Chapter 66 – Thu. Dec. 15
I’d been up late talking with Jess and I hadn’t slept well. I was up early, but Dad had already gone out. Probably running last-minute errands for the move. Jessie was still asleep in my bed.
I called Spaz. He was even more cheerful than usual.
“Hey man, were you and Jessie going to be at school today? Turn on the TV. The heat’s out – one of the boilers, I guess. We all get the day off. I’m making breakfast for Jody.”
“She’s staying with you?”
“I wish. But she’ll be over in a few minutes. Do you guys want to join us?”
“Um, no. We’re taking a trip… This is going to sound odd, but it’s true. You know what we talked about the other night?”
“What, your little obsession?”
“Um, yeah. Listen, Ron… She feels the same way.”
“You’re not serious.”
“I am.”
“Okay, yeah, that’s weird.”
“…and we ran off and got married.”
“What? No way! How?”
“It’s complicated, but we think everyone’s going to find out real soon, so we’re leaving for Colorado today. I didn’t want to go without saying good-bye.”
“You’re just yanking my chain.”
“No, for real.”
“That’s beyond weird, Cory. I feel like my head’s going to explode. People are going to freak on you.”
“Yeah, you’re right, they will. You can’t tell anyone, okay? Not even Jody. It’s important. I’ll give you a call this weekend and catch you up.”
“Uh, okay. Mazel tov, I guess.”
Why did I tell him that? What are the odds he could keep that secret?
I checked the phonebook, picked up the receiver, and dialed again.
“Hi, Father Neil? Sorry to call so early. Oh, you were? Okay… Is Father John there? Can you give him a message? Tell him thank you from Israel and Allen, and that things worked out wonderfully. Yeah, that’s all. Thank you so much.”
My nervous energy wouldn’t let me sit still. I washed the kitchen floor. It didn’t make much sense, but I couldn’t stand the thought of leaving the old house dirty when we abandoned it.
My head buzzed with a sea of thoughts. I’m married, Dad’s dying, we’re moving, Beth’s getting an abortion today, and what was with Amanda? Distracted, I got mop water on my sneakers, so I vacuumed in my bare feet. They’re usually pretty ticklish, but it felt good. I did the front of the house, Dad’s room, and down the hall.
When I switched the machine off, Jessie called, “You can do your room, too.” I opened my door and saw Jessie curled under the sheet.
“Sorry I woke you, Jess.”
“I couldn’t sleep more anyway.”
I flipped the switch and ran the vacuum across the room. Around the bed, I tossed her nightshirt toward my hamper. When I was done, I wrapped up the cord and was about to go put the vacuum away, when Jessie sat up.
“Cory?” I turned, expecting her to continue. She sat holding the sheet to her chest.
“Cory...”she started again, looking down. “Would you... come here?” I walked over to the bed. “Would you hold me?”
“Are you okay?”
“I don’t know... I need you now.”
“You always have me, you know that.”
She took my arm in her free hand and pulled me toward her.
She turned into me, gently pushing me back onto the pillows. My arm draped across the bare, dark skin of her back. With the other hand, I pushed myself more securely onto the mattress. As I relaxed, she eased onto her side, encircling my chest with her arms. She whispered, “I’m so scared. Please, Cory, just hold me.”
I put my arms around her. I moved one hand up to cradle the back of her head, and squeezed her gently. Her hair smelled nice. I remembered when we were on the beach and I’d hold her like this sometimes. It seemed like more a dream than a memory. I stroked her naked back, and kissed the top of her head. It was so comforting and familiar.
“It’s going to be okay, Sweetie.”
It rang pretty hollow.
When Dad got home we made a late lunch.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you last night.”
“It’s okay, Bug. Getting angry is normal. It’s just part of grieving.”
“How can I be grieving if you’re still okay?”
“It’s a process. It starts as soon as you know you’ll have a loss.”
“Huh.”
“I want both of you to learn about it so you’re ready for what comes.”
“Can we talk about something else?”
“You’ll have to get used to it. I talked to your Aunt Mel this morning.”
“Did she know about you being sick?”
“Not how serious it is. I told her about Mom’s money and the wedding. Since it’s probably going public, I thought it was fair warning, given our family history.”
“How did she take it.?”
