Second Chance Friends (21 page)

“You always sleep in back alleyways behind theaters, or were you waiting for someone in particular?” Sutton teased. She winked. She still had on her stage makeup, and Joanna wanted to feel the thick lashes up against her cheek.

“I was hoping to scalp some tickets to the hottest show in town,” she joked back.

Sutton poked one hip out to the side and tapped her chin. “I think I might know someone who can help you
out,” she said. They both giggled. “Seriously, though, aren't you sick of watching it? You've been here so many times.”

“Not a chance.” A slow grin spread across her face. “You've noticed me at the shows?”

“Of course.” A gust of wind blew, and Sutton tensed against it.

“Oh, here, you should come inside,” Joanna said, unlocking the doors. Sutton trotted around the front of the car and hopped in.

“Thanks. I am so ready for spring to actually get here for real.” She rubbed her hands together as Joanna turned up the heat. “So why are you here, really?”

Joanna's mouth felt very dry, and her palms were clammy, but otherwise she was far less nervous than she expected to be. The engagement ring was in her pocket. She planned to tell Sutton all about it, but not there.

“I was hoping we could go get that drink tonight?” she asked.

Sutton grinned. “I thought you'd never ask. Should I get Theo? I'm not sure if he's still in there, but I can look.”

“Nah, just the two of us,” Joanna said. “If that's okay. I want to toast a brilliant Éponine.”

Sutton brushed her fingers against Joanna's, biting her lip. “It's definitely okay,” she said.

Joanna put the car in reverse and pressed on the gas. She knew she had a lot of battles ahead of her. A lot of unpleasant conversations. Tears. Pain. But for the first time in her life, she felt truly happy and free.

T
he biggest April Fools' joke that had ever been pulled on Karen was the one where Kendall took her money and never showed up with the baby.

Emphasis on
Fool
, Karen thought. She just happened to be the biggest fool she knew, handing more cash over to that dishonest little liar. She could just hear her mother, who would undoubtedly be going on and on about a fool and her money soon parted. She could hear her lecturing—
This is why Travis is the way he is, Karen, because you want to be a friend and not a parent.

Wrong. She didn't want to be Kendall's friend. She didn't want to be Kendall's parent. She didn't want to be Kendall's anything. She wanted to have her grandson in her life. She wanted to see him grow up.

Of course, Kendall had disappeared again. Only this time, her phone was also disconnected. She didn't know why this made the baby feel even further out of her reach, but somehow it did. Even when Kendall wasn't answering, at least there was a sense that she was out there somewhere, that she was real and pinpointable, if someone was wanting to pinpoint her.

Karen called and listened to the recorded operator voice at least twenty times, each and every time hoping it would say something different—maybe give her a new number to call, maybe add the word “temporarily” to “out of service.” Anything. But, no, it was always the same—
number disconnected, please hang up, blah blah blah.

Finally, she gave up, and just set about wondering where Marcus might be on any given day. Every newscast she saw, every viral video she clicked on, every crowd behind the
Good Morning America
set, she scanned the faces, hoping to see a familiar button nose or flyaway blond hair on a little boy. But that never happened. It was as if Marcus had simply ceased to exist.

Next thing she knew, it was mid-April, and it had been weeks since she'd sent the money to Kendall. It had been weeks since the number went dead. It had been weeks of waiting for Kendall to make the short trip from Iowa to Missouri. It didn't take weeks to get from Iowa to Missouri. It didn't take weeks to get from anywhere to Missouri.

She'd stopped spending her mornings at the Tea Rose Diner. They all had. Instead, they'd spent rotating shifts at
Maddie Routh's house, relieving Helen when they could, working alongside her when she refused to leave.

“She's my daughter,” she would say, stoically clutching a glass of red wine at the end of the day. “This is where I have to be.”

Cleve would come around periodically as well, floating through the house with a hammer or a tape measure or a can of WD-40, a maintenance ghost. He never seemed to have much to say—definitely the quiet one in the relationship—and seemed to toil through his fate with grim acceptance. Karen liked him. He reminded her somewhat of her grandpa, back when she was growing up. Tough, quiet, smart, bowled over by the women in his life. She missed her grandpa, God rest his soul.

When Maddie had come home from the hospital, she'd spent most of her time in bed, sleeping round the clock, as if she hadn't closed her eyes since the accident. And maybe, Karen thought, she really hadn't.

With a lack of anything else to do, Melinda, Joanna, and Karen decided to do something practical. Helen had shown them a back bedroom, which housed a plain white crib and a small dresser, a few Target bags filled with clothes tossed on top.

