I latched a thigh over his hip, with utter contentment. I love you, Thias.
I know, he whispered. And it’s what makes every day worth living.
I drove due north, keeping my gaze fixed on the interstate. I did not take the exit ramp which angled west toward Minnetonka, drawing upon every ounce of willpower in my possession. I tried to keep my mind empty but it was a monumentally worthless effort. Memories of our family assaulted like waves against jagged rocks, close enough to touch, to inhale like a drug. I could not conceive of a world in which those years of memories were negated, where my husband and babies had ceased to exist. Of a world in which Mathias was married to someone else, a woman named Suzanne with whom he shared a different family.
To counteract the horror I passed the miles back to Landon reliving the births of all five of my children.
I collected my strength, building small emotional shields in preparation for answering more of Mom’s questions about Ruthann and Blythe.
I cried until my eyes burned, until I could not catch my breath.
I listened to the radio even though I was revolted by what seemed like an otherwise normal day out there in the world. Weather reports, two-minute news bits, mundane announcements of local events. I despised all of it just now, hated it to the very center of my being.
I rolled back through Landon just after five that afternoon. A weak setting sun the sickly shade of a jaundiced eye peered from a slit in an otherwise impenetrable layer of clouds. Fisherman’s Street was wet from a recent rain, the air thick with humidity. Nothing had changed on Fisherman’s, at least, offering a small measure of peace to my aching soul – there was Eddie’s Bar, with its cluster of usual vehicles parked at the curb, and the graceful balconies and sweeping porches of Angler’s Inn, the old-fashioned streetlamps which were adorned with decorations dictated by the season, and…Uncle Justin on the opposite side of the street, stepping from his work truck, headed for the bar.
Without considering why, I hit the brakes. He’d disappeared inside Eddie’s by the time I parked and locked the car, then jogged across the street, purse bumping my hip. I heard the jukebox before I even opened the door. Stepping inside the familiar space I was greeted by the swiveling of every head on every man occupying the stools along the bar counter. Even the guys playing pool were momentarily distracted by the unexpected appearance of a woman. I knew all of them, most well, and yet I was essentially a stranger to them in this life. I reminded myself to keep this in mind when speaking.
“Well if it isn’t the new schoolteacher!” Eddie enthused, coming around the bar to offer a hug. “Everyone, this is Jackie and Joelle’s girl, Camille Gordon.”
Heartfelt greetings were offered all around. I smiled as sincerely as I could manage, unable to keep my eyes from Uncle Justin. From the back he appeared just as I recalled – tall, broad-shouldered, muscular, his black hair longish and messy, as if he’d run grease-covered fingers through it during the work day. When he turned from the bar to say hello, however, I exhaled in a rush. I’d never seen his face without the intense scarring to which we had all grown accustomed. In this life his skin was unmarred but for some heavy five o’clock shadow; his right eye was a perfect match of the left, not drawn downward at the outer corner.
And yet – he looked so wrong. He was Uncle Justin without Aunt Jilly and the toll was apparent in the depths of his charcoal-dark irises, if only to me. I thought of how Aunt Jilly had long sensed their connection and wondered if somehow Justin had also been given a glimpse of what the universe had truly intended for him, the happiness and contentment of life with his true love.
Images from all the years I had known this man in his capacity as my aunt’s devoted husband and the kind, demonstrative father of my cousins pelted me with new agonies. How many conversations Mathias and I had shared with him and Jilly; how many lazy summer days spent on the lake, lounging on the pontoon or taking turns waterskiing behind Uncle Justin’s newest fixer-upper speedboat. Family meals and annual holidays, watching each other’s children for date nights, playing cards and taking camping trips; how empty and pointless life must seem to Justin now, in the absence of the family he was supposed to have.
Even if he could not exactly articulate the realization – and who could blame him – a part of him had to sense the loss of Aunt Jilly and their children; his eyes suggested this, in mute volumes. I recalled that his ex-wife, Aubrey, was shallow and petty, a woman who’d cheated on him before taking her leave from Landon many years ago.
But not, it seemed, this time around.
