The Long Way Home (15 page)

And Rita realized that she was suddenly very tired of being in the company of these women. It made no sense at all since they hadn’t really done anything to make her feel that way. Each was likable in her own way, and in this short time she’d grown fond of them. She empathized with Marnie’s desire to see Troy; she was happy that Laverne, formerly housebound, was getting to see more of the world. And Jazzy, well, she was in her element. Good for all of them. But Rita felt lost. She missed Glenn and their routine at home. Watching the news at night. Eating dinner together and discussing their respective days. It had been only two days, but she felt like she’d been away for years.

Maybe she’d feel better after a good meal. Iced tea, too, sounded good.

Jazzy not only looked the part of a waitress—as the lunch crowd poured in, she acted the part as well. She took orders and delivered food with speedy precision. Amazing, really, the way she bustled around: joking with a table of old men, topping up coffee cups, and clearing away plates with finesse. You’d think she’d worked there for years.

“She’s a natural,” Laverne observed, dipping a sweet potato fry into ketchup. “And the way she’s been cozying up to Carson, I think she’s gonna stay.”

“What do you mean, stay?” Marnie said. “She can’t stay.”

Laverne harrumphed. “Seems to me she’s an adult woman, she can do what she wants. You heard it here first. We’re going to lose our navigator. Jazzy’s caught the love bug.”

“That’s ridiculous. They just met.” Marnie looked to Rita for affirmation. “She can’t stay. We came here together, we all leave together. As soon as the car is ready, we’re out of here, right?”

Laverne swirled another fry into a puddle of ketchup on the edge of her plate. “And did you notice no one knows anything about the car? For all we know it’s long gone. They could have sold it for scrap. And then what would we do?”

“Laverne!” Marnie said. “What a terrible thing to say.”

“Well, it’s true. Once my cousin Marvin lent his Oldsmobile to a neighbor’s brother. It was supposed to be just for a day. Guess what? He never saw it again. It was gone, gone, gone. Happens more than you’d think.”

Marnie frowned. “Would you stop already?” She snapped her fingers in front of Rita. “Rita! Can you tell her that’s not going to happen?”

But Rita wasn’t fully present. She hadn’t been listening since she saw a man get up from the bar and stop at the register to pay his bill. Her throat dried up along with her voice. She swallowed hard, raised one arm, and pointed.

“What is it?” Marnie asked, turning her head to look. Laverne’s fry was halfway to her mouth, the ketchup dripping off one end, but she stopped and squinted in the direction Rita indicated.

Rita’s ears were filled with the sound of her heart drumming. She lowered her shaking arm. “It’s him.” She barely got the words out.

“Who?” Marnie asked.

“Davis.” She collected herself then, and spoke just a bit more loudly. “Melinda’s boyfriend. Davis.” He looked different. His hair, once shaggy, was now so short his head looked nearly shaved. She’d been used to seeing him in polo shirts and neatly pressed pants, but today he wore a T-shirt and mud-splattered jeans. But it was him. The way he walked, the languid way he pulled his wallet out of his back pocket as he exchanged small talk with Beth, who stood behind the cash register. She could almost read her lips asking the standard question.
How was everything today?
She only had a side view of Davis, but it was enough to see his face light up when he responded and handed over the money. Rita knew that smile.

Laverne said, “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Memories flooded her brain. Melinda and Davis at her dinner table. The teasing way they spoke to each other. The smiles between them. And then later, the easy camaraderie between the young couple, reminding her so much of Glenn and herself. She’d been sure they would be married, and that he’d be the father of her grandchildren someday. Her beautiful, beautiful daughter, once so in love, once so happy. Until something went terribly, terribly wrong.

She grabbed her purse and got up out of the booth walking purposefully toward Davis, not sure what she was going to do or say, propelled by some force greater than herself. Behind her, she heard Marnie say, “Rita!” as if to stop her, but there was no stopping her.

A younger woman with short dark hair came out of the bathroom, and Rita momentarily slowed to let her pass, then regretted it because she was also heading toward the front, much more slowly than Rita. The woman wore a dark tank top and form-fitting jeans. Her cropped haircut topped dangling silver earrings; her tanned shoulders and arms showcased multiple ornate tattoos. Rita tried to look around her to see if Davis was still there, and she saw, with a stab to her heart, that not only was he still at the register, he was now turning to face her and smiling in recognition.

