The Best Light

Backstory

2012-06-14T12:19:00.000-07:00

This story came about in the fall of 2004. I had taken a trip to a little town north of me and stopped at the local A&W. After I left, I thought about the young ladies who worked there--not in THAT way--and wondered how much they liked their little town. The notion came to me that they probably dreamed about leaving that small town while I would have given anything to stay. The juxtaposition of these attitudes seemed like a good idea for a story.

At first I thought about a short story. Maybe a one-night stand kind of thing. Eventually I got to thinking about doing a full novel. I already had half of the duo, borrowing jaded nature photographer Frank Hemsky from the short story "The Ridgemont Marathon." The other half evolved also on a drive home, this time coming home from Thanksgiving with my family. For no reason I thought this young girl should have a fetish for old movies. Casablanca popped into my mind for some reason. this led me to researching the life of Ingrid Bergman by reading a biography and watching some of her movies. By the time I finished, I had two complete characters.

The Best Light is the story of these two people who are at different stages of their lives. Frank Hemsky is an aging and jaded nature photographer. He's spent so much time in the field that he really has no friends, divorced one woman, and was left by another--Vera Swinton. When Frank learns of Vera's death in the town of Little Mesa, New Mexico, he gets on the first plane there.

He finds out upon arrival that he's 10 years too late--Vera died by falling into a crater outside town on a rainy night. Frank decides then to find out everything he can about Vera after she left him over twenty years ago. He's shocked when he runs into Vera's 18-year-old daughter Anna.

Anna Swinton is an aspiring actress dreaming of leaving the small town behind. When she meets Frank, she sees him as a link to the mother she barely knew. As they get to know each other their relationship becomes more serious. But the truth about Vera Swinton threatens to drive them apart.

Please enjoy "The Best Light..."

REBOOT!!!!

2011-08-06T09:48:00.000-07:00

So I was sitting around at Ram's Horn the other day and thought of a reboot scenario. Actually there are two, one short one and one longer one.

Short Version:
Nature photographer Frank Hemsky goes to the town of Little Mesa, NM to take some nature pictures. As he is, he meets some kid who's out to get pictures of the UFOs that supposedly frequent the area. Frank teaches the kid a little about photography and becomes more involved with the lives of people in the town until maybe he wants to stay or something.

Longer Version:
In this version Frank and a friend are growing up in Little Mesa. One night they're out taking pictures of supposed UFOs and stuff. Frank discovers his new career. He eventually leaves town to become a somewhat renowned nature photographer. Meanwhile his friend stays in town and maybe settles down with some chick.

Later, Frank returns home for some reason. He's had it tough in the last 30 years or so. He's been married and divorced a couple of times and now that he's getting older it's harder for him to get out in the field and do what he loves. He meets up with his old friend who hasn't had as interesting of a life but is happier. Mayhem ensues! Maybe Frank renews acquaintances with his friend's wife or something like that. Or to combine ideas maybe Frank bonds with his friend's kid over photography. It'd be kind of like "Bridge of Sighs" only far more interesting and with a main character who doesn't still wish he were six years old. I'm just saying.

Not sure which (if either) I like better.

Long Version 2

The updated long version would check in on Frank at various points in his life, kind of like "Where You Belong" and stuff. Or maybe we'd do some of it in flashback. The chronological way would be that it starts in the 60s or so when Frank and his friend are kids. They're messing around with a camera and capture a "UFO" on film. They get it printed in the local newspaper and become local celebrities, which Frank thinks is pretty cool. But soon after Frank has to leave with his parents. There's probably a girl too who they excluded from their UFO outing because girls are icky.

Frank goes on to learn more about photography and becomes a nature photographer. Maybe he goes back to Little Mesa in his twenties and finds his friend and the girl are together. But while he's there, he hooks up with the girl. But he leaves her when National Geographic or someone calls and wants to use a bunch of his pictures. With him about to hit the big time, he takes off, leaving his friends behind.

Fast forward 10 years or so. Frank is in Yellowstone and meets a hot ranger chick. They wind up getting hot and heavy and marrying. Frank's friend and the girl (who are married now--Frank missed the wedding) show up for the wedding and maybe the girl warns Frank about his new wife. The girl might have a baby or be pregnant--not sure about the timeline yet.

Fast forward another 10 years or so. Frank's wife has become assimilated by the LA lifestyle. She wants lots of expensive things and basically to live like a movie star's wife, but Frank isn't making $20 million a year. This has created some tension and then finally Frank finds out his wife is cheating on him with someone who does make millions of dollars a year.

A couple years later, Frank is feeling old and broken down. He gets a call from a reporter in Little Mesa. It's the town's whatever anniversary (or something) and the reporter wants to do a profile on Frank, one of its most famous citizens, which is kind of sad. Frank decides to go back to Little Mesa for the interview and such.

He meets his friend, the girl, and their kid. But Frank can see the signs that the girl isn't happy anymore. Maybe she even goes to Frank and asks him to leave with her because she's bored of Little Mesa and wants to see the world like he has. When he turns her down, she leaves anyway. In the meantime, Frank also does some bonding with the kid, who becomes interested in photography.

I was thinking that maybe the kid winds up thinking at the end that aliens beamed up his mom and Frank kind of goes along with it. Or something.

Still lots to work out, but we're getting closer. (Or not.)

Epilogue

2007-06-14T12:19:00.001-07:00

Epilogue

July 5, 2005

James let me off at the bus station in Albuquerque. I think he wanted me to stick around for a while, but I couldn’t. I have to get to Los Angeles. I don’t want to end up like Mom.

I took the bus from Albuquerque to LA. I sat next to a girl my age named Meagan. She’s from Truth and Consequences down south. She’s going to LA too, but not for acting. She’s a writer. She looks like a writer too with that mousy brown hair, wire-rimmed glasses, and baggy T-shirt. She’s like one of those girls at school who was always scribbling poetry in a notebook and if you said anything to her, she jumped like you electrocuted her.

I asked if she wanted to write TV or movies and she just shrugged. “I’ll take what I can get,” she said. Along the way I read a screenplay she wants to get produced. It’s about a small town girl who’s raped by her boyfriend, the star player on the baseball team. The town covers up the rape so the team can win in the state championship. The girl gets so enraged at the state finals she runs onto the field and kills him with a bat. We had a good laugh when I asked if it was based on a true story.

I told Meagan about wanting to be an actress but not that I was going to see Tim Collins. It’s kind of selfish on my part I guess, but also I didn’t want to get her hopes up. I don’t even know if he’ll see me. There are probably all sorts of girls tracking him down and asking him to cast them in a movie.

Meagan and I promised to “do lunch” as the Hollywood people say when we’re both rich and famous. Maybe I’ll even star in one of her movies. I don’t really want to play a psycho killer, though. I don’t think I could get into the character. Henry always said not to take a part unless you can identify with the character, unless you really need the money. He said the last part like it was a joke, but I think he was talking from personal experience. I miss him. I should call him from Los Angeles and tell him how things go. No matter what happened, I owe him a lot. Without him I’d look like Jabba the Hutt, filling my face and watching movies on the couch. Yuck.

We drove through the desert for what seemed like forever. I dozed off at some point along the way. I hadn’t slept in at least a day and half. I think I dreamed about Frank, but it’s a little hazy now. Meagan elbowed me awake and there it was.

Los Angeles is so beautiful. The buildings are so much bigger than anything in Little Mesa or even Albuquerque. It’s almost magical, just the size of the place. I was glued to the windows like one of those Garfield things people hang in their cars. I couldn’t believe I was finally HERE. The city of angels. Right next door to Hollywood. Amazing.

The bus let us off and I asked Meagan where she was staying. She didn’t know. She figured she’d get a motel somewhere until she could find a job and apartment. I suggested we split a room to save ourselves a little money. We found a place not far away that was a real dump but cheap. It makes the Rio Rancho look like the Plaza. The door wouldn’t close all the way until we put a chair in front of it. Meagan joked we should take turns sleeping in case someone tries to break in.

The bathtub is really dirty, but I took a shower anyway. No one bothered to restock the towels, so I had to ask Meagan for one of my dresses to use instead. When she handed me the dress, I noticed her looking at me. Her face turned all red and she ran away.

After I got dressed, I went back into the room and she was on the bed, crying. She kept apologizing over and over again. I sat down next to her, just to comfort her and she kissed me. I’ve never kissed a girl before. It was weird. Not as forceful as most guys I’ve kissed. I stopped it after a few seconds and then she starting crying again.

That was the reason she left Truth and Consequences. She kissed a girl there and when her parents found out, they freaked. Threw her right out of the house. She got a friend to drive her to Albuquerque and bought a ticket for LA. How awful. I bet that’s how Aunt Esther would have reacted if she found out I ever kissed a girl. Mom wouldn’t have cared.

After that whole mess, I convinced Meagan to get cleaned up and we went to dinner at a Thai restaurant down the street. I’ve never had Thai food before. You can’t get any in Little Mesa. Aunt Esther used to say she didn’t like food with a name she couldn’t pronounce, so we never went anywhere exotic.

I’m not sure what I had. Some kind of duck I think. Meagan had something with a lot of noodles. It was kind of awkward between the two of us. We kept pointing to people who passed by and pretending it was some celebrity. I don’t think anyone like Tom Cruise or Brad Pitt hangs around near the bus station. Tomorrow I’ll see someone famous.

After dinner we decided we were both tired from all the travel. The television in the room only has HBO, which was showing a boxing match. Why do people want to sit around cheer for two guys beating each other up? It’s sick.

Right now Meagan is asleep on one bed. She’s turned away from me and all wrapped up so I can only see her hair. I think she’s still embarrassed about what happened earlier. I keep telling her that it’s all right. I even tried joking that it was good practice in case I have to do a lesbian kiss in a movie. She didn’t like the word “lesbian.” I think she’s still a little confused. I hope she figures it out eventually.

Tomorrow I’m going to take a taxi out to Malibu to see Tim Collins. I should be asleep right now so I don’t look too tired when I meet him. If I meet him. He probably has assistants, security guards, and attack dogs that will keep me from getting within a mile of him.

I should stop writing now and go to bed. If anyone saw us right now they’d think I was the writer. Goodnight.

July 6, 2005

I couldn’t sleep last night. I think I only managed an hour. I thought about Tim Collins, but mostly I was thinking about Frank. I kept wondering what he was doing. Did he go out looking for me? Maybe I haven’t been fair to him about everything. He might have just made an honest mistake.

I can’t go back now, when I’m so close. Not for a man who I don’t know even loves me. A man who loves Mom more than he’ll ever love me. I have to be strong. I can’t give in or I’ll end up just like Mom.

I decided to wear the pantsuit today with a striped blouse that matches. I want to look professional for Mr. Collins so he won’t think I’m just some nut off the street. I put my hair up to complete the look. I looked into the mirror and tried some serious, businesswoman-like expressions. Then I broke out laughing. Maybe this look is too serious and dull.

I left before Meagan woke up. That way I wouldn’t have to explain why I needed to go alone. She might think it has something to do with what happened yesterday. As I wrote a note for her to promise I’d be back later, I thought about Frank again. I hope he understood the one I left for him.

The taxi driver who drove me to Malibu was so nice. His name is Rasheed. He volunteers to drive around some of the old people he goes to church with when he isn’t driving the cab. He gave me the number for his church and told me to go there if I ever needed help. I guess he gets a lot of aspiring actresses from small towns. I feel like such a stereotype.

As we drove through Los Angeles I tried not to act like a complete idiot like on the bus yesterday. But for just a second I thought I saw the Hollywood sign and I felt ready to faint. That’s when I knew I’d finally made it. I was really here.

It took forever to get to Malibu. Rasheed asked when he dropped me off if he should stick around for a few minutes to make sure. I said he could go, but he said it was time for a break anyway. So I got out of the cab and went up to the front gate of the house I hoped belonged to Mr. Collins.

I couldn’t even see the house from the gate. There was a wall and a lot of bushes in the way. I pushed the button on the intercom and waited. A woman’s voice said, “Can I help you?”

I said, “My name is Anna Swinton. I’d like to see Mr. Collins if he’s not busy.” I’m sure my whole face turned red just then. I felt like such an idiot to just show up unannounced like this.

“Mr. Collins is very busy.”

“I know. Could you tell him I’m a friend of Henry Barton.” It was like that story where the kid says, “Open sesame!” and the magic door opens. The gates opened and I waved to Rasheed. He waved back and took off. Then I went through the gates and saw the house.

It’s so big I’m sure half of Little Mesa could fit inside. It’s one of those modern types with a lot of glass, the kind you’d expect a famous director to have. There was a Durango in the driveway which I guessed must belong to one of his assistants. The front walk had to be longer than Marshall Street and by the time I got up to the door I felt like I’d done my morning run.

I didn’t even have to ring a doorbell. A woman stood there wearing a suit almost like mine, except it was charcoal. I knew right away this was Henry’s daughter because she looked almost exactly like his wife, except taller. She’s even taller than I am. She must be six feet at least.

For a second we just looked at each other, sizing each other up as they say, and then she smiles. “Hello, Ms. Swinton. I’m Stephanie Collins. Henry Barton is my father.”

“I figured that. You look so much like his wife.” She frowned at that and I guessed I’d hit a sore spot. “I’m sorry.”

“No, there’s no need to be sorry. Come inside and let’s talk.” She took me inside the house and we walked down a really long hallway with posters from Mr. Collins’ movies on the walls. I watched only one of them, on a date with Alberto Ramirez in tenth grade. It was the one about the guy who lives in an old factory and builds a machine that can make anything someone wants out of old junk. I thought it was all right, but I couldn’t concentrate very well with Alberto’s hands all over me.

Mrs. Collins took me to a living room I swear is bigger than my whole house back in Little Mesa. She sat in a chair that must cost as much as the Durango in the driveway and motioned for me to sit on a white couch. It has to be the softest couch I’ve ever sat on.

“So, you know my father?”

“Yes.”

“For how long?”

“About eight years.”

“How did you meet?”

“My class had to volunteer at the retirement home and I was assigned Henry—Mr. Barton—as my adopted grandfather. We just hit it off, I guess you could say.”

“Retirement community? Where was this?”

“In Little Mesa, New Mexico. That’s where I grew up.”

Mrs. Collins took in all this without an expression. I didn’t know what she was thinking. She’d make a great poker player. Then she said, “So what brings you out here, Ms. Swinton?”

“You can call me Anna.”

“Anna. What brings you out here?”

“Mr. Barton said I should come out here. I want to be an actress. He thought Mr. Collins could help.”

“Of course. You know, we get a lot of young women and men coming around here with a story about why we should help them.”

At that moment I felt just like Ingrid Bergman when she’s trying to convince the Dowager Empress she’s the czar’s lost daughter in Anastasia. How could I convince Mrs. Collins that I wasn’t just some crazy gold-digger? I thought about it for a moment and said, “I’d let you talk to Henry, but he had a heart attack last night. He’s in the hospital in Little Mesa, but they think he’s going to pull through.” I left out the part about him saying he loved me and then gave Mrs. Collins the number of the hospital.

There was a phone nearby and I waited on the couch while she called. She kept her voice low so I couldn’t make out what she asked, but I knew she was asking if they really had a patient named Henry Barton there and if it was really her father. The only thing I did hear was her saying, “Oh my God. Is he all right?” A minute later she hung up and there were tears in her eyes.

She hugged me right there on the couch and kept thanking me over and over again. “I’m sorry I doubted you,” she said.

“I understand,” I said.

After she stopped crying, she sat next to me on the couch and explained she hadn’t seen her father in eleven years. She was coming back from graduate school at Princeton. He was supposed to meet her train, but didn’t. He didn’t even leave a note. By that time she’d already met Mr. Collins and they looked for Henry but couldn’t find him. He’d just disappeared. “So many times I thought he must be dead. To think he’s been in a retirement home the whole time.”

She said Mr. Collins was shooting a movie in Vancouver, but he should be finished by the end of the week. In the meantime, she suggested we go out to lunch. It turned out the Durango belongs to her. She said she uses it to haul around the kids and likes the anonymity of it.

The place we went to was like something out of a movie. I imagined Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers on the dance floor. It was so elegant and expensive. I couldn’t afford an appetizer. I kept looking around for someone to throw me out, but Mrs. Collins didn’t pay any attention. She asked the maitre’d for a table for two and he got us one in the center of the dining room. Around us I saw actors, actresses, directors, and producers. It was like I died and went to Heaven.

Mrs. Collins was all business after she ordered a salad and mineral water for both of us. She grilled me about how I ended up in Malibu and what I wanted from her and Mr. Collins. I kept tripping over my tongue until I wanted to crawl away into the bathroom and lock myself into a stall.

She didn’t react to anything I said. When I finished telling her about how I’d wanted to be an actress since I was a little girl, she asked me about my qualifications. Did I have a head shot? What sorts of productions had I appeared in? What kind of formal training did I have? I felt like a complete idiot again as I told her I left Little Mesa in such a rush that I hadn’t really prepared. I listed the plays I’d performed in for school and explained that her father had provided most of my training. I waited what seemed like forever for her to respond.

“I hope you understand that even though you know my father, I still have to look out for my husband’s interests,” she said. “I want to get some pictures and have you do a test for me.”

That was it. The rest of the lunch went by like a blur. Then she drove me back to the city and we met a photographer she knew. Maybe it was just my imagination, but the photographer looked like the female version of Frank. While Mrs. Collins did my hair and make-up, I kept wanting to ask the photographer if she knew Frank. Even if she did, so what? I didn’t have anything left to say to him.

The photographs took a couple hours to shoot. They kept having me tilt my head one way and then the other and run through all sorts of expressions. I did my best not to look at the photographer and not to think about Frank. He was in the past, in Little Mesa.

After they took the last picture, Mrs. Collins and I went back to her house. She led me out to the deck, where I could see the ocean for the first time. It’s even more beautiful up close than in the pictures. The water goes on forever. I could float all the way to China on that water.

Mrs. Collins sat on a chair and told me to perform a scene. A scene of my choosing. Since it was so fresh, I decided to do one from Casa Verde. It seemed only fitting to perform her father’s play for her. I did the farewell scene between Rich and Elsie, but it didn’t feel the same as when I did for Frank at Crater Park. Still, when I finished, Mrs. Collins applauded.

“I can see what my father saw in you,” she said. She invited me to stay for dinner. I figured with a house this big she must have a bunch of servants, but she explained that with Mr. Collins in Vancouver and the kids at summer camp, she gave everyone the week off. We had the whole place to ourselves.

She ordered a pizza and we ate it on the deck while watching the waves. I saw a couple walking along the beach by the house next door vans and Mrs. Collins said that Rocky Carmichael had moved in along with his new wife. She and Mr. Collins planned to have them over for dinner when he got back.

After dinner Mrs. Collins went inside and came back with a bottle of wine. I told her I wasn’t old enough to drink, but she said, “I won’t tell anyone.”

So we sat there drinking white wine she’d bought from a friend of hers in the wine country and watching the sun go down. The sunset was so beautiful against the ocean that I wished Frank were there to take a picture. I imagined the two of us walked along the beach, hand-in-hand like a movie. Then I remembered I wasn’t the one he wanted to walk hand-in-hand with.

When the sun had gone down, Mrs. Collins told me about why Henry had left Hollywood. His wife died, also named Stephanie, died in childbirth. For a while Henry did the best he could to raise Mrs. Collins, but there was something wrong. The more she grew, the more she reminded him of his wife. He spent more and more time away from home, letting nannies take care of her, but eventually he sent her away to a boarding school in New Hampshire. She stayed there through high school and then went on to Dartmouth for a business degree and Princeton for her master’s degree. All those years, she and Henry hardly ever saw each other or talked to each other.

She came home for Christmas vacation her last year at Princeton and at a party Henry was throwing, she met Tim Collins. Neither one of them was really into the party, so they went somewhere to talk. Just like that, they were in love. They didn’t tell anyone, but after the party they kept in touch by telephone and letters until she graduated.

Then she told Henry that she was coming back to Los Angeles to stay. Mr. Collins was about to direct his first picture and she wanted to help him deal with the business part. After that, they planned to get married. Henry didn’t object at all. He even helped pay for the wedding, but as soon as Mr. and Mrs. Collins went on their honeymoon, Henry disappeared. She hadn’t seen or heard from him since then.

“I know he loves me. He just has trouble seeing past my mother. I don’t think he ever got over her death.” I thought of Frank and Mom. I knew Frank loved me, but he’d never gotten over Mom. And he probably never would.

Mrs. Collins took me back to the motel. “This is where you’re staying?” she said.

“Only until I can find something permanent,” I said.

“Stay with me. We have plenty of room. You can stay as long as you like.”

“I don’t want to be a bother—”

“You aren’t a bother, Anna. You’re a godsend.”

I asked if I could bring a friend with me and she agreed. I went inside to tell Meagan the good news, but she was gone. All her stuff had disappeared without even a note. I felt sorry for her. She didn’t have to be embarrassed or ashamed about who she was. She didn’t need to run away. I hope wherever she is, she’ll figure things out.

I took my bags and checked out of the crappy motel. Then Mrs. Collins drove me back to Malibu. She led me upstairs to one of the guest bedrooms. It makes my bedroom in Little Mesa look like a closet by comparison. The whole room is done in a floral pattern that reminds me of the dress I wore that first night Frank came over. So much has happened since then.

Tomorrow Mrs. Collins has promised to get the pictures from the photographer and fax them to her husband. She thinks she has the perfect role for me. The female lead in an adaptation of The Scarlet Knight. Mrs. Collins says she and her husband have wanted to do it for years because his father created the show and hers starred in it. They finally have a deal with a studio and the financing to make it happen. I’m not sure about doing a superhero movie, but I think it might be a good way to thank Henry for everything he’s done for me.

Mrs. Collins has gone to bed now and I’m sitting here alone, thinking about how I got here. The last week has been so strange. I look back now and the person I was before the Meteor Days festival is gone. I’m in a new city with a new life and maybe a new family now. Mom’s journey ended in Little Mesa, but mine is only beginning.

Chapter 28

2007-06-14T12:18:00.001-07:00

Chapter 28

Frank arrived home and checked his messages. He had received only one from a travel magazine in desperate need of an Antarctic photograph for an upcoming issue. He erased the message and dropped his bags next to his desk.

No word yet about Anna. She could have gone anywhere, but he knew she would go to Los Angeles, to Hollywood. Where else would an aspiring actress go? But in a city of millions, finding one girl was like the proverbial needle in the haystack. He would have a better chance discovering alien artifacts in Marshall’s Crater than locating Anna.

He looked at the telephone and considered his options. Anna was legally an adult and had left of her own free will; the police could do nothing for him. A private investigator might be able to find her, given enough time and money. Such a search could take years and do little more than eat up his savings.

The obvious solution would be to contact as many casting directors as possible. One of them was bound to see her at some point. What would he tell them? He wasn’t Anna’s relative, husband, fiancé, or even boyfriend. He was the almost-fiancé of her dead mother who’d known her for less than a week in New Mexico. Anyone he told would think him a stalker.