“She's been trying, but this is all she has so far,” Helen had said. “Cleve and I have been here with her, so it's been hard to get out and buy things. Plus, well, it's just been hard . . .”

She'd trailed off, but Karen could guess what she'd been getting at. It had been hard to be excited about the baby, given everything that Maddie had been going through.

Karen could imagine Maddie, blindly pulling things off racks at Target, the stitches still in her head from the accident. Buying onesies in a Windbreaker soaked with tears. Picking out a crib online and leaving the box on the front porch until frost collected on the top of it and Cleve finally dragged it in and put it together.

“Let's finish it,” Melinda had said, standing in the doorway.

“What if she doesn't want it?” Joanna asked.

“The baby? Why would you think that?” Helen asked, startled. “Of course she wants it. We all want it.”

“No,” Karen had said. “I think Joanna meant, what if she doesn't want the room finished?”

Joanna had nodded, though Karen wasn't sure this was exactly what Joanna had meant. They'd all wondered, of course, about what the fate of the baby would be after it was born. But the room, even partially finished, spoke of Maddie's hope to make a life together.

“She wants it,” Melinda said. “I don't know what makes me say that, but I just know she does. The baby needs a room. She just needs some assistance. We won't do anything major. Just maybe paint the walls and buy a few more things.”

“Diapers,” Karen said. “I don't see any diapers.”

“And a mobile,” Helen added.

“Maybe some Winnie the Pooh decorations or something,” Joanna said, hopefully. “I've always loved Winnie the Pooh. The baby should have something cute.”

And so they'd spent the next few days painting and buying and arranging, taking shifts opposite their work
shifts, trying to overlap where possible so they could catch up quickly before the others had to leave.

The room began to take shape—soft yellow walls with dim lamp lighting, bumblebees hanging from a mobile cresting on the wave of warm air when the furnace kicked on. Melinda had repurposed a rocking chair. Cleve had built a toy box. Joanna and her friend Sutton had filled the dresser drawers with a rainbow of T-shirts and pajamas.

Which left Karen the task of buying diapers, a shopping trip she enlisted Antoinette for. She seemed all too thrilled to go. Between Travis's drama and Kendall's nonsense, Maddie's difficulties, and having Marty Squire in her life, Karen hadn't had as much time for her friend as she used to.

“I'm so glad you called,” Antoinette said as they pushed a cart down the grocery store aisle. “I've been thinking it's been way too long since I bought a couple cases of diapers. Let's see, when was the last time? Oh, I remember. Never. I have never bought diapers in my life.”

Karen smacked at Antoinette's shoulder. “Yes, well, it's a thrill, I can assure you. Prepare to have your world rocked.”

“Really,” Antoinette said. “I feel like it's been forever since we talked. Your work hours have been weird. You've been ditching me at lunch for
that man
.” She gave an elaborate roll of the eyes.

“Stop right there,” Karen said, holding up a finger as she tried to dodge a child pushing a cart twice the size of himself. “Need I remind you that you were the one who practically begged me to start dating
that man
?”

“No, of course not,” Antoinette said. “And I'm glad you
two have your thing going. I'm just saying, it would be nice to have another payroll meeting like we used to. The Cheetos don't taste the same without you. And the gossip is a lot less tasty. I've been reduced to watching one of those all-female daytime talk shows. Do you know how many fashion segments I've had to sit through?”

“Point taken,” Karen said. “Next week. I promise.” She veered down the middle aisle, which was choked with parents picking up last-minute Easter items.

“Speaking of Marty Squire,” Antoinette said. “Have you two gotten . . . you know . . . close yet? Surely you have by now. You're holding out on me. I'm watching the latest on stiletto trends when I should be getting the down and dirty on your down and dirty.”

Karen pursed her lips at her friend. “Shhh, there are little kids around here. And no.” She slipped between two carts, leaving Antoinette to shove her way through the mob.

“Why not?” Antoinette stage-whispered when she caught up. “He's so cute. Aren't you curious? My Lord, when was the last time you did that? I would think you'd be dying.”

Karen spotted the overhead sign for infant wear and headed for it, sighing. “It's been a long time, but, no, I'm not dying for it.”

“How long exactly?”

Karen stopped; Antoinette nearly bumped into her with the cart. “Truth?”

Antoinette nodded.

“Since Travis was born. When Doug took off, I guess I just sort of gave that up.”

“What?” Antoinette howled. Karen quickly started walking again. “Are you sure it still works down there? It's probably all full of cobwebs and dust.”