“Not too well. She blames me for allowing it. She called it the family curse.”
Something was bugging me.
“So, Dad, Daniel knew about the money and your cancer, before you even told us?”
“Well, yeah. I didn’t want to tell you I was sick. I hoped I’d get better first – you kids have had enough shocks. Then once I knew time was running out, I wanted to have a plan for how you’d get by without me. But yes, the inheritance and my health influenced the Judge to write in support of the license. He and I agreed to keep the money and health issues out of the proceedings, since it could only muddy the waters, and has no bearing on your relationship.”
I nodded, but Jessie frowned.
“It doesn’t have any bearing on your relationship, does it Bug?”
“No! Of course not."
“I didn’t think so. And I wasn’t allowed to tell you about the money...”
“Yeah.”
“...And I didn’t want to tell you only the bad news and have you think you were going to be abandoned...”
“Okay, okay.” She held up her hands. “I get it.”
“So we’re good, kids? Let’s pack up the truck. Just the stuff you’ll need for the next couple weeks, and anything that can’t be replaced.”
For me, that was Olie, my sketchpad, a few clothes, and some stuff from the bathroom. Oh, and the contents of my nightstand drawer. I smiled thinking of Spaz’s face when he first saw the stash. I took the picture of Jessie and me from the hallway.
Jessie had three bags. Dad had a duffle bag and several file boxes. I put the coffee and the old percolator in a grocery bag. It seemed weird to think that we’d leave in an hour, and maybe never come back.
“Dad, I don’t want the guitar to get damaged by the cold. Can I put it in the back seat, or do you have other stuff that needs to go there?”
“Nope, that sounds fine to me.” He looked around the living room. “Looks like we’ll have plenty of space in the truck bed. I’m going downstairs and get a couple things.”
“What? The guns?”
“It’s probably best if we leave those here.”
“Yeah, I suppose. Router bits, then?”
“Yep, and the good chisels, Dremil set, micrometers,” he smiled, “Anything small and expensive.”
We heard the Jeep before we saw it. This couldn’t be good. Dave was supposed to be taking care of Beth at home right now. Jessie opened the door and ushered them in.
Beth was sobbing, and Dave looked anxious. “What happened?” I asked him.
“We couldn’t do it. She wants this baby, and couldn’t go through with it.”
“Okay, um,” I searched for words, “I respect that. I’m relieved and worried for you.”
Dad was standing at the top of the stairs with a box in his hands. “What are you going to do, Dave?”
“We have no idea. I’m in way over my head and we’re both scared. But we’re going to keep it. Whatever it takes w
e’re not giving it up.”
“Huh,” Dad grunted. “What do your parents think about that?”
“Beth told her mom, and Georgia tossed everything she owned onto the lawn and threw her out of the house. She called my dad and claimed that I’d raped her daughter, and then she called the police.”
“Sounds like it didn’t go well. How about your folks, Dave?”
“I didn’t talk to my mom, but she usually goes along with whatever my dad thinks is best. He suggested that I might want to make myself scarce for a couple days until this gets straightened out. Maybe go camping, but not to tell anyone where.”
“And you’re sure you want to raise this child? No matter what, huh?”
“Yes, Mr. Laine.”
“Is that true Beth? At sixteen you’re willing to give up your youth, and raise a child?” Dad demanded. She could only nod her head. “That’s a really hard road, kid. I don’t know if you’re up to it.”
“Mr. Laine,” she squeaked, “I don’t know if anybody is ever up to it. But I know that I love this baby I carry more than I’ve ever loved anything, and that I’m not going to just give it up.”
Dad mulled it over. “Do you think your father would fly up to help you?” She nodded again. Dad set the box of tools with the other stuff and reached for the phone, his fingers stabbing the keys.
“Hello. Georgia? Mike. I have your daughter here. What do you mean? She says you kicked her out – is that true? The devil, really? Okay, I’m not calling to argue with you. Yes, the bible says that. Is it okay with you if she stays with me for a while? Okay, good. She’ll need a few things – is it okay if I bring her over to get some clothes and stuff, enough for a few days? No? Oh, yeah, I suppose not. Okay, that’s fine; I’ll come by myself.”
