How to Bake a Perfect Life Page 33

  “Oh, have you gone soft on me?” Lacey says. She takes a cigarette out and lights it, blowing smoke away from Katie but looking at her hard. “It looks worse than it is. I like to be by the river.”

  “Okay.”

  When they sit there, it isn’t so bad. There’s shade and the water sounds nice slushing by, though Katie suddenly remembers there are probably snakes in that water, not like in Colorado. Her mom asks, “How is your dad doing?”

  Katie’s heart goes hard. “I don’t know. I’m not talking to him again.”

  “It’ll be all right, kiddo.” She smokes restlessly, her eyes moving all around them as if she’s looking for someone. Katie feels a little uneasy and looks over her shoulder. No one is there.

  “How much longer do you think you’ll be in?”

  “Damn, girl, forever. They want to keep me on this damned bracelet for two years, you believe that?” She puts out one cigarette after lighting another from the end of it. When she sees Katie watching, she says, “I know, I am working on it. There’s just not much else to do but smoke in there.”

  “You’re doing good. Maybe when they let you out, you could come to Colorado. It’s beautiful there.”

  “Yeah? You like it, huh? All those rich bitches taking care of you, I guess you would. They sure must be feeding you, because I can see with the naked eye that you’ve gained weight.”

  Katie flushes. “I’m growing. I need to eat.”

  Lacey narrows her eyes. “My mama was as big as a cow. Long as you remember that, you’ll be fine.”

  Katie realizes she should have gone to the bathroom inside the treatment center. It’s been a long, long time, and she suddenly has to pee really bad. “Is there a bathroom in this park?”

  “Yeah, baby. It’s right over there, that white building.”

  “Is it safe?”

  “Of course. And even if it wasn’t, I’m right here. You’ll be in my sight the whole time. Don’t sit down.”

  Katie smiles. “No way.” She slides the pack off her shoulders. “I’ll be back.”

  Lacey taps the ash off her cigarette. “I’ll be waiting.”

  Inside, it isn’t as bad as it could be, just a normal park kind of bathroom. There are even paper towels, and Katie uses them to cover anything she has to touch, then comes out and washes her hands. Her face in the grimy, spotted mirror looks bad—circles under her eyes and her mouth all sad.

  It suddenly hits her that this is how she used to look all the time.

  Why in the world would she want to go back to this?

  Splashing cold water on her face, she thinks about Ramona and how worried she must be. She thinks about her bedroom and her flowers and pain au chocolat, with all the layers of pastry, crisp and buttery, falling to pieces on her plate. I want to go back.

  She’ll be in major, major trouble.

  But it won’t be as bad as this. Taking a deep breath, she dries her hands and face and decides to endure the hour with her mother, then she’ll ask the desk clerk to call Ramona.

  When she steps back outside, the sun is in her eyes and she doesn’t understand what she’s seeing right away.

  Her mother is gone.

  And so is the backpack with her clothes and all the money.

  Ramona

  We get to El Paso at about six p.m. Jonah drove the last three hours, so I slept, and I’m anxious but not exhausted when we arrive. “What first?” he asks.

  Sofia emailed directions to the rehab facility, and we head there first. My heart stops when I see a cop car in front and two officers interviewing people in the main room as we go in.

  “Excuse me,” I say to the woman behind the counter. “I’m looking for Lacey Wilson.”

  “You and everybody else.” She jerks a thumb toward the cops. “She left on a pass with her daughter at about two, and we haven’t seen her since.”

  “Her daughter was with her?”

  A nod.

  “Do you know where they went, where they might have—”

  “Lady, if I did, the cops wouldn’t be here now, and my job is in serious trouble thanks to that crackhead, so if you don’t mind, I’m going to shut you off now, all right?”

  Jonah leans in and uses his magic voice. “Where do people usually go when they get visitors?”

  “Across the street, to a park by the river.”

  We start there, and when we find nothing, we head to the Petroskys’ house. There is no one home.

  “Why didn’t I ever buy her a cell phone?” I say without expecting an answer. I know the reason is that I didn’t think I could afford it, but I’d planned to see that she had one for the fall when she started school.

  Jonah stands with me, not speaking. Merlin is hanging his head out the window, whining, and I let him out of the car to do his business. We wait there for a long five minutes, and I finally admit, “I have no idea what to do next.”

  “Maybe we should have something to eat, find a room for the night, and brainstorm.”

  I feel sick to my stomach. “Where could she be? Why would she go with her mom anywhere?”

  Jonah just shakes his head. Then he says, “Her mom’s an addict, right? So why would she run unless she wanted to use?”

  “Ah, right.”

  “Do you know where Katie was living before she came to you?”

  “No.” Merlin leans on my leg, and I remember that Katie said she found him near the railroad tracks. “In a house by the tracks somewhere. I got the impression it was sort of homeless territory.”

  “We could drive around, see if we can find something like that if you want to.”

  Merlin climbs into the backseat. Maybe he’ll help us. “Yeah. If we don’t find any leads by nine, we’ll eat and go to bed.”

