“It can wait. Or have somebody else do it. Who would do it if I dropped dead? You’d have to find somebody then.”
“I can’t believe you would be this irresponsible. I’m going to take this up with Rachael immediately.”
“Vincent,” I said, “I’ve worked eighty- and ninety- and one-hundred-hour weeks for years. I have never let this studio down. I have been here through Christmases and New Years, even earthquakes. I have gone three days at a time without having time to shower. And right now I’m going home!” I disconnected the line and threw my headset across the room. Caitlin, who was still standing next to me, asked in a small voice, “What do you want me to do?”
“Get me a reservation on any plane that’ll get me to Muskegon.” I grabbed my purse and stormed out the door. I got into my car and headed straight for LAX. By the time I got there, Caitlin had gotten me on the one o’clock United flight to Chicago, then on to Grand Rapids. A rental car would be waiting there for me for the hour drive home to Muskegon. It wasn’t a great car, but it was the only one she could get. Caitlin then asked me if I was coming back.
“I don’t know, Caitlin,” I said and hung up with her. Then I dialed the familiar number. I nearly cried when her voice answered. “Mom? I’m on my way home.”
Chapter Thirty-nine
June 2006
When I landed in Grand Rapids and picked up my rental car, I couldn’t get the car door to open. Tired and wrung out, I trudged back to the counter, where a teenage boy offered to come out and see what was wrong. He took the key from my hand and inserted it into the door handle—et voilà. I looked at the keys when he handed them back to me. There was no remote unlock on the key ring that I had been futilely pressing. Had I forgotten how to unlock a car door manually? I heard myself from twenty years ago saying, “Someone has been in L.A. too long.”
“Well, she was an American girl, raised on promises . . .” I sang along with Tom Petty as I drove west on Interstate 96. “She couldn’t help thinkin’ that there was a little more to life . . . somewhere else . . .” Reassuringly, the songs on the radio hadn’t changed. The local stations could still be counted on for Bob Seger, Led Zeppelin, and Rush. I rolled down the windows and the moist green smell of trees and weeds and wildflowers rushed at me. I would tell Mom, tonight anyway, that my tear-streaked face was from the dust in my contact lenses.
I peered down the road, which was lit only by my headlights. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been on a highway where my car was literally the only one on the road. The speed limit was a civilized seventy miles per hour. I inched the car up to eighty-five, figuring I was getting even for all that time spent doing five miles per hour on L.A. freeways. At 12:40 in the morning, I had crossed the Causeway, turned at the Four Corners, driven down Ruddiman, and turned right onto Fourth Street. I parked in the driveway, then walked around the side of the garage and up the walkway to where the porch light was burning. I bumped the door sharply with my hip and it opened. Ake 3 thumped his tail on the floor, without bothering to bark in case I was a burglar. Mom and Dad got up from their posts at the kitchen table, and I was enfolded in hugs.
We did the traditional “Are you hungry? I made sloppy joes” ritual from Mom, to which I always replied, “No, I’m not hungry,” and then she always set them on a plate anyway, and I always ate them.
Dad gave me a hug, then went on to bed. That left me alone with eagle-eyed Mom. I expected her to sit down at the kitchen counter, pat the stool next to her, and say, “Let’s shake this thing out.” My eyes started watering just at the thought of somebody being nice to me. Instead, she held me at arm’s length and regarded me closely.
“So how do I look?” I asked miserably.
“You look beautiful,” Mom said soothingly.
“Nice lie,” I managed to laugh through my sniffles. “How do I look really?”
“Awful,” she pronounced. “You’re too skinny, you have big bags under your eyes, your hair is stringy, and you need to have your roots touched up.”
I grinned at her through my tears. “I love you, too, Mom.” She smiled back at me and touched her forehead to mine. “Welcome home, sunshine.”
Chapter Forty
June 2006
When I woke up I could tell by the angle of the sun filtering through the trees that it was early evening. I had slept for seventeen hours. I stretched in bed, taking in the chocolate éclair wallpaper and Lucy’s cheerleading photos and pom poms hanging over the mirror. I didn’t want to get up. It was so real here. I hadn’t heard my cell phone ring once. Finally, I threw back the sheets and looked through Lucy’s closet, where I found a pair of my jeans from eleventh grade. I held them up to me in front of the mirror. Then I tried to wiggle into them, but I couldn’t get them past my thighs. I found a pair of Dad’s sweats and rolled them over at the top, then swiped one of his white Hanes T-shirts. I wandered downstairs and out through the sliding doors to the backyard. Nobody seemed to be around. I walked across the grass and found Dad sitting in the gazebo by Bear Lake. I went down the steps and flopped next to him.