I claimed the stool alongside Justin’s, which he acknowledged with a small nod.
“Whatever you’d like, on the house.” Eddie stood behind the bar, winking as he gestured toward the array of drink options.
I shrugged from my coat, standing briefly to settle it beneath me on the stool. “Thank you. I’ll have –” I stopped short of adding ‘the usual.’ Of course Eddie had no idea that the usual was a pitcher of tap beer split with Mathias. I didn’t think I could bear the taste of something that reminded me of Mathias and so I said, “I’ll have a red wine, thanks.”
“Here you go, doll,” Eddie said, after first digging around behind the bar, locating and then subsequently dusting off a wine glass. He filled it to an inch below the brim, with a flourish.
In the time it took for Eddie to pour my wine, Justin had already polished off two whiskeys. I wondered just what I hoped to accomplish by engaging him in conversation; part of me was simply avoiding returning to Shore Leave, where I’d be confronted with questions to which I had no answer. Mom remained in a state resembling shellshock, unable to process what Tish and I had revealed on Sunday night. Maybe it had been a mistake to tell them everything, but we never kept secrets. Tish and I could never have continued to submerge the level of stress we’d experienced since last weekend. Who were we kidding?
I drained half the wine without thinking.
“You’re a teacher?” Justin asked, leaning on his elbows, glancing my way before returning his attention to his booze. Seated to his right I nodded, trying my best not to stare in amazement at his unmarked face. The conversations I’d interrupted resumed all along the bar counter; Jim Olson was applying chalk to his cue while Skid Erickson leaned on his beside the pool table, joking as he waited to take his next shot. Skid was one of Mathias’s best friends; we’d spent so many evenings with Skid and his girlfriend in the past decade and right now Skid would not have known my name if not for Eddie’s introduction.
I finished my drink in one more swallow.
“How’s your dad these days? I haven’t seen Jackie in ages,” Justin continued, attempting to make polite small talk when I could tell he really just wanted to get drunk. He nodded discreetly at Eddie, who ambled over to pour him another two fingers’ worth.
“Good, he’s good.” My voice was rough from the wine. “How’s Dodge?”
“My dad? You remember him?” Justin registered surprise. “He’s the same as always. Lives down in the southern part of the state these days. I s’pose you remember him from your summer visits, huh? He always speaks fondly of Joelle’s kids.”
The ways in which simple words could unknowingly slash and burn; Justin had no idea.
“Do you still stop out to Shore Leave for coffee in the summer?” I asked, picturing this version of Justin interacting with Aunt Jilly.
“My wife prefers I drink my coffee at home.” Justin’s voice took on a subtle but distinct edge; I watched his shoulders hunch inward, as though defensively, as he glared toward the polished wooden surface of the bar. He swirled the contents of his glass with a deft movement, then drained the amber liquid.
“But not your liquor!” Eddie said with good-natured gaiety. “But hey, if you want to spend your hard-earned money in here, Miller, all the better for me.” Without asking, Eddie caught up the wine bottle and refilled my glass. I gulped gratefully.
“Do you and Aubrey have kids?” I asked Justin, louder th
an I’d intended. Shit. I was buzzed from the sudden splash of strong wine on an empty stomach.
His black eyebrows cocked, creating surprised arches. He shook his head in silence while I scrambled for an excuse.
“I wondered because…I’m a teacher,” I explained, hearing the way I slurred the word ‘teacher.’ Good thing I wasn’t actually employed as one; what a terrible impression to make, loaded after a glass and a half of free alcohol.
“You have a ride home, there, teacher?” Justin asked, with a faint glimmer of good humor. “You got someone to call?”
“I’m not…done yet.” So saying, I emptied the second glass. As terrible as it was to admit, the fuzzy tint brought on by the booze dulled a fraction of my pain. I realized I wanted to continue drinking until I washed away on a murky current of oblivion, where I was no longer plagued by memories that served to slice open my heart.
Millie Joelle, Brantley Malcolm, Henry Mathias, Lorissa Anne, James Boyd…
Oh God, they’re gone. My home is gone.