What would he tell her even if he somehow managed to find her among the millions of Los Angelinos? She’d left him with a cryptic note at the Rio Rancho. After he told her how much he loved her and made love to her. If she could leave after that, it should be pretty obvious she had no interest in finding him.

He could still have hope, though. Hope that she would change her mind and try to find him. His address was listed in the phone book, the only F Hemsky in all of Los Angeles. She needed only to look and ask someone for directions. Not an impossible feat, even for a small town girl in the big city. If he waited long enough, he might not have to look for her at all.

In the meantime, he went to his lightbox in the living room, where several packages of processed film waited. The film was from his trip to Colorado a month ago. After turning on the lightbox, he placed each roll of film on the lighted surface and sat down to begin evaluating the photographs.

He studied each frame with a loupe, magnifying the image to pick up any flaws. One of a stream grown fat from the spring thaw was little more than a blur. Another of a field of wildflowers was too dark, so that the flowers looked black instead of purple. For another image he’d meant to capture a moose drinking from a river, but something spooked it so he only caught its backside in the shot.

The imperfect images he gathered into a pile and threw into the trash. He always felt a pang of remorse for discarding photographs, but imperfect ones were no use to him. Yet each slide recorded a moment in time. He remembered standing along the edge of that stream, listening to the rush of water. He had bent down to touch the soft petals of those wildflowers. He’d watched the moose as it drank, radiating power with its muscular frame and stately antlers.

It didn’t matter that he had other images of the stream, the wildflowers, and the moose; those flawed slides depicted a unique moment in time he could never recover. But if he kept every image, no matter how imperfect, he would need to rent a warehouse to house them. Some things you had to let go.

He worked for hours at the lightbox until he heard a noise down the hallway. He bolted from the chair at the thought that Anna might have somehow gotten inside before he arrived. Like a modern-day Goldilocks, maybe she’d fallen asleep in his bed while waiting for him to show up. He threw open the bedroom door and then put a hand to his nose to block out the smell.

The room smelled like dog shit and piss. Frosty lay on Frank’s bed, almost camouflaged against the white sheets. A bowl overrun with food and another half-filled with water were tucked into the corner, surrounded by stained newspapers. “Jesus Christ,” Frank said. He scooped up Frosty and took the dog into the other bedroom, where he stored his pictures.

He took out his cell phone and called his old house, hoping Tracy was still there. As soon as she answered, he shouted, “How long did you leave him in here?”

“Four days I think.”

“This is animal cruelty. I should call the cops.”

“I’m cruel? You hardly even see that dog anymore.”

“Why didn’t you put him in a kennel? He could have died.”

“I’m sorry, Frank. I meant to just leave him there while we had the realtor over, but there’s been so much going on the last couple days, I forgot.. Is he all right?”

“We’ll see. Jesus, Tracy, you were supposed to watch him. How could you leave him here all alone?”

“Frank, stop being so melodramatic. He’s just a dog.” After a long pause, she said, “I’m pregnant. I found out two days ago.” She hung up the phone and when he redialed the number, she refused to answer.

“I’m going to take the vet bill off your alimony,” he said to her answering machine and then hung up to call the vet. He arranged an appointment for tomorrow morning, but until then he would have to keep an eye on the ancient bulldog. He patted Frosty’s head and let the dog nuzzle his cheek. “You wait here while I go clean up Mom’s mess.”

As he went into the kitchen for cleaning supplies, he thought it odd that even ten years after the divorce he still referred to Tracy as Mom to Frosty. He supposed the dog was the closest to a child they’d ever had. Now she and Rocky were going to have a baby.

He threw the soiled newspapers into a garbage bag, mopped the floor, and sprayed an entire can of air freshener to eliminate the smell. Then he opened the window and stuffed the sheets into the washer. The bedroom no longer smelled of dog shit, but the overpowering sent of potpourri made his head spin. He staggered into the other bedroom, where Frosty wheezed contentedly as he slept.

Frank patted the dog’s head and leaned against one of the cabinets. Tracy getting pregnant signaled the real end of their marriage. With a new husband and soon a child, she’d started a new life, one without Frank. Meanwhile, what did he have? An old dog and file cabinets full of memories.

He went to a fireproof black cabinet and unlocked it before opening the bottom drawer. Inside he kept an album of pictures from his time with Vera. In the first one, Vera stood in front of Portland harbor at sunset. That was the first night after filming the movie, when they wound up getting drunk on champagne he bought with a fake ID and they woke up behind a warehouse, smelling like fish. Another showed her at the top of Portland Head Light at dawn with hair blowing across her face. He’d needed to bribe a security guard to allow them up there. Right after he snapped the picture, she fell into his arms and they kissed. He could still smell the perfume in her hair and taste spearmint gum on her breath. In another picture, Vera held the steering wheel of a sailboat with one hand and saluted to the camera with the other. The boat belonged to a professor at the University of Southern Maine. Vera met him on campus while waiting for Frank and that weekend they were both invited to spend the day on the professor’s boat. After Frank took that picture, Vera leaned over the edge and threw up; she’d never ridden on a boat before. He put an arm around her shoulders and held her until they reached the harbor. As soon as they reached land, she smiled and said, “That was fun. We’ll have to do it again some time.”

This was all he had left of Vera now, the memories of their year in Maine. In the same way the people of Little Mesa had their memories of Vera. In time, memories would fade and all that would remain would be pictures and a park named in her honor. To the future generations in Little Mesa she would become a legend as vague and one-dimensional as Ewan Marshall.

At least there were tangible reminders of Vera. Memories were all he had of Anna, not even a picture to remind him of their week in Little Mesa. Why hadn’t he taken a picture of her standing by the edge of Marshall’s Crater at sundown or at sunrise in Vera’s park? He could have taken her out to the emu farm and gotten a shot of her with one of the animals. So many opportunities he’d let slip away because every time he’d held the camera reminded him of Vera.

He went into the living room and opened his camera bag. The weight of the Nikon’s body in his hands felt familiar, as though designed with him in mind. Symbiosis: the process where two entities fed off each other, needed each other for survival. The flower and the bee; the caribou and the wolf; Frank and the camera. They all depended on each other for survival.

Through the constant moving around of his youth, through his disastrous relationships with Vera, Tracy, Anna, and a host of others, he could always count on the camera. This apartment, Frosty, and the camera were all he had left now. Everything else was gone.

He opened the living room curtains to look out over the street below. In the distance, the towers of Los Angeles rose against the sun like the farmer’s silo in Little Mesa. Frank didn’t bother to line up his shot or check the lighting; he simply pushed the button to take the picture. The reflex came naturally. He’d been doing this his whole life, after all.

Then he put the camera away again and checked the clock on the wall. Too early for bed and the bedroom probably hadn’t aired out yet anyway. In the corner of the room he had a 13-inch television, the kind with a built-in VCR. One of his comrades in the photography business had given him the television after his divorce as a way to cheer him up. Frank didn’t watch much TV and so it gathered dust in the corner.

He owned only one movie, Vera and Anna’s favorite. After collecting Frosty from the storage room, he popped in the tape. The two of them lay on a carpet in the center of the room to watch the movie. He must have seen this with Vera two hundred times, enough to repeat almost every line the way Anna recited Casa Verde at Marshall’s Crater.

During the last scene at the fog-shrouded airport, Frank imagined himself and Anna standing in place of Rick and Ilsa. But he couldn’t recite Bogart’s lines because he didn’t believe them, not for Anna. They could have been happy together. They could have shared the apartment and maybe gotten married someday. The only thing stopping them was a simple quirk of fate that he was born too soon or she was born too late.

As he looked into the screen, imagining Anna there, he coined one line. “We’ll always have Little Mesa.”

He let the tape run until it ran out and began rewinding automatically. Frosty lay with his head in Frank’s lap, drool staining Frank’s pants. Frank scratched the bulldog behind the ears until Frosty’s head lifted and he licked Frank’s hand. “‘This could be the start of a beautiful friendship,’” Frank said. He and the dog had grown old together and now they only had each other.

Frank looked towards the bedroom but didn’t want to go to sleep. When he closed his eyes, he would probably dream of Anna and then have to wake to the reality that she was gone. He flipped through the channels on the TV, but only a handful came in, none of them showing anything of interest. There was one other movie he could watch.

He went back to the storage room and from the same drawer where he kept Vera’s photo album, he took out a metal lockbox. Inside was the original copy of the movie he, Avery, and Vera had shot in Portland. Docks of the Damned, the label read. An idiotic title for an idiotic project, but if not for the movie he wouldn’t have met Vera.

He ran the tape into an old projector and played the movie on the living room wall. Vera looked so beautiful no matter how out-of-focus or grainy the film. Instead of watching the movie, his eyes fixed on her and he felt the same joy as that first night when she’d walked into the warehouse.

At some point he fell asleep and woke hearing the telephone. He pushed Frosty’s head away from his lap and stood in the bright light coming from the projector as he snatched the receiver. There was no one on the other end. He’d imagined the sound, dreaming Anna was calling.

He turned off the projector, scooped up Frosty, and limped back to the bedroom. The potpourri smell had faded to a tolerable level, enough so that he could shut the window. There were no sheets on the bed, so he spread out a blanket to make a nest for he and Frosty. Then he fell asleep again. In one dream, he saw himself on the runway in Casablanca, watching Anna’s plane disappear into the night.

He woke up the next morning feeling as though he hadn’t slept at all. Downstairs there was a coffee shop on the corner he’d visited a few times for coffee or sandwiches while he worked. When he opened the door, he expected to see Zeke behind the counter and the old regulars sipping their coffee. Instead, he saw only strangers. The waitress showed him to a seat, but said nothing to him except to ask for his order. Every time Frank came in here there was a new group of waitresses, probably all girls like Anna hoping to become an actress. How many of them made it in anything except B-movies and pornography?

After a cup of coffee and western omelet, he took Frosty to the vet. The woman examining the albino bulldog took Frank into her office while Frosty waited on the examination table. “There isn’t a lot we can do for a dog his age,” the vet said. “He has serious arthritis in his hind legs. It’s only getting worse. Have you considered putting Frosty to sleep?”

“I’m not going to do that.”

“Mr. Hemsky, I know it’s hard letting go—” Frank didn’t listen to the rest of her sentence. The last two words echoed what Tracy had told him when he called from Alaska. She was wrong. He’d spent his whole life letting things go. He’d spent forty-four years moving from place to place with nothing to call his own. All he had to show for his travels were memories of places he’d visited, but didn’t know. He was a visitor everywhere in the world, searching the globe for something when he’d had it all along with Vera in Maine.

As he took Frosty and left the veterinarian’s, he hoped Anna would someday come to the same conclusion. All the wonder and adventure in the world meant nothing without people to share it with. There was only one place on earth he could go.

He took his suitcase, camera bag, and Frosty and went to rent a car. He had to drive an entire day, stopping to let the dog do his business, before arriving at Little Mesa once again. He drove down Marshall Street with its now-familiar row of eyesores and pulled into the parking lot of the Rio Rancho. JJ looked ready to faint when Frank entered the office. “You’re back! Did you forget something?”

“I decided to stay a little longer. Do you have a room?”

“For you, of course.”

“By the way, what’s your policy on pets?”

“I’m flexible as long as they aren’t chewing up the furniture or making a mess on the carpets.”

“I brought my dog with me. Maybe if I’m gone during the day you could keep an eye on him? He doesn’t do much anymore.”

“No problem. It’ll be nice to have some company.”

“Thanks.” After Frank got a room key and left Frosty to get acquainted with JJ, he drove to Perfect Memories. Esther stood behind the counter and masked any surprise behind a look of contempt.

“What are you doing here? I haven’t heard from Anna.”

“I know.” He cleared his throat and searched for the right words. “I’m staying here. I thought maybe you could use a little help around the shop.”

Esther put a hand to her cheek and tried to say something, but couldn’t. She finally nodded. “I guess it’s settled then,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

As he reached the door, she asked, “Would you like to go out to dinner later? We got off to such a bad start, maybe we can start over.”

“I’d like that.”

Before heading back to the Rio Rancho to unpack, Frank went into Zeke’s. “You’re back?” Zeke said.

“I’m back,” Frank said. Then he took his place among the regulars at the counter.

Chapter 27

2007-06-14T12:17:00.002-07:00

Chapter 27

By the time Frank reached the gates of the soon-to-be-commemorated Vera Swinton Memorial Park, a crowd had assembled at the gates. Police had closed off the road where it intersected Marshall Avenue to allow room for the thousands of people assembled. Frank imagined everyone in Little Mesa leaving their homes and businesses unattended for the ceremony.

“Hey there, Mr. Hemsky,” Zeke said. He and his daughter waited close to the fence along with some of the old men who frequented the cafeteria. “Pretty exciting, isn’t it?”

“It is. The whole town must be here.”

“Just about. Everyone loved Vera.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

Frank started to push his way through the crowd, but Zeke called after him, “Be sure to come by afterwards. You look in need of some coffee.”

“I’ll do that. Thanks.” He continued to elbow his way through until someone held him up.

“Frank, I’ve been looking all over for you,” JJ said.

“Well, you found me. Who’s watching the motel?”

“It doesn’t matter. Everyone’s here. So when are you leaving? I was thinking maybe we could—”

“I’ll check out today. I have to get back to Los Angeles before everyone thinks I’m dead.” Even as he said it, Frank knew the emptiness of those words. Except maybe for his clients, no one would notice he had left. There was no one looking for him, unless Anna changed her mind.

“You’re right. Maybe you’ll come back to our little town again someday.”

“Maybe. Thanks for everything.”

Frank left JJ standing amongst the horde of Vera’s admirers, his invitation left unsaid. Next time. He didn’t want to think about the next time. Everything in Little Mesa was a scar, reminding him of Vera and Anna. Coming back would only mean reopening those scars.

Mrs. McAllister waved to him and he made his way over. “I wondered if you would show up,” she said. “Is this part of your research on Vera?”

“You could say that.”

“I hope you’ve found everything you were looking for.”

Frank thought back to his encounter at Marshall’s Crater with Roberto Jue. “I think I have.”

“Excellent. It was so unfortunate for her daughter last night. I hoped to see the poor girl to offer my sympathy. Have you seen her around by any chance?”

“No, I haven’t seen her since last night.”

“Oh well. I’m sure she’ll turn up.”

“I hope so.”

“It was good to see you again, Mr. Hemsky.”

“You too, Mrs. McAllister.”

Near the gates, Rusty Wheeler leaned against the wall, looking on the verge of tears. Frank wondered if it had something to do with Vera. He decided to make his way over and held out a hand for Rusty to shake. “I’m going to leave after this is over. Just wanted to thank you again for your help with the car. It meant a lot.”

“It’s no problem.” Rusty’s voice was little more than a whisper, so that Frank could hardly hear him over the crowd.

“Is something wrong?”

“My son. He’s been wounded.”

“Oh shit, I’m sorry.”

“They say it isn’t too serious. Fragments from one of those roadside bombs tore up his leg. They told me he’ll still be able to use it, but he isn’t going to run like he used to.” Tears came to Rusty’s eyes that he wiped away with an angry swipe of his hand. “He used to run so fast. He could get down the field before anyone. Now—”

Frank put a hand on Rusty’s shoulder. “At least he’s not too badly hurt.”

“I know. I shouldn’t complain because some people have it a lot worse. But I can’t help wishing it would’ve been someone else and not him. You think that’s wrong?”

“It’s understandable. You’re his father.”

“Yeah. After this I got to fly out to DC. He’ll be at the hospital there for a little while.” A smile came slowly to Rusty’s face. “Then I guess he can help me at the shop. Might be nice to have another pair of hands around.”

“I’m sure it will be.”

Rusty motioned to the gate. “I thought this would help take my mind off things. I bet Vera is looking down on us right now with a big smile on her face.”

“No doubt about it.” Frank shook Rusty’s hand again. “Good luck with your son. I’m sure he’s going to pull through.”

He didn’t want to leave Rusty Wheeler alone to wallow in his misery, but he had to find Esther. While he doubted Anna would leave behind a forwarding address for her aunt, he wanted to make sure. He didn’t want to leave Little Mesa thinking he’d left a possibility unexplored.

Esther wasn’t anywhere in the crowd that he could see. As Vera’s only family member in the area, he hoped to find her waiting with the other VIPs at the gate. When he didn’t see her there, he took out his cell phone and dialed Esther’s house. The telephone continued to ring until he heard a recording from the phone company. He tried Perfect Memories with a similar result. Maybe Esther had gone out to find Anna.

Someone tugged on his arm and he turned around to see the woman whose family he and Anna had watched the fireworks with. She had a pair of boys with her, one around Anna’s age and the other a few years younger. “You’re a friend of Anna’s, aren’t you?” the woman said.

“Yes.”

“I didn’t think she would miss this. Is she still at the hospital with Mr. Barton?”

“I’m not sure. We got separated.”

“That’s too bad. My husband was worried about her. He said she didn’t look well this morning.”

“This morning?”

“He said she came by the truck stop at three or maybe four to buy some coffee. I guess she didn’t like the hospital’s.”

“I guess not.”

“If you see her, tell her we’re going to see Mr. Barton this afternoon. He was my most loyal customer. I’m not sure what I’ll do now.”

“I’m sure you’ll manage somehow. Excuse me.” Frank disappeared into the crush of people, his mind reeling. The truck stop. He imagined her traveling through the desert in the cab of a tractor-trailer. After shifting gears, the driver’s hand reached over to touch Anna’s thigh. The rest he didn’t want to think about. Why had she left him to go with a complete stranger who might rape and murder her?

A microphone screeched with feedback and then a man’s voice said, “Welcome everyone. We’re all here for the dedication of Vera Swinton Memorial Park.” Frank recognized the speaker from the parade as the mayor. Alan Marshall, he remembered Anna saying. A distant relative of the town’s founder. Marshall wore a Western get-up of fringed coat, cowboy hat, and bolo tie that seemed disingenuous to Frank.

The mayor pulled a cord that dropped to reveal the park’s name in bold white letters on the arch over the gate. As the crowd cheered, Frank felt a surge of nausea. The words ‘Vera Swinton Memorial’ on the arch somehow made it official, like a tombstone. There could be no way of denying her death now.

“Everyone is welcome to go inside. We have a big treating waiting for you,” Mayor Marshall said. The gates swung open and the crowd began to file inside.

As Frank moved along with the river of humanity along the paths, he thought back to his first time in the park with Anna. The ghost of Vera had haunted them both that day, but this time he felt something else. The people flooding the park demonstrated how many people loved Vera as much as he did. He felt the same connection to them as when he shot pictures.

They all loved Vera. Vera, the woman who drove here all the way from Maine. Who raised a daughter by herself. Who delivered food to the poor, read to children, and spearheaded the effort to clean this park. Who drag-raced her ex-boyfriend in a station wagon, took an emu for a walk, and danced on the edge of a crater in the rain. Vera, the woman who had loved him to the very end.

Frank came to the center of the park with the rose bushes scattered around another red tarp. The mayor and other VIPs waited there for the crowd to finish gawking at the beauty of the park. After everyone settled down, the mayor tapped the microphone and said, “We’re all here to honor the memory of Vera Swinton, who led the effort to clean up this place when it was nothing more than an empty lot and unofficial city dump.”

“In the history of Little Mesa, the name of Vera Swinton is second only to my great-great-grandfather’s. She gave so much to the people of this town and asked for nothing in return. Fifteen years ago, when my wife—God rest her soul—was too sick from chemotherapy to even move, Vera came over every night to cook dinner and keep me company.” The mayor stopped to brush away tears that Frank believed were genuine. “No matter how bad things got for Louise, Vera never gave up. She said, ‘We only lose when we give up hope.’ She never lost that hope, even when I did. I don’t know what I’d have done without her.”

The crowd was silent as the mayor stopped to compose himself by wiping his eyes with a handkerchief. “I’m sure we all have a story about how she touched our lives. She was a living, breathing angel.”

Frank joined in the applause at this statement. He knew Vera was not perfect, but she was the closest to an angel he’d ever seen. He could see her with wings and a golden halo, but she wasn’t the kind to sit on a cloud strumming a harp. Vera was a guardian angel; she was Little Mesa’s guardian angel.

The mayor signaled for quiet and then said, “We debated for months on the proper way to honor Vera’s memory. A statue or a plaque just didn’t seem right. We decided on something else instead. Her good works helped us see our town and ourselves in a better light, so this seemed a fitting tribute.”

Two men rolled back the red tarp revealing a rectangular pool of water. The pool was only a foot deep with tiles of turquoise and aquamarine forming the image of a phoenix. The mythical bird that rose from the ashes. The crowd applauded again and Frank saw people openly weeping all around him. Even JJ, who didn’t know Vera, had tears in his eyes.

Later, when the crowd settled down and began to disperse, Frank went up to the pool and saw the plaque installed at its base. ‘Dedicated to the memory of Vera Swinton. [Some famous quote here.]’ Frank ran his fingers along the raised letters of her name. “I’m sorry, Vera.”

He looked into the pool and saw his face hovering there, alone. Vera was gone. Anna was gone. He had no one left. He’d lost every woman who ever loved him.

The face looking back at him in the water looked so tired, so old. No wonder Anna had left him; he would only slow her down in Hollywood. She deserved a young leading man, not an ancient cameraman. A woman her age deserved someone who could stay out all night without getting tired and make love to her more than once. She had her whole life ahead of her while his was all in the rearview mirror.

He stood up with a grunt at the pain in his back. He limped back to the Rio Rancho, feeling ready to collapse onto the bed after the busy morning, but he didn’t want to sleep in the same bed where he’d made love to Anna. Where she’d left him. Instead, he packed his suitcase and took it out to the car along with his camera bag.

“Checking out?” JJ said when Frank entered the office.

“Yep. Time to get back to work.”

“Make sure to tell your friends about us. I’ll give them a special discount for being Frank Hemsky’s friends.”

“I’ll be sure to do that.” He shook hands with JJ across the counter and then cleared his throat. “If I come back here, maybe we can have dinner or something.”

“That would be wonderful.” Then Frank nodded and went out to his car. He pulled onto Marshall Street, but instead of taking it out of Little Mesa, he drove to Esther’s house.

She sat on the front porch with a bottle of wine. “I thought you were going to leave without saying goodbye,” she said. “Here, I saved you a drink.”

“No thanks, I have to drive.”

“I guess you do. Time to go back to the big city.”

“Did you see Anna this morning?”

“She came in and took some things from her room around three. I don’t know how long she thinks she can live on just one suitcase. The girl never could plan ahead.”

“You saw her leaving and didn’t stop her?”

“I couldn’t stop her. I never could.” Esther shook her head. “For ten years I tried to stop her. It didn’t make a difference. She has too much of Vera in her.”

“You could have done something.”

“Like what? Knock her over the head and tie her up?”

“Aren’t you worried about her? She’s out there on the road, alone with some stranger doing God knows what. She could wind up hurt or worse. And you didn’t do anything.”

