Janie Face to Face (12 page)

“Lemme read some of the book,” Brendan said roughly.

“I have a few chapters because Calvin Vinesett thinks it’ll
help me do the interviews. But they’re first drafts. He hasn’t polished them yet.”

“Listen,” said Brendan Spring, “I read a book about every third year. Tops. I’m not gonna know if it’s polished. Give it over. I wanna read some.”

Jodie Spring had brought her sewing machine to Haiti, along with a suitcase of bright cotton cloth and dozens of yards of trim. The children who flocked to the church for food had old, torn clothes. Jodie could whip up an adorable smock-type dress and edge it with lace or a row of hearts. She set her sewing machine on a table next to the bottled water, the only safe water around, and sometimes the only water at all. The next little girl in line would choose her cloth from Jodie’s stack. Jodie would cut it into two rectangles and string these on a collar made from the same fabric. She’d stitch up the sides and run the hem. The little girls were so happy in their new dresses.

Jodie ran out of cloth. Her church back home shipped more, but somebody stole the sewing machine. Jodie wept and the little girls who were not going to get dresses comforted her. She managed to hand-sew one dress, but each seam took a long time.

She used the rest of the trim for hair bows and bracelets. Her church shipped another sewing machine, but it never arrived. Somebody probably opened the crate and decided to keep it. She just hoped they were using it, instead of letting it rust.

She was utterly exhausted by Haiti.

Earthquakes had damaged so many buildings that her eye never rested on anything whole or painted or safe. Pieces of ruined structures stuck up in the air or lay in piles over yet more rubble. It seemed impossible that anybody could even walk down a street—that they could even locate the street! And yet people laughed and danced and wore bright clothing and thanked Jodie for coming.

The first few months had been so exciting. The next few months had been so busy. By the end of spring, she was drained. The nuns said Jodie had done great things.

But Jodie could not think of any.

Sometimes she played kickball with the kids. They did not have a ball. It was kick the can, which she had heard of but hadn’t known people did literally. The church sent whatever Jodie requested, and sometimes it arrived, but people were so hungry for stuff that it never stayed at the mission. Soccer balls vanished in a knot of little boys joyful to have a real one, and books left the school shelves never to return.

“It’s useless,” Jodie said sadly.

“You were not useless,” said the nuns. “You gave a year of your life to God and to the people of Haiti. You were a blessing, and you are blessed.”

But she did not feel that way. On her life list, she could not write:
Save the world. Check
. She could only write:
Struggled in Haiti. Check
.

Thank God (literally; she thanked Him daily) for her cell phone. Every time she charged it (not always possible, in a place with occasional electricity), she went first to the calendar and stared at the date on which she would fly out.

I’m so proud of you
, her girlfriend Nicole texted. Nicole was studying fashion design in New York City, which meant Nicole’s life was the polar opposite of Jodie’s.
I ran into your mother
, Nicole added.
All excited because Janie stopped in
.

That was EVER SO generous of Janie—to stop in,
Jodie wrote back.

I haven’t forgiven her for not loving us more than she loved the Johnsons, thought Jodie.

Jodie was standing within the convent walls. Well, not really, since most of the walls had fallen. She was standing within the rubble. But there was still a sense of enclosure. She could hear the noises of the town—different noises from at home: less traffic, more shouting; less machinery, more laughter—but she was wrapped inside the mission wall and had the faint sense of knowing what a real convent might be like for a real nun. You served God and the world, but you were enclosed in a wonderful way, with walls around and God above and sisters near.

Not that being enclosed with her real sister had been wonderful.

Maybe because it was a convent, Jodie could kneel easily. On her knees, she said silently to God, I want to forgive. Help me love Janie all the way through, all the time.

Nicole texted:

And so, in Haiti, where wrong was so huge and pain so present, where Jodie could not solve a thing, where all she had to offer was a smile and a bowl of soup and a day of pointlessly shifting rubble, Jodie Spring decided there was one thing she could do: she could give the police a boost.

Frank Johnson always knew where Hannah was, and always sent her money.

Jodie texted:
Stephen knows which bank branch.

Reeve Shields left the airport terminal and stood for a minute in the intense sunshine, letting it bake his body.

Janie phoned. “They delayed boarding. We can talk again.”

Reeve entered the stuffy shade of the parking garage, sat in his car, and turned on the air-conditioning. They spent ten minutes getting mushy.

The Fourth of July turned out to be a weekday, so they settled on Saturday, July 8. “Today is May twenty-first,” said Janie. “Seven weeks.”

“Tons of time,” said Reeve. “What do we do first?” He figured that whatever they did first would involve shopping. Reeve was not fond of shopping, but Janie loved it. Once they
were married, she’d probably do all of it. Division of labor was good.

Of course, it’s easier to shop when you have money.

Reeve knew to the dime how much he had in his checking and savings accounts. A week ago, he’d been rich, since his sixty-hour workweeks and required television left no time to spend money. No problem buying Janie a round-trip ticket for the weekend. But if he hoped to furnish a life, it looked tricky.

Janie moved on. “The big problem is,” she said, “what is my name?”

“Don’t let airport security hear you. They hate when people fly under false names.”

“It isn’t false. I do have two names.”

Reeve put the phone on speaker, drove out of the parking garage, paid, and headed for the highway.

“I want to get married under my legal name,” Janie was saying. “Because marriage has to be true all the way through. So here’s the plan.”

Reeve loved that Janie would make the plans. She’d make a list, he’d follow it, that would be that. None of the boring discussion that had absorbed his sister Lizzie month after month. Like flowers. How much could you actually worry about flowers? You called the florist and they delivered, right?

“When we get to that part of the ceremony where you say ‘I, Reeve, take you, Janie, for my wedded wife,’ ” Janie told him, “you will say ‘I, Reeve, take you,
Jennie
, for my wedded wife.’ ”

Reeve didn’t drive off the road, but it was close.