Karen couldn't help laughing. “Everything is just fine down there. And besides, it's not like I'm turning down scores of men. It just hasn't come up.”

“Clearly. Well, surely it's come up with Marty.”

“Actually, it hasn't. Here they are.” Karen had, thankfully, found the diapers. It hadn't come up, mainly because Karen had let Marty know in no uncertain terms that she wasn't available for that. Not now, probably not ever. He seemed fine with it.

Although lately he'd taken to feathering her collarbone with his fingertips when he kissed her, and she'd started to think that never was a very long time.

She grabbed two boxes of diapers and heaved them into the cart, then went back for two more. “If I recall, she's going to need a lot of newborn diapers. Seems like Travis went through a diaper about every half hour.”

Antoinette grabbed a box and held it for Karen, who took it and tossed it on top of the others. “And how is she doing?” she asked. “Maddie.”

“Better,” Karen said. “Last night she ate dinner at the table. And Joanna said earlier in the day she sat in the rocking chair in the nursery. She's not sleeping as much. And she's not crying as much. So progress, I guess.”

“Is it an act to get you guys to go away so she can off herself?” Antoinette asked.

Karen had to admit, it was a question that had probably
crossed all their minds at some point. She'd learned through her years with Travis's nonsense that manipulation could be very, very hard to spot, and sometimes you realized that you fell for something obvious only a long time after the fact. Was Maddie simply “acting better” so they would stop watching her every move?

But Maddie wanted help. She and Melinda had talked about it a lot. Melinda thought they'd turned a corner, so it was possible that they really had.

“I—,” Karen started, but was interrupted by her phone ringing. Her heart leapt—maybe it was Kendall—and she set down the box of diapers she'd just started to pick up so she could dig her phone out of her purse. It was an unknown number.

She answered, and a machine told her it was a collect call from the correctional facility.

Oh, God, what now?

She okayed the call, and after a pause, Travis's voice filled her ear. “Hello? Hello?”

“I'm here,” she said. “What's wrong?”

“Is it true, Mom?”

“Is what true?”

“What Kendall said about the guy.”

Her hand tightened around her phone. “You've heard from Kendall? Where is she?”

“I don't know, shacking up somewhere in South KC. That's not why I'm calling.”

“South KC?” Karen interrupted. “She's back in Missouri? When did she get here? Does she have Marcus with
her?” Travis hadn't called about Kendall, but Karen didn't care. Kendall's whereabouts were the only thing she cared about right now. Kendall's, and Marcus's.

“I don't know.” She could hear the annoyance in Travis's voice, but she ignored it. After all that she had been through for him, it was the least he could do to humor her for a change.

“But you've heard from her?” she asked.

“Yeah.” More annoyance. “She called this morning to say that guy woke up. Said no residual problems. Is it true?”

“What?” Karen asked, but realized she had heard him and was asking only for herself. “Curt MacDonald woke up?”

“What?” Antoinette barked, and leaned into Karen's shoulder to get a better listen. Karen tilted the phone away from her ear so they could both hear.

“If you can believe Kendall,” he said. “Which I don't. I thought maybe you'd know.”

“I don't,” Karen said. “Oh, my God, Travis, it would be a miracle.”

“I know, right? I could get the fuck out of this place. You could get that Sidwell guy to go ahead and arrange a plea. I want out.”

“No, I mean, it would be a miracle for the guy to live. And with no residual problems. Imagine how relieved his family must be.”

He could get married to that adorable girl, she thought. He could give her faith a real kick in the keister. They could live happily ever after and he could smile at his kids and think back on the day when he was brutally attacked in a
bar for no reason whatsoever. He could marvel that he lived through it, so life must be a blessed thing indeed, and he would never take a moment of it for granted.

“Yeah, whatever. I don't care about him. I just want to go home,” Travis said. “Can you find out for me? Call Kendall or something?”

“Of course,” Karen said, realizing that she wanted to know. She had to know. Had Curt MacDonald lived? Had all her hoping and wishing and praying actually worked? “But I can't call Kendall. Unless you have her new phone number?”

He made a blowing noise into the phone. “Like that bitch would give me anything.”

Karen threw her phone back in her purse and hurried the diapers up to the cashier.

“So we're definitely not going to the house to deliver these,” Antoinette said, as Karen tossed the diapers into her trunk.

“Are you kidding? No way,” Karen said. She slammed the trunk shut and climbed into the car, having trouble containing herself long enough for Antoinette to return the cart and join her inside the car.

“You know I owe you, right?” Antoinette said as they pulled out of the parking lot.