“I’m sorry.”
Slowly, I turn my head toward Jess. The way her shoulders are hunched and her head tucked in, she reminds me of a hedgehog rolling itself into a protective ball. Without my permission, that maternal instinct asserts itself again. I can’t just ignore her, not even if I wanted to. Which I don’t.
“Why did you do it?” I ask.
She won’t look at me. “I told you.”
“I know, but . . . Why didn’t you tell me the truth from the beginning? If I’d known—”
“You wouldn’t have come.”
“Yes, I would have.”
Now she looks my way. “Seriously? You would have come if you knew the only reason I was doing this was for my—”
She cuts herself off, and it touches me that she seems to be considering my feelings. “For your mom. Yes. I would have done it for you and for her.” I shift in my chair, bracing my cast on my hip and looking straight at Jess. “I don’t understand, though, why you saw this show as a way to help her.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, the application process takes a long time. And there was no guarantee that once they saw your application, you’d get on the show.”
A sad little smile settles on her lips. “This wasn’t my only plan. I did everything I could think of, including applying to every game show and reality program known to man.”
Why, oh why, couldn’t we have been accepted to a cooking show? I pull my attention away from my battered body and back to my battered daughter. “So this show was the first one that answered you.”
She nods.
There’s still so much I don’t understand. “How is this going to help, though? We won’t even know if we’ve won until the last episode. That’s three months away.”
“They still pay us for being contestants.”
Something else I’d forgotten about. Or else I was so preoccupied with more important things, I totally missed it in the first place.
“And the longer you stay on the show, the more money you make.” Jess finally looks me in the eye. “Thanks to you, we made it all the way. You have no idea how much it will help.”
“I don’t. But I’d like to.” For the first time since her shocking admission on the island, I reach out and touch her, resting my hand on her shoulder. “Tell me.”
She looks away, but I don’t move my hand. When she looks back at me, her eyes and nose are red from everything she’s holding back. “Okay.”
As Jess shares her story, I feel worse and worse. And by the time she’s done, all my anger and frustration are gone, replaced by resolve.
My daughter’s mother is in crisis, and I’m going to do what I can to help her.
35
I wave behind me as Jules’s husband backs their car down the driveway, then I push the button to close the garage door.
“Honey, I’m home!” I call out as I pull my suitcase into the kitchen. Nails clattering on the tile, Ranger barrels around a corner, barking and doing a mad welcome dance that’s part jumping, part thrashing, and all excitement.
Dropping to my knees, I throw my arm around his neck while keeping my cast tucked tightly against my chest. “How’s my boy?” His response is several sloppy, slobbery kisses to my face. “I missed you, too, buddy.”
Jules’s laughter comes around the corner before her body does. “So much for hoping he’d choose to stay with me over you.”
“Never.” I ruffle the fur along his back and plant a kiss on top of his head. “I know who loves me.” Then I stand up and almost throw myself into her arms.
“Welcome home, conquering hero.”
I melt into the familiarity of her vise-like hug,
glad to have found two constants in the world: my best friend and my dog.
“Thank you for sending Jackson to pick me up.”
“No problem. Now that you’re a celebrity, we can’t have you standing on the curb waiting for the shuttle. Although,” she waggles her eyebrows, “it wouldn’t have surprised me at all if Rick had brought you home himself.”
“Don’t be silly. He doesn’t have time to deliver all the contestants to their front doors.”
“Of course not. But I got the feeling he doesn’t think of you as just another contestant.”
A slow smile takes over my lips. After my jungle heart-to-heart with Bruce, I opened myself to the possibility that maybe Rick really was fond of me, in a noncontestant kind of way. And the more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea. Especially after the lingering good-bye hug he gave me at the hotel taxi stand, not to mention the kiss on the cheek. But for now, that’s a memory I prefer to keep to myself, so I change the subject.
“I caught a few people staring at me in the airport, but I thought it was just because I look like I’ve been run over by buffalo.”