“I really only need a note giving me temporary custody. Yup, just like that. No, don’t worry, I’ll write what it needs to say, and just have you sign off. No problem. What about Dave? You can tell me when I get there – I’ll see you in a couple minutes.” He hung up abruptly.
“Beth, do you have your license yet? The card, not just the learner’s permit?”
“Yes, Mr. Laine.”
“Good. Call me Mike. The three of us were just getting ready to take a little road trip. I’m thinking that you might want to come with us. What do you think?”
“Where are you going?” Dave asked.
“If I told you, would it make a difference?”
“Not to me. How about you, Babe?” he asked Beth.
“Count me in. Let’s get out of here.”
“Okay, folks, we’re all going to Wisconsin tonight. Beth, call your dad. If he’s on a rig in the Gulf, you probably won’t reach him directly, but get a message to him that you had a fight with your mom, and that you’re okay and staying with friends. Tell him that you’ll call him again tonight. If you do get him, tell him everything. I mean everything.”
Relieved to have something to do, Beth picked up the phone, but then put it down. She dug in her purse for her address book.
“Cory, Jessie, get the truck loaded while I write this thing. Beth can help when she’s done with her call. Dave, you’re eighteen, right?”
“Yeah, two weeks ago.”
“Good. Get home and tell your folks you’re going camping. Pack clothes and toiletries for two weeks. How much gas is in that bug-squasher?”
“Half a tank, uh, Mike.”
Dad dug a couple twenties from his wallet and handed it to Dave. “Get your stuff, fill it up, and get right back here, okay?”
“Okay.”
Dad got out a pen and paper, and sat at the table. “Temporary custody agreement...” he mumbled as he wrote.
Forty minutes later, we were ready. Dad was back with a signed document, Beth had left a message for her dad, and both vehicles were fueled. We’d unplugged and emptied the fridge and freezer, and propped the doors open. Whatever was good for snacking we tossed in the vehicles, the rest we set on the curb in bags along with the garbage.
“Dave, drive carefully, and don’t attract attention. They probably aren’t looking for you, but if you get pulled over, let me do the talking, okay?”
“No problem.”
“Stay close without tailgating. If cars get between us, don’t pass them – I’ll slow down or pull off so you can catch up. If you have any trouble or just need a break, flip your headlights on and off.
“Our goal tonight is to get down the coast, across the state line, and find a hotel outside Green Bay. That’ll take a couple hours. We’ll stop there for the night, and discuss what to do next.”
Dave and Beth left out the back door.
A minute later, the phone rang and I picked it up.
“Cory? Rob. Turn on your TV.” Just like that, he hung up.
“Dad?” Jessie said from the front window, “We have a problem.”
Several of our neighbors were out on the sidewalk, and our minister’s car was parked in front of Janna’s garage. More cars were pulling up. Beth and Dave sat in the Jeep.
The Channel Three news van had parked at the curb, partially blocking our driveway. The cameraman and Mr. Bad Hair were standing across the street. I flipped on the tube and there we were – well, the front of our house at least. Balloons still bobbed on the handrail. I shouldn’t have trusted Spaz… No, someone had called these people…
“Amanda,” I swore.
Dad looked at the screen and started issuing commands. “Window shades down; don’t peek out. Lock the doors and don’t answer them, or the telephone.” As predicted, there was a knock at the door.
Dad was on the phone.
“Yes, my emergency is that there’s a crowd outside my house. People are trespassing, blocking my driveway and... A dozen at least. No, we’re a little rattled, but nobody is hurt, at least not yet. I have no idea. Yes, that’s the correct address. You will? Great, thanks.”
I looked at the TV, where the reporter was talking in front of the house. “...allegations of incest, abuse and neglect. Child Protective Services are not answering any questions yet, but are expected on the scene shortly.” The picture expanded to include another figure. A small crowd was gathering.
“Excuse me sir, do you know the family that lives here?”
“Sure.” It was Harrad.
“Is it true that the father is single and works nights, leaving the children to fend for themselves?”
“Yeah, I guess, but...”
“Thank you, sir. Simon, back to you.”
But the segue was botched, and the camera panned around the yard as if searching for something. I recognized our minister and several church members, some apparently talking to the reporter. Dave’s Jeep idled across the street. More neighbors had come out of their houses to see what was going on. A car motor roared in the background. The camera panned back to the reporter.