“What about you? What did you do?”

“I was asleep.”

“I’ll bet. All worn out from fucking.”

Frank wondered how Esther knew, but figured she was probably guessing. He took a business card from his wallet and gave it to her. “If she calls, that’s my number in LA and my cell phone number.”

“I’ll be sure to give you a ring.”

“I guess I should get going now.”

“Sure, you go on.” Esther took a drink straight from the wine bottle. “You know, twenty-five years I hoped you would come back. Every morning for that first year after you left I looked in the mirror and tried to make myself beautiful for you. Like Vera, but I never could.”

“I was never as beautiful as Vera. Or even Alice and Susan. I was just always the plain one. The one with braces and zits and wearing frumpy sweaters so no one could see I didn’t have any breasts. I was a goddamned virgin until my honeymoon.” After another pull from the bottle, Esther continued, “You know the only reason I married George? Because he was like you. He was taller and heavier, but his voice. When I closed my eyes, it was like you were talking to me.”

“Esther, I—”

“Then, you show up after twenty-five years and I think my time has finally come. But no. You fall in love with Anna. Anna! Why, Frank? Why her? Because she’s prettier than me? Because she’s Vera’s daughter?”

“That’s not what happened. I love Anna because of who she is, not because of her looks or her mother.”

Esther finished the bottle of wine and then threw it at Frank’s head. The bottle whistled past his ear and shattered on the sidewalk. Then Esther put her face in her hands and sobbed while Frank stood on the front steps, unsure of where to go.

He thought back twenty-five years and saw Esther with her pigtails, pimples, and braces standing by the bedroom door as he and Vera lay there naked. That was the first and only time he noticed her, but how many times had she noticed him? He thought of that shy, lonely girl in her room, imagining him as her Prince Charming while he traveled the world without ever once thinking of her. The woman sobbing on the porch was the result of twenty-five years of disappointment.

All those years of heartbreak had turned her into a bitter, jealous woman. No wonder she resented Vera and Anna so much. Despite that, she had taken care of Anna for ten years, living in her sister’s shadow the entire time. In the end, no one would give her a park, but maybe she deserved one.

He went over to her and put an arm around her shoulders. “Esther, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Would it matter if you did?”

He tried to think of a convincing lie, but then said, “Probably not.”

She lifted her head and wiped her eyes. “Look at me, I’m a mess, sitting here acting like a stupid kid with a crush. I should clean up and open the store.”

“Maybe you should take a day off.”

“Why? What else do I have?” Esther stood up and slammed the screen door. “Goodbye Frank. I’ll let you know if Anna calls. Or maybe you two’ll run into each other.”

Then she slammed the inner door, leaving Frank alone on the porch. He waited a moment before descending the steps and going back to his car. He took a last look at the house, but he couldn’t see Esther through the curtains. He drove back to Marshall Street and then took the ramp to the highway. Little Mesa faded into the rearview mirror until it disappeared.

Chapter 26

2007-06-14T12:17:00.001-07:00

Chapter 26

Frank heard the sound of thunder, but didn’t open his eyes. The sound reminded him of the B-52 Stratofortress his father had flown taking off. On mornings like this, when he was still groggy, he sometimes wished his father would not return. Then he would to full awareness and realize he shouldn’t make such a wish.

He reached across the mattress to find Anna’s warm, comforting body, but touched nothing except the sheets. She must have gone to the bathroom. He listened for the sound of a flushing toilet or a running sink. Instead he heard only rain thumping against the roof. Maybe he should get up to check on her. But five years of marriage had taught him to respect a woman’s privacy in the bathroom.

The sound of the rain reminded him of a trip to Vietnam seven years earlier. His father had always described the place as a godforsaken jungle full of traitors and savages. [INSERT!] Just another thing Dad had gotten wrong.

He knew he should get up and go find Anna, but his body didn’t want to cooperate. Sex after so long had left him with a full-body ache. When he got back to Los Angeles, he needed to see a doctor about medication or at least some kind of exercises. Maybe he could get a personal trainer like Tracy used to stay in shape. He couldn’t let Anna think him some doddering old fogie.

Where had she gone? If she had gone to the bathroom she must have fallen in, as his mother liked to say. Maybe she had gone out to Zeke’s for some coffee or to call the hospital about the old man. Just as well, he supposed. She might want to have another go-around in bed. He didn’t know if he could take it at the moment.

If she had gone out, at least it would give him a chance to clean up. Then she wouldn’t have to learn about his foul morning breath until they got back to LA. But he would rather have her lying next to him so he could kiss her first thing in the morning.

He opened his eyes and saw the pad of stationary on the pillow. Pain raced along his spine as he sat up in bed to stare at the text written in a looping script remarkably similar to her mother’s handwriting. He picked up the stationary to read it again and again, though he already knew the source of the words.

Casablanca. Vera’s favorite movie. He must have seen it two dozen times while they dated. She never failed to tear up when Sam delivered Ilsa’s note to Rick at the train station. He had always thought Rick a dope until Vera left him an almost identical note in Bar Harbor. And now Anna had left the dreaded message on her pillow the morning after their first night together. Why?

He couldn’t think of anything he had done to make her run away. They had fallen asleep in each other’s arms. She had tears in her eyes. Tears of joy he assumed at the time. She must have known then. Why? What had he done?

He dropped the note on the pillow and rolled out of bed. He had to find her, but he didn’t know where to begin. How long ago had she left? Where would she go? He checked the clock on the nightstand. Only two-thirty in the morning. She couldn’t have too much of a head start. The only place she would go now would be Los Angeles.

As he found his pants and cinched up his belt, he imagined her arriving there alone. An eighteen-year-old girl from a small town with no money and a head full of dreams in the big city for the first time. A talented girl, yes, but one vulnerable to the charms of sleazy con men. They wouldn’t hesitate to prey upon her idealism to take what little money she had.

He saw an infinite number of grim scenarios. He saw her lying in a filthy avenue within six months, either with a heroin needle in her arm or some scumbag humping her for a hundred bucks. He saw her dirty and broken, searching garbage cans for a few scraps of food. He saw her as nothing more than a chalk outline and a pool of blood. Another young girl in search of fame killed before she could find it. She would get her thirty seconds on the evening news and then everyone would forget her. Except him.

Wherever she had gone, he would find her; he wouldn’t take twenty-five years this time. He would find her and make her explain why she had gone. Then he would do whatever it took to make her forgive him. He wouldn’t lose her the way he had lost Vera. He couldn’t.

[SPLICE!]

He walked along the streets of Little Mesa with no direction or purpose. He had lost another woman he loved. As he looked back on his time in the town, he tried to figure out how this had happened.

Maybe he hadn’t been happy before, but he had been content at least. He had a successful career, enough money to support himself and Tracy, and his health. Vera had lurked in a dark corner of his mind. He hadn’t known about her eighteen-year-old daughter. He could have gone on living that way forever.

If only he hadn’t seen that newspaper article. Then he never would have known about Vera’s death. Never would have come to Little Mesa. Never would have met Anna. Certainly he wouldn’t be walking in the rain at four-thirty in the morning.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and passed by the front window of Zeke’s Café. A homemade sign informed him the restaurant would not open until noon due to the ceremony at Vera’s park. As he went along the silent front windows of shops along Marshall Street, almost identical signs told him the same thing. Little Mesa had shut down in honor of Vera.

Amazing. An entire town so devoted to one woman. Even he had thrown away a chance at happiness with Anna for the sake of Vera. She had torn out his heart twice now and yet he couldn’t find it in himself to hate her the way Anna and Esther did. If only his research had turned up something conclusive. Then he could have proved Vera’s death to himself and Anna. He might have convinced her to stay then.

He came to the retirement home and the golf course where Anna had fled after that first night. He thought of her standing there in that ill-fitting dress, her hair covering all but a sliver of her face. Such a strong girl; he supposed she needed to be after losing her mother and suffering under Esther’s brutal parenting. Much stronger than he had ever been.

The rain began to taper off as he walked along the eighteenth green. Of course the groundskeeper had wiped out every sign of her presence. He looked for a stray cigarette butt anyway, some tangible evidence to keep to remind himself of that night. When he found nothing, he continued rambling through Little Mesa. Every now and then he saw a car pass by and made sure it was not the silver Taurus with Anna at the wheel.

She wouldn’t come back. She had too much life ahead of her. Too many goals left to achieve. Why had she bothered to waste so much time on an old fart like him anyway? A beautiful young woman deserved someone better. Someone handsome and rich and who wouldn’t call her by her mother’s name in bed. Not much to ask for really.

After she became a big star in Hollywood, he imagined her telling one of those empty-headed celebrity interviewers, “I met a man—a much-older man—before I left home. He showed me the true meaning of love, but we were just too different for it to work.” She would have tears in her eyes and the bimbo interviewer would offer her a tissue before they went on to discuss her latest role. In time he would become nothing more than a footnote as the man who had loved Anna Swinton before she became famous. He wouldn’t mind.

He came to Crater Park and stood in the same place as she had kissed him. Strange how quickly everything could change. Only about six hours ago he and Anna had been making plans to live together in Los Angeles. Now he wandered Little Mesa daydreaming while she rode a bus alone to his apartment.

He had done it to himself. He had stolen Vera’s journal from Mrs. McAllister’s and given it to Anna. He had found out about Vera’s reckless adventures and told her daughter. He had uttered the wrong name in bed. He had offered her the keys to his car and apartment, giving her a way out. What a fool.

Now that the rain had stopped, he looked around the stage and managed to find some dry clothes at the bottom of a pile. They wouldn’t fit him, so instead he used them as towels to dry himself off. He shivered as a breeze ran over his body and promised himself to stop by Zeke’s when it opened for some coffee. He would even settle for tea with Mrs. McAllister.

He walked along the crater. To think a big hole in the ground could become the center of so much controversy. Meteor festivals. Mexican slave laborers. Alien crash landings. A woman plunging to her death. All because of a hole.

In his career he had seen much larger craters and canyons. He had explored almost every inch of the Grand Canyon by foot, raft, or burro. The photos took up half a drawer in one of his file cabinets at home. None of those memories could compete with the Little Mesa crater.

He leaned against the handrail and then looked around to make sure no one else was around. He climbed over the handrail and stood on the edge of the crater, looking down into the black abyss. Had Vera seen the same thing and felt such emptiness and loneliness that she had simply let herself fall?

He closed his eyes and rocked back and forth. So easy really, to just let himself go. That would solve all his problems. No more worrying about Anna or Vera. He would die alone now anyway, what difference did it make whether he did it now or waited another thirty years?

He stepped back and opened his eyes. If he died now and Anna learned about it, she would blame herself just as he blamed himself for Vera’s death. He didn’t want to put her through the same anguish and grief. Not when she had just begun a new life.

He saw a flash of light coming from along a wall of the crater. The light moved up the side of the crater at a steady pace and as it came closer, he made out the shape of a man attached to the light. Frank went over to where the climber emerged from the crater.

The man wore a black jacket and pants, both covered in mud, and a belt loaded with archaeological tools. “Mr. Jue, I presume.”

“Do I know you?” Jue wiped the mud from his face, although the skin underneath was almost the same color.

“Just a friend of a friend.”

“You knew Vera?”

“How’d you know?”

“Why else would you be standing here on the day of her big ceremony?”

“Good point.” Frank reached in his pocket for a cigarette and offered one to Jue, but he declined. “Find anything yet?”

“A lot of mud and rocks.”

“Still no little green men?”

“Not yet.” Jue took off his helmet and ran a hand over his bald head. “The rain snuck up on me before I could get very far. Maybe next time.”

“Your friends at the Astronomical Society said you’d disappeared.”

“I did. But I thought I’d have a little ceremony of my own for Vera. We spent a lot of time together down there in those two weeks before she died.”

“Why did she go into that crater? She was never the conspiracy theory type.”

“You’re her friend. Why do you think she’d do it?”

“I don’t know. She was always the most responsible person I knew. She wouldn’t let me come over until the kids had gone to bed.”

“I think she did it because she liked the adventure of it,” Jue said. “There was always something in her wanting to break out. Some part of her that never grew up.”

“I need to know what happened that night.”

“I thought you might.” Jue dropped his tools to the ground and sat on top of the handrail. Frank leaned against the rail and at last heard what took place that night.

They had gone down into the crater just after midnight. Roberto had taught Vera how to repel down the side of the crater, but she still took over twenty minutes to reach the bottom. When she got there, she laughed and said, “Better late than never, right?”

“I thought I’d have to come up there and get you.”

“It’s hard. I’m not as young as I supposed to be.”

“That sounds like a good excuse.”

“You have a baby and we’ll see how spry you are, Mr. Macho Man.” She punched him in the arm hard enough that he winced. “So what are we going to do tonight?”

“I’ve got a good feeling about this formation over here.”

“Is that how they taught you to do it in college?”

“If we had a permit to dig legally I could have all sorts of equipment brought down. Until then, we’ll have to do it the old-fashioned way.” He gave a pick-ax to her and took another for himself. They went over to the spot he’d indicated and began to carve away the ancient rock.

As she worked, Vera talked about her daughter. “I don’t know what to do with her sometimes. She just keeps getting bigger and bigger. I try to get her to go outside and exercise, but she won’t do it. All she wants to do is sit around watching movies.” She stopped in mid-stroke and stared thoughtfully at the wall. “I suppose most of it is my fault. When she was a baby I watched movies just about all day. Maybe I set a bad example. Did you ever have any kids Roberto?”

“One. He’s about Anna’s age now. I haven’t seen him in a long time though.” Eleven years ago Alisha and William had disappeared. He remembered only waking up to a blinding white light. The next morning, they were both gone. He looked for her and their son for the first two years and came away with nothing. Then he gradually lost hope in ever seeing Alisha or William again. Every time he swung the ax, he hoped to find some evidence linking the crater to the visitors who had snatched away his family in the night.

“That’s too bad. If only I could get Anna to come down here to work off some of that belly. I suppose she would just complain the whole time.”

“There’s nothing wrong with her weight. Let her get as big as she wants. The important thing is you still have her.”

“You’re right. But I don’t know how she can be happy that way. The other kids are always making fun of her. It’s so hard anymore to find clothes that fit and she won’t outgrow in a couple months. If she went outside more she would be happier.”

“She’ll go outside and lose the weight when she wants. If she wants. You need to enjoy this time with her. A couple more years she’ll be a teenager and then a woman.”

“You’re pretty smart for someone digging in a crater for aliens.”

“Must be all that education.” They smiled at each other in the light from their helmets. Then they heard a rumble coming from above the crater. Roberto signaled for Vera to douse her light and they stood together in the darkness, waiting to see if the noise went away. When he saw a flash of lightning, Roberto knew the sound they’d heard hadn’t come from a truck. “We better get up top before it rains.”

He went first and made it up the side of the crater before the first drops of rain fell. Then he called for Vera to relax and began pulling her up. By the time she reached the top, a light mist gave way to a drenching downpour. He helped her out of the safety harness and shouted, “We’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

She didn’t leave. Instead, she looked up at the rain and began to laugh. She began to dance. Not a mad jig, but a slow waltz along the edge of the crater. Roberto wanted to shout for her to be careful, but he couldn’t. He could only watch her dance. Her every movement had such grace and joy. She had the carefree expression of a child.

Something came over her face as she continued to dance along the edge of the crater. A look of pain and loss as she wrapped her arms around an imaginary lover. She mumbled a single word, but over the sound of the rain and thunder he couldn’t hear what she said.

Then a flash of lightning followed by a scream and she was gone. Roberto shined his light down into the crater, but he couldn’t see her. He called down to her, but got no answer. By the time he repelled down to the bottom of the crater, it was too late. Blood oozing from the back of her head mingled with a pool of water formed by the storm. Her eyes stared up into the sky and her mouth had frozen into a smile. As though she had seen something beautiful in those final moments.

“Then it was an accident,” Frank said. “She fell.”

“Did she?”

“You don’t think so?”

“I don’t know. Her face just before it happened…she looked so distraught.”

“Did you tell that to the police?”

“I told them almost everything I told you.”

“They ruled it an accident.”

“Then they sealed the records.” Jue jumped down to the ground. “The mayor came to see me the day after Vera died. He very politely and subtly offered me ten thousand dollars to leave town.”

“You took the money?”

“I was going to leave anyway. Everything I saw reminded me of Vera. I couldn’t stand it. So I figured I may as well take their money and let them think they’d gotten their way.”

“I don’t understand. There’s no proof she committed suicide. They ruled it an accident. Why the cover-up?”

Jue shrugged. “For the same reason they wouldn’t let me dig in that crater. They’re afraid of what they might find.”

“What do you think happened?”

“Does it matter? Everyone believes what they choose. Even if I find a living, breathing alien in that crater there will still be some people who believe it’s all a hoax. They’ll still believe we’re all alone in the universe. It’s their choice.”

“So why bother?”

“I’m a scientist. I try to stay objective and look for evidence. What people choose to believe from that is up to them.”

Frank looked out over the crater, at the place where she had died. He imagined her dancing along the edge, with her arms around someone. He closed his eyes and felt her arms around him with the rain falling all around them. He heard her laugh and smelled the perfume coming from her hair. When he opened his eyes, the first orange shades of morning began to color the sky and Roberto Jue had disappeared.

And Frank had decided what to believe at last.

Chapter 25

2007-06-14T12:16:00.003-07:00

Chapter 25

Anna waited until she heard Frank snoring softly before pulling out of his embrace. Then she covered her face with her hands and cried as she hadn’t since learning of Mom’s death. She had lost Mom, then Henry, and now Frank.

“I love you Vera,” he’d whispered into her ear after they made love. Maybe he got confused or maybe he said the wrong name without realizing it, but it didn’t matter. She couldn’t trust him anymore; the next time he said, “I love you”, how could she know if he meant her or Mom?

She wondered what the time they’d spent over the last week meant to him. With Mom dead, did he see her as just the next best thing? Having missed out on the chance to reconcile with Mom, did he settle for her? Was she nothing more than a consolation prize to him? When he looked at her, did he see Mom instead?

Through her teary eyes, she looked over at him and knew it would do no good to talk to him. Even if he said he didn’t mean anything, she couldn’t believe him. With that one slip, she had to call everything he said into question.

She wiped her eyes and dried her nose. No good would come from staying in the same bed with him, bawling like a little girl until he woke up. She needed to get out of here. Out of Little Mesa. Tonight.

There was no one left here she could count on. Everyone she’d loved in this town had betrayed her. First, Mom betrayed her by raising her while hiding her resentment until she jumped from Marshall’s Crater. Then Henry betrayed her by treating her like a father, then using her dream as a ploy for romance. Finally, Frank betrayed her by leading her to think he loved her for herself, not Mom.

She couldn’t stay here, surrounded by the memories of these betrayals. The only thing to do now was go to Hollywood on her own. She couldn’t rely on anyone else anymore.

With the decision made, she needed to figure out how to get there. She’d hoped to go with Frank, but now she didn’t have any way of getting to Los Angeles. If she could make it as far as Albuquerque, then she could ride a bus. After that, she would have to find work and a place to live until she lined up some auditions.

Her foot nudged Frank’s pants and she bent down to take out his wallet. He had over two hundred dollars in cash; she stuffed the bills into her pocket. She felt like a whore, taking money for a good fuck. When Frank woke up and found the money gone, would he come to the same conclusion? No, this was just a loan until she found a job. She would pay him back as soon as she could.

On the desk she saw a pad of stationary and a pen. She should leave him a note to explain her leaving, but no words came right away. She couldn’t think of how to tell him gently the reason she had to go to Hollywood without him. Then she thought of the lines she’d seen on the television at home hundred of times. The pen raced across the stationary until she finished by signing her name.

After taking a last look back at him sleeping in the bed they’d shared, she slipped out of the room. The Rio Rancho parking lot was silent except for the buzzing of the neon sign. A television glowed in the front office, but she didn’t see anyone around. She didn’t want to try explaining to anyone why she was leaving a man’s motel room in the middle of the night. Anyone who stopped her would think her love for Frank nothing more than a one-night stand when it meant so much more to her.

She ran from Frank’s room and onto Marshall Street, her legs pumping harder than during her usual morning jog. Today she wasn’t running for exercise, but to escape the past. Even as sweat stung her eyes and her legs burned with fatigue, she kept going.

First she went to the only home she’d ever known. The house was silent and dark; Aunt Esther must have gone to bed. Anna unlocked the front door and waited to hear her aunt’s voice as she climbed the stairs. She made it to her bedroom without getting caught and then looked for her suitcase.

Mom had carried the battered red Samsonite all the way from Maine to Little Mesa. Anna thought it only fitting that she would now take it from New Mexico to Los Angeles. She opened the suitcase and filled it with underwear, bras, blouses, slacks, her running clothes, and the dresses Frank had bought from Claire’s. The movies and mementoes of her childhood she left behind, except for the autographed picture of Ingrid Bergman. “It’s just you and me now,” Anna said.

She closed the suitcase and listened in the hallway in case Aunt Esther had woke up. Since she heard nothing, Anna crept downstairs. She opened the front door and left without looking back. While she ran, the suitcase kept banging against her leg, but she didn’t care.

By the time she reached the Pleaston Retirement Community, she wondered if Frank had found the note in his room. He would search for her, leaving very little time to get out of town. The last thing she wanted was a confrontation where she would have to look him in the eye and say she didn’t love him anymore. Despite years of training as an actress, she doubted she could make him believe that lie.

She used her key to open Henry’s door and looked around for his car keys. By the time anyone thought to look for the Corvette she’d be long gone. She could take it all the way to Los Angeles or leave it at the bus station in Albuquerque for someone to return later. She’d have to decide on the way there. The keys lay on the kitchen counter and she snatched them.

She started the car and listened to the growl of the engine as it idled. Then she looked over at the passenger’s seat and thought of the sad look on Henry’s face as he rode in the car. The car meant so much to him. She couldn’t take away his most-cherished possession after he had already suffered a heart attack and lost her in the same night. The loss might kill him.

There was one other way to get out of town. She turned off the Corvette’s engine and returned the keys to Henry’s apartment. Across the road, she saw the golf course and thought of Frank coming to find her that first night. He’d been so kind and understanding through everything. Maybe it was her turn. She knew how much he loved Mom; surely she could understand why he made such a mistake. He’d probably done the same with a lot of women over the years. If she hurried, maybe she could get to the Rio Rancho and destroy the note before he saw it.

She shook her head. No, she couldn’t live with him, never knowing if he loved her or Vera Swinton’s daughter. Every time he touched her or kissed her, she would wonder. She couldn’t stay. Better to end it now when they could write it off as a harmless fling than after years of marriage.

With renewed determination she ran to Connie’s Truck Stop. A handful of tractor trailers sat in the parking lot. She could go inside and ask their drivers for a lift into Albuquerque. From there she’d take a bus to Los Angeles. She told herself not to think about what they might want in payment for the trip.

