A Change of Plans (26 page)

I didn’t know what to say.

CHAPTER 26

I
BEGAN TO
make plans, and it felt good to have purpose again Even though Elle and Aislinn repeated several times that they wanted me to stay, they also encouraged me to do what I felt was necessary.

Aislinn and I spent the day before I left together, just the two of us. We went to Long Island, where she gave me a tour of Winterwood, her and Braedon’s childhood home. The name seemed appropriate, dressed as it was in winter snow. Though it was too cold to stay outside long, I had her show me her secret garden and the ghost path that had frightened Braedon as a boy.

We went to lunch, and I told her everything I could think of that I hadn’t mentioned about the island. I tried to give her the two years with Braedon she had missed.

“You’ll come back here, won’t you?” she asked as we drove back.

“Everything’s so different from what Braedon and I planned.” I looked out my window, sliding my hand along
the door. “Who knows? When I go back to the Springs I may decide I want to stay there after all ... but I doubt it.”

She glanced over her shoulder and changed lanes. “You can live here. We’d love to have you close.”

“I don’t know.” I rubbed my temple. “Let me do these visits before I decide anything.”

Resigned, she asked, “Where are you going first?

“Colorado Springs. And then Texas.”

“Jimmy’s and Maria’s families?”

I nodded.

“Anywhere else?”

I hesitated for a long moment. “Montana.”

“To see my father?” Her eyes opened wide.

“I want to meet him. I want to see the ranch Braedon loved so much.” I leaned the back of my head against the window and looked at her. “Did you know Braedon planned to move out west?”

“Kate said something about that, but I thought she’d misunderstood him. They loved Braedon at Cornell, and I thought he enjoyed working there.”

“He did love it, but he told me Cornell was never more than a place to get experience.” I shifted my gaze to the passing landscape. “He’d been considering the move even before your mother died, so he could be closer to your father. And then when we met ....” I squeezed my eyes shut.

Aislinn put her hand over mine. “Just stay in touch, okay?”

“I will.”

T
HE NEXT
morning, as we loaded my luggage into Aislinn’s car,
Mal said from the doorway, “We’re going to have to come up with another plan.”

I frowned. “Why?”

“The press.” He grimaced.

“But we went out yesterday with no problem.”

Mal leaned against Aislinn’s car and folded his arms. “It’s funny how that works,” he reflected. “The more mysterious someone is, the more intrigued the press gets. It was a slow news day yesterday, and your story got attention again. They want to hear from you. Have I mentioned we got a call from a TV producer who wants to do a movie?”

“What is wrong with these people?” I shouted, heat flushing through my body. “They just want to be entertained by our pain. It makes me sick!”

Startled by my outburst, Mal straightened. He put a hand on my arm. “There’s some truth to that, but telling your story is also a way to let the public know about people you loved. You haven’t said a lot about Jimmy and Maria, but until you were found no one knew what happened to them either.”

He hesitated and then spoke slowly, his voice firm. “You can’t talk to everyone who cared about them. Hearing about their last days might be part of the healing process for the friends you don’t visit. I know it’s all still too raw for you right now, but give it some time and think about it.”

He twisted to regard D’Arcy, who had entered the garage. “I’ve talked to Mr. Statler down the street. He said he’d be glad to drive her to the airport.”

That’s how I ended up riding to the airport wearing old Mr. Statler’s wife’s knitted cap, scarf, and coat. He had no idea who I was and talked all the way to the airport, which suited me just fine.

I
T WAS
surreal to fly into Colorado Springs after so long, a very different return from the one Elle and I had planned three years earlier. Luckily, no one paid any attention to me. My story didn’t seem to be making headlines here, which was a pleasant surprise.

Everything had a dreamlike quality as I drove through areas I should have recognized but didn’t. It reminded me of a mixed-up collage with pieces from my memories pasted on places I had never seen.

I drove to the cemetery first. The plain headstone Marc had chosen fit the simple couple our parents had been. I knelt on the grave, despite the snow, and arranged the silk flowers I had brought with me.

By the time I finished, my body shook with the cold, my toes numb. Stiff, I rose to my feet and stared at the grave. They were gone. Really gone.

In the morning, I made a trip to the high school where I had taught. I didn’t go in but parked outside and watched the comings and goings. Life had moved on, and I wasn’t a part of the place anymore.

Sitting in my motel room the second night, I tried to think who else I should visit in Colorado. I couldn’t think of anyone. It wasn’t my home anymore.

I booked a flight to Houston, Texas for the next morning. Jimmy’s ranch was northwest of Sealy, and Maria’s home was in a small farming community close to Houston. I decided to hit Jimmy’s first.

While I had the agent on the phone, I considered getting tickets to Montana, but memories of what Aislinn had said
about her father held me back. The last thing I wanted to do was to cause him further grief. She and I had agreed if I decided to go, I would call her so she could let him know of my imminent arrival—imminent being the key word.

CHAPTER 27

S
O AT
the end of February, I flew into Houston. With the city close to the Gulf Coast, the milder weather was a relief after New York and Colorado. It seemed like Jimmy’s entire family waited for me as I pulled up the long drive to the white clapboard farmhouse.