He gave me a squeeze. “Hi, honey. Feeling better?”
“Sort of. Yes. No. Not really.”
He gazed steadily out at the lake. “I suppose that’s progress.” We both watched a blue heron stroll through the shallow water. The heron paused, head held high, and then darted his beak into the water, but he didn’t come up with anything food-worthy. I stretched and yawned. “I can’t believe how long I slept.”
“You must have needed it. But what are all of those infernal bells and whistles you had going off in your backpack? I rooted around in there for ten minutes and turned off all the gadgetry.”
I sighed, blowing my bangs out of my eyes. “When did you turn them off?”
“At ten o’clock this morning. You had had nineteen calls and it looked like thirty-eight new emails.”
Out of habit, I jumped up and started back up the stairs. Dad called after me, “Honey, think about why you came home. That stuff can wait.” I looked over my shoulder. For all of the years I felt nothing could take priority over my work, I suddenly knew why I had come home, and I knew Dad was right. It could wait. I sat back down with him and we watched the heron take a slow stride and flap its long wings until it soared above the trees. “I love him, Dad.” I pulled my knees up into my chin. He put his arm around my shoulders and squeezed.
“What are you going to do about it?”
“I don’t know. He won’t take my calls.” I pushed my chin deeper into my knees. The sun was tucking itself behind the trees across the lake. A bluegill jumped. I studied the ripples and calculated it was a whopping six inches long. I closed my eyes and felt the air on my face. “Perfect temperature. The Caddis Hatch must be in full swing. Fly-fisherman heaven right now, huh?”
Dad just nodded. I found all the sameness reassuring. “The grass looks good.”
“Yeah, I find hand-watering to be kind of relaxing. But Meijer’s has a new sprinkler system I’m going to check out tomorrow.”
“Will you get me some cream horns when you’re out there?” I realized then how hungry I was.
“Sure.” We sat outside until it got dark and the mosquitoes discovered us. When we went back into the house, Mom had dinner ready. I almost fell asleep at the table and I crawled back into bed as soon as I could. Maybe I could sleep until it all got better. Except I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned for a couple of hours, then went downstairs, stood at the counter, and ate a carton of butter pecan ice cream with frost growing on it and a box of stale Triscuits. Jesus, did my parents not go grocery shopping anymore? I tilted the box up to catch the last couple of salty crumbs in my mouth. I watched an infomercial for better abs while Ake 3 whined at me. I was disturbing his sleep schedule. He was probably going to pack his doggie bags and check in to the nearest motel. “At least you’re not sleeping under the ironing board,” I informed him. “Consider yourself lucky.”
I went back to bed until 8 a.m., when I heard
Mom and Dad puttering around. I came down again and dropped into a kitchen chair. Mom handed me coffee and patted my unbrushed, unwashed hair. Dad flipped on the TV and sat down next to me as we listened to the opening strains of The Michigan Bass and Buck Show. My eyes were gummed together because I hadn’t bothered taking out my contacts in more than forty-eight hours. I rubbed them, then tuned in to the show. It was Evan’s backyard.
“Why are they shooting at Evan’s house?” I asked.
“Shhh,” Mom said without taking her eyes from the screen. The camera focused on the back door of Evan’s farmhouse as he emerged.
“He looks pretty good.” My eyebrows went up. “When did he start shaving for the show?”
“Shhh.” Mom waved me off again.
“Morning, Joe.” Evan nodded at the cameraman. The picture of Evan went up and down as the camera nodded back. “We’re doing something a little different today,” Evan said as he walked down the broad sweep of lawn to the edge of the lake. “We’re cooking outside over a campfire.” He stopped next to his fire pit, which was rimmed with rocks and had a pretty good flame going. “This is about how to cook with unregulated heat. It might be too hot or it might be too cold. It’s all about balance.” He motioned with his hand and Evan’s youngest child, six-year-old Joy, ran into the picture and shyly hugged his leg. Evan squatted down and handed her a stick. “Sweetheart, you put the marshmallows on this pointy end and start roasting. I’ll get the graham crackers and Hershey bars.” The camera followed Evan to a tree, where he picked up his mug of tea off the ground, sipped it, and then grabbed a paper bag.