First, she decided to make a phone call to find out when the earliest buses left and how much it would cost. To do that, she needed to get some change from Connie’s husband at the restaurant counter. She stopped in the women’s bathroom to leave her suitcase. Wouldn’t want Miguel to suspect anything when she asked for quarters. She went up to the counter and waited for Miguel to put down a cooking magazine. “Anna! I’m so sorry to hear about your friend. Is he going to be all right?”

“He’ll pull through. I just came to get some coffee. I want to be there when he wakes up. That hospital stuff just isn’t the same. It tastes like shoe polish.”

“Of course. No charge.”

“I couldn’t—”

“Please, I was just going to make a fresh pot anyway.” She waited until he had poured a cup before she asked him for two dollars in quarters. “Go ahead and use the phone in the office. It’s no problem.”

“Thank you. You and Connie are too good to me.”

“It’s the least we can do for Little Mesa’s favorite daughter. I suppose you’ll have to miss your mother’s ceremony now.”

“I guess so.”

“What a shame. Maybe they’ll reschedule.”

“I wouldn’t want them to do that just for me. Everyone’s been looking forward to it.”

“I suppose you’re right.” She went behind the counter and into the office. With all the old records and manuals lying around, she struggled just to close the door. She took down the telephone receiver from the wall and dialed the operator. After asking for the bus station in Albuquerque, she waited for the connection.

“I need to know what time a bus leaves for Los Angeles.” The sleepy clerk on the telephone went through the list of departure times and options. He closed by asking whether she wanted the ticket for round-trip or one-way. “One way.” She checked the old Exxon clock on the wall and decided on a ticket for eight in the morning. She would have plenty of time to get to Albuquerque and if she didn’t make it, she could get the next one. Then she hung up the telephone and before going back around the counter, she kissed Miguel on the cheek.

“Is everything all right?” he asked.

“Everything’s fine.” She took the cup of coffee he offered and surveyed the restaurant as she drank. The truck drivers were all dirty, fat, or both. She counted four men and one woman. At least she thought the fat one in the corner with the ponytail was a woman. Only one way to find out. She tried to think of how to ask the driver for a ride without sounding desperate. She couldn’t let the truck driver think she had an advantage. She didn’t want to give her that kind of power.

Before she began the long walk over to the corner, she saw James Lee walk into the restaurant. “Anna? Oh my God, how are you holding up?” he asked.

“I’m all right. Just worried about Henry.”

“How is the old guy?”

“He came out of surgery in one piece. They think he’ll make pretty much a full recovery.”

“The way he went down, I thought he was a goner. Sorry.”

“No, it’s OK. Henry’s fine.” She shook her coffee cup. “I just came to fill up on caffeine. What are you doing here?”

“After what happened, I thought I might as well go back to school. Needed to get some gas first.”

It seemed as though someone had granted her a miracle. She wanted to get to Albuquerque and here was someone she knew going there. No one could have written a better script. “I don’t suppose you have a little extra room?”

“You’re leaving?”

“Henry’s daughter lives there. I’m going to convince her to pay him a visit. If I show up in person it’ll be harder for her to hang up on me.” She laughed nervously, hoping she had the right combination of concern and hope in her voice. Enough to convince him she wanted to go to Albuquerque on an errand for Henry, not to escape from him and everyone else in Little Mesa.

“Sure, I always have room for you.”

“Thanks. I’m going to miss working with you.”

“Yeah, it’s a real shame. You should come back to State with me. None of the girls there got half the talent,” James said. When he winked, she understood his real meaning.

“Maybe in the fall. My aunt keeps bugging me to put in an application there.”

“If you do, you can stay with me. I’ve been looking for another roommate.”

“Maybe I will.” As they turned to head back to the doors, she said, “Oh, I almost forgot my suitcase. Would you mind waiting just an extra second?”

She went to the bathroom and returned with her suitcase. Everything had gone so much better than she had hoped. She followed James out to his Explorer and thought of the disastrous party she’d gone to the last time she rode in his car. Maybe she wouldn’t be as safe riding with him as she first hoped.

As they pulled out of the truck stop, she looked back in the rearview mirror at Little Mesa. The only home she had ever known. The place where Mom’s dream had died and hers had begun. Where she had gone from a shy butterball content with watching movies to a young woman dreaming of being in movies.

She thought of everything that had happened in her eighteen years and everyone she had known. Mom, Aunt Esther, Henry. She remembered the mornings of going to Connie’s to get breakfast for Henry. She closed her eyes to hear the applause fill the school auditorium after she took a bow. More than anything, she thought of Frank.

When she checked the mirror again, she hoped to see his headlights coming for her, but she saw nothing except an empty road.

Chapter 24

2007-06-14T12:16:00.001-07:00

Chapter 24

She had him drive back to Crater Park. Everyone else had gone home by now except for maintenance workers and security guards patrolling the carnival area. No one questioned them as they went back to the stage.

The crew had yet to take down the set; Ron’s Café remained unchanged from when the old man had keeled over. “What are we doing here?” Frank asked. He couldn’t imagine why she would want to come back here after everything that had happened.

“Would you mind sitting over there. Where you sat before?”

“Anna—”

“Please, Frank. Just sit there.” He sat down and waited to see what she would do. She climbed onto the stage and stood in the exact spot as she had when the firecrackers went off.

Then she performed the second half of the play. Not just her character, but every part. She asked him once to make a sound like glass shattering and another time to clap his hands together for a gunshot. The rest of the time he stared at her in wonder. For each character she used a different voice, different gestures, and different facial expressions.

Then she stopped before Ron and Elsie kissed in the empty bar. “Frank, could you come up here?”

“I’m not much of an actor.”

“It doesn’t matter.” She took his hand and led him to the bar. “Ron, I’ve tried to fight what I’ve felt for you, but I can’t do it any longer. I love you and I never stopped.”

Before he could ask about his line, she leaned forward and kissed him. The last time she kissed him paled by comparison to the way she did so now. So forceful and yet with a lover’s tenderness. This was not the kiss of a naïve young girl. Against such power he couldn’t stop from returning her kiss, trying in vain to match her intensity. He lost track of how long they stood there; it seemed to last forever.

Then she pulled away and said, “You can sit down again.” He did as she commanded without saying anything. After he sat down, she finished the play with the final parting of Ron and Elsie as she left Casa Verde with Victor to the relative safety of the southern hemisphere.

She bowed her head and stood there in the center of the stage. He stood up, but didn’t know if he should applaud or respect the beauty of the moment. When she sat down at one of the tables, he took it as a sign to join her. He took out a cigarette and offered one to her. She accepted it and then looked out at the nonexistent audience.

“This was supposed to be my big break,” she said.

“You’ll get another chance. After your friend gets well.”

“It’s over. Henry and I. There’s not going to be a touring company or another play. We’re finished.”

“How can you say that? The man just had a heart attack.”

“He lied to me. For years he lied to me. Just like Mom.”

“Maybe he had a good reason.”

“I’m sure Mom had a good reason too.”

“Is this about the notebook? What she said in there was probably just a reaction from stress. She didn’t mean it.”

“Maybe.” Anna blew a puff of smoke from her mouth.

“Come on, let’s go home. Get some rest and tomorrow you’ll feel better about everything.”

“I’m not going home.”

“We can go back to the hospital. Wherever you want.”

She turned to him with tears in her eyes. “Take me with you, Frank. Take me back to Los Angeles with you. I would only have to stay with you for a little while. Until I find work.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I don’t have any furniture.” He thought of his apartment in Los Angeles and tried to imagine the two of them living there. He had never brought anyone back there. For so long he had thought of it as only a rest stop until his next trip. Other than a full-size mattress and springs with no frame he had no furniture. Just the light table and filing cabinets for managing his film. How would two people live there?

“It wouldn’t have to be forever. Only until I get on my feet. Unless—”

“Unless what?”

“Unless you don’t want me to go.” She threw her cigarette to the ground and took his hand. “I love you, Frank. I want you to know that.”

Love? Frank had not heard that word said to him in over ten years. Other women had said they cared about him or they would miss him or they would treasure their time together. None had ever said they loved him. He didn’t think he would never hear anyone say that to him again. He had thought himself too old and worn for anyone to love.

He looked across the table at her and tried to think of something to say. It was impossible. She was still a girl with a silly girlish crush on the mysterious stranger. If he took her to Los Angeles she would find someone else. Someone younger and more handsome. Like Tracy had. She’d turn her crush on someone else and he would be alone again.

How could it work between them? He had dated her mother for Christ’s sake! Not only was he old enough to be her father, by all rights he should have been her father. If he and Vera had not broken up that night at Acadia or if she had found him in Los Angeles, then he would have been Anna’s father.

No, that wasn’t true. He and Vera might have had a child together, but it would not have been the Anna sitting across the table from him. Their child could never have played Elsie so convincingly. Their child would never have understood that kind of pain and sadness. The kind of loneliness created by the loss of someone you loved.

He thought back to Anna’s performance of Casa Verde and made his decision. He could not let that woman go no matter her age. It wouldn’t matter if she was a hundred years old; this woman before him understood what he had carried with him all these years. How could he let her go now?

He had let Vera go and he had not put up a fight when Tracy left. This time he wouldn’t give up. Maybe the odds were against them, but he didn’t care anymore. He would never get this chance again. Vera’s death had laid this gift at his feet; to let Anna go now would be like losing Vera again.

“I love you too.”

“Frank, let’s go. Tonight. We’ll leave town and never come back. We’ll start a new life together.”

“Tonight? Tomorrow is the ceremony for your mother.”

“I know, but what difference does it make if we’re there or not? We’ll just miss a few boring speeches and the unveiling of some statue. We can come back anytime and see it.”

“I know, but this is something I have to do. I owe it to your mom.” When she frowned, he leaned across the table to kiss her. For the first time he kissed her instead of her taking him by surprise. It felt like he had crossed some kind of barrier with that move. There was no going back now and pretending they were just friends. “Come on, what’s the rush? We can go tomorrow morning. There’s plenty of time.”

“The rest of our lives.”

“Exactly.”

“Wait here a second.” She went offstage for a moment and returned with a suitcase so old and battered it looked as if her ancestors had carried it across the Atlantic.

“Planning on taking a trip?”

“I was going to stay over at Henry’s for a little while. I guess now I have somewhere even better to go.”

“Let me get that for you.” He took the suitcase and smiled. “You travel pretty light. A woman after my own heart.”

He took her hand and led her back to the car. He couldn’t resist one more kiss before opening the door for her. She laughed and threw her arms around his neck. “I love you,” she said again. The more she said that word, the younger he felt. To think of all the years he’d wasted alone.

In the car he thought about tomorrow. They had so much to do before they could leave. “What about your aunt? What are you going to tell her?”

“The truth. It’s not up to her anymore.”

“If there’s anything you need from there, I have plenty of room in the trunk.”

“I already have everything I need.”

“Me too.”

He pulled into the parking lot of the Rio Rancho and briefly considered scooping her up and carrying her through the front door like a new bride. He settled for holding the door open and ushering her inside. This was the last night he’d spend in this grungy motel room. Maybe after tonight he would spend less time in motels and more time at home now that he had someone waiting for him at home.

They both looked at the bed at the same time. “The chair is more comfortable than it looks,” he said. He didn’t want to rush her into anything. And he didn’t know if he was ready to go that far yet.

He hadn’t made love to a woman in five years. She had been a stewardess in Omaha. A beautiful Asian woman; he couldn’t remember her name, but he remembered everything else. She had fallen asleep before he finished. When he offered the next morning, she said she had an early flight to catch.

After everything that had happened, he didn’t want to mess things up with Anna by not performing to her satisfaction. He looked over at her and saw the nervousness on her face. How many men had she slept with? Someone so beautiful couldn’t possibly be a virgin. Could she?

She turned to him and squeezed his hand. “It’s not that I don’t want to. I’m just not sure this is the right time.”

“I know what you mean.”

“But we don’t have to do anything. Unless you want to.”

“No, I’m fine. We can give it a try. If it doesn’t work, there’s always the chair.”

She spun around and motioned to the zipper of her dress. “Would you mind?” He pulled down the zipper with a trembling hand and watched the dress fall to the floor. Underneath she wore cotton panties and a white bra. Nothing deliberately sexy, but when she turned to face him, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

After he turned out the light, he guided her onto the mattress. They both thrashed around underneath the blankets until they found comfortable position facing each other. He studied the way a lock of dark hair fell across her face to touch the pillow. He considered brushing it behind her ear, but couldn’t will his hand to move. Savor the moment, he told himself. Who knew when it would happen again.

“I guess we should get some sleep. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow,” he whispered.

“We should get some sleep.” She smiled and traced around his eyes with one finger. “Close your eyes.”

“You first.”

They rolled towards each other at the same time and met in the center of the bed. Their lips touched and the next thing Frank knew, he was reaching around her back to take off the bra. Her hand went down to the waistband of his boxers. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had touched him there; the Asian stewardess in Omaha had let him do all the work.

This time when he finished, Anna lay beside him with tears staining her pillow. He finally reached over to brush the stray tress back into place. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing. I’m just so happy. For both of us.”

“Me too.” He fell asleep with her head pressed against his chest. Why couldn’t this moment last forever?

Chapter 23

2007-06-14T12:15:00.001-07:00

Chapter 23

Anna had never gone to the emergency room before. The night of Mom’s death, the social worker kept Anna away from the hospital. She didn’t know what to expect as a doctor in green scrubs and nurses in floral-printed ones swarmed the gurney carrying Henry. The words they spoke came so quickly they sounded like another language.

As Henry disappeared down a white corridor, Anna felt Frank’s hand on her shoulder. He steered her into a waiting room of mismatched plastic chairs. She refused to sit down, choosing instead to pace the beige linoleum floor. “It’s all my fault,” she said.

“You’re damn right it is,” Aunt Esther said.

“Why are you even here? You didn’t know Henry.”

“Someone has to keep you from getting hysterical.”

“I’m not hysterical. And Frank is here.”

“I warned you about that old man. You should have listened to me. But you were too anxious to show off for everyone.”

“I wasn’t showing off. Henry wanted to do this. It made him happy to work again. You wouldn’t understand.”

“I understand that man is in there right now and he could die because of you.”

Anna tried not to cry, but couldn’t stop the tears from coming. She sobbed in the center of the waiting room until Frank put his arms around her. She leaned her head on his shoulder and let out the tears she’d saved up since Henry’s collapse. “Esther, I think that’s enough,” Frank said.

“She’s my niece. Don’t tell me—”

“That’s enough,” Frank said again. “Leave her alone.”

“Fine. You deal with her. I’m through.” Anna heard Aunt Esther stomp away, followed by the emergency room doors sliding open and shut. Frank led Anna to a chair and this time she sat down. She leaned across the armrest to keep her head on his shoulder. His fingers ran through her hair while he mumbled comforting words until she stopped crying.

“Thank you,” she said.

“I’m sure he’s going to be all right.”

“It is my fault. The doctors said he needed to lower his cholesterol and take it easy. I kept bringing him junk food. And then the play. I should have—”

“It’s not your fault. He’s an adult. He made his own choices. It’s not your fault.” The second time Frank said the words, his voice had such force that it startled her. She wondered if he was just talking to her about Henry. Maybe he wanted to tell himself the same thing about Mom.

“Someone should tell his family. He has a daughter in Seattle I think. They weren’t really close. But she should know, don’t you think so?”

“Of course. Do you have the number?”

“No, it’s probably in his apartment somewhere.”

“We can go there and look.”

“I don’t want to leave him. If something happens, I have to be here.”

“It’s not too far away. I can give the nurses my cell phone number.” He tilted her chin up so their eyes met. “If anything happens, they’ll call and we’ll come right back.”

“I guess.” She went out to the car while Frank talked with the nurse on duty. What if Henry died before she got a chance to see him again? Mom had died before she could say goodbye; she didn’t want the same to happen with Henry. Yet, his daughter should know, even if he hadn’t spoken with her for years. A child should always know when a parent is dying.

Frank sat behind the wheel and raced out of the parking lot like Mr. Wheeler in his Mustang. They avoided Marshall Avenue to get around the Meteor Days traffic. The lights from the midway continued to shine outside the window; life went on for everyone else in town. Henry was not a local hero like Mom.

Frank pulled into the parking lot of Pleaston Retirement Community and Anna jumped out before the car stopped. She ran up the stairs to his door, but her hands shook too badly to work the key in the lock. The keys slipped from her hands, falling through a crack to land on the sidewalk below.

Anna started down the stairs, but Frank met her halfway with the keys. He opened the door and they began to search the apartment. She ransacked the papers on the dining room table, the newspapers on the coffee table, and the books on the bookshelf for something with his daughter’s address. She went next to the bedroom and rifled through every drawer. When she didn’t find anything there, she burst into the spare bedroom with the old boxes Henry had never unpacked.

She clawed at the tape on the first box until she broke a nail, leaving the box unopened. While she pounded on the box in frustration, Frank appeared with a knife and slit the tape. “I can check with the hospital if you want,” he said.

“Good idea.” He nodded and left the room. She opened the box and found it packed with photo albums. She didn’t take time to study each picture, but saw the first album contained black-and-white photos of Henry and a young woman she assumed was his wife in a dusty town. The next album was in color, with Henry and his wife in New York City. She froze on a shot of the beaming young couple standing before a marquis on Broadway. They looked so happy in the picture; how excited Henry must have been to be performing on Broadway. Why hadn’t he told her about any of this before?

At the bottom of the box she found a black leather address book. She flipped through the pages, but it was empty except for one page near the back. Under a single entry labeled “Stephanie” Anna saw a telephone number. His daughter?

She went into the bedroom to dial the number. The phone rang five times before a woman’s voice answered. “Is this Stephanie?” Anna said.

“You’ve got the wrong number.” The line went dead, but Anna held the receiver in her hand, listening to the dial tone until Frank came into the room and hung up the phone.

“It’s a wrong number,” she said.

“Maybe it’s in one of the other boxes.”

She shook her head. “How could he not know his own daughter’s telephone number? How could he lose track of her?”

Frank sat down on the bed next to her and stared down at the floor. “Sometimes you just grow apart. You call every couple months, then only on holidays, then just on Christmas. Then not at all.” Frank shrugged. “You start thinking it’s easier to not call. It’s easier to leave the past buried.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. Let’s get back to the hospital.”

“Hold on. I want to grab something.” She went back into the other room and took the album of New York pictures. The photographs might help cheer Henry up later.

By the time they arrived at the hospital, Dr. Anderson was waiting for them. “He’s going to be all right,” he said.

“What happened?”

“Henry had a pretty bad heart attack, but he’s going to pull through. When he’s stronger we’ll need to send him to Albuquerque for a bypass. It’s a common procedure. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“A bypass? That’s open-heart surgery. You’re going to cut him open. And you want me not to worry?”

“Anna, I promise, nothing will happen. The doctors in Albuquerque do it all the time. He’ll be in good hands.”

“Can I see him now?”

“Better to wait until morning. Give him time to recover.”

“Thanks, Doctor. I’m sorry to snap at you.”

“I understand.” As Anna turned to go, Doctor Anderson said, “You were great tonight. In the play. I wish you would have got to finish.”

After the doctor left, Anna collapsed into a chair. Frank took the seat next to her and squeezed her hand. “You heard the doctor, he’s going to be fine. You should get some rest.”

“I don’t want to go home. I want to be here when he wakes up.” She wasn’t going to leave the hospital without seeing Henry. She needed to see him, make sure he was all right, and apologize for pushing him into the idea of the play. Until then, she wouldn’t be able to sleep.

“All right, we can stay here. I’ll go get some coffee.”

Frank gave her hand another squeeze before leaving. After he’d gone, she opened the photo album and turned to the picture of Henry and his wife under the Broadway marquis. She’d known Henry for eight years, but never had she seen him so happy. There was such a sparkle in his eyes and something in his smile. This wasn’t a forced smile for the camera; it was a big, delirious grin. Nobody could fake that smile. He looked like someone without a single worry, like someone in love.

She supposed that was the difference. Henry was in love. The woman next to him—were they married yet?—shared that look. Her green eyes had the same sparkle and her lips had the same delirious grin.

Henry’s wife was such a beautiful woman in the photograph. She had the fragile beauty of true redheads with skin almost a sickly pale color that still glowed. She wore a sleeveless lime dress that looked cheap, but it didn’t matter. Henry’s wife could have been an actress or a model; Anna wondered what she had done and why Henry wouldn’t talk about her.

Before Frank could come back with the coffee, Anna slipped down the corridor when the nurse had her back turned. She found the intensive care unit. The nurse there watched a portable television, allowing Anna to sneak by.

In the first room she came to, Anna saw Henry lying in a bed. Machines beeped and hummed as they monitored his condition. He had tubes in his nose and his skin looked gray. He looked so frail, so unlike the towering figure in the doorway when they first met, that she felt sick.

She pulled up a chair next to his bed and took his hand. “Henry, it’s me. It’s Anna. They said I should wait until morning to see you, but I couldn’t.” She cleared her throat and continued, “I’m sorry about all of this. I should have taken better care of you. I shouldn’t have pushed you into doing this. If I hadn’t, then you’d be all right—”

His eyes opened then and he gave her hand a faint squeeze. She bolted out of the chair to lean over him. “Anna,” he said.

“I’m here. You’re going to be fine now.” She kissed him on the cheek. His skin was so cold. “Everything’s fine now.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his words coming slowly and with great effort. “I ruined it.”

“No, of course not. You did everything you could.”

“Not enough.”

“You were wonderful.” Henry began to cry. She looked at the monitors, but nothing had changed. “Are you in pain? Should I get the nurse?”

He shook his head hard enough that she worried the tubes in his nose would come loose. “You’re leaving.”

“No, I’m going to stay right here with you. I’m not going anywhere until you’re better.”

“Anna, go. To LA.”

“I’m not leaving without you. I need you.”

He shook his head again. “I know someone. He can help.” Henry motioned for Anna to come closer. Then he whispered an address in Malibu into her ear three times. “Remember.”

“Who lives there?”

“My son-in-law. Tim Collins.”

“The director?” Henry nodded. “He’s your son-in-law?”

“Go there. Tell him what happened.”

“Henry, why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Didn’t want to lose you.”

“You couldn’t lose me. You’ve been like a father to me. I couldn’t have done anything without you.”

Again he shook his head. “I made you believe you could. You did the rest.”

She smiled at him and hoped it looked like his in the picture. “I don’t want to go without you. When you get better, we can go together. I can wait that long.”

“Can’t go back. I can’t.”

“Why, Henry? Why can’t you go back?”

“It’s complicated.”

She wanted to press for details, but she didn’t want to make his condition any worse. She had probably stayed too long already. “I should go. I brought you something from home.”

She opened the photo album and held it up so he could see. Tears came to his eyes and he turned his head away. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have brought it. I just thought it would cheer you up. I’ll take it away.”

“No. Leave it.”

She put it on the nightstand, propping it up so the picture she admired was visible. “I love you,” he said. At first she thought he was talking to the picture of his wife, but then he took her hand and repeated the words.

“I love you too. I’ll be back in the morning.”