They prepared a huge meal for me, and we exchanged stories about him. When I reached the part where he was shot while fighting the pirates, I worried it would distress them. They thought it was heroic, however, and just the kind of thing Jimmy would have and should have done.

When I pulled out my keys, Mrs. Hewitt jumped to her feet, replacing a flash of disappointment with a big grin. She followed me outside once I had hugged the others goodbye.

Mrs. Hewitt embraced me, her eyes glistening. “Thank you so much for coming. The people from the cruise line could never tell us enough.” She breathed out a sigh. “With the four of you disappearing, well ... it’s just good to know. If a mother has to lose a son, it’s nice to know he went down fighting.”

I drove away, surprised at how good I felt, and that night in the motel was free of dreams.

The next day, I met with Maria’s grandmother, and that meeting was nothing like the one with Jimmy’s family. Maria’s parents hadn’t been a part of her life for several years, and her younger siblings had been divided up and sent to live with other family members. The grandmother I met had one grandchild with her, a sullen youth of about fifteen. When I introduced myself, he barely nodded and quickly left the room. The old woman spoke poor English, and I think she feared I wanted something from her.

I was impressed that Maria had done so well coming from this home. It was a shame that of the three who had died, the only one I could report a burial place for didn’t have anyone who cared.

Indecision still plagued me. While my need to do something had diminished, it was still there. I didn’t know where to go next, but I knew I wasn’t ready to return to New York. After a drive to Galveston and some time spent watching the open water of the Gulf of Mexico, I returned to the airport and got a flight to Montana.

Landing in the cold weather of Great Falls, I shivered all the way to my motel room and cranked up the heater as soon as I arrived. After a shower, I crawled into bed, wishing I knew what to do. Knowing that Braedon’s favorite childhood home was so close felt like an itch I couldn’t scratch.

It took me forever to fall asleep, and I dreamed I went to the ranch. In the dream, I drove up to the house, and Braedon stepped out of the front door to welcome me. The constant ache, the one that sometimes threatened to overwhelm me, disappeared, replaced by a sense of peace.

When I awoke to reality, a crushing weight bore down on me, twisting my stomach in knots and sending a vicious wave of nausea. I wanted to go to Lewistown, even knowing Braedon wouldn’t be there, but I was afraid. I took a trip to the mall and wandered around the stores, thinking about what had brought me on this journey in the first place.

After sitting through a movie I didn’t watch, I got up, went to my rental car, and headed down the highway. It had started snowing during the movie, but Lewistown was only a couple of hours away. The Randolph Ranch lay northwest of the town. Even if I never got up the courage to knock on the door, I could at least drive past.

I didn’t feel very well when I started out, sluggish from the restless night. Maria’s grandmother had also insisted on feeding me an iffy-looking dish while at her house. Things there had been so dismal I hadn’t been able to refuse her offer.

The more I drove, the more I regretted eating it. I had almost decided to find a motel when the worst of the nausea passed. By then the weather had gotten interesting to drive in, and I worried the storm would worsen.

I needed a break anyway, so I decided to go into Lewistown first. While there, I got directions to the ranch. The attendant eyed me curiously, making me wonder if the Randolphs didn’t get many visitors.

I didn’t phone Aislinn until I left town. It would have served me right if Braedon’s father had been away when I showed up.

My nervousness increased as I drove away from the lights of town, and not just because I wasn’t wanted or expected. Darkness came early in February. I had waited too long to start out, and the bad weather had lengthened the drive. I cursed myself for not getting a room in town and waiting until
tomorrow. Yet if I waited, I might not have the courage again to visit.

I had only gone a couple of miles when the visibility got so bad I had to slow to a crawl. I hadn’t done a lot of driving since I had returned to civilization. As I crept along inside my little dome of light, huge flakes fell like a curtain, hiding everything behind it.

There were no lights I could see. Even at my reduced speed, I should have already reached the turnoff to the ranch. I would have to turn around, but the road didn’t look very wide. If I tried turning around, I might end up in a ditch. My stomach churned. What if I got lost out here? How ironic to have survived all that time on a tropical island only to freeze to death in Montana.

I had just decided to stop when a huge red truck burst out of a side road I hadn’t noticed and skidded to a stop in front of me. Already jumpy, I braked, sliding a little and just missing the truck. White knuckles clenching the steering wheel, my heart thumped and my knees trembled.

The driver flashed the truck’s headlights at me, but I wasn’t sure what that meant. Through the oscillating window wipers, I could make out the driver-side window roll down and a gloved hand jab violently toward the direction from which the truck had just come.

As I decided to take the driver’s help, I wondered where else in the world I would even consider following instructions given like that by a stranger.

The driver honked, flashed the truck’s lights, and waved again. Seemed like someone wasn’t happy. My hands shook, and my stomach lurched.

Swallowing to keep from retching, I flashed my lights back. The truck turned in the drive, and I followed its disappearing
trail. I tried to stay close to the rear lights as it made its way up a long lane, the driving snow obscuring almost everything else. I coughed, telling myself I would
not
throw up.

Finally, in the distance, I could make out some dim lights I hoped were from a house. The truck drove up close to them, and I pulled next to it. The driver, head covered by a hat, got out, his entire body pulsing with anger.