Before he could speak, there was a squeal of tires that we could hear live, and then with a weird delay again over the TV. A horn blared from both sources. The double sound of a crash was next as a car plowed into the TV van. People scrambled and shouted. The picture on the tube was snow careening by as the cameraman bolted away from the street. The view rolled and settled on a rusty brown Buick. The driver came into focus.
Everyone in the room seemed to say it at the same time.
“Spaz?”
In the passenger seat was a figure wrapped in a bright pink parka, hidden by the fur around the hood.
The horn stopped and the driver shouted “You vultures looking for us? Cory and Jessie Laine? You want an interview?”
At this temptation, the reporter moved hesitantly toward the vehicle.
“I’ll give you an interview!” Spaz threw the transmission into reverse and shot back a few feet. He got a good head start and hit the van again. The Buick held firm, conceding only some chrome trim, but the van groaned and lurched out of the driveway and onto our front lawn.
“Wha
t’s he doing?!” Jessie gasped.
“Trying to help, I think,” Dad grumbled.
Spaz looked around and then straight into the camera, straight into our living room from twenty feet away. The engine gunned, not quite drowning out the expletives behind the lens. In a dizzying moment the view flipped upside-down, showing boots retreating on top of the scene. A siren wailed in the distance.
The Buick revved in front of the lens and fishtailed north up our street, accompanied by shouted words that – if clear – would’ve offended many viewers.
Dad said quietly, “Back door, quickly but calmly. Let’s get out of here.”
A couple cars followed the Buick north through the neighborhood. A few moments later the sheriff turned onto our street and all eyes turned south. He paused in front of the house. People pointed and yelled and he followed the Buick north. We rolled out of the driveway, and partially hidden by the damaged van, headed south with the Jeep close on our heels. With that, we left our home behind us.
I watched it fade out of sight, and a great sadness filled me. Jess leaned back against me, pulling my arms around her. We turned right, toward the main road.
“I hope he’s okay,” Jessie said.
My heart sank at the thought of all the trouble Rob had brought on himself. He’d head for the logging trails – there was no way out really, but he just wanted to buy some time for us.
We turned south at the big drugstore and headed past the airport. Doing the speed limit seemed awfully slow. By the time we passed the Lighthouse, it was already getting dark. About a half hour past the restaurant the road widened to three lanes, and cars and semis filed by us in the passing lane.
One of the cars pulled between our pickup and the Jeep. We all jumped when the bright blue light of a State Police car flashed all around us. Dad slowed and looked for a clear bit of shoulder. I looked anxiously at the Jeep, which slowed, and then pulled into the passing lane and continued around the hill.
Dad put the truck into park, rolled down his window, and then rested both hands on the wheel. The spotlight glare was blinding and the rush of cold air just added to my chills.
“License and registration, sir?” The officer’s voice lilted with a Scandinavian accent.
“Good evening, Jerry. I’m going to slowly get my wallet from my right rear pants pock...”
“Mike? Aw, never mine, relax.”
“Let me guess. You just stopped to give me the twenty bucks I won from you?”
The officer laughed. “How about I don’t gives a ticket for dat obstructed plate and it even up, ya no? Ay, deez da kits? No, can’t be... These ones too big, eh?”
“Jessie, Cory, meet Jerry, the best trooper north of the bridge.” We just waved, still a little nervous.
“Pleased to meet you kits. Why youse trying to butter me up, Mike? I already went let it off easy.”
“A twenty-dollar warning isn’t letting me off easy.”
Jerry laughed again. “Oh well, ya take what ya git, eh. Good night folks, drive careful, eh?”
The officer walked back to his car, stopping to brush the snow from our license plate. Dad leaned out the window. “You know, Jerry, technically we’re about thirty miles south of the bridge...”
Jerry yelled over his shoulder, “I figure you say dat, youse sawn off a...” but Dad’s window was rolled up again.
Dave and Beth were waiting on the shoulder, about a half mile ahead. Dad pulled off in front of them and walked back to fill them in. When he returned, he walked to the passenger side.
“I need one of you kids to take over. My feet are a little numb.”
Jessie shot me a worried glance. She slid over and took the wheel. Back on the road, the Jeep pulled in behind us again. It was a just a few minutes to the state line.