“No, I love you.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry. Didn’t want to. It just happened.”

“Since when?”

“Two, maybe three years.” He motioned to the photo album with his head. “You’re so much like her. Never thought I could meet another. But you are. If only—”

“Then everything was all a lie, wasn’t it? There never was any tour. You just wanted to keep me around.”

“No. I tried. I wouldn’t lie to you. I couldn’t.”

She took a step back, pulling her hand away from his. She began to cry. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Won’t have another chance. I’m sorry. Goodbye.” When he closed his eyes, she checked the monitors to make sure he wasn’t going to die. He had only fallen asleep. She hurried towards the door and then broke into a run through the corridor, all the way back to the waiting room. Frank held out a cup of coffee, but she brushed by it to collapse against him.

“Anna, what’s wrong? Is he all right?”

“Please, just get me out of here. Now.” Frank helped her out to the car, buckling her seatbelt for her. She stared at the doors of the emergency room. Her mother had officially died there, and now so had her father.

Chapter 22

2007-06-14T12:14:00.000-07:00

Chapter 22

They had arranged the stage so that the audience faced the crater. Rows of folding chairs lined the ground for those wanting to get close to the action while others spread blankets out on the ground behind the seats. Unlike the theater crowds in LA, this seemed festive and blue collar with people wearing jeans, T-shirts, and baseball caps. Frank had overdressed by wearing his only suit.

At least it would help Anna spot him in the crowd. The first six rows were already occupied and the others were filling up fast. He decided on the eighth row right in the center. If she squinted hard enough she might be able to see him. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder and saw Esther behind him. “Come on, I saved you a seat.”

“I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Why shouldn’t I come? She’s still my niece. Even if she doesn’t want to be.”

“Domestic squabble?”

“It’s your fault. I don’t suppose you read all of Vera’s journal?”

“I hadn’t got the chance. I thought Anna should have it since it belonged to her mother.”

“How chivalrous of you. If you had read the entire journal I’m not sure you’d think the same thing.”

“Why not?” They reached their seats in the front row at center stage. No chance Anna could miss them now. After they sat down, Esther reached under her chair and pulled out the journal.

“Read the last half-dozen entries. Those are the important ones.”

The noise of the gathering crowd dissipated as he read Vera’s trek from Savannah to Little Mesa, ending with the entry after Anna’s birth. “I don’t understand.”

“Which part?”

“Any of it.”

“You’re the one she’s always talking about. The man she planned to visit on the other side of the country. The man she thought she kept seeing.”

“That doesn’t make sense. Why would she come looking for me? She didn’t want to marry me. She left me.”

“I can’t believe you’re this dense. She always loved you. Those six years after she broke up with you, she didn’t go out with anyone else. When I graduated and got into college she figured the time was right to find you and apologize.”

“She could have called. Or written me a letter. Or why not take a plane?”

“You know Vera, she didn’t like to do things the sensible way. Driving probably seemed more romantic to her.” Esther shook her head and smiled. “In a strange way it sort of makes you Anna’s father.”

“What?”

“Well, if she hadn’t gone looking for you she wouldn’t have been in Savannah. If she hadn’t been missing you she wouldn’t have gotten drunk and had sex with some stranger. Without you Anna wouldn’t be here.”

Frank stared at the last page of the notebook. Why hadn’t Vera come to him anyway? He wouldn’t have cared if she was pregnant with someone else’s baby. He never would have turned her away. He loved her too much for that.

“You shouldn’t blame yourself, Frank. I think Vera always liked to think of herself as a martyr. She didn’t have to take care of my sisters and I, or leave you, or raise Anna alone, or even volunteer to help all those causes. She took it all on herself to bear all those crosses.”

Frank nodded, but couldn’t put all the blame on Vera. He could have taken some of the load from her. He could have stayed with her in Maine those six years. Instead he had been more concerned with himself and his own career plans. After his selfishness, no wonder she didn’t want to trust anyone to help raise her child.

The lights on stage and strung around the seating area dimmed to signal the start of the play. The makeshift curtain went up and revealed a bar almost identical to the one from Casablanca, though shrunken to fit on the stage. A teenaged boy dressed like a waiter came on stage to establish the setting. In a squeaky voice the boy said, “In the year 2041 a race of alien invaders has put most of Earth’s governments under its control. Even the once-proud United States has fallen.” The boy stopped and stood blankly on stage, as though flipping a page in his mind. “Those who want to escape the alien tyranny must undergo a perilous journey to Casa Verde along the border with Mexico. From there they can reach the last bastions of freedom in the southern hemisphere.” The boy paused again and cleared his throat before continuing. Frank wondered if he would pass out from nervousness. “But getting out of Casa Verde is not easy. The only way of escape is to get passage on a stealth ship and fly a dangerous route to avoid detection. Because there are so few seats and so many wanting to occupy them, more and more people come to Casa Verde every day to wait and hope.”

The lights went off as the players made their way to their positions. The crowd couldn’t help laughing when someone knocked over a chair. Frank did not laugh with the others; he closed the notebook and squeezed it in anticipation.

Anna did not appear in the first scene. Instead a boy in a tight-fitting suit discussed with a young man in a tuxedo how he had obtained tickets for the next flight. In the process of buying the tickets he had killed two alien security guards. He needed someone to hold on to the tickets while he hid from the alien authorities.

Frank hoped the next scene would feature Anna, but instead the young man in a tuxedo traded quips with a bumbling American customs inspector. Frank looked around the audience to see if they were as bored and jittery as he was. They had probably seen Anna in other performances, though. School plays and such. They knew what to expect from her.

“She’s in the next one,” Esther whispered into his ear. He tried to lean back in his chair and enjoy the show. The young man in the tuxedo did and admirable job as Ron the bar owner, but the inspector played his with too much buffoonery. The bartender missed two of his lines and looked ready to bolt at any second. Ron’s former girlfriend seemed more interested in showing her cleavage than performing her lines. Anna deserved a better cast than this for her big play.

Then she came on stage and he thought his heart would stop. She walked into the bar on the arm of a dark-skinned boy with blonde hair who couldn’t help smirking at his good fortune. The moment Anna came on stage she dominated the scene. Even sitting next to her husband she managed to portray just the right look of love and concern. The other actors kept looking at her and when she spoke, they listened as though her every word were the most important thing they’d ever heard. Enraptured, that would best describe it. The cast, the audience, and especially Frank were under her spell.

In her scenes with Ron, Frank saw something he had not allowed himself to see during the time he’d spent with Anna. Her posture, her expressions, and her voice all carried a woman’s sorrow at having to choose between a man she admired and a man she loved. He had always thought of her as Vera’s daughter. He thought she needed his protection and his guidance. He had never seen her as a mature young woman in need of something more. In need of love.

At intermission he didn’t move until Esther nudged him in the ribs. “She’s wonderful,” he said.

“Maybe. But do you realize how many ‘wonderful’ girls like her get on the bus for Hollywood every day? How many do you think come back that way?”

“She can make it. She just needs help.”

“You go ahead and help her then Frank. You already ruined Vera’s life, why not ruin her daughter’s too?”

Before Frank could say anything the lights dimmed for the play to continue. Right away things began to go wrong with the production. The sign for Ron’s Café fell down as the bartender spoke and he ran off the stage. The other actors tried to go on without him, but even the older boys started to stumble over lines. Only Anna remained unaffected and continued her dazzling performance.

Then as Anna kissed Ron, a string of firecrackers went off behind the stage. Even Anna froze at the sudden disruption. She looked offstage and then bolted to the wings. Ron stood there for one horrific moment before joining her.

When Anna came back to the stage he thought the play would continue, but instead she shouted, “We need a doctor! Someone call an ambulance.” Frank reached into his pocket and dialed for 911. He climbed onto the stage and used his free arm to corral Anna. “What’s going on?”

“I think Henry had a heart attack. Please, get someone here to help him.” He followed her offstage and found an old man lying on the floor, sweat covering his face. Frank explained the situation as best he could to the emergency dispatcher. She told him a paramedic team was already there for the festival and should reach the stage in about two minutes.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” he told Anna. “Help is on the way.”

“I don’t know what happened. I guess those firecrackers must have scared him. He’s been working so hard on this play. The last few days he looked sick, but I didn’t think anything about it. It’s all my fault.” She said this not with panic and tears but with grim acceptance.

“Anna, it’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything to him.” The paramedics arrived, pushing aside the cast and crew to reach Henry. Frank took Anna’s hand and led her away from the scene. “Where’s the nearest hospital?”

“On Franklin, near the retirement home. Frank, I have to stay with him.”

“Right now the best thing is to let the paramedics do their job. We’ll take my car.” He put both hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes. “I’m going to need your help. Are you with me?”

“I understand.” As Henry went by on a stretcher she reached out to squeeze his hand. Frank couldn’t tell, but he thought the old man smiled beneath the oxygen mask. Then Frank led Anna through the crowd and drove her to the hospital.

Along the way he tried to cheer her up by saying, “You did a great job. Maybe they’ll let you come back and finish.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said and turned away to look out the window.

Chapter 21

2007-06-14T12:10:00.001-07:00

Chapter 21

Anna woke up to find Mom’s journal lying on the floor, where it had slipped from her numb fingers last night. She picked it up and read the last entry again just to make sure she hadn’t dreamed those terrible words. “If only they knew.”

Mom had never wanted her. To Mom she had been just another burden. Another cause to fight for. Anna had meant nothing more to her than the literacy program or cleaning up the park that would soon bear her name.

All the pieces of the puzzle fit together now. What Frank had told her and what she remember at the park and the crater about her own childhood told her everything she needed to know about her mother. Mom had always treated her as nothing more than a pet. She provided food, shelter, and occasionally patted Anna on the head to make her feel loved. Then she congratulated herself on doing her job as a mother and went out to make Little Mesa a better place. But when do-gooding wore on her, she pulled some crazy stunt.

The journal also settled the question of her father. Mom had told her that she and her father had met over a weekend in Georgia. They had fallen madly in love, but a drunk driver killed him before their love could blossom. Anna believed this romantic story because it explained why Mom had no pictures of her father and why she didn’t like to talk about him. It certainly sounded a lot better than saying she got drunk in a Savannah bar and woke up in a motel with no clue about who had fucked her. Mom had no more idea what he was like than Anna did.

No wonder the journal had been stuffed in a box at Mrs. McAllister’s house. If anyone in town had read it, they would be shocked to learn the awful truth about their saint. The journal explained why Aunt Esther hated Mom so much and why she believed Mom had committed suicide.

Anna went downstairs with the notebook and found her aunt making a bowl of oatmeal. She tossed the notebook onto the counter and waited for Aunt Esther’s reaction. “Who gave that to you?”

“Frank. He found it at Mrs. McAllister’s house.”

“I thought he might.” Aunt Esther turned to face Anna and crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “I didn’t think he would show it to you.”

“Why shouldn’t he? You didn’t want me to know the truth?”

“You were only eight years old when she died. Do you honestly think you could have handled it then?”

“Why couldn’t you have waited until I was older?”

“When do you suppose anyone is mature enough to understand their mother was a selfish whore?”

“All these years you’ve let me—and the whole town—believe a lie!”

“I let all of you believe exactly what you want. Everyone was a lot better off that way.” She sighed and shook her head. “If Frank hadn’t shown up here everything would still be fine.”

“It’s not Frank’s fault for wanting me to know the truth.”

“No it’s my fault for not destroying that thing when I had the chance. I don’t know why your mother even kept it all these years.”

“Maybe she was going to tell me when I got old enough.”

“Knowing your mother, I doubt it.” Esther took a look at the bowl of oatmeal and then motioned for Anna to sit down. “I suppose now we need to have that talk.”

“It’s too late. You had your chance.”

“Stop acting like a child! I did the best I could.”

“You were even worse than Mom. You never let me believe in myself. You never made me think I could do anything right.”

“I didn’t want you to end up like your mother, believing a lot of nonsense. When are you going to learn real life isn’t like one of those old movies. Real life is shit.”

“It doesn’t have to be. Just because bad things happened to you doesn’t mean it’s that way for everyone.”

Aunt Esther threw up her hands and pointed to the door. “Fine. Go off like your mother and search for that miracle life. Go and get yourself knocked up by a complete stranger. If that’s what you want, you go right ahead. I’m not going to try stopping you anymore.”

Anna turned and stomped back upstairs. She found a suitcase in the closet and packed it with as many clothes as she could fit. She left behind all her movies, childhood stuffed toys, and mementos collected over the years. Only the autographed picture of Ingrid Bergman went with her. Then she left home without another word.

She went straight to the shop and used her key to open the door. After the play tonight she was going to leave. Whether she went with Henry or Frank or alone didn’t matter. She would leave Little Mesa and all the lies behind tonight. But to do that she needed money.

The cash register held only about thirty dollars in small bills and change and the safe another fifty. Eighty dollars combined with what she had saved already wouldn’t get her far, but it didn’t matter. Even if she could only make it to Santa Fe she could find a way to earn more money to get her to Los Angeles. If she was traveling alone.

The three of them could go together: she, Henry, and Frank. Henry must still have friends in Hollywood who could help her get some auditions. Maybe he could even find some parts for himself. They could both stay with Frank for a little while, until Henry found his own place. Then she and Frank would live alone. And when she had paid her dues and become a star, then Frank would go with her on location shoots. Anytime she had time off they would go somewhere and he would take his pictures. He would take her picture, just like he had done for Mom. No matter what Aunt Esther said all three of them could be happy forever.

She considered leaving Aunt Esther a note, but she had said all she needed. She locked up the shop, although anyone who broke in now would find she had beaten them to the prize. Not much of a prize anyway.

After leaving the store she walked to Crater Park where the crew had finished assembling the stage and were now putting the furniture in place for Ron’s Café. The play would have to be perfect to convince Henry and Frank she could do what she proposed. She needed to make them believe in her the way Mom and Aunt Esther never had. She left her suitcase in the changing area and then went onto the stage.

One of the crew bumped into a table, knocking a tray of glasses to the floor. He cursed at someone else in Spanish until they seemed on the verge of fighting. Anna put herself between them and shouted in Spanish for them to settle down. “Clean up this mess and try to be more careful,” she told the boy who had knocked over the glasses.

“What happened?” Henry asked her. His skin still looked gray around the edges and his eyes had a glossy sheen.

“It’s nothing, just a little accident. All taken care of.”

They went offstage and he put both hands on her shoulders. “If you’re feeling nervous, don’t worry. It’s always tough the first few minutes, but then the jitters go away. You’ll be great. I know you will.”

“Thanks, but if I am it’s all because of you.” She kissed his cheek and smiled. “I’d weigh four hundred pounds by now if I hadn’t met you. You saved me from that nightmare.”

His skin had turned a healthier color now as he blushed like a young boy at her kiss. “You did everything. I just helped you see what was already there.”

“Well, why don’t we fight about who should thank who?” She looked around to make sure no one else was around before saying in a low voice, “I wanted to talk to you about something else.”

“What is it?”

“Have you made any progress with the tour yet?”

“No, I made some calls, but nothing definite.”

“Henry, let’s forget about the tour. We can go to Los Angeles by ourselves. We can find work there, I know we can.”

“I’m too old to try making a comeback.”

“You’re not. You still have the passion and the talent.”

“The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak, I’m afraid.”

She thought about it a moment. “Then come with me anyway. I can find work to support both of us. I can take care of you.”

“I know you can, Anna, but I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not a burden. You’ve been like a father to me. I want you to come.”

They stared at each other for a long time while the lighting director tested the switches. Once she had gone, Henry nodded. “All right. We can do it.” Anna didn’t care if anyone else saw her as she hugged him. Maybe her mother hadn’t known whose sperm had created her, but she knew the identity of her true father.

Chapter 20

2007-06-14T12:09:00.002-07:00

Chapter 20

Frank opened the last box of Vera’s materials at Mrs. McAllister’s house. Until now everything else had dealt with Vera’s life before her death, but this final box contained the articles relating to the accident itself. He spread the papers on the floor and began reading.

Most of the articles weren’t helpful in finding out how Vera had died. He scanned an exposé on the city council’s failure to properly maintain the handrails around Crater Park. He skimmed over editorials on the tragic blow her death would deal to the community. He glanced at the almost endless letters to the editor mourning her loss. None of those could answer the question that brought him to Little Mesa.

A final scrap of newspaper in the box came from two months after her death and reported on the official results of the police investigation. The sheriff’s department, aided by the New Mexico State Police, ruled Vera’s death an accident. The night she had gone to the crater had been rainy and the handrails along that section had been scheduled for replacement because of rust.

The end of the article brought Frank his first real lead. A man named Roberto Jue had been the last to see Vera alive. He told the investigators that he and Vera had gone to the crater on an archeological expedition when it began to rain. As he neared the top of the crater, Jue heard Vera scream, but he couldn’t reach her in time. Medical examiners believed the fall had killed her instantly.

A paragraph near the end of the article reported that Roberto Jue worked for the Little Mesa Astronomical Society. Frank looked through Mrs. McAllister’s telephone book and dialed the number on his cell phone. When no one picked up on the fifth ring, a gravelly voice asked Frank to leave a message. He hung up instead and scanned the listings for Roberto Jue. The book listed no one with that last name.

He decided to write down the address for the Astronomical Society and visit the place in person. Before he left, he put everything back in its place and found Mrs. McAllister reading a tattered paperback in a gameroom packed with books. “Are you finished?” she asked.

“I think I’ve found everything I need.”

“I hope so. It’s been nice having someone around here, even for a little while. Since Vera’s death I get so few visitors. No one in this town has the proper appreciation for the printed word.”

“I guess not. Maybe if you found another helper. Someone young and with energy to spare.”

“Do you have someone in mind?”

“No. I don’t have much appreciation for the printed word either. Someone will turn up I’m sure.”

“You may be right Mr. Hemsky. If you’re ever in town again, feel free to stop by. If not to read, at least to keep me company.”

“I’ll do that.” Frank patted one of Mrs. McAllister’s wrinkled hands and then left her chaotic hall of records to search for Roberto Jue.

He found the Astronomical Society building near the railroad tracks on Pluto Avenue. Inside a windowless building he found a single man in a desert camouflage jacket and floppy hat. With his glasses and neat gray beard the man looked like a college professor. The name on his jacket read, ‘Herzog.’ “Can I help you?”

“My name is Frank Hemsky. I’m doing some research on Vera Swinton. Do you know where I could find Roberto Jue?”

“Roberto left us about five years ago.”

“Did he leave a forwarding address?”

“He didn’t believe much in addresses. He never liked to settle down anywhere.”

“You don’t have any idea where he went?”

“I’m afraid not.”

Something in Frank snapped as Herzog spoke. He had come all the way to Little Mesa to find out if Vera had committed suicide or not. He had looked through all the records and asked a bunch of people about her. Now the only person who had witnessed her death couldn’t be found. It couldn’t be true. Herzog had to be lying.

Frank lunged forward and pinned the man against a poster of a gray alien holding up two fingers for peace. “Don’t lie to me! You know where he is.”

“I swear I don’t. He just disappeared one day. He didn’t even leave a note behind. Please believe me.”

Frank let Herzog go and sagged onto a lawn chair. “I’m sorry.”

“You knew Vera?”

“You could say that.”

Herzog sat down next to him on another lawn chair. Frank looked around the room, taking in the posters with slogans about finding the truth. He supposed his search for the truth about Vera was just as foolhardy as the Astronomical Society looking for little green men. “Did you know Vera?” he asked Herzog.

“Only a little near the end. I came here after I retired from the geological service in California about a month before she died.”

“How did she get mixed up with Roberto?”

Herzog took a brochure from off a stack on a table in the middle of the room and gave it to Frank. The pamphlet described the Astronomical Society’s belief that Little Mesa was the original home for UFO activity in New Mexico. They believed that an alien ship had crashed, creating the massive crater. Ewen Marshall had invented the meteor story as a way of gaining attention for the town and himself. With proper funding and a digging permit the Astronomical Society could find proof of the alien crash landing.

“What’s any of this have to do with her?”

“Roberto thought she could help with the public relations.”

“Did she?”

“She didn’t get the chance. It’s too bad.”

“For her or for you?”

“For everyone. She was such a wonderful person. I think Roberto left because he thought he had killed her. The police didn’t agree, but he wasn’t the same after that happened.”

“So he just picked up and left?”

“We were discussing locations for the dig if we ever got the permit one night and the next morning he was gone. No one’s heard from him since.”

“I’m sorry to snap at you earlier. This just seems like one dead end after another.”

“I understand. I didn’t know Vera long, but she seemed like a wonderful person. So full of energy. She would have gotten us the permit that’s for certain.”

“I’m sure.” He shook Herzog’s hand and left the Little Mesa Astronomical Society. For a while Frank sat in his car and considered his next move. He had nothing. No leads at all. He may as well go back to Los Angeles.

He had made a promise to Anna to watch her play tonight though. He didn’t want to hurt her. She had enough pain in her life already. Having no father then losing her mother. Growing up under a cold, tyrannical aunt.

By all rights Anna should have become one of those black-wearing loners who wound up shooting her classmates. If the positions had been reversed he imagined that’s what he would have done. He would have turned all his pain against the world, but she hadn’t. She took after her mother in that way.

Maybe he should just lie and say he had found proof that it really was an accident. He could spin her some nice story so she could live happily ever after. Put the whole matter to rest by telling her a little white lie. Who would it hurt? Either way Vera was dead, so why make Anna suffer?

A beautiful young woman like Anna didn’t deserve to carry around such a terrible burden. She deserved the chance to feel happy and free, to live her life unencumbered by emotional baggage. If he could manage that by telling her a lie, why not do it?

Instead of going back to the Rio Rancho, he turned into the parking lot of a bar. He ordered a beer and found a seat in the darkest corner to ponder the situation alone. After two more beers he decided he would protect her because she had no one else who could. It was the least he could do for Vera.

Chapter 19

2007-06-14T12:09:00.001-07:00

Chapter 19

September 22, 1986

I woke up this morning in a motel in Savannah, Georgia. I wish I could remember how I got here. I still have such a headache. I don’t think I’ll be able to leave tonight. Money’s getting low though.

I keep trying to remember what happened last night. I stopped in Savannah for gas and at the Exxon station I thought I saw Frank. He was putting gas into a maroon Buick the pump next to mine. I was so sure it was him that I went over and tapped him on the shoulder. Then he turned around and I saw a stranger. I had to apologize to him. I felt like such an idiot.

After I left the station I felt so lonely and sad. I haven’t seen Frank in over six years. I see his face everywhere I go, but this time I was so sure it had to be him. I don’t know what I’d say, but maybe I wouldn’t need to say anything at all. Maybe we would look at each other and just know we were both sorry for what happened. Then we could start over. Pretend it never happened.

I saw this little bar along the road and before I knew it, I pulled into the parking lot. It was such a dump, all dark and cramped. I guess I was hoping for Rick’s more than Roadhouse, but beggars can’t be choosy. There was this huge black man behind the bar. I don’t know how they fit him back there. Maybe he used to be skinny and just kept growing and growing until he became stuck.