Just a few feet away she hesitated, and in that moment, the dark-haired woman approached Davis and rested a hand on his back. “Are we good to go?” she asked him, and then it became clear to her that he’d been smiling at this woman, not her. He didn’t recognize Rita. In fact, he hadn’t even noticed her.

“All set,” he answered, putting his wallet in his back pocket.

Rita stepped around them, blocking the door. She cleared her throat. “Davis?” she said.

When he looked up and realized it was her, his reaction was one of shock. His mouth dropped open and his eyes widened. “No,” he said, taking a step back. And then more firmly, “No.” Seeming to get his bearings, he brushed past her, pulling the girl along with him. He made it to the door, with Rita in full pursuit.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she said, her voice shrill and loud. “Do you think you can just walk away from me?” The conversation in the restaurant went silent as everyone in the place turned their attention toward her.

“Not here. Not now, Rita. Good-bye.” He pushed open the door, making the attached bell jangle. The woman with him turned to look at Rita questioningly before following him outside.

Rita, right on their heels, left the restaurant. “Yes, now, Davis. We need to talk.” She followed them to the far corner of the lot, determined not to let him get away.

The dark-haired woman looked from Davis to Rita and back again. “What’s going on, Davis?”

“Get in the car, Sophie. I’ll tell you later.” He shoved her shoulder and she pulled back, glaring at him.

“No, I won’t get in the car. Not until I hear what this is all about.”

“I’ll tell you what this is all about,” Rita said, reaching into her purse and pulling out her wallet. With shaking hands, she found the photo of Melinda and Davis she kept underneath her driver’s license. Their engagement picture. She couldn’t bear to look at it, but still she kept it, knowing it might be useful someday. She handed it to Sophie. “This was my daughter, Melinda.”

“It was a long time ago,” Davis said.

“It doesn’t seem that long ago to me,” Rita said, and although she was still trembling with emotion, she had tapped into some inner strength and was now directing her attention to Sophie. “My daughter has been dead for ten years.” Sophie’s face softened in sympathy, and Rita continued in a rush while she still had the chance. “The murder has never been solved. She was living with Davis at the time, and he was the last person to see her alive.”

The restaurant door jangled open, and Rita realized all three of her friends had followed her outside and now stood behind her in a silent show of strength.

“I need to know, Davis. Did you kill my daughter?” She and Glenn had talked about what they’d do if they ever came face-to-face with Davis. She’d played this scene over in her mind a hundred times. And every time she thought about it, she’d spoken these exact words. But it wasn’t enough, because he didn’t react. She needed him to acknowledge what he did, so she pressed on. “Did you strangle her and leave her in that parked car? Did you leave my baby all alone in that car in the dark in the cold?” She was shaking hard, from anger and conviction.

For one brief moment she saw the horror in his eyes. She hoped he might break down and tell the truth, but he straightened up suddenly as if remembering himself and responded indignantly. “I don’t have to listen to this. I had nothing to do with Melinda’s death, and you know it, Rita.”

“Your brother said you weren’t with him all night. And Tiffany Miller told me Melinda was going to break up with you.”

Sophie stared at the photo and then up at Davis’s face as if trying to connect the image with the man. “Why didn’t you ever mention Melinda?”

“Soph, it was a long time ago.” He clicked on his car’s remote, and it beeped as it unlocked the doors.

“They were engaged,” Laverne said, putting her hand on Rita’s shoulder, and then to clarify, “to be married.”

“You were engaged to her?” Sophie’s asked, sounding injured. She handed the photo back, and it was then that Rita saw the diamond ring on the girl’s left hand.

Davis bristled. “This is harassment. You track me down here and embarrass me in public. What did you do, hire a private detective?”

“No,” Rita said. “I didn’t hire a private detective. Melinda sent me to find you.”

He opened his car door and slid into the seat. “Are you coming or not, Sophie?”

Rita grabbed at the door. “Melinda knew you would be here, and she knows the truth. Eventually everyone will know.”

“You’re crazy. Leave me alone.” He slammed the door shut and started the engine. Sophie reluctantly went to the other side of the car and got in. Davis backed up without looking at them and furiously drove off, his wheels stirring up dust in the gravel. Sophie’s small face in the window tugged at Rita’s heart.