Wife?

Wife?

He, Reeve, was going to have a wife?

That meant he would be a thing called a husband.

A hideous drumming infected the wheels. He had drifted off the road onto the warning cuts in the pavement. He found his way back into the lane. “I don’t call you Jennie,” he said. “You’re Janie.”

“It’s not that big of a change. Two letters.”

“Is this just for the wedding vows or is this for good?” Reeve asked. “Am I marrying some stranger named Jennie?”

“She is a stranger,” agreed Janie. “We both have to get to know her.”

“I know how I’ll handle it,” said Reeve. “My brother, Todd, will be best man. Along with the ring, he can hold up a cue card. JENNIE, it’ll say, in capital letters. That will add a certain something to the wedding memories. Groom tries to think of bride’s name.”

They were both laughing.

Janie said, “You won’t have to remember long. In a minute, I’ll have turned into Mrs. Reeve Shields.”

This was such a startling fact that for a while, neither of them could speak.

Janie boarded the plane.

She barely knew that there were other passengers, that the plane was full, that she had a middle seat. She watched the little video Reeve had forwarded and held it to her heart.

Reeve loves me
. She had always known that. She just hadn’t known how much he loved her.

“At this time, please turn off all electronic devices,” said the flight attendant.

Janie never thought of her beloved phone as an electronic device. She touched the tiny switch at the top and then she was no longer connected to Reeve.

This is crazy! she thought. Why did I even get on the plane? Reeve wants me to live with him! He wants a wedding so soon there isn’t even time to arrange one! And I’m flying away?

Janie groped for the seat belt release. She would get off. Everybody would understand.

But the plane was already taxiing toward the runway.

She had waited too long.

When the plane took off, she stared down at a city she didn’t know. Somewhere down there, in the unknown city of Charlotte in the unknown state of North Carolina, she and Reeve Shields would start their married lives.

Without access to her beloved electronic device, she had to resort to the pencil she found at the bottom of her purse. The only blank paper she had was the leftover piece of her ticket printout.

Things to do
, she wrote at the top.

#1 Tell parents
.

A task with many subdivisions and pitfalls. Her flight would land at Kennedy. New Jersey and Connecticut were equidistant. If I’m getting married as Jennie Spring, she thought, I need to tell my Spring parents first.

Donna loved texting and tweeting, so Janie knew that her parents had gone to a movie this afternoon and were firing up the grill tonight. Her plane would land at 6:01. She would call
as soon as they touched the ground. She would take an airport bus to Jersey, where Jonathan and Donna would pick her up. By eight o’clock tonight, they’d know about the wedding.

Janie did not have the faintest idea how they would react.

Next, she would tell her other parents.

Every time Janie dealt with one mother and father first, she dealt with the other mother and father second. The others always knew that they were second and it always hurt.

How many blows could Miranda sustain without collapsing?

Sarah-Charlotte and her roommate, Lauren, watched the video over and over.

Lauren said, “She is the prettiest thing on earth and he is the most in love. Look at him! He’s such a puppy of a guy! You just want to cuddle him. The whole security line loves him too! I don’t think anybody is ever going to love me that much.”

Sarah-Charlotte called Janie but the phone went to voice mail. She had to leave a message. “Love the video,” she said. “Love the future. Call me, Janie.”

She was crushed. I’m the best friend and I find out along with the world? I didn’t even know she was still seeing Reeve. I thought she was in love with that Michael/Mick. I don’t even know what airport that video’s in.

She texted Reeve.
Congratulations.
She wanted to add “How come Janie hasn’t called me?” but stopped herself.

Reeve texted back immediately.
Thx. She’s airborne. She’ll call u asap.

Lauren swooned. “Not only is he adorable, he’s thoughtful! I want him too. How can we pry him away from Janie and have him for ourselves?”

Stephen Spring was still sitting in front of his computer, trying to process the researcher’s request. Kathleen leaned over his shoulder and read the rest of the message out loud. “ ‘Would you consider having dinner with me while I am here in Boulder? I have found a clue to Hannah Javensen’s location and you and I can discuss it.’

“A clue!” cried Kathleen. “That’s so exciting.”

And so unlikely. Stephen had done his share of hunting for the kidnapper. Some grad student hired online to do preliminary interviews for the actual author (which was insulting; was it beneath Calvin Vinesett to meet the people he planned to make money off?) had found something Stephen hadn’t?

Kathleen bumped into the computer desk, and little florets from the dried bouquet she had insisted on putting there showered the keyboard. “Let’s go, Stephen! Aren’t you dying of curiosity?”

Stephen sometimes thought Kathleen dated him because she was still curious about Janie. He read on.

Three possible Hannahs. Here. In Boulder.

He had always assumed that Hannah didn’t live here because it was so expensive. That she had traveled to the post office once a month. Certainly after Frank’s checks stopped coming, living here would have been very difficult.

Now he pictured her, walking the same sidewalks he did, drinking coffee at the same coffee shop, sitting on the same bench in the same open-air mall, enjoying the same mountain views.

He could imagine Hannah living a marginal existence. Renting under a roommate’s name. Living illegally in a warehouse, taking her baths in a sink. Getting paid cash. But such a person would not show up in public records.

“I have to know who those three possible Hannahs are,” he said to Kathleen. “I think this is a scam to get me to an interview. But maybe not. If I lay eyes on Hannah, I’ll know. I’ve studied her high school photograph all these years. Jodie and I even went to New York City with that photograph, believing we could find her. I know Frank and Miranda pretty well too. And we have the picture the FBI artists came up with, aging her. We know what Hannah would look like in middle age. We’re going to get the names and addresses of the possible Hannahs and check them out.”