I can’t remember anything after the second whiskey. I’ve never been able to hold my liquor. It’s like the time at Lindsey Marquis’s graduation night party. I had just a couple of beers and woke up the next morning on her neighbor’s porch. I’m starting to feel sick.

I hope I didn’t do anything too bad.

October 2, 1986

Today I went to the Everglades. I was hoping to see some alligators but I didn’t find any until I went to this restaurant nearby for dinner. They had this big pit all fenced-off where you could watch the alligators. If you gave the one-armed Indian guy five dollars he’d let you throw a fish over the fence and you could watch them fight for it. I didn’t do it but this tourist family did. They let their son and daughter each throw a fish to the gators.

I felt so bad for the poor alligators being caged like that. All they could do was swim and walk around that little cage with everyone pointing and laughing at them and taking their pictures. Then they have to fight each other just to eat. It’s barbaric really. I wonder if it’s legal?

I did see a lot of birds in the Everglades. I don’t know what they all were, but there were all types of them in all sorts of colors. I wish I had brought a camera with me so I could remember all this years from now.

I waited around until sunset. I remember seeing one of Frank’s pictures in some travel magazine from here. I thought maybe if I stood in almost the same spot and saw what he saw it would be like we were there together. But it wasn’t the same. I cried, it was so beautiful and I was so alone. A park ranger asked if I was lost and I told him I knew where I was going. I wanted to ask him about any photographers he might have seen around, but I couldn’t.

I’m writing this from a booth at Denny’s because I don’t want to spend the money on a motel. I don’t know how comfortable the car will be, but it can’t be too bad. I’ll have to get used to it if I’m going all the way across the country.

If I really need money maybe I could ask people to throw fish at me for five dollars.

October 11, 1986

I worked most of the day with a sweet man named Albert. His wife died of breast cancer about two months ago and he was so sad. He’s a fisherman here in New Orleans and needed some help because he doesn’t get around so well anymore. He couldn’t give me much money, but it’s all right. We had such a great time out there on the water.

He and his wife worked really hard so their son could go to college. He’s studying finance or something to become some Wall Street hotshot. Even if his son makes a billion dollars Albert says he’s going to keep fishing until he dies. He loves it so much. I wish I loved anything half that much.

When we were out there on the Gulf of Mexico I asked if he could take me away from everything. We could go to Brazil or Argentina and live there forever. Or we could just go from place to place, fishing for our food and selling enough to keep the boat going. We wouldn’t ever have to stop. He thought I was joking and we had a big laugh about it.

We both cried when I said goodbye. He wanted me to stay for a few more days but I said I couldn’t. I have somewhere to go. I can’t just sail away from everything.

October 20, 1986

I went to Graceland today. I always wanted to go there. Elvis made terrible movies but he had such a lovely voice. Before he got fat he was so handsome, but even then you could still just listen to him sing and if you closed your eyes you wouldn’t know the difference.

It’s so sad to tour the home of a dead man. I guess it’s not so bad when it’s someone who’s been dead for a really long time, like George Washington or Thomas Jefferson. I never saw them on television or heard them sing. They’re more like gods or made-up characters than real people. But I saw Elvis and owned all his records. I used to save up for months just to buy one of his albums and then listen to it for hours and hours after the kids went to bed.

I remember all those people walking around crying and holding candlelight vigils when he died. I wish I could have been there. After I left I went to a grocery store nearby and lit my own candle. It’s nine years too late, but it doesn’t matter. It’s never too late to say how much you love someone.

I felt so sad I went to a little jazz club nearby. I couldn’t figure out how the band could stay together with all the improvising. It was such beautiful music though. So happy and lighthearted and fun.

I couldn’t help myself. I got right up onto the stage and started dancing like a crazy person. I’m sure everyone thought I was drunk but I had only one beer so I wasn’t drunk at all. I was just moved by the music. It’s a shame I never listened to any of this back in Portland. To think of all the things I’ve missed! But I’m only twenty-five, there’s plenty of time to catch up. It’s not too late.

It’s been almost a week since I should have started my period. I’m starting to get worried. Maybe there’s something wrong with me. Or maybe it’s just this trip taking its toll on me at last. But I can’t stop now. There’s still so much to do.

October 31, 1986

I had to pull over in Oklahoma City this morning. I ran into a McDonald’s but I threw up just before I got to the stall. I did my best to clean up the mess with the toilet paper, but finally I had to get the manager and explainer. She was a sweet girl and said she understood. She’d had that problem herself a couple of times.

I ordered an Egg McMuffin out of guilt, but I couldn’t eat the thing. I saw this old woman sitting at one table just sipping her free coffee. She had the sweetest face but her clothes were worn out, as if she didn’t have any others. I offered her my sandwich and she gave me a big smile. She didn’t have many teeth left, but enough to chew with.

Her name is Lucy and she retired from the library about five years ago. She never got married or had any children so now there’s no one to take care of her. Her pension and Social Security don’t pay a lot so she can’t always eat. She goes to the McDonald’s every day to drink the free coffee and read the newspapers other people leave behind. I tried to give her some money but she refused. She said I had done enough already by giving her the sandwich and being good company. I couldn’t help crying. Such a wonderful person.

I decided to get some quarters from the cashier and called Portland. No one answered. Mom must be at work. I feel so bad about leaving her. She did the best she could to provide for us. We never had to go without eating because of her. Maybe later I’ll get the chance to tell her what I feel.

Oklahoma is no fun at all. It’s so dusty and flat and boring. I miss the water a little bit, but I won’t see the ocean again until I get there. And then maybe I can stay there forever. Maybe we can stay.

November 5, 1986

I stopped in a town called Little Mesa in New Mexico today. I had to throw up in the bathroom of a truck stop. I’ve been throwing up every morning since Oklahoma City. It’s become a habit. My period is still late. I know what this means.

November 9, 1986

I found a doctor and he ran some tests. I’m pregnant. He figures I’m about six weeks along. It had to be that night in Savannah. I just wish I could remember who I had been with so I could tell him he’s going to be a daddy.

The doctor saw my reaction and he tried to be discreet. He said he “knew some people who could take care of it” but I refused. I can’t have an abortion. I can’t kill an innocent child. He gave me some pamphlets on pregnancy and one on adoption. I threw that one out. This baby is my responsibility. She’s my child.

They have this big crater nearby and I went there to think about things. I could keep going, but I can’t show up on his doorstep pregnant with a fatherless baby. What would he think of me then? I couldn’t have him think I was a whore or that I only came to him now because I needed help. I will do this alone. I wish I knew where to go. Maybe I’ll stay here for a little while until I decide.

November 14, 1986

I found a job today in Little Mesa. Mr. Hernandez at this photography studio gave me a job. Mostly just working with customers to help them decide what kind of portraits they want. I won’t be using the camera at first, but he said in time he would train me. I’m going to be a photographer. Frank would be proud of me.

Mr. Hernandez said his brother-in-law just got a job in Corpus Christie and has to move. He’ll put in a good word for me with the realtor. They’re old buddies from the war. I forgot to ask which war but I suppose it doesn’t matter. No more sleeping in the car then. My baby will always have a roof over her head and food in her stomach.

After the interview with Mr. Hernandez I drove all over the town. It seems like a nice place. A little girl could be happy here. Or a little boy I suppose, but I hope it’s a girl. I’ve raised three already so it would be easier.

June 20, 1987

I gave birth to Anna Francine Swinton three days ago at four fourteen in the morning. She’s eight pounds, four ounces. They tell me that’s a healthy weight. And she’s sixteen inches long.

I’ve never felt so much pain in my life. They gave me something for the pain but it didn’t really help. The nurse asked if I had anyone to call and I said no. I found out a couple weeks ago that Mom died last winter. She slipped on the sidewalk outside and no one was there to help her. She’d probably be disappointed with me. I’ve ended up just like her. I hope Anna doesn’t turn out like me.

When they put Anna into my arms I began to cry. They thought I was crying for joy. If only they knew.

Chapter 18

2007-06-14T12:08:00.002-07:00

Chapter 18

Anna knocked on Frank’s door and waited for at least two minutes before trying again. She searched the parking lot for his rental car, but couldn’t find it anywhere. He must have gone out for the day.

She fingered the Do Not Disturb sign hanging from the knob and wondered where he had gone. Maybe to the festival, but that didn’t seem like somewhere Frank would go on his own. He could have gone to Mom’s park or the shop, but she wouldn’t follow him there. If she left the bundle of clothes on the doorstep she doubted anyone would steal them.

“Can I help you?” a man’s voice asked from behind her.

She recognized JJ from that pink cowboy hat he always wore, though she didn’t understand why he insisted on something so tacky. It could be some kind of good luck charm or a gift from one of his old boyfriends. While she considered herself open-minded, Aunt Esther had wanted to run him out of town the moment he showed up in Little Mesa. “I was just looking for Frank,” she said. “I wanted to give him something.”

“I’m sure you do. He left this morning.”

“Did he say when he’d come back?”

“Nope. Would you like me to give those to him when he comes back?”

“I’d rather do it in person. I had some other things to talk to him about.”

“I’ll let him know you stopped by. Or you could wait in the office. Keep me company for a while. It gets so boring during this time of day. Too early for people to check out and too late for people checking in.”

“Sure, I can stay with you for a little bit.”

She followed him back to the office and sat on a ratty couch held together with duct tape. JJ had a Mexican soap opera on the television. She had forced herself to speak almost fluent Spanish when she read in Ingrid Bergman’s biography how many languages she had spoken in her career. If Ingrid could work in Swedish, English, German, and Italian, certainly Anna could learn to work in Spanish and English.

“I don’t know a word they’re saying, but just look at them.” JJ motioned to a man with bulky muscles covered in sweat. “Wow. I’d like to give him some room service.”

If only the man could act as well as he looked. He uttered every line as if reading the newspaper. The woman in the scene wasn’t much better; every gesture and line was delivered with over-the-top melodrama. How could these people call themselves professional actors? How could anyone watch this garbage?

She yawned and stretched out on the couch, trying in vain to tune out the terrible dialogue as the man spouted romantic clichés and the woman professed her undying love. She wondered if any of that would work on Frank. Probably not. He was too sophisticated. Maybe not as handsome as the soap opera star on TV, but he had those rugged good looks and the brains and heart to go with them. An all-around better catch.

“Late night?” JJ said.

“A little bit.”

“With Frank?”

“Frank’s just a friend.” For now, she added to herself.

“You can’t fool me, young lady. He’s like a gruff little teddy bear. I just want to put my arms around him and squeeze him silly.”

She didn’t want to discuss her feelings for Frank and certainly not with a man. “He’s very nice.”

“A little too old for someone your age though.”

“What difference should age make?”

“Please, by the time he’s seventy you’ll still be in your forties. He’ll be dead before you hit fifty.”

“That’s not for a long time.”

“Aren’t you quite the optimist. I can only imagine what your mother would think.”

“You didn’t even know my mother.”

“Touche.” JJ sighed in a way that reminded Anna of the Mexican soap opera actress. As an actor he wasn’t much better than either of them. “You should be careful is all I’m trying to say. He came all the way here for her.”

She stood and picked up the bundle of clothes from the floor. “I think I’ll wait outside if you don’t mind.”

“Be my guest. Just remember what I said.”

She waited on the curb in front of Frank’s door until the sun began to go down. She knew all the arguments for why she shouldn’t care about Frank, but none of them mattered. So he was older than her and he had loved her mother? What she felt for him mattered more than age or his past. She had never met anyone so kind, intelligent, and handsome as Frank and she would be damned if she’d surrender because of her age.

Headlights shone in her eyes and after she blinked her vision clear she saw Frank getting out of his car. “Anna, what are you doing here?” he asked. He had a strange smell on his clothes as he approached. Like manure.

“I wanted to return these. And to thank you for being so nice last night.”

“It’s no problem.”

“Can I come inside?”

“Sure.” As she waited for him to unlock the door she turned towards the front office and imagined JJ standing at the window, watching them. She resisted the childish urge to stick out her tongue at him. She gave the clothes back to him and he tossed them on the bathroom floor. “Is there something else you wanted to say?”

“Tomorrow night is my play at Crater Park. Casa Verde. I thought maybe you could come if you would like. Henry gave me some tickets to give away to friends and family.”

“I should be able to make it. What time does it start?”

“Eight o’clock. We’ll wrap up just before the big fireworks show.”

“Sounds like fun.”

Anna walked around the room as she thought of how to phrase her next question. “Frank, do you think we should talk about last night? About what happened at Crater Park?”

“What’s to talk about?”

“I wanted you to know I didn’t do it on purpose. To seduce you or anything. It was just a spur of the moment thing.”

“I understand. These things happen. Especially when you’re young.”

“What’s that have to do with anything?”

“Nothing. I only meant—”

“I know what you meant. You think I’m just some silly girl with a crush. I’ve kissed more than my share of boys.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything. I’m just a little tired from walking around that emu farm.”

“Emu farm? What were you doing out there?” That at least explained the manure smell she’d detected on his clothes and why he had been gone all day.

“It’s a long story. Do you remember your mother ever going there? Did she take you there for a visit or anything?”

“Not that I remember. I went there in first grade on a field trip. They were so friendly and soft, though kind of smelly. I asked Mom if I could get one for a pet.” He only nodded and sat down on the bed to light a cigarette in response. “Frank, is there something you’re not telling me about Mom?”

“I don’t know yet. There are some pieces that don’t quite add up. I’m not sure what to make of it.”

She sat down on the bed next to him and put a hand on his knee. He flinched a little but didn’t move away. “What is it? I don’t care what it is, Frank, I want to know.”

He told her about Mom ordering everything at Zeke’s and then giving it away; about racing Rusty Wheeler outside town; and about stealing Spunky the emu from the ranch. The more Anna heard, the colder the lump in her stomach became. Mom had always preached to her about responsibility and not being selfish, and yet she’d gone and committed these reckless acts. How could she do such things? “Why didn’t anyone ever tell me?”

“You were just a little kid at the time. They probably didn’t want to worry you. No one seems to think it was a big deal anyway. Her way of celebrating life.”

Anna didn’t know what to say. None of what Frank said seemed to fit with what she knew about Mom. It sounded like behavior better suited to a schizophrenic. Someone crazy. No wonder everyone had given Anna such odd looks this morning. Like mother like daughter they must have thought.

“Are you all right?” Frank asked. He put an arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze with the roughness of a father or a best friend instead of a lover’s tenderness.

“I’m fine. It’s just amazing how little I knew about my own mother until you showed up. Thank you Frank.”

“It’s not all bad news. Your mother was the most responsible and decent person I ever knew. We can’t forget that because of a few lapses.”

“I guess not.”

Frank stood up and went over to the desk. He picked up the notebook she had used earlier to write him a note and handed it to her. “This is your mother’s journal. I swiped it from Mrs. McAllister’s when she wasn’t looking.”

“Mom had a journal? Am I in it?”

“I’m not sure. I only got a little bit through it. You should have it though. She was your mother.”

Anna took the notebook and skimmed over the first page. Mom had written this before Anna was even born. She sounded so young and happy in that first entry. So free, like Anna hoped to be after the play when she left Little Mesa. “Thank you Frank. This means so much to me.” Before he could react, she kissed him on the cheek. “You will come to the play tomorrow, won’t you?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for all the world.” She smiled and bounded out the door with the journal clutched against her chest. Mom’s journal. Her inner-most thoughts. Now she would know the truth.

She went straight home and looked around for Aunt Esther. She heard the microwave beep in the kitchen and seized the moment to slip upstairs. After locking the door she laid down to read what Mom had written.

Chapter 17

2007-06-14T12:08:00.001-07:00

Chapter 17

When Frank awoke he felt as though someone had encased his spine in cement. She had already made up the bed and left. The note on the desk brought a shiver as he thought of Vera leaving him at Acadia. But this time the note only said that she would return his clothes later after she had a chance to change. That meant he would have to see her again tonight.

He lurched from the chair and shuffled like the Frankenstein monster into the bathroom. In his shaving kit he had a bottle of Tylenol and shook out two capsules. He stepped into the shower and let warm water flow over his sore muscles.

He was way too old to wake up in the middle of the night and rescue a teenager from a police station. And he was way too old to kiss that very same teenager. Especially the daughter of a woman he had loved. Games of the heart were for young men, which Frank had stopped being over ten years ago.

Still, he could not erase the memory of her kiss from his mind. No one had kissed him that way since Vera all those years ago in Portland. So much passion and desperation in her lips. How could a beautiful girl like her want to kiss an old fogy like him? She could have any of the boys or even the men in this town, but she had to pick the one man who couldn’t have her.

His back felt a little better and so he turned around to shower. He had come here for Vera and to find out about her death, not to romance a girl. Today he had to go back to Mrs. McAllister’s house and look through that box of papers. Then he could worry about how to deal with Anna.

He left Vera’s journal on the desk to read later and then left his room. He attached the Do Not Disturb sign to the knob, but decided to go up to the front desk, where JJ watched a talk show and filed his nails. “Frank! You’re not ready to check out, are you?”

“Not yet. Can you make sure no one goes in my room today.”

“You’re not building a bomb in there, are you?”

“No, I just have some sensitive photographic equipment in there I don’t want disturbed.”

“Oh, of course. You don’t look like a terrorist anyway.”

“Thanks.”

“Are you going to the festival tonight? I have the night off. Maybe I’ll see you there.”

“I don’t know if I can make it tonight. I have some work to do.”

“That’s too bad.” Frank nodded to JJ and then went out to his car. Before heading to Mrs. McAllister’s he swung by Anna’s house, but no one was home. He didn’t want to go by Perfect Memories and have another argument with Esther about Vera. That woman had given Anna such a hard time, no wonder she didn’t want to go home last night. Why shouldn’t she run away from someone like that?

He had considered running away from home on plenty of occasions, but he never had anywhere to go. With a new base almost every other year, he never had the chance for anywhere to feel like home. If he had made it to the highway and found a ride away from his father, he couldn’t think of any place to go. Anna should feel lucky to have lived in a community for eighteen years and become part of it instead of living behind a fence and gun-toting security guards.

After waiting a few minutes in case Anna showed up, he decided to go back to Zeke’s Cafeteria for a cup of coffee or three. “You’re looking pretty tuckered-out, Mr. Hemsky,” Zeke said.

“I feel worse than I look. Can I get about a gallon jug of coffee?”

“Well, I could fill up the deep fryer and let you drink out of that if you want.”

“Sounds terrific.”

“Coming right up.” Zeke returned with a full pot and set it next to Frank. “If you need more just holler.”

“I will. Say, have you seen Anna around here today?”

“Nope, but I heard the Suarez twins gossiping about her right here at the counter. Said they saw her walking around in a stranger’s clothes smelling as if she’d just risen from the grave. You have anything to do with that?”

“Those are my clothes.”

“Ain’t you a little too old to go chasing schoolgirls?”

“She asked me for help. I couldn’t refuse.”

“Sounds like you got her in more trouble.”

“If she does stop by, tell her there’s no hurry to give the clothes back.” Zeke nodded and then lumbered down the counter to take another order.

Frank found a newspaper on the stool next to him and read the headlines as he worked on emptying the entire coffeepot into his stomach. An article detailed Anna’s play, describing her as, “a star in the making” and “daughter of Little Mesa’s favorite citizen.” He wondered if he should watch Casa Verde to see if Anna really had any talent.

During the filming of Avery Tabacle’s ill-fated horror movie he had seen glimpses of talent in Vera’s performance. But as much as she enjoyed movies, she didn’t have much interest in appearing in them. “Why pretend when there’s so many exciting things to do in the real world?” she had told him one day before filming.

“Then why are you doing it?” he asked.

“I have trouble sleeping.” She winked at him and then blew a kiss into his camera lens. “I’m ready for my close-up Mr. Hemsky.”

He had never told Avery, but he had made a copy of the movie he kept in his fire safe along with his most favorite prints. Maybe if Anna ever made it to Los Angeles he could dig the projector out of the closet and screen the footage for her. She deserved to see her mother’s only acting credit.

After finishing the coffee and leaving a sizable tip for Zeke, Frank drove to Mrs. McAllister’s and pressed the intercom button at the gate. The gate swung open and he drove up to the house. He waited for her to answer the door until he worried she might have fallen and broken a hip along the way. “Mr. Hemsky, you’re back so soon.”

“Would it be all right if I go through Vera’s records?”

“No, help yourself. Can I get you anything?”

“I’m fine. Thank you.” He followed her to the ballroom and the stack of boxes containing information about Vera’s life in Little Mesa.

He found one article after another in the Little Mesa Observer documenting her good deeds around the community. After unfolding each article, he laid them in a row along the floor. Through the pictures included he could watch as the young woman he left behind in Portland aged. At twenty-six she still had wavy hair going past her shoulders, but pregnancy had added a little chubbiness to her cheeks and bulk to her breasts. By thirty she had lost the weight and cut her hair to shoulder-length. In each picture after that she became thinner and her hair shorter. The last, taken three months before her death, showed a woman skinny to the point of unhealthiness with a boy’s haircut and deep lines fanning from her lips and eyes.

This last article detailed an incident at the Ginny Emu Ranch outside town. A Patrick Crenshaw had woke up to find one of his birds missing and the gate open. After an extensive search with the help of sheriff’s deputies, the missing emu had been found in Vera’s care. When asked why she had taken the bird, Vera responded, “I wanted to take him for a walk.” She returned the bird unharmed and Crenshaw did not press charges.

Frank read the article again, but couldn’t understand why Vera would break into an emu pen to take one of the creatures. He had seen wild emus on a trip to Australia and could think of nothing special about them. They looked like oversized feather dusters with legs. Emus couldn’t even fly. Why risk going to jail for that when she had a little girl at home?

He returned the other articles to the box. Those tidbits on litter control, mentoring programs, and Meals on Wheels showed only that public persona of Little Mesa’s favorite citizen. Her first day at Zeke’s Café, her drag race with Rusty Wheeler, and of course her behavior around Anna painted another picture. A much darker portrait.

He asked Mrs. McAllister for a telephone book and she took him into the conservatory, where he found stacks of them heaped upon a grand piano. Some came from Santa Fe, Albuquerque, and other parts of New Mexico while more exotic telephone books represented Houston, Duluth, Savannah, and even Mexico City. After he got back to Los Angeles he could mail her one of his old ones for her collection. He found one for Quay County and looked up the number for Ginny Emu Ranch. The woman’s voice answering the telephone had a thick eastern European accent. Czech or Polish maybe.

“Hi, my name is Frank Hemsky. I’m covering the Meteor Days festival for my newspaper and I just wanted to include your ranch for a piece on the local economy. Could I come out today to ask some questions?”

“Oh of course. When would you like to come?”

“As soon as possible. I’ve got a deadline. Could you give me directions?” He had to stop her several times to get her to repeat a phrase marred by her accent. Maybe Mrs. McAllister could give him more clear directions. She had to have a map somewhere around here.