“Oh no, my friend, people are going to start recognizing you.” She holds me at arm’s length and inspects my face and arms. “Although, the lovely bruising probably helped them pick you out of the crowd.”
I don’t even want to ask the next question. “Did you see the first episode?”
“Of course! You were great. Especially when you ran into the pole.”
“Oh great.” Cringing behind my hand, I let my shoulders slump. “I’m sure they made me look like a huge idiot.”
“Don’t worry, I recorded it for you so you can see for yourself. Now come on.” She leads me into the living room. “I want to hear everything.”
Ranger follows close on my heels, and when I plop down on the couch, he settles on the floor, resting his head on my sandaled foot. I look blankly around the room. A month is a long time to be away from home, and I find I don’t quite feel settled yet. It’s all my stuff, but it doesn’t seem like my stuff. “You know what’s weird?”
“What?” She tucks one leg under her and sits beside me, leaning in.
“Every now and then, I find myself looking for the machete.”
Jules laughs. “Oh man, you should have brought one home as a souvenir.”
“I tried, but I couldn’t sneak it past security. Seriously, I do have a couple of mementos. My bandana, which is filthy. A flint.” I hold up my arm. “This nifty cast.”
“Very stylish,” she says with a nod. “But I want to know about Jessica. What happened with her?”
Normally, there’s nothing I don’t tell Jules, especially something this big. But now, I’ve got a problem. “Oh man, so much happened with her. But I can’t tell you any of it.”
“I don’t want to know game secrets.” Her expressive face contorts in irritation. “I want to know the personal, relationship stuff.”
“I know. And I want to tell you, but it’s all tangled together. I can’t tell you about the personal stuff without talking about the game.” I puff out a sigh. “Darn confidentiality agreement.”
“Yeah, that thing’s pretty serious.”
I’m chewing on my lip when I process what she just said. “Wait a minute. When you came on the island, did they have you sign one of those?”
“Sure. I don’t think anybody gets out there without signing.”
“Then you can’t tell anybody anything about the game either. Which means that I can tell you about Jess, because we’re both covered by the same agreement.”
Jules grins, her eyes twinkling. “Good thinking. And since nothing you say to me will leave this room, there’s no problem.”
“Exactly.” And with no further delay, I dump all my emotional baggage right in her lap. I tell her about the challenges and my many injuries. I tell her about the argument with Jess and how I ran off in the rain and slid down the muddy hill. I tell her about the talk Jess and I had on the beach after Duncan left, and how I felt we’d made huge progress that day. And then I tell her about the inquisition, when Jess made her final statement and pulled the palm-frond carpet out from under me.
I stop talking. Jules is staring at me, her eyes wide, jaw slack. Finally, she responds.
“Wow.”
“Yep. That about sums up the entire experience.”
“So . . . I’m confused.” She shakes her head and wrinkles her nose. “What happens now?”
“Well, that’s where it gets really interesting.”
“It gets more interesting? Hold that thought.” She holds up one finger and walks to the kitchen. “I need a Dr. Pepper.”
“I don’t think I have any.”
“Yes, you do,” she calls with her head in the fridge. “I restocked the essentials for you.”
Now that’s a true friend. She comes back with two open bottles of Dr. Pepper—because we both insist that it tastes better when it comes from a glass bottle.
“Okay.” Jules hands me a Pepper as she returns to her place on the couch. “I’m ready for the really interesting stuff.”
“Well, our last night at the hotel, Jess and I finally had a long talk. When she said she needed the money for her mother, I thought she meant for medical bills. But she didn’t mean that at all.”
“What did she mean?”
“Susan, that’s her mom, was diagnosed with ALS a year ago.”
Jules reels back slightly, much like I did when Jess told me. “Oh man. That’s Lou Gehrig’s disease, right?”
I nod. “I need to do some research on it, but from what Jess told me, it’s terrible. The usual life expectancy is about five years from the time of diagnosis.”