“Well, that’s that,” Rita said, her eyes filling with tears. In all the times she imagined confronting Davis it had ended differently than this. She wanted him to admit he was guilty, to tell her what he knew. This encounter felt incomplete.

“You did real good,” Laverne said. “Real good.”

Marnie turned to Jazzy. “I can’t believe you came up with the name Preston Place and he turned out to be here. Incredible.”

“I don’t feel like I did good,” Rita said. “I had hoped for so much more.” A tremble in her chest took over her body, and she began to cry like a child, big tears running down her cheeks. Marnie’s face softened in concern, and she leaned in for a hug, followed by Laverne and Jazzy. Rita felt cocooned by their caring and tried to choke back the tears. “So that’s it, then.”

“Well, it’s not over yet,” Jazzy said. “Let’s just wait and see.”

The door opened and Carson stuck his head out. “Everything okay out here?”

Rita knew they must look ridiculous. She smiled and wiped her eyes. She called out, “We’re fine. I’m just having a little breakdown.”

“Do you want to quit working, Jazzy?” he asked. “My mom can take over your tables.”

“No,” she said to him. “I’ll be right in.” And then to Rita, “Just wait. Things will get better.”

But things didn’t get better. If anything, they got worse.

When the lunch rush died down, Beth drove Rita to the mechanic’s shop while the other three ladies stayed behind at the restaurant. They returned a half hour later and Marnie knew it wasn’t going to be good. When Rita and Beth walked through the door, the look on their faces said it all.

“Bad news, ladies,” Beth said to Marnie and Laverne, who were sitting at a table nursing soft drinks. “The car won’t be fixed until tomorrow.”

The words hit Marnie like an arrow to the chest. “No,” she said, and then as if saying it again would make it true, “No! That can’t be right. There has to be a way. We need to leave today. We’ve been delayed too long already.”

Jazzy, who was nearby, intently filling salt shakers, raised her head to listen.

“I’m really sorry,” Beth said. “But you have to understand he’s a small-town mechanic. He has to send out for most parts. That’s just the way it is when you live around here.”

“What if we drove to a bigger city?” Marnie asked. “And brought a new alternator back ourselves? If you let us borrow your car and told us where to go, we could leave right now.” She couldn’t hide the desperation in her voice. Could this get any worse? It was the real-life version of the bad dream where you couldn’t get home, no matter how hard you tried. “We could do that, couldn’t we, Rita?”

Rita and Beth exchanged a look that said,
Oh boy, here we go
. Beth pulled up a chair, but Rita kept standing.

Rita sighed and said, “Even if we did that, the work still has to be done. The car won’t be ready until tomorrow either way.” She’d broken the news gently, but it still made Marnie want to fall to the floor keening. Or walk to Las Vegas. Anything rather than sit here and feel helpless.

“But, but…” Marnie accidentally bit the inside of her cheek, the result of stammering like an idiot, which is exactly how she felt. Like an idiot on the verge of a breakdown. The other women looked at her with sympathy. She knew they felt for her, which was one small consolation. “I just feel like we’ll never get there.”

“I have an idea,” Carson said. Somehow he’d materialized next to Jazzy without Marnie having noticed. “Why don’t you borrow my car?”

Marnie said, “Seriously?” at the same time that Rita said, “We couldn’t possibly.”

“Sure, why not?” Carson wiped a hand across his forehead. “I’ve got my bike. I can do without a car for a week or so.”

“That’s very nice of you, but I’m not driving anyone’s car besides my own,” Rita said firmly.

So true to form, Marnie thought. Rita, the perfect lady, would never leave her car behind and borrow a stranger’s vehicle. She gave Rita a pleading look. “We could pick it up on the way back,” she suggested.

But Rita wouldn’t budge. “It’s not happening. One day won’t make that much of a difference.”

But Marnie felt that every minute made a difference. She lifted her Diet Coke and took a sip, her eyes welling with tears. Somewhere Troy was out there without her, miserable and alone. She thought of what Matt Haverman said at the grocery store:
The dude’s depressed, that’s clear
. And he’d also said that Troy missed her. If he missed her half as much as she missed him, he was in complete misery.