After he hung up the telephone he explained to the old woman that he had to go. “Leaving so soon? Did you find what you were looking for?”

“I’m not sure.”

He followed a bumpy dirt road through rusty plains until he spotted a glint of silver in the distance. He half-expected the Ginny Emu Ranch to resemble a cattle ranch from a John Wayne movie. Instead he found a single-story villa with a pair of silver pole barns. He saw the feathery gray lumps of emus behind a simple chain-link fence.

In the car he found a pen in the glove compartment and the menu of a Chinese restaurant in Santa Fe that he folded over to at least give the impression he had come here for an article. He saw a heavyset woman emerge from the house and got out of the car to meet her.

“Mr. Hemsky, My name is Katherine Crenshaw. Welcome.”

“This is a nice place you have.”

“Thank you, but it is not mine. My husband is feeding the birds. You should talk to him.” She led him over to the fence, where Frank saw a silver-haired man in a gray jacket that camouflaged him among the emus. “Patrick, a reporter is here.”
“Reporter?” Crenshaw looked up, but spread the rest of the feed in his bucket before coming over to the fence. “I take it you’re interested in our little operation of ours.”

“I’m just doing some background on the local economy. So you raise emus?”

“Very perceptive.” Crenshaw spoke with an Australian accent; Frank wondered how the rancher had met his eastern European bride, but he had not come here to find out about them. “We don’t just raise them for show. Almost every part of the emu can be harvested for some commercial purpose. The meat is naturally low in cholesterol, the fat can be made into oil, and the skin tanned to make leather. My wife even paints some of the unused eggshells for decorations.”

“Sounds like a pretty versatile animal.”

“Yes and not so difficult to manage as those lumbering cattle you Yanks are so fond of.”

“Those critters look pretty fast. Aren’t you worried they’ll escape?”

“Emus are normally quite docile. They won’t attempt to escape unless provoked. Would you like me to let you in the pen?”

“No thanks. Are Emus valuable commodities?”

“Oh yes. As I described, they have so many advantages and they are still rare enough to have quite a bit of value.”

“Do you ever have a problem with emu rustlers?”

“I’ve raised emus here for twenty years with only one minor incident.”

“What happened?” Crenshaw recounted Vera’s theft of the emu, but didn’t provide many more details than the newspaper article. “Sounds like these birds really are docile.”

“Spunky was a rather friendly lad. Always came right up to the children and let them pet his feathers. He died about a year ago. Such a pity.” Crenshaw’s face twitched for a moment as though holding back tears. “Is that enough information for your article?”

“Yes, thank you Mr. Crenshaw.”

“Of course. Come back anytime.” Crenshaw turned back to his birds and Frank headed towards his car. As he opened the door he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Mr. Hemsky, would you enjoy a cup of tea?”

“Thanks, but I have to get going.”

“Please, it would only take a moment.”

“Sure, a cup of tea would really hit the spot.”

He followed her into the house and she sat him down at a kitchen table decorated with southwestern tiles. “Why did you really come here?” she asked.

“Pardon?”

“There is no newspaper, is there?”

“How do you figure that?”

“You did not write anything down on that menu of yours.”

“OK, you caught me. I was a friend of Vera Swinton. I wanted to know more about what happened the night she took Spunky for a walk.”

“That was a memorable night.” Katherine poured a cup of tea for each of them and sat down across from him at the table. She took a sip and then began the story of what she had seen that night.

She woke up to the sound of Patrick shouting and hurried to see what had happened. She found him out in the pen, holding the lock in his hand. “Someone took Spunky,” he said.

“What about the others?”

“The others are fine. Be a dear and let the sheriff know.” She went back inside to telephone the sheriff department while Patrick got in the truck and went out to look. The deputy on the phone asked if Spunky had run away or been stolen. “Stolen. Someone broke the lock,” she said.

Who would do such a thing? Kids maybe or one of those animal rights groups, although she and Patrick treated their emus with nothing but respect. The birds were the children they never had. Katherine wiped away a tear and answered the other questions about Spunky’s disappearance as best she could.

Then she went outside and walked around the pen to search for tracks. Among Patrick’s bootprints she saw much smaller shoes, perhaps some kind of tennis shoe mixed with emu tracks. Most likely teenaged vandals then.

She followed the tracks on foot across the plain and into Gonzales Pass. She couldn’t see or hear the truck anywhere, so she assumed Patrick must have lost the trail. Her mother had worked for the resistance in Poland during the war and taught her how to track all sorts of game, including humans. Even when the prints became muddled or erased she could still follow the trail. Whoever had stolen Spunky had not taken care to cover his tracks.

Under a gnarled tree she found Spunky nosing the ground in search of food with Vera Swinton watching. “Vera?”

“Hi Katherine.”

“What are you doing?”

“I couldn’t sleep. I thought I’d take a walk.”

“With Spunky?”

“He looked so lonely in that pen.”

“You could get into very big trouble. The sheriff is on his way here.”

“Of course. I’ll take him back to the others. Can we wait just a few more minutes? He seems so happy out here.” They sat under the tree for a few minutes to watch Spunky eat. Vera smiled the entire time, but Katherine also saw tears in her eyes. “It’s so beautiful.” Katherine put a hand on Vera’s shoulder and nodded in agreement.

Then they took Spunky back to the ranch, where they found a deputy and Patrick studying the pen. “What happened?” Patrick asked.

“Vera took Spunky for a walk. Everything is all right.”

“No one had a problem with that?” Frank asked.

“No. Vera was such a wonderful person. So full of life. She loved everyone, including the animals. I cried so much at her funeral.”

Frank’s tea had gone cold, but he drank the rest of it anyway. “Thank you for the tea Mrs. Caldwell.”

“I hope you have the information you wanted.”

Frank nodded and went out to his car. On the way back to Little Mesa he wondered how everyone in town could overlook such odd behavior. Love does strange things.

Chapter 16

2007-06-14T12:07:00.002-07:00

Chapter 16

A shaft of light pierced the curtains and fell on Anna’s face. When she turned over to look at the alarm clock she realized she was not in her bedroom. The memory of the last two days came back to her dazed brain in pieces. She had fallen asleep in Frank’s motel room as he told the story of how he had proposed to Mom. She had wanted to know what happened, but couldn’t manage to stay awake through the story.

She sat up in bed and pulled the covers up to her chin, but Frank still slept in the corner. The skin of his face had relaxed so that he looked years younger. She remembered the deep lines at the corners of his lips and eyes as she kissed him last night. He had a face that had seen everything and been to places she could only imagine.

Why wouldn’t Mom have gone with him? What woman didn’t want to travel the world with a rugged, handsome man? In the same position she would have married Frank right there on the mountaintop and never left his side.

A chill ran through her at the thought that if Mom had married Frank the man in the corner of the motel room would be her father. All three of them could have lived on the road, waking up every day at some new destination. They all would have been happier then. She would have never gotten fat, Frank wouldn’t have those lines on his face, and Mom wouldn’t have died. Mom had doomed them all to years of misery.

Yet if Mom had married Frank, Anna couldn’t have kissed him last night. She had kissed men before—boys really—but none like Frank. No one she knew in Little Mesa had seen the sun rise and set on every continent. Most of the boys in town couldn’t even name all the continents. And Mom’s death had laid this wonderful man right at her feet.

She leaned back against the headboard and found Frank’s cigarettes and lighter on the nightstand. But it couldn’t work between them. The age difference for one thing. Plus they would both have careers taking them to different parts of the world. Maybe he could be her personal photographer. He could take pictures wherever she went to perform. Mr. and Mrs. Hemsky traveling the globe together.

If only she could convince him she wasn’t a kid with her head in the clouds. But after running away from him twice, shouting at him, and asking him to pick her up from the police station, she would have quite a mountain of doubt to overcome. There had to be some way to prove to him she was a mature, responsible adult.

The play. Once he saw her perform, then he would see she had more than delusions of grandeur. He would see her talent and then never want to leave her. Casa Verde would convince him in a way her own words never could.

To make this work, though, she would need to make sure everything went off without problems. The last few days she had gotten so confused and disoriented that she had almost spoiled everything. Amateurish behavior. “A professional never brings personal baggage to the stage,” Henry had taught her. She snapped her fingers. Henry! She had almost forgotten about his breakfast.

She leapt out of bed and went to the bathroom. She needed a shower and some new clothes, but Aunt Esther wouldn’t have gone to the shop yet. After she got his breakfast, then she could go home to clean up and change. She held up the soiled white outfit and grimaced. Better to go out in Frank’s T-shirt and sweatpants than a dress smelling like stale beer.

On Frank’s desk she found a notebook, but she didn’t want him to catch her snooping through his things. After tearing out a blank piece in the back she left him a note to explain that she would return his clothes later. Then she crept over to where he slept and kissed him lightly on the cheek. He grunted but didn’t wake up.

She left the Rio Rancho and walked down Marshall Avenue towards Connie’s. Along the way she thought some people gave her strange looks, as though she were a lunatic escaped from an asylum. Well, at this stage she probably looked like a homeless person. She would have to hurry up and get home.

Even Connie gave her a quizzical look. “Anna! I thought you weren’t coming today.”

“I just got a little held up.”

“How is the play coming? Jorge said they already had the stage set up in the park.”

“Everything is going fine. Today is the dress rehearsal.”

“I’m not sure how you’ll be able to practice with all that noise. And the smell of all those hot dogs and cotton candy and…what are those other things? The fried batter with sugar on top?”

“Elephant Ears?”

“Yes, I love those. If this festival went all year I’d get big as a house.”

Anna tried not to wince at the comment, having been big as a house until middle school. “It doesn’t bother me.”

“I hope not. I’m going to make sure to bring the whole family to see it tomorrow night. I told Miguel to get someone else to take his shift so he can come too.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for you.”

“We’ll be in the front row to cheer on our own little star. Oh, your mother would be so proud.”

“I’m sure she would.” She took the bag and patted the empty pockets of Frank’s sweatpants. “Can I pay you tomorrow? I forgot my purse.”

“Oh please, it’s nothing. Go. Tell Mr. Barton we’ll be there.”

“I will.” She tucked the bag under her arm and hurried out of the restaurant, although not even the truck drivers seemed to give her much consideration in this state. It made her feel like an awkward thirteen-year-old again. At least she didn’t have acne and braces. A little soap and shampoo would fix everything. Thank God Frank hadn’t seen her this morning.

On the way to Henry’s the smell from the bag reminded her she hadn’t eaten in almost a day. She should have asked Connie for a muffin, but she didn’t want to take advantage. Maybe Henry would have something at his place. She couldn’t eat too much though or she wouldn’t be able to fit in her costume. As long as Mrs. Rubello had finished them.

Henry answered the door at the first knock. “Anna, you had me worried. I thought something had happened.” He studied her for a moment and raised an eyebrow. “Late night?”

“Sort of.” She went inside and began arranging his plate as usual. “I had a little misunderstanding with the police.”

“The police?”

“I went to a party with the crew and things got a little out of hand.”

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. I just ruined a new outfit and spent some time at the police station. Frank came to pick me up.”

“Frank? Is that the man who broke into rehearsal?”

“Yes.” She set Henry’s plate before him and then went back into the kitchen to search for food. He had a little dry pasta, a box of Jell-O, and a jar of mustard. In the freezer she found a TV dinner coated with ice; it had been there so long she had to chip it free from the ice with a butter knife. Salisbury steak and green beans probably from the 20^th Century. Better than nothing.

While the TV dinner warmed up, Anna sat at the table with Henry. “Who is he anyway?”

“Frank? He’s a friend of my mother’s. He came here for the ceremony.”

“Anna, please don’t get upset, but have you noticed that since he got here you’ve been a little distracted.”

“Distracted? I know I messed up a little at rehearsal the other day, but it didn’t have anything to do with Frank.”

“What about the day you had to run off early to meet him? Or that late night on the golf course. I know you two were out there.”

“It’s not his fault. It’s just this whole thing with my mother. That’s the distraction.” She heard the microwave beep and got up to fetch her breakfast. The meat looked a little gray and the beans a tad brown, but at this point she didn’t care.

“I’m sorry, Anna. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Henry, you don’t need to worry about me. I’m old enough to take care of myself.” She slammed the TV dinner onto the table out of frustration. Frank, Henry, Aunt Esther, even Connie treated her as though she were still a kid. “I’m not a fucking child.”

“I didn’t mean it that way, Anna, but I know how romance can ruin a life.”

“Your wife? I thought you two loved each other right until the end. You held her hand as she died. Did she cheat on you?”

“No, but I almost cheated on her.”

“You?”

“I’m sure you haven’t heard of Victoria Johannsen, but she was one of the biggest soap opera stars of the late 1960s. So the producers thought it would be a great idea to have her do some guest appearances on The Scarlet Knight. She played my love interest for six episodes.”

“You didn’t get involved with her, did you?”

“I didn’t want to, but she kept after me all day on the set. Stephanie was pregnant at the time and we were having some problems, so when Victoria invited me over I decided to go. She wore nothing but a robe when I got there and then she lost that once I closed the door.”

“Oh my God.”

“When she kissed me I couldn’t help myself. I kissed her back. But then, before anything more could happen I thought of Stephanie and went home.”

“Then you still loved your wife. What’s the problem?”

“I felt like I cheated on her. It ruined our last weeks together. After she died I felt so guilty I had to quit the show so I wouldn’t see Victoria anymore. I almost gave up acting for good because of that one kiss.”

“But Frank and I aren’t like that. He’s not going to ruin my career. Please trust me Henry. I know what I’m doing.” They finished their meals in silence. Henry’s skin looked gray and his hand felt clammy to her touch. “I was thinking, maybe I could stay here with you until we hit the road with the play. Then you wouldn’t have to worry so much about me.”

“That might not be such a good idea.”

“Why not? Is there something wrong with the tour?”

“Just a few hiccups need straightened out. It’s hard to get bookings in the summer. Especially for a show that hasn’t even premiered yet.”

“Do you have anything set up yet?”

“I’m close on a few.” He squeezed her hand and smiled. “Don’t worry, once the reviews get out and everyone sees how talented you are we’ll have bookings to last for two years.”

His grip on her hand became painful as he erupted in a fit of coughing. She used her free hand to pat him on the back as though he were choking. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. Something went down the wrong tube.” Anna studied his empty plate and glass. He hadn’t touched food or drink in several minutes.

“You’re working too hard. Come on, lie down for a little bit and you’ll feel better.”

“What about the rehearsals? Mrs. Rubello is dropping the costumes off at ten.”

“I’ll handle it.” She would prove to him and everyone else she could handle adult responsibilities. Then no one would ever treat her like a child again, especially Frank.

Chapter 15

2007-06-14T12:07:00.001-07:00

Chapter 15

The sound of the telephone ringing woke Frank from a dream about Vera. In the dream she had stood at the top of a silver tower reaching into the clouds. From the ground Frank heard her calling his name and began climbing up the stairs to find her. But the higher he climbed the farther away she became.

He set Vera’s journal aside to answer the telephone. It took him a moment to realize the panicked voice on the other end belonged to Anna. “Frank?”

“Anna? What time is it?”

“I don’t know. Frank, you have to come pick me up.”

“Pick you up? Did something happen to Esther?”

“Please, Frank, I can’t tell her. I’m at the police station. Can you come get me?”

Frank sat up in bed and blinked the sleep away. “Police station? What kind of trouble are you in?”

“None. It’s all a mistake. Will you come?”

“All right. Where’s the police station?” As she gave him directions her voice became small like a child’s. “Do I need to bring money for bail or anything?”

“No. Just hurry. Please.”

“I’m on the way.” He followed her directions along the darkened streets of Little Mesa. A few revelers stood outside bars after last call, drinking from bottles covered in paper bags. He could use a hit of booze himself to help recover his senses.

He never figured Anna for the type of kid to get tossed in jail. She seemed like a sweet, innocent girl, not some rowdy troublemaker. Just like her mother in that way. He couldn’t imagine either one sitting behind bars.

To find the police station, he needed only to follow the procession of cars pulling into the parking lot. From each car he saw one or both parents with mussed hair and wearing pajamas. This must be the place to be, he thought and followed the others inside.

So many people crowded the waiting room that he couldn’t see Anna. He pushed his way to the front desk. “Anna Swinton?” he asked the sergeant.

“Who are you?”

“I’m her uncle. Frank Hemsky. Is she being charged?”

“I don’t see her name on the list. You sure she’s here?”

“She called—” He felt a tug on his sleeves and turned to find her standing behind him. “There you are.”

He waited until they got outside to ask about what happened. Her words came in slow motion. “I was at a party and it got rowdy. The cops came and busted everyone. I didn’t do anything though.”

“My nose tells me differently. You bathe in that stuff?”

“Someone spilled it on me. I only took a couple sips.”

In the car Frank reached over her to light a cigarette. “What were you even doing there?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t want to go home.”

“Where the hell were you last night?”
“All over the place.” She checked her face in the vanity mirror and brushed hair behind her ears. “Can we go somewhere to talk?”

“Where?”

“Crater Park.”

“Are you sure?”

“I need to explain some things.” She said nothing more until they reached the park with its silent carnival rides. She leaned forward against the guardrail to stare out over the dark abyss. “I’m sorry about yesterday. And at my mom’s park. And for yelling at you at the school. I don’t know what’s been happening to me lately. I had everything all figured out. I was going to get out of here. I was going to see the world.”

At these words Frank felt a shiver of déjà vu. He thought of Vera’s journal back at the Rio Rancho recounting her own attempt to see the world. He put a hand on Anna’s back. “You still can.”

“Do you ever miss her, my mom?”

“All the time. I loved her.”

“I loved her too. At least I thought I did. But anymore I don’t know. I don’t think she loved me.”

“Anna, I’m sure your mother loved you very much.”

“Maybe. Or maybe she thought I was just a big fat anchor around her neck.”

“She wouldn’t think that.”

“Ever since that day in the park I’ve been thinking about her more and more. She was never there for me, even if she was around. If I skinned my knee she’d yell at me for wrecking my pants. Every day I came home from school she would leave a note on the kitchen counter with instructions on how to heat up dinner because after she got done at the shop she always had some meeting for some noble cause. I hardly saw her on weekends unless she dragged me along to pick up litter.”

“You can’t fault her for wanting to help people.”

“But what about me? I wanted a mother, not a saint! She left me alone with movies and junk food and expected me to raise myself. She didn’t put my drawings or report cards on the fridge. When I’d show them to her, she’d just grunt and toss them somewhere.”

Frank wanted to say something comforting, but he could only think of his father. Dad calling him Sissy, Midget, or Fairy at regular intervals. Making him get up before dawn every morning for calisthenics. Every year haranguing him for not making the football or baseball teams. Scoffing at Frank’s first photographic efforts. “Any idiot can take pictures of trees and rocks. Why don’t you learn something useful like how to fly a plane?”

He supposed his father’s greatest disappointment had come from Frank not following in his footsteps. Dad tried to force him take flying lessons, but even looking at a plane made Frank queasy. He refused to even hold a gun. He wanted no part of being a soldier, much to his father’s shame.

“If you want to compare bad parents, you’re going to lose. The happiest time of my childhood was when Dad shipped out to bomb Hanoi. As much as I hated myself for it, I didn’t want him to ever come back.”

“The happiest time for Mom and I came from watching movies. We’d sit on the couch with all the lights turned out and a bowl of popcorn. I’d curl up against her and wish the movie could go on forever so she wouldn’t leave.”

Tears came to her face for the first time, but she made no move to wipe them away. “Sometimes I just wanted to be someone else’s daughter. Then she would care about me.”

“That’s not true—” When she pressed herself against his chest he didn’t know how to react. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been so close to a woman. After a moment he wrapped his arms around her and let her head rest on his shoulder.

Then she kissed him. She started with his neck and then his cheek. When he tried to protest she sucked the words away with her lips. The kiss tasted like stale beer and vomit, but after so many years Frank didn’t care. Only when he closed his eyes and saw Vera in his mind’s eye did he push Anna away. “This isn’t right,” he said.

“I’m sorry.” She looked down at the ground like a scolded child. “You’ve been so sweet to me and now I’ve spoiled everything.”

“There’s no reason we can’t still be friends. How about I take you home?”

“No, I don’t want to go back there. Not until Aunt Esther is gone.”

“Then where are you going to sleep? On the street?”

“Can’t I stay with you? For just tonight?”

As much as he wanted to tell her no, she looked so pitiful in her soiled clothes and yet so defiant in the set of her jaw. He would have to march her through the front door and keep her there until Esther showed up or else she would just run away again. At least in his motel room he could keep tabs on her. “All right. Only for tonight.”

She put her arms around his neck and smiled. “Thank you, Frank. You won’t regret it.”

He already did, but didn’t say anything. She asked to ride in the backseat and he agreed. All the better to keep her from kissing him again. She curled up on the seat and napped during the short ride from Crater Park to the Rio Rancho. “We’re here,” he said.

She stirred as if she’d been asleep for eight hours. “I’m sorry. I’m just so tired. I can’t remember the last time I slept.”

He led her inside and stopped her before she could collapse onto the bed. After rummaging through his suitcase he handed a T-shirt and pair of sweatpants to her. “Those clothes look as if they’ve had the course.”

“I only bought them two days ago.”

“Maybe you can get your money back.” She smiled and then took the clothes into the bathroom. While she changed he took a pillow from the bed and pulled the armchair over into the farthest corner from the window. It wouldn’t make for a comfortable bed, but he had slept in worse places. At least he didn’t have to worry about a pack of hyenas tearing him to shreds like during his safari in Kenya.

“Are you sure you don’t want the bed?” Anna asked from the bathroom doorway. On her body his shirt exposed her bellybutton and his pants went to only mid-calf. She had scrubbed the grime and make-up from her face, but her skin still glowed.

“I’ll be fine.”

She hopped onto the bed and pulled the covers up to his chin. Frank got up to turn out the light and then retreated to his corner for the night. “Frank, tell me about my mother.”

“What about her?”

“What happened between you two?”

“We each made a choice.”

He had taken her up to Acadia National Park and as the sun went down they stood atop Cadillac Park overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. He had an arm around Vera’s shoulders and her head against his cheek. The sky burned in vibrant shades of red, orange, and yellow. The water shimmered like a sea of light. He wished he had brought his camera, but he would have the rest of his life for photographs. For now he had something more important to do.

“It’s beautiful,” Vera said.

“That’s not the only reason we came up here.” Frank pulled away from her and got down on one knee. From his jacket pocket he took out a velvet-covered box and showed her the ring. Only a chip of diamond shone in the light, but in time he would buy her a more extravagant ring. “Vera, will you marry me?”

She pressed both hands to her mouth. “Oh my God. Frank, I want to, but I can’t.”

“I know we’re young, but you remember those pictures I sent to Nature magazine?”

“Yes, but—”

“They bought two of them.” He stood up to take Vera’s hands. “This is just the beginning. When we get back I’m going to quit school and photograph full-time.”

“What are you going to do for money?”