“He’s making s’mores?” I turned to Mom and Dad. “Everyone knows how to make s’mores.” Mom shushed me again and we continued watching. The camera went back to Joy, who had set her marshmallow on fire. She blew on it frantically but it was too late. The marshmallow was charred black. Joy stared at it and burst into tears. Evan patted her head and called beyond the camera, “Hey, Anna, we got a geyser here.”
Anna’s voice came from off camera, “Joy, come here, honey. We’ll fix the marshmallow.” Joy, still bawling, ran offscreen. Evan smiled after her, then turned his attention back to the camera. Then a phone rang. Evan put an earpiece in his ear and punched a button on the phone on his belt.
“Good morning, caller. What’s up?” Evan said as he stoked the fire.
“Wow, that’s pretty tech.” I sat back in my chair. “He finally got rid of that rotary phone.”
“No offense, Evan, but every damn person knows how to make s’mores,” the caller griped.
“Tommy Noyce, that you?” Evan looked delighted.
“Yep.”
“How’d the perch fishing go last night?”
“Got a mess of ’em off the channel wall. I was hoping you were going to talk about lobster diavolo today.”
“I’m illustrating a point,” Evan said. “So just sit tight.” He held up two graham crackers. “You’ve got two crackers. Each one is kind of fragile, so you have to have something to strengthen them and hold them together.” He motioned off-camera. “I’m going to need another assistant for this.” A man in jeans and a T-shirt walked into the frame and shook hands with Evan. I sat up straight as Evan said, “Everyone, this is—”
“Aidan!” I said in unison with Evan’s TV voice. Mom and Dad smiled at me. I turned on them accusingly. “How long has Aidan been here?”
“Honey”—Mom laughed—“listen to the show.”
I couldn’t stay in my seat. I bounced around the kitchen but kept my eyes glued to the set. Evan handed Aidan two more marshmallows. He deftly impaled them and then twirled them above the fire. Aidan smiled and waved at the camera, clearly at home. His faded T-shirt said, BLT BREW CREW. “Pretty good technique there, Aidan,” Evan observed. He turned to the camera again. “See, if you let things get too hot, everything goes up in smoke, but if you aren’t close enough to the fire, everything goes cold.” He held up the graham crackers again. “In order to stick together, you gotta be all warm and gooey. Add some sweetness”—he stuck a Hershey bar on top of the marshmallows Aidan had deposited on the crackers—“and it’s the perfect balance.”
I flew out the back door in Dad’s sweats and T-shirt, unbrushed hair and teeth, and no shoes. Halfway across the lawn I turned around and flew back in. “Keys! Keys!” Dad underhanded me the rental car keys. I snagged them and ran back outside in one motion. The whole way over to Evan’s house I tried to rub the mascara out from underneath my eyes while keeping the pedal to the metal. I roared past the Blit and turned up Bear Lake Road. It was then I passed the cop car, which pulled out and turned on its sirens. I angled the rearview mirror to see it better. Shit! If there was ever a time not to be pulled over, this would be it. That cop was just going to have to understand. I kept my foot pressed firmly on the gas pedal. I screamed up to Evan’s house and almost forgot to put the car in park as I jumped out, leaving the car door swinging. I bolted around the corner of the house and covered the lawn faster than I thought possible to Evan, Aidan, and Joe the cameraman. I saw Aidan smiling at me as I got closer. I leapt into his arms, wrapped my legs around his waist, and hugged him tight. He swayed back and forth with me, then pulled away to look at my face. “Jeannie, will you marry me?”
“Yes!” I shrieked like I was at a Beatles concert.
We kissed long and hard. Smiling into my eyes, Aidan said, “Then the first thing I’d like to say as your future spouse is that you have dog breath.”