“You sure, kid?” Justin was concerned now, all amusement having vanished; he’d adopted the protective tone I’d heard many a time when he was addressing his children. He set aside his glass and studied me a little more closely. “Is something wrong?”
I couldn’t respond to such a stupid question. Every fucking thing was wrong.
I gritted my teeth.
“Another, please,” I requested of Eddie, holding out my glass.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Justin said and I resented his presumptuous tone.
“Another,” I insisted.
Justin shook his head at Eddie and despair collided with the alcohol in my blood, obliterating my control; I turned on him like a wolverine. I surged to my feet, sending my barstool flying, and hurled my wine glass in the direction of the pool table, dimly aware of everyone diving toward the floor as if I’d chucked a live grenade. It missed the gleaming, stained-glass beer light overhanging the table by mere inches and shattered on the far wall with a gratifying miniature explosion.
“Holy shit!” someone cried over the general uproar.
“Everything is wrong!” I screamed at Justin, fists clenched as though I meant to strike him. “Why don’t you see it?! Nothing here is right! Why don’t you know what’s right?! What the fuck is wrong with all of you?!”
Justin moved fast; before I could inflict more damage he shifted behind me, wrapping my torso in a backward hug, effectively pinning my arms.
“Hey, hey, hey.” He spoke directly in my ear, using a voice reserved for the insane. “Calm down, kid. It’s all right.”
I struggled against his hold, to no avail. Not only was he much taller than me, he was as strong as a bear. Sobbing, shaking, I couldn’t even cover my face with my hands. I was the newest attraction at the carnival freak show; stun and shock were plastered across the features of every man in sight. Some of them were still on their hands and knees near the pool table.
There goes your teaching job, I thought.
I was vaguely conscious of Justin collecting my coat and purse, and then herding me outside and into the cab of his truck. I sagged against the passenger window, my forehead resting on the cold smoothness, numb now, beyond rage or embarrassment. I owed every person in Eddie’s an apology, I realized, most especially Justin. But at the moment I couldn’t conjure up the wherewithal to give a shit.
“We’ll get you home,” he said, hooking left on Fisherman’s and following Flicker Trail around the lake, toward Shore Leave. “It’s all right, kid. You must have had a long day.”
I turned his way and my mouth betrayed me yet again, words spilling in a pleading, helpless waterfall of pain. “Listen to me, Uncle Justin. Please listen. You know you’re supposed to be with her. With your family. I know somewhere in your memory your real life is still there. You remember your kids, don’t you? You can’t have forgotten them. They need you.”
Justin braked hard somewhere in the midst of my diatribe, halting his truck smack in the middle of the road. It didn’t matter; there were no other vehicles headed out to Shore Leave.
“What in God’s name are you talking about?” he wondered aloud. He didn’t sound angry, only astonished. He sat with both hands gripping the wheel, attention fixed unswervingly on me.
“I’m talking about Jillian!” I cried. Tears gushed, falling faster than I could swipe them away. “You and my aunt. All this time, you should have been with her, not Aubrey. Aubrey left you a long time ago. You’re supposed to be married to Jillian. You’re Clint’s dad, and Rae, Riley, and Zoe’s. This isn’t right, none of this life is right!”
Camille, stop this. Stop it. You’re helping nothing and no one.
I’d rendered Justin speechless.
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, sniffling, knuckling my sore, wet eyes.
He didn’t budge an inch, continuing to stare at me while I fixed my stubborn gaze on the dashboard. At last he whispered, “Me and…Jilly?”
Heartened by the husky emotion in his voice, I met his eyes and nodded. “In the place I came from, you’ve been married for many years. You guys live in a cabin in the woods past Shore Leave.”
For a second I thought he believed me. I sensed that he wanted to believe me. But all at once he grew belligerent, brusque and clipped, connection severed. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, kid, but I don’t appreciate it. Not one goddamn bit.” He drove onward, tires spinning over icy slush, and made short work of the last half-mile to the cafe. Once in the parking lot, he pulled up to the porch without another word.