“Things might be tight for a little while, but we can make this work. The two of us, traveling all over the world together. We’ll go everywhere. Every day will be just like this.”

“I can’t.”

“You want to stay in Portland forever? Working two jobs like your mom and married to some sleazy dockworker?”

“That’s not fair.”

“Come with me. I love you.”

She turned away to stare out at the ocean. Frank could see her shoulders tremble and went over to comfort her. She pressed her head against his neck so that he could smell the ocean in her hair. “Why did you have to do this?” she said, her voice muffled by his body.

“Do what?”

“This! We had everything. Why are you making me choose?”

“Choose? Between what?”

When she looked up, tears smeared her face. “Susan has one year of high school and Esther is still in junior high. I can’t leave them now.”

“You’re not their mother! You don’t have to take care of them.”

“You can’t understand, Frank. You never had to take responsibility for anyone.”

“What about me? What am I supposed to do? Go back to school for some degree I don’t want so you can babysit your sisters?” He tilted her head up so he could look into her eyes. Those eyes as dark and mysterious as an ocean. “There are only two things I love in this world, Vera. Photography and you. I can’t choose between you.”

“Just wait a little while. Once Esther’s in college we can go anywhere you want.”

“That’s five years. I can’t wait that long. Photography is all I’ve ever wanted to do and now is my chance.”

“I’m sorry, then, Frank.” Vera started down the mountain trail alone, leaving him standing there with the ring still in his hand.

He followed her back to the motel room and found her packing. “How are you going to get home? We’re almost two hundred miles from Portland.”

“I’ll hitchhike to Bangor and take the bus.”

Frank closed the lid of her suitcase and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Vera, please. We can work this out. Until Esther graduates I can come back and see you on holidays or whenever I’m nearby. I’ll call you every day from the road. I’ll send you postcards from every stop. Just, please, don’t go.”

She took his hands and smiled. “All right Frank, we’ll make this work.” She kissed him on the lips with a passion he had never experienced. They tumbled onto the bed in a heap, laughing like children. While they made love Vera whispered, “I love you” over and over again. After they finished, she collapsed next to him on the bed, resting her head on his chest. He buried his hand in her long hair and then fell asleep.

When he woke up the next morning, his hand rested on the cool sheets. He looked around the motel room, but Vera and her suitcase had already gone. On the desk he found a note written on motel stationary in her handwriting. “Frank, I’m sorry but I have to go. It’s easier this way. I know you’ll never understand why I can’t go with you. In another time with different circumstances we could have been together forever. But just know that I love you and I want the best for you. Please, go now and don’t look back. The world is waiting for you. Love, Vera.”

He stared at the note for a long time, reading the words over and over again. Then he crumpled the paper and threw it against the wall. She had made her decision. She had chosen her sisters over him and the love they shared.

He packed his things and checked out of the motel. By the time he stopped for gas he had left Portland and Vera behind. “I could have gone back to Portland and found her, but I never did,” Frank said, but Anna had already fallen asleep.

Chapter 14

2007-06-14T12:06:00.002-07:00

Chapter 14

For this rehearsal they were using the VFW hall to simulate Ron’s Bar. This way they could use the tables and chairs instead of relying on masking tape. Anna directed the boys moving the furniture around until they arranged everything as it would look on the stage.

She drank another cup of coffee she’d brewed after arriving with Henry this afternoon. She hadn’t slept at all last night, spending the entire night thinking about Mom and those final moments together. Despite replaying the scene hundreds of times, she still didn’t know what to think. Had Mom been saying goodbye that night? Maybe if Anna had said something different Mom wouldn’t have left. Why did Mom even go to the crater, though? After all the thinking, she still had more questions than answers.

In the meantime, she decided to focus on the play. Henry was counting on her to help make sure everything went perfectly. She didn’t want to let him down, not like the first rehearsal. Today she would prove to him and everyone else she could handle the pressure and responsibility.

“Everything’s set up,” she said to Henry.

“It looks good. Is everyone here yet?” As Henry finished the question, Mabel walked in, still dressed in her uniform.

“Things got busy,” Mabel explained. “Did I miss anything?”

“No, we haven’t started yet,” Anna said. “I think everyone is here now.”

“Excellent.” Henry clapped his hands to signal for attention. “Everyone, today I have a bit of a challenge for you. Instead of going in sequence as we did before, we’re going to do all the scenes inside the bar first. Then we’ll move the furniture to perform the outdoor scenes. Now, please remember to be careful with these tables and chairs, as the good people of the VFW have been very generous to us. If there are no questions, let us begin.”

Anna went over to a table in the back of the room to wait for her first scene. James Lee, her husband in the play, sat next to her. “Another rough night?” he asked.

“I had trouble sleeping.”

“You shouldn’t work so hard. It’s not healthy.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She drank more coffee and then watched the first scene. For some reason, Harold Longwell had decided to play his Ron character with a Bogart accent that made his lines unintelligible. Henry stopped the scene and pulled Harold aside to talk with him.

“That’s what he gets for trying to be clever,” James said. “You mind if I ask you a question?”

“What?”

“The old man, he used to be on that old Scarlet Knight show, right?”

“Yes.”

“I thought as much. I loved that show as a kid. A friend of mine bought the series on DVD not long ago and I watched it again after I got asked to do this. That guy is amazing. So how did he end up here? No offense, but this is a long way from Hollywood. Don’t you ever find it a little odd?”

She knew only pieces of how Henry ended up in Little Mesa. The main reason had to do with his daughter, although she didn’t know how. He either came to Little Mesa at her request or to escape her, Anna didn’t know which and she didn’t want to ask. “He grew up not far from here. Some place in Texas, even smaller than this. I guess he wanted to be near home.”

“It’s kind of sad. Too bad TV stars didn’t make what they do now days or he could probably afford somewhere better.”

“This is a nice town.”

“Sorry, I hope you didn’t take that the wrong way.”

“It’s all right.”

“Are you doing anything after this?”

She knew what she should do. She should call Frank and ask to meet him to talk about Mom. As much as she wanted to see him again, though, she didn’t know what to say. Before she could tell him, she needed to decide one way or the other for herself. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“Some of the crew are going to a party tonight. Mostly just high school kids, but it could be fun anyway. I thought you might like to go.”

“I don’t know—”

“Come on, you need to relax. Take a break from all this.”

She knew he meant the play, but going to a party would also give her a break from thinking about Mom and Frank. Maybe she would get some perspective on everything so she could figure it all out. What could it hurt? “I guess so.”

“Great. Do you need a ride?”

“I drove Henry here in his car. I have to take him home first. Could you come with me?”

“Sure, no problem.” The rehearsal went smoothly for the most part. Harold dropped the Bogart accent and Chad found Inspector Thatcher’s panache, which thrilled Henry. Anna didn’t delay the rehearsal at all this time and delivered every line on cue. By the time they finished, she felt ready to go on stage in front of the whole town to perform.

She stood with Henry while the crew rearranged the furniture to its original positions. “You did a good job today. I’m proud of you,” he said.

“Thanks. If the dress rehearsal goes this well we shouldn’t have any problems.”

“I hope you’re right.” When the crew finished, she led Henry to his car, a red 1954 Corvette. Even as a little girl she wanted to drive the beautiful old sports car, but he never let her until this year. The car meant something special to him, but he wouldn’t tell her why. Another secret she would have to find out someday.

She loved the way the wind blew through her hair as she floored the accelerator and couldn’t resist whooping for joy. Henry looked on the verge of tears. “Is something wrong?” she asked and slowed down in case her driving had scared him.

“It’s nothing. Being in this car brings back a lot of memories.” He said nothing further; she assumed the memories involved the wife he wouldn’t talk about.

After whipping the car into a parking space, Anna turned to Henry. “We’ve known each other for eight years now. You can talk to me. I’m not a little girl anymore.”

“Of course you’re not. You’re a beautiful woman and you’re about to be a big star.”

“Don’t try to change the subject.”

He patted her on the knee. “After the play. Then we’ll talk. Until then, I have a lot of other things on my mind.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

“I would expect nothing less.” She gave him back his keys and then helped him put up the convertible’s top. As he started up the stairs to his apartment, she saw James waiting behind the wheel of a Ford Explorer. “Are you coming up?”

“Actually, James and I were going to go over our scenes.”

“You’re a true professional. Don’t work too hard.”

She waved goodbye to Henry before climbing into the passenger’s seat of the Explorer. “So this is where he lives?” James asked. When she nodded, he added, “That’s a nice car.”

“It drives as well as it looks.”

“I bet. So where is Titan Road? I flunked out of astronomy class.”

“It’s off Saturn Avenue. That two roads over.”

“You small town folks are crazy.”

“Where are you from?”

“Albuquerque born and raised. New Mexico State is the only place my parents could afford with a drama department. If you’re ever in town, go to the Golden Panda, that’s their restaurant. Best sesame chicken in town.” He said the last sentence in a thick Asian accent she figured must be an imitation of his father. “What about your parents? What do they do around here?”

“They’re both dead actually. I live with my aunt.”

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry. Me and my big mouth.”

“It’s fine. You didn’t know.” He turned onto Saturn Avenue and drove down a few blocks to Titan Road. They had no trouble figuring which of the houses was holding the party; they just went to the one with cars parked on the lawn.

“Here we are, I guess.”

Anna could hear the thumping bass of music from inside the house the moment she got out of the car. Kids packed the porch, forcing James and Anna to elbow their way inside. A techno beat she didn’t recognize pulsed from the living room, which was filled with people dancing alone or in couples. A boy she vaguely remembered from school pushed a plastic cup of beer into her hands and disappeared before she could say anything.

She took a sip of beer, but couldn’t keep from wincing. Warm beer. Didn’t they have any ice around here? James didn’t seem to mind, drinking half his cup all at once. She looked for somewhere to ditch hers until James led her into the living room.

She could not dance well. Henry tried to teach her a number of times, but she couldn’t master it even after losing weight. She didn’t have the ability to immerse herself in the rhythm of music the way she could a scene on the stage. The best she could do was to bob one way and then the other and hope no one noticed. James, of course, did. “Self-taught?” He had to yell into her ear so she could hear over the music.

“No. Just untalented.”

“Watch me.” She tried to follow his moves, but couldn’t keep up. She kept bumping into other people, laughing and apologizing for her clumsiness. “You really are terrible.”

They attempted to dance for what seemed like forever, until sweat covered her entire body. James looked fresh enough to go all night. “Try to keep up,” he said. She tried to mimic him, but ended up tripping on someone else’s leg. The cup of beer spilled onto the front of her dress and she giggled as she fell into James. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You might want to see a doctor. No one can naturally be that uncoordinated.”

They made their way through the crowd, back to the front door. She followed him upstairs, where they began to search for a bathroom. The sound of people moaning and grunting came from the first door, so they moved on to the next. A male voice whispered something unintelligible. James opened another door and a naked couple almost collapsed to the floor. “What are you doing?” a boy’s voice said and she recognized it as belonging to Connie’s son Jorge. “Anna, shit, I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right. We were just looking for the bathroom.”

“I think it’s the last one on the right.” He leaned forward and whispered into her ear, “You aren’t going to tell my mom, are you?”

“No, of course not.”

“Thanks.” Then Jorge prodded a girl not much older than his little brother back into the room and closed the door.

“Friend of yours?”

“Sort of.” From the last door on the right they heard someone throwing up. “This must be it.” Her hand touched the doorknob, but she didn’t want to find out who was puking.

She hadn’t felt so miserable since the first rehearsal. Why hadn’t she gone to see Frank, or at least called him? She thought of the time they’d spent together over the last two days. The dinner at Shooting Star, listening to his stories. Shopping at Claire’s, modeling each outfit for his approval. The slingshot competition last night where he put his arm around and held her close. The decision didn’t seem difficult anymore. No matter what she thought about Mom, she wanted to see him again. “Can you take me home?” she said.

“We just got here.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m a mess. I just want to go home.”

“All right, if that’s what you want.” He turned away and trudged down the hallway like a beaten man. She wondered about his motives for bringing her here. Had he hoped to get her drunk and take her upstairs to one of these rooms?

She didn’t need another boy trying to get her in the sack. If only they could be as sensitive and caring as Frank. As soon as she got home, she’d call him and see about going over to the Rio Rancho. They could go back to Crater Park for tonight’s softball game between the police and fire departments. Then maybe they could find a quiet place and she could tell him about Mom tucking her in that last night.

By the time she and James made it downstairs the living room had emptied. Everyone stood on the lawn and porch, looking up at the roof. Anna followed James as he pushed his way to the base of the stairs, but then the crowd wouldn’t budge. “Meteor shower!” the crowd chanted. Then a boy jumped from the roof.

Glowsticks covered the boy’s body, so that he looked like a meteor when he curled into a ball. Anna went numb as she watched the boy land on a mattress unharmed. He stood up, pounded his chest, and shrieked with laughter. While the crowd continued its chant, Anna felt sick to her stomach. As the next boy jumped, she saw Mom plunging into the crater.

Vomit spewed from her mouth and got all over James and the people next to him. “Gross!” someone shouted as Anna sank to her knees.

“Anna, what’s wrong?”

Before she could answer, she heard sirens approaching. James took her arm, but she couldn’t move. She kept seeing Mom jumping over and over again in her mind. Finally James let her arm go and disappeared. The crowd started to disperse, but now Anna could hear the police cars pulling up and officers pouring out. Someone yanked her onto her feet. “Let’s go,” the policeman growled.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Right. Save it for your parents.”

She thought of telling the officer she had no parents, but then simply put her head down and followed the cop out to a waiting van. How would she ever explain this to Aunt Esther? And what about Henry? Would they still let perform in his play? He was counting on her and now she’d screwed up everything. She imagined how crushed he would be to hear she couldn’t be there.

After the van filled it began to move. With each bump Anna struggled to keep her balance. By the time the doors opened at the police station she felt ready to puke again.

The cops herded everyone inside to take their names and call their parents. She didn’t see James anywhere and wondered if he’d managed to escape. The officer who’d taken Anna to the van led her to a bench and sat her down. “What’s your name?”

“Anna Swinton.”

“Swinton? You related to Vera?”

“She was my mom.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” The officer’s voice softened. “Were you drinking, Anna?”

“No, I just had some spilled on me. I didn’t know there would be beer and sex—” She wanted to cry, but felt too tired all the sudden. It seemed like a year since she had last slept.

“It’s all right.” The officer reached into her pocket and pressed two quarters into Anna’s hand. “Why don’t you call home and have someone pick you up.”

“Thank you. I’m really sorry.”

“Just don’t do it again.”

“I won’t.” Anna made her way through the crowded waiting room to find the payphone. She hesitated after dropping the coins into the machine and then dialed the number of the only person she could call.

Chapter 13

2007-06-14T12:06:00.001-07:00

Chapter 13

Frank woke up early the next morning to find Anna. He began the search at Zeke’s cafeteria, but no one had seen her there. Next he drove out to the retirement home to find her adopted grandfather. A security guard told him Mr. Barton had left already. He found the high school doors locked for the upcoming holiday. Using his cell phone he dialed Anna’s house, but no one picked up.

As a last resort he went to Perfect Memories, hoping she had gone to work. Instead he found only Esther at the counter. She smiled at his approach and shoved aside some ledgers to lean forward on the counter. “Can I help you?”

“I’m looking for Anna.”

“What a coincidence, so am I.”

“She didn’t come home last night?”

“I never saw her. That doesn’t always mean anything. She might have slipped in after I went to bed and left before I got up. She does that all the time.”

“Aren’t you worried about her even in the slightest?”

“She’s a big girl. Just as flighty as her mother.”

“Flighty? Vera always seemed the responsible type to me.”

“The day of my eighteenth birthday she began packing her bags. Couldn’t wait to get out of Portland and go see the ‘real world’, as if the rest of us were keeping her there. My first day at college she had all her stuff waiting by the front door so as soon as she dropped me off she could head out. I never saw her alive again.” Esther took a Meteor Days flier from the counter and tore it in half. “Everyone in this town thinks she was such a goddamned saint. For eight years none of us heard a peep from her. Not a letter, a phone call, or even a fucking Christmas card. I got married, had a miscarriage, and divorced without her ever knowing. All hail Saint Vera the Great!”

“I’m sure she had a reason.”

“Oh she had a reason all right. She hated us, her own family. We were holding her back, keeping her from doing great things. So she left the first chance she got.”

“Fine, you hate Vera. What’s that have to do with Anna?”

“You think Anna’s any different? If anything she’s worse. Thinking she’ll be a great actress like Garbo or whoever she watches in her room all the time.”

“Just because things didn’t work out for you doesn’t mean you have to take it out on Anna. She’s your own flesh and blood for God’s sake.”

“My own flesh and blood? Right. Here’s something else you didn’t know about Saint Vera—there’s no father listed on Anna’s birth certificate. No mention of him anywhere. I don’t think she had any idea who knocked her up.”

Frank turned around and stopped out of the store. He paused at the front window to tear down the picture of Vera. Esther didn’t deserve to have something representing he and Vera’s love.

Back in the car he tried to think of where else Anna might go. In desperation he tried Vera’s park, but came up empty. As a last resort he drove back to Crater Park, where the festival midway had just opened for the morning. He searched among booths selling “meteor” cheese, hats, T-shirts, and even Ewen Marshall masks. At the Ferris wheel, carousel, and miniature roller coaster he gave the ride attendant Anna’s description, but no one had seen her.

Maybe she had run away. First the park and then the crater, maybe the memory of her mother’s death had become too hard to handle. If she had run away, she would have almost a twelve-hour head start by now. She could be in Los Angeles, Las Vegas, Dallas, or even Salt Lake City. He would never find her.

He leaned against the guardrail overlooking the crater. By day he could make out more definition to its shape. Not quite a circular indention with rough sides all the way down. The crater didn’t have the beauty or majesty of the Grand Canyon with its flowing river and awesome size. By comparison this was just a hole in the ground. He could get a good photograph, depending on the light. After all the carnival left town, he would need to camp out at the site to observe the light and shadow patterns. Hauling his camera bag out here and waiting around for days to set up a possible shot seemed like too much work just for a picture of a hole.

A hand touched his shoulder and Frank turned to find Rusty Wheeler behind him. “Hey there, Frank. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, really beautiful.”

“Something wrong?”

“No, just waiting for someone. Have you seen Anna Swinton around by any chance?”

“Not recently.”

Frank knew Rusty wouldn’t have seen her when no one else had. She had gone. Gone before he got the chance to ask her about Vera. He was on his own now. “Do you know where the library is?”

“Library? The nearest one is Las Vegas. Closest we have here is Ruth McAllister. She lives over on Jefferson, just off Venus. Third house on the right. Can’t miss it.”

“Thanks. I’m sorry to have wasted your time the other day.”

“No sweat, it happens all the time. Like I said, cars are like people. They do weird things.”

Cars weren’t like people in one way—cars didn’t run away, Frank thought but didn’t want to say aloud. No sense getting anyone upset. Anna was an adult, she could do as she pleased. “I’ll see you around, buddy.” He shook Rusty’s hand and then went back to his car.

Jefferson Avenue turned out to be the wealthiest area of town Frank had seen yet. The estates paled by comparison to the mansions of Beverly Hills or Bel Air, but they must seem impressive to Little Mesa’s residents. He pulled up to the gated driveway of a brick Tudor and pushed the intercom button. “Who is it?” a fragile voice asked.

“My name is Frank Hemsky. I’m doing some research on Vera Swinton and I was told you might be able to help.”

“Yes, of course. Come right in.” The gates opened and Frank pulled up the cobblestone driveway to the front doors. When he pushed the doorbell he expected an English butler like in the movies, but only an old woman came to the door. She leaned on a cane of polished bamboo and motioned for him to come inside.

Right away he saw this was no library in the traditional sense. Newspapers lay in stacks against the wall, the ones on the bottom having turned yellow and brittle. They walked down a corridor and as they passed various rooms, Frank saw piles of books, rolled-up maps, and manila folders. How could anyone find anything in such a mess? “All of these are yours?”

“Most. Sometimes people donate things. I’m not sure what’s going to happen after I go. I suppose all this history will go right in the trash. It’s a shame.” Mrs. McAllister stopped and shook her head. “Vera and I tried for years to get the town to build an actual library for the kids. Bake sales, car washes, I think she even sold some of her jewelry to pay for the construction, but the city never budged.”

“Did Vera help you manage this place?”

“Whenever she could find the time. She used to spend Sunday afternoons in the parlor reading to the children. If someone couldn’t make it, she offered to go to the child’s house.”

“She was an amazing woman.”

“Yes and you’re quite fortunate. I have an entire section devoted just to her. That sister of hers let me take anything I wanted after Vera died.”

“That is fortunate.” Mrs. McAllister opened the door to what looked like a ballroom. All along the checkered marble floor Frank saw piles of boxes labeled with various surnames. “Is this the genealogy section?”

“Very funny, young man. In here are the family records for all the town founders, including my grandfather. Everything you need is right there.” She motioned with her cane to a group of egg crates labeled ‘Swinton’. Frank opened the box on top and saw newspapers with Vera’s accident proclaimed in bold letters on the front page. Underneath the newspapers he found a notebook, the kind with the black-and-white marbled cover like schoolchildren used.

He heard a beep followed by a sigh from Mrs. McAllister. “Time to take my pills,” she said. “Then I believe I’ll take a little nap. You’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? Please Mrs. McAllister—”

“Young man I have six children, ten grandchildren, and two great-grandchildren. I learned long ago to say ‘No’ to them. Now, if you’ll come back tomorrow you can continue your research.”

Frank considered protesting that he hadn’t received the chance to do any research yet, but decided against it. Mrs. McAllister was a tough old broad. She could probably wield that cane pretty well. But when she turned around, he pulled the notebook in his hands from the box and tucked it underneath his shirt.

Only when he got back to the Rio Rancho did he open the stolen notebook and see Vera’s oversized, looping handwriting. The first line contained a date—August 22, 1986. “I dropped Esther off at school today and left home for good. Made it all the way to Boston by dark. I have to save money, so I slept in the car. Tomorrow I might go exploring.”

A journal! This was even better than finding just an obituary or newspaper article. These were Vera’s own thoughts written by her own hand. As he lay on his bed in Little Mesa, Frank traveled Boston through Vera’s eyes. The city seemed completely different by her description, like some magical paradise. “Some of the buildings here are three times bigger than anything in Portland! I bet if I climbed to the top of one I could see all the way back home. I sat in Boston Commons and just listened to the people as they went by. These big city folks rushing around have no idea how lucky they are. All this history and beauty and excitement. And they take it completely for granted. I thought about going to see Susan at Harvard today, but I couldn’t do it. There’s too much living to do in the present to go back to the past.”

Frank flipped through page after page of Vera’s journal until he fell asleep with Vera having just reached Hartford three days later. In the last sentences he read, she said, “By now I wonder if anyone’s noticed I’m gone. I doubt they’ll miss me.” He supposed Anna was thinking the same thing. I miss them both, he thought and then closed his eyes. Maybe he could find them in his dreams.