  “Deal.”

  But we don’t find anything. Exhausted, we head for a Village Inn, and my cell phone buzzes with a text from an unfamiliar number.

  Help. I’m at a coffee shop in El Paso. So, so, so sorry about everything. Can you help me? Katie.

  I text back:

  Address?

  She gives it to me.

  STAY RIGHT THERE!

  I ask the waitress for directions, and she sends us barely two miles down the road. When we pull up in front, Merlin goes insane barking and flinging his body around the backseat, and I have a hard time even getting him on his leash. When he leaps out, I see Katie, too: She’s looking forlorn, in a booth with a glass of water and nothing else, staring out the window into the darkness.

  The moment she sees us, she’s on her feet and running, out the door before we reach it. She launches herself into my arms, full body weight, and I catch her close to me, hugging her, and both of us are crying. “I’m so stupid, Ramona. I’m so sorry. My mother stole everything from me, all my clothes—my new clothes!—and the money I took.”

  Merlin is wiggling, whining, and shoving himself between our shins, but still Katie clings to me.

  I hold her as tightly as I can, so enormously relieved that my legs are shaking. “It doesn’t matter. I’m so glad you’re safe. So glad.” I kiss her curly hair and breathe in the slightly sweaty teenager smell of her neck. Love sloshes through me like the ocean, changing me forever and ever, giving me yet another hostage to fortune. “Let’s go.”

  “Can we eat? I am so, so, so hungry.”

  “Of course.” I look at Jonah over her head, and he nods.

  Katie, Merlin, and I take one room and Jonah takes the room next door. Katie calls Sofia from my phone and talks to Lily, too, then we all crash like the dead.

  Naturally, I awaken long before anyone else. Leashing Merlin, I walk for a couple of miles in the cool morning air, mulling things over. The long, quiet drive had given me plenty of time to think, and I’ve come to some decisions about the bakery, and Katie, and my life.

  I can’t continue to live so precariously, with the bakery so close to the edge. I’m exhausted, and it isn’t fair to my employees or my customers to teeter on the brink of disa
ster all the damned time. I don’t want to lose it, but I am also really tired of working so many hours with no time for a life. I need balance, which I haven’t had since starting to build the bakery.

  It’s time to make a decision. If I sell the business to the Gallagher Group, I’ll lose some autonomy, but I’ll gain some freedom and peace of mind. It might ease things with my family, as well.

  I also have been thinking of Katie’s presence as a temporary thing, but she’s with us now for good. Me, or Sofia and Oscar and the new baby, or whatever arrangement we make. Sofia will need me, that much is clear—she’ll need all of us. Oscar will need all of us—his wife and his children, his mother-in-law and all the rest of my clan, annoying as they can be.

  And Katie needs us all, too. My mistake has been in thinking that she could heal from all her wounds if I simply fed her well and helped her find some hobbies and loved her. In time, all those things will help, but she also needs some therapy, some professional help, to allow her to express whatever she’s feeling, to work through the shit that’s been piled on her poor young head.

  Finally, I think about Jonah. As I walk along the road, just the thought of him makes my throat hurt. I am in love. I don’t know what to do with that.

  I’ve had three cups of coffee in the attached restaurant before the other two awaken. They come into the restaurant looking sleepy and tousled. Jonah’s eyes are a little swollen, and he has a slight cowlick in the back of his hair. His jaw is bristly, and he rubs it apologetically. “I didn’t bring a razor.”

  “Looks sexy. Very 1985.”

  His eyes crinkle at the corners. “A very good year.”

  The waitress brings water and menus. Jonah asks for hot tea. “And will you do me a favor and make sure the water is very hot?”

  Katie asks, “Can I have coffee?”

  I shrug. “Sure.” Then, “Tomorrow is my birthday,” I announce. “And I was wondering, Jonah, if you have a couple of days to spare.”

  “Yes!” He takes my hand. The hope in his face makes me feel slightly ashamed of myself for making him suffer when he’s been so … steadfast.

  Yes. Steadfast.

  “Wish I’d known sooner,” he says.

  “When is yours?”

  “November twenty-ninth.”

  “Katie?”

  “February second.”

  “Good.” I take a sip of coffee and lean forward. “I believe in birthdays. I think they’re important, and I like celebrating my own just as much as everybody else’s. So what I was thinking is that I want to drive to San Antonio.”

  They both look at me blankly for a minute. “It’s about a twelve-hour drive,” Jonah says.

  “Like today?” Katie asks.

  “Yes. And yes. I’d like to see Sofia and Oscar, and I think you, Katie, need to see your dad. It’ll be good for both of you.”

  She looks down. Her mouth gives away her fear. I reach out and take her hand. “Look at me, honey.”

  There’s a sheen over her pale-green eyes when she does.

  “When I was young,” I say, “I never liked babies. They seemed really boring and loud and I didn’t get why everybody thought they were so cute.”

  She looks perplexed. “Yeah?”