Evan, Anna, and Joe were clapping and smiling. Joe wiped away a tear. When Aidan finally put me down I saw that Elizabeth and her two kids, Sammie, her husband, son, and daughter, and Lucy, her husband of eighteen years, and her daughter were all there, too, and they were all laughing and crying. They had all come for me. Even when they were mad at me they had still come. Aidan’s various parents, stepparents, and half-siblings streamed out of Evan’s back door, beaming at us. Mom and Dad arrived just then, along with Marv Carson. He sighed wearily as he surveyed the whole scene. Then he came up to me. “Hi, Jeannie, welcome home. You’re under arrest for evading a law enforcement officer.” He took handcuffs off his belt. “Turn around.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. Okay, so I was doing forty in a twenty-five. I’m sorry.”
“Rules are rules, Jeannie.”
I turned around for Marv to cuff me. Aidan stepped up to the cop. “Marv? Can I call you Marv?”
“I prefer Officer Carson,” Marv said stiffly. Then he relented. “But okay, Marv.”
“See that white tent over there?” Aidan squinted over to the far side of the lawn. “There’s a surprise wedding planned for Jeannie and me right now.”
In my cuffs I turned and yelled over my shoulder, “Mom! Again?”
“Not me this time, Jeannie. This is all Aidan’s doing,” she said.
“Not going to happen. I’m running her in right now,” Marv stated firmly.
Then the phone rang. Evan hit SPEAKER so we could all hear. “Yes, caller, you’re on the air.”
“Marv, damn it, you’re just going to have to let this one go. Didn’t you see how happy Jeannie was when she jumped up in that young man’s arms?”
Marv turned accusingly to Evan. “We’ve been on the air this whole time?” Evan smiled and punched in the next caller.
“Marv Carson, I’ll pull my donation to the policeman’s fund if you arrest Jeannie. Why, first she gets divorced, and now you’re trying to ruin the rest of her life? I mean, take a look at her. This might be her last chance.”
I cringed at that. Evan looked over at Marv. “I have six calls holding. What are you going to do?”
Marv unlocked the cuffs. “Okay. But only if I get to stay for the wedding.”
I turned to Aidan. “You planned all this? Your disappearance, the surprise wedding, everything?”
“I’m not sure how much planning was really involved. I just kind of winged it. After I finished up in Australia I flew here. I’ve been in good ol’ North Mu
skegon for weeks now. It’s about time you showed up.”
“But”—I hesitated—“weren’t you there in Australia with Montana?”
He squinted his eyes at me. “She’s my business partner. That’s all. You know I love you, Jeannie. We all love you. I mean, look around.” He gestured to both of our entire families, who were trying to politely pretend they weren’t interested in what we were saying.
The knot that had gripped my stomach for the past several weeks began to unclench. I smiled up at him. “But how did you get here? I mean, how did this all happen?”
“I took matters into my own hands and called each and every person in your entire family to ask for advice. Your parents said we needed to meet so they could look me over, so I flew here.”
“How did you find everybody?”
“Ever heard of Google?” Aidan grinned down at me and squished me closer.
“As soon as your mom got the call from you saying you were coming home, your entire family and my entire family got on planes and came, too.”
“And the wedding is . . . now?” I looked down at my sweatpants and T-shirt in dismay. Elizabeth, Sammie, and Lucy grabbed me and pulled me toward the house.
Aidan yelled after us, “Yeah, right now! Elizabeth, you’ve got the schedule, right?”
“Right!”
My sisters marched me upstairs to Evan and Anna’s bathroom. Along the way I tried to apologize to them but they waved me off. “Time for that later, Jeannie. We have more important things to do right now,” Sammie said cheerfully.
The water was already running and I hopped in. Elizabeth rapped out instructions. “Five minutes, shower. Five minutes, hair. Five minutes, makeup. Five minutes, dress.” Ah sweet Jesus, I thought. What the heck was the hurry on my wedding day? Which is what I said.
“Because we go back on the air in twenty-three minutes,” Elizabeth barked. “Now, scrub!”
“I’m getting married on The Michigan Bass and Buck Show?” I asked as Lucy pulled me out of the shower. Sammie threw a towel over my head and started drying. As soon as she was done, Lucy grabbed a brush and yanked at my wet hair. Sammie had her makeup out and was in front of me doing her “look up, look down, now look up again” routine. Standing behind me, Lucy blow-dried my hair, then turned me over to Elizabeth, who deftly swept it up into a French twist. Lucy ran out of the bathroom and returned with a white dress.
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