Package Deal (12 page)

Tears mingled with raindrops, and she wiped her eyes.

“Where are you when I need you, little brother?” Her love for Robby tugged at her heart and she gave in to a smile. “I miss you, ya brat.”

She hadn’t finished packing but knew she could never leave San Francisco without saying goodbye to him. Lacy was back at the apartment with Jill. Good old Jill, she mused. Ever dependable.

“I’ve got to go, Robby. I’ve got a new job in Florida.”

She glanced around, feeling self-conscious, as always, when talking to Robby’s headstone. “Lacy is great, but she misses you, too. She’s excited about living near the ocean. I told her all about Florida, and now she calls it the ‘warm’ ocean, as opposed to our ‘cold’ ocean here.” She gave a tight little laugh. “I know she’ll love it. We’re all just a bunch of beach bums at heart, don’t you think?” She laughed softly again.

Her grip tightened on the granite marker. “I’m a little scared, Robby.” The words dragged across her tongue. It wasn’t easy to admit her fears, to admit her vulnerability. “New place, new job. Bet you’d love it! I know you’re laughing at me. You’re probably saying, ‘What? Kelly the fearless—scared?’” She hoped he might be listening from the other side. “Maybe scared is the wrong word. Nervous, worried—lonely. I’m leaving everything I know behind, including you.” Her throat tightened. She took a deep breath.

“You know me. I’m a little awkward with new things. Not like you.” She rubbed her hand across the stone with affection. “You could have charmed the pants off Cleopatra.” Robby had always been able to smooth talk her. He could wrangle most anything from her, and she knew it.

Kelly rocked back on her heels. Her knees were soaked, but she didn’t care. She was tired and achy from packing, and found the cool rain, drenching her clothes and face, refreshing.

“Mom will be closer. She can fly down more often and see us.” Her words were weighted with unresolved feelings about their mother.
 
She picked nervously at the thin gold bracelet around her wrist.

“You know Mom. Forever in denial. It was always easier for her to pretend everything was fine, even when it wasn’t. You know she never even cried when you died. Not in front of me, anyway. I love her, but sometimes she’s such a
pod person
.”

When they were kids, a nineteen-seventies remake of the movie,
Invasion of the Body Snatchers,
had been their favorite scary movie. In the movie, pods from outer space cloned and took over earthlings, leaving emotionless look-a-likes in their place.
Pod people
.

“I just wanted to scream at her, make her tell me how she really felt.”

Her parents had divorced when she was seven, Robby had been almost four. Shortly after, her father remarried, starting a second family, which demanded more and more of his time. His weekends with Kelly and Robby dwindled to token phone calls at Christmas and birthdays, until he had abandoned them altogether. Her mother changed, showing little emotion. Kelly called it denial.

Kelly lifted her gaze to the gray sky and frowned into the rain, her heart burning with a painful understanding. She was just like her mother. She’d spent years filled with expectation, hoping her father would call, ask to see her, or send a small gift. Ultimately, she’d had to face the disappointment. He wasn’t calling, visiting or sending anything. She’d been devastated, and now Kelly realized her mother had been devastated, too. Kelly and Robby had each other, while their mother had been brokenhearted and alone. Kelly fell silent, all comfort her mother’s closer proximity had given her vanished, replaced by guilt. Maybe, understanding this, she and her mother could be closer now. It would be up to Kelly to make amends and bring them together again as a family.

“I wish you could go with me. There isn’t anyone who listens to me the way you do.” She realized how silly she must look. “I’m probably the only person in the world sitting around talking to a piece of granite.”

As if Robby had answered, she said, “Oh, Jill’s pretty receptive. She’s square with me the same way you were, but I’m leaving her behind, too.” Jill’s lecture the night before still rattled around in Kelly’s head, leaving her more confused than she already was.

She gazed past the dark clouds. Her throat tightened, and she gritted her teeth, missing her brother, needing him, and fighting back her tears. Despite her efforts, teardrops poured over her cheeks and left her sobbing.

“Robby, I’m so sorry I blamed you for dying. I’ve been so selfish.
But you were all I had left. I know I’ve blamed you for dying, never thinking how terrible it was for you. But being left alone, losing you—” She sobbed, unable to continue.
“Oh God, I miss you so much.” She wept until she started coughing, choking on the tears, rainwater running into her mouth. Looking away from the headstone, she pulled herself together and wiped her runny nose with one hand, the hard rain washing it clean.

“You know…” she started again, “Mom clammed up. She packed all your pictures away, all your stuff, and if I even mentioned you, she’d change the subject and start babbling about what she’d just crocheted or some nonsense.”

She wiped away her tears and stared at the inscription on the cold granite headstone. She read it again, feeling the familiar ache inside.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” She drew herself up, startling a sparrow sitting in the wet grass behind her. “I’ll be right back.”

Kelly crossed the cemetery lawn, her heels squishing into the soggy ground. At the car, she opened the door, reached in and grabbed a bouquet of flowers she’d purchased from a street vendor. She slammed the door and hurried back to Robby’s grave.

Fanning the flowers across the headstone, she said, “I got these for you.” She swallowed hard, closing her eyes against the sting of fresh tears. “I love you, Robby. After a few more moments of silence she whispered, “I need to go. I’ll see
ya
around, little brother.”

When she straightened, she spotted a chip of granite from one corner of the headstone, half concealed by the brown winter grass. She stooped and retrieved the stone, rolling it over in her palm. Clenched in her fist, the jagged edge cut into the soft cushion of her palm. She winced, feeling oddly consoled and less alone. She tucked the granite chip in her pocket then with reluctance, dragged herself from Robby’s headstone and hurried back to her car.