“How is Jess taking it?”
“Hard. Of course. The family is very close.” Jules’s eyes crinkle with concern, and I smile at her. “I’ll admit, I was jealous of that at first, but not anymore. It’s the whole reason I gave her up in the first place: so she could grow up in a loving, two-parent family.”
She raises her bottle in agreement. “Amen to that. Now, back to Jess. If she doesn’t need the money to help with medical bills, then what does she need it for?”
“Something pretty amazing. When Susan found out she was sick, she and Robert and Jess sat down and made a list of things they wanted to do together while they still could. I think they did one thing, and then Robert realized that, even with their insurance, most of their money was needed for medical expenses.” I have to pause and take a drink, because even now as I recount the story to Jules, it chokes me up. “Jess needs the money so her family can complete that list.”
Jules puts her fist to her mouth and bites one knuckle. “Incredible. That’s some daughter you have.”
“She is. Not that I can take any credit for her compassionate nature.”
“I don’t know about that. Some stuff must get passed through the genes.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I say with a shrug. “The point is, we made peace before going our separate ways. And we made plans to see each other again.”
Sitting up straighter, Jules reaches out and slaps the top of my good arm. “I can’t believe you waited to tell me that part. That’s awesome! When are you going to see her?”
“Next week. I can’t get back to work until my wrist heals, so Ranger and I are taking a road trip to California.” At the mention of his name, Ranger looks up and whines, leaning all his weight against my leg. “By the way, did Duncan leave you his contact info like he said he would?”
Her eyes narrow. “He did. Why?”
“Because I need to get in touch with him. He doesn’t know it yet, but he’s coming to California, too.”
Whether he wants to or not.
***
By the time Jules heads back home, I’m exhausted. It’s only 7:00 p.m., but between stress and jet lag, I barely have enough strength to drag my suitcase upstairs to the bedroom. At the sight of my own bed, I sigh and touch the corner of my quilted spread with m
y fingertips.
“I’ve missed you so.”
Ranger cocks his head to the side, as if he finds it strange to hear a grown woman speaking to bedroom furniture.
Even though I want nothing more than to throw back the covers and slip into the sweet oblivion of sleep, I don’t. Instead, I toss my suitcase on the mattress and force myself to unpack. All my clothing goes straight into the laundry hamper on my closet floor. As I toss in an armful, I catch a flash of the orange bandana. Picking it out of the pile, I hold it aloft between two fingers. It’s dirty, it’s sweaty, and I think there’s even a little blood on it. After all it’s seen, all it’s been through, it seems almost disrespectful to wash it.
But then I inhale, and the stench coming from it convinces me I have two choices: wash it or burn it. I’ll try washing it first.
A high-pitched trill comes from the general area of my suitcase, and for a moment, I don’t know what it is. Then I realize it’s my phone. Shaking my head, I mutter to myself as I tromp out of the closet.
“You’d think I was on that island for a year, not a month.” I wag my finger at Ranger. “If I start talking to a volleyball, go get help. Quick.”
He yawns. Apparently, the novelty of having me back is wearing off.
The notification on my phone is a text from Jules with all of Duncan’s contact information. I’m tempted to call him now, but if I’m remembering the time difference correctly, it’s about three in the morning in Scotland. Besides, I’m so loopy at the moment, there’s no telling what I might say to him.
The challenge will be reaching out to Duncan to help Jess without giving him the impression that I’m reaching out to him for myself. Seeing him again on the island was a shock, but it showed me that he hasn’t really changed all that much. He still has those qualities I fell in love with—the warmth, the charm, the heart that reaches out to others because it makes him feel good. But he’s also self-absorbed. If he can help someone without it causing him personal discomfort, then he will. But he will always put his own welfare first. Now that I see how he really is, and not my idealized version of him, I have a much better idea of how to deal with him.
Last Family Standing Page 21