“I got a thought,” Laverne said, and Marnie inwardly moaned. Laverne was such an odd duck. Who knew what she was going to come up with? Nothing good, she thought.

“What’s that?” Jazzy said.

“Why don’t we split up?” Laverne said, glancing at each of them for a reaction. “We’re not stuck like glue, are we? Two of us could stay here and wait for Rita’s car and the other two could borrow Carson’s car and leave right now.”

Marnie’s eyes widened in amazement. What a brilliant idea! And to think Laverne had come up with it.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Rita announced. “We came together, we should stay together.” She gave Marnie’s arm a dismissive pat, a signal that this was the last word on the subject. “The buddy system.”

The buddy system. Why was it not surprising to hear Rita quote Girl Scout wisdom? Or was it the Boy Scouts who touted the buddy system?

“I’m not sure I agree with you on this, Rita,” Jazzy said, slowly. “I think Marnie needs to leave right now and not tomorrow. I think,” and here she smiled at Carson, who grinned right back, “that the universe is giving Marnie a gift. If someone offers you something out of the kindness of their heart, and you need that something, you really have to take it.” She spoke directly to Marnie. “Take the car. I’ll stay here with Rita, and you and Laverne can leave right this minute.”

“I’m ready,” Laverne said, slipping down from her bar stool. “Just a quick trip to the ladies’ room and we can be on our way.”

“But…” Marnie said, watching Laverne as she headed toward the bathroom. She pointed to Jazzy. “I was thinking maybe you and I could go, and Laverne and Rita would stay and wait for the car to be fixed.” How many hours from here until Las Vegas? Thirteen or so? She wasn’t exactly sure, but it would feel even longer with Laverne right next to her.

Jazzy shook her head vigorously. “No, Laverne should be the one to go. I think this is going to work out fine.”

Rita shrugged. “If everyone else wants to do it this way, I can live with it.”

From there, everything happened so quickly that Marnie had no time to object. As it turned out, Carson’s car was in the parking lot behind the building. “Clean and full of gas,” he said. “And believe me, that doesn’t happen too often.” He loaded their suitcases into the back, showing the women the compartment that held the spare and the jack. Marnie listened politely and wished she’d paid attention when Brian used to talk about the car. She’d always thought of it as his department. Now that he was gone, everything was her department.

Jazzy and Rita stood nearby and listened, like sightseers on a tour. “Don’t forget to get out your GPS,” Jazzy said to Carson, shading her eyes and peering into the car. “They’re definitely going to need one.”

“I’m glad you mentioned it,” Carson said. “I keep it under the seat.”

Marnie had to wonder at the familiarity between the two. They just met, for crying out loud. How was it that they were so in sync? How did she even know he had a GPS? This whole trip was surreal.

After instructions on how to operate the GPS and the radio and everything else, they were finally ready to go. “Hugs!” Jazzy said, throwing her arms wide open. Oh, but she was a sunshine girl. Beams of light practically radiated from her fingertips.

Laverne pushed past Marnie in order to be the first to hug Jazzy good-bye. It was hard to believe she’d been a recluse until recently. Even Carson got into the act, giving Laverne a hug first, and then Marnie. He wished them well. Marnie was struck by the solidness of the young man’s sinewy arms and how his embrace smelled like chicken noodle soup.

Marnie reluctantly hugged Rita, who was, comparatively speaking, a little stiff, and then went to Jazzy. Wrapping her arms around the girl, she was struck by how petite she was. Tiny, oh so tiny. Hard to believe such a little rib cage held Jazzy’s big heart. The rest of her body was made up of crackling energy, slim limbs, and a big smile. “It’s going to be fine,” she whispered to Marnie. “Wait and see.”

Such reassuring words. Gratitude coursed through Marnie’s veins. She had a funny, random thought, the kind she didn’t usually say out loud. Except now she did. “Jazzy,” she whispered into her ear, “I’ve decided that you are my scarecrow.”

Jazzy pulled apart and regarded Marnie with a puzzled expression. “What did you say?”

“You’re my scarecrow.” Marnie paused to come up with the best explanation. “Like in
The Wizard of Oz
? When Dorothy says good-bye to all her friends? She’s nice to all of them, but she says to the scarecrow…” She leaned in conspiratorially and said, “I’m going to miss you most of all.”