Chapter Thirteen

T
he words “road trip” took on new meaning for Kelly. In her youth, during college, when it wasn’t unusual for humans of superior intelligence to suffer from symptoms of extreme insanity, she’d thought nothing of jumping in the car and driving for two days for a beer in Mexico or a ferry ride across Seattle’s Puget Sound. After driving from California to Florida, her enthusiasm for road trips ended.

The last week had been grueling. Her
Bon Voyage
party had taken place Sunday night at the apartment. Packing to that point had progressed at a snail’s pace, and she couldn’t spare the time away from the apartment.
Fortunately
, several loyal friends had shown up to help.
Unfortunately
, Kelly had woken up with a hangover the next morning. Armed with aspirin, orange juice, and an ice pack strapped to her throbbing head, she’d completed the packing late Monday night. Tuesday afternoon, after the movers left and the apartment was clean, her hangover had disappeared. Go figure.

She’d crammed the car with the leftover stuff no one knew what to do with—small boxes full of questionable necessities, trash bags stretched with clothing yanked from the closets, house plants, puzzles and games for Lacy, pillows, an old comforter, and last but not least, Skunk, the beloved pet rat. Finished at last, there’d been just enough space left in the car for her and Lacy.

The cross-country drive took them five days, one fuel pump, and part of Kelly’s leather checkbook, which Skunk had feasted on during an escapade through her purse. Now, Monday morning, Kelly’s energy reserves were depleted.

“Never again,” she swore out loud, turning right at Granada. “The next time I move, I’m torching the house and selling the car.” She glanced at Lacy, who dozed in the seat next to her.
Good God, I’m even talking to myself.

They had spent the night at The Glades, settled the bill this morning, and dropped Skunk off at the house on Cabana Court. Even empty, the little cinder block house looked as good to Kelly as it did the day she’d signed the lease. Home at last.

Their furniture wasn’t due to arrive until sometime after five today, and Lacy had been reluctant to leave her pet, afraid the rat would be bored in the empty house. Kelly assured her one day with a lid on his tank wouldn’t hurt the rat. Skunk might even enjoy the quiet and sleep all day, and when Lacy got home, he would be rested and ready to play. Silly as it sounded, her explanation had worked, and Lacy voiced some excitement about her first day at the new school, making new friends of the human type.

Kelly dropped Lacy off at school, made a stop at the donut shop,
then
merged into the traffic flow. Ted Willis expected her at the paper this morning, and she wasn’t going to disappoint him twice. She’d left thirty minutes early, determined to arrive on time—even if it meant taking catnaps in the ladies’ room and holding her eyelids open with paper clips the rest of the day.

She groped around on the seat for the bag of warm donut holes and stuffed one in her mouth, washing it down with a slug of coffee from her travel mug. Once over the bridge, she decided to take the river road for a few miles. She had plenty of time to get to work.

She cruised along, enjoying the colors and sounds of her new surroundings, inhaling the gentle morning breeze through the open window. On her left, the intercoastal waterway meandered toward the sea, its smooth surface mirroring the vibrant blue sky above. Mullet leapt from the water in their ritual dance, rippling the surface, then plunging back into the current.

Her mind drifted with the flow of the lazy current. It was the first time in weeks she had relaxed, until something thumped beneath the car’s rear wheel, yanking her attention back to the pavement with a surge of adrenaline.

She glanced in the rearview mirror, seeing nothing in the road behind her to cause alarm. Maybe an orange or a pinecone. Returning her attention to the lane ahead, she caught a glimpse of her face in the mirror. Powdered sugar coated her upper lip. She laughed and wiped it clean with the back of her hand, thinking how embarrassed she would have been if she had strolled into work with a white mustache.

Fifteen minutes later, she pulled into the
News Journal’s
lot and slipped into a parking spot. She killed the engine, got out, hit the door lock and closed the door. Immediately she glanced down at her empty hands.

“Oh, no,” she moaned. She peered through the car window. Yep, there they were, car keys dangling from the ignition. “I don’t believe this!”

Unable to scare up enough energy to care, she shrugged. What would worrying get her anyway? The car wasn’t going anywhere. She cut across the parking lot, entered the building and headed upstairs, knowing it would be one of those days.

When she reached the newsroom, one of the reporters looked up from his computer. Waldo, wasn’t it? He even looked like a Waldo, not a compliment by any stretch. He might have been a prime date candidate for Kelly—if she dated. A non-threatening type, Waldo was intelligent and had exhibited an interesting sense of humor when they’d talked before she’d flown back to San Francisco. All in all, he seemed nice, might even end up her friend. Just the way Kelly preferred it.

“Hi, Kelly. Welcome back to civilization,” he greeted her.

“I think you’ve got it mixed up.” She flashed him a weary smile and crossed to her desk, slipping her purse strap over the back of the chair. “I just left civilization to move here.”

“Oh, a big city snob,” he teased. “How was the trip?”

“Well, if you’re fond of kids, rats, and old cars, and firmly believe suffering heals the soul, then the trip was a great success.”

He suppressed a chuckle. “That bad, huh? You do look a bit crumpled at the corners.”

She gave him a second glance.
He’s a fine one to talk.
His shirt was in dire need of ironing, and the fingerprints on his glasses were so thick it was a wonder he could see the computer monitor.