“Thanks for the ride,” I mumbled, struggling to manage the door handle.
He slammed the gear shift into neutral and shouldered open the driver’s side door; through the front windows I saw Mom and Aunt Jilly seated at one of the booths in the otherwise empty cafe. Their conversation ceased as they stared out at Justin rounding the hood of his truck to help me from it. Despite his obvious impatience his hands were gentle as he led me up the steps. Jilly met us at the porch door, scraping it open over a thin layer of fresh ice. Justin fell still at the sight of her – I couldn’t see his expression, since he was behind me, but I saw hers. Her eyes were an electric, glowing blue, bluer than anything I’d ever seen as she searched Justin’s face for answers.
“Jillian.” He sounded haunted.
“What’s happened?” Mom appeared behind Aunt Jilly, reaching to lead me inside. “Camille, what’s going on?”
“I’m drunk,” I mumbled, avoiding Mom’s embrace and sinking to the nearest chair, slumping against the table.
“She had a few too many at Eddie’s, so I brought her home,” Justin explained. He spoke around a husk in his throat. “Something’s really wrong, I’m not sure what.” He hesitated, the full intensity of his dark eyes fixed on Jilly, and the pause grew thick and weighty; I waited for him to mention more specific details. But in the end he only said, “She threw a glass at the pool table and kind of…freaked out.”
“Thanks for bringing her home,” Mom said, putting her hands on my shoulders.
I lowered my head.
“Do you want to come in for a minute?” Jilly’s voice was unusually faint, soft with hesitance; she was about two seconds from cracking, tugging him inside and confessing everything she knew.
A hush overtook the dining room, a mushroom cloud of confusion and need. But then Justin said quietly, “No thanks, Jillian. I just…” He cleared his throat. “It’s…better if I just go.”
The door closed behind him and we listened to his footfalls on the steps.
“I told him,” I muttered.
Chapter Sixteen
Chicago, IL - March, 2014
DAD AND LANNY LIVED IN A CONDO ON THE LOOP, AN IM-peccably-styled set of rooms furnished with designer pieces and graced by a stunning view of the city’s business district. And apparently I lived with them, a detail I’d been somewhat surprised to discover. I supposed it figured; rent was high and I was in my first ten
tative year of employment in an expensive city. Never mind that I had no memory of this year – or any others in this particular life.
I’d learned from Mom that her divorce from Dad had followed a similar progression of events; Mom had avoided dealing with Dad’s cheating for many years, until walking in on Dad and Lanny in the act a month before my high school graduation had forced her hand. How bizarre that fate seemed to reassert itself even in this sick, offshoot timeline – certain events twisting back around to what was meant to be, despite an altering of the past. Radiating with urgency, I had no time to contemplate such things; my focus had narrowed to a thin corridor of purpose.
Confronting Fallon Yancy – assuming he would indeed appear at the benefit dinner scheduled for this Saturday – was first on my list, but I had an additional goal in mind for this evening.
“Can you meet for a drink?” I asked Robbie once I was safely ensconced in my own room, holding the phone between my jaw and shoulder as I changed into unwrinkled pants. I would not think about the last time I’d been a guest at my father’s – less than two months ago, with Case at my side, for Robbie’s funeral. I fought the urge to sweep all of my alleged belongings to the floor and stomp them to bits; they were trappings of a life I wanted nothing to do with. I’d already spoken with Mom, assuring her I had arrived at Dad’s without mishap; when I requested to talk to Camille, Mom said, “She’s resting, honey, she had a bad day.”
Fuck, I thought.
“Did she try to find Mathias?” I asked quietly, sinking to the edge of my unmade queen-sized bed.
“No, she confronted Justin. She got drunk and threw her glass at Eddie’s pool table.”
“Oh, boy,” I muttered.
“Hurry back here, Tish, I can’t bear to have you out of my sight right now,” Mom said then, just barely containing the tremor in her voice. “I’m at my wit’s end.”
“You and me, both,” I whispered. Digging the heel of one hand against my left eye, I promised, “I’ll be home by Sunday.”
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