  “To be honest, I still don’t get terribly excited about most babies. But when Sofia was born and they put her in my arms, she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I couldn’t believe how much love there was inside me, how big my heart got.” I pause. “That man who used to frighten you was just a random man. When you see your father, you will see your father.”

  The glycerin swell of tears spills over. “What if I don’t?”

  I consider for a moment. “You can decide then what you want to do, how to proceed.”

  She nods. I let her go. “It’s nonnegotiable, anyway. You’re going with me.”

  A scowl wrinkles her forehead. “You’re bossy.”

  “Yes, I am, because I am your guardian and I’ve been tiptoeing too much. Things are going to change a little. You are going to have to make restitution, and you will have to do some things when we get home if you want to live with me—”

  “Like what?”

  “We’ll talk about that later. I do want you to know that you don’t have to lug around a big bag of guilt over all this. I know you’re upset. I know you’re hurting, and that is going to take some time to get better, all right?”

  She bows her head. “Thank you.”

  “In the meantime, I want to go to San Antonio. We’ll have a real live road trip. Eat at greasy diners and listen to bad radio and whatever else goes along with that.”

  “Candy,” Jonah says. “You have to have some candy in the car. Pixy Stix and sour cherries.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Katie chimes in. “And those teeny chocolate balls. What are they called?”

  “Sixlets,” Jonah says, and holds up his hand for a high five.

  “Dude,” she says, “you do it like this.” She punches forward, and he meets it.

  “So we’re in?”

  “I am,” Jonah says.

  “I am,” Katie echoes.

  “Let’s do it, then!”

  Sofia’s Journal

  I am so tired of this heat and this eternal backache, I could scream. I want to go home and eat something I cooked, sitting at my table on a chair, not on a bench with twenty other people. I want to take a bath and read. I want to have this baby. When I walk in the hallway, I feel like some big ship sailing over the ocean. All I am now is pregnant, an oven with a giant bun risen to bursting. I’m not a woman or a friend or a granddaughter or a wife. I feel like I’m swimming through something thick and clear that muffles everything. I can hear people talking to me, but nothing much reaches me. Not that they know. I can fake it. My grandmother has been wonderful, picking up the things I can’t figure out anymore, bullying orderlies to take care of Oscar first, bringing magazines and sandwiches and fruit. She’s such a general.

  Katie is safe, and that’s important. My mother found her, as I guess I knew she would. She’s pretty mighty, my mother. In all of this, I keep wanting her, like she’s my handmaiden or something—Mommy, Mommy, come take care of me—and yet there’s her life going on, taking some new turns, and I would love to hear about them, but maybe another day when I’ll actually remember.

  I am going to be pregnant forever.

  Ramona

  We pile into the car—Katie with a big paperback she bought at the drugstore, Merlin with a shiny new harness around his chest to make it easier to let him out to exercise, and Jonah with a bag of candies. The one fly in the whole thing is that my phone is dead, and in all the confusion I forgot to bring my charger. I looked for one in the small town we passed right after I realized it was completely out of power, but no luck. It’s weirdly unsettling to be out of touch. Jonah has his, in case of emergencies, but I don’t have access to the numbers on my phone.

  It occurs to me that only a person middle-aged or older would make this mistake. Anyone younger is so attached to her phone she’d probably have spare chargers everywhere—purse, car, whatever.

  Anyway, we’re going to surprise Sofia, so it doesn’t matter. I keep imagining her face when she sees us.

  We take turns with the radio, Top 40 for Katie, classical for me, some jazz for Jonah. When the radio loses reception, we play CDs from the little suitcase Jonah has brought along.

  We sing. We talk, all of us shifting the positions of the passengers and the driver: me and Jonah in front, then Jonah and me, then Katie and me, then Katie and Jonah. The person in the back sleeps with the dog or reads. It is not the most inspiring landscape, largely empty and windblown, as you might expect of West Texas, but I am still cheered by the simple act of travel.

  We arrive in San Antonio at eight p.m. I’m not sure exactly where the hospital is, but Jonah finds that information on his phone, and we all agree that it’s not so late we shouldn’t give it a try.

  As we enter the hospital, I’m n
ervous. I take Jonah’s hand. Katie, uncharacteristically, takes my other hand. A volunteer at the visitors’ desk tells us it’s almost too late, but we have fifteen minutes. That’s long enough.

  In the elevator, we are quiet. The hospital is settling in for the night, with nurses talking quietly at the station and visitors saying their goodbyes. Most of the doors are propped open to show burn patients in various states of wrapping. They watch television, sit with friends or parents. A pair of toddlers play hide-and-seek in the waiting area, a mother bent into a phone nearby. She looks exhausted.

  Katie stops as we near Oscar’s room. Her hand is on her belly, and she’s panting softly. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

  “You don’t have to.” I don’t let go of her hand. “If you aren’t ready—”

  A woman comes out of a room just ahead of us with a bundle in her arms, and even though I can’t see her face, I recognize my mother’s style at a hundred paces. A crisp sleeveless blouse, white trimmed with peach accents, and peach capris, and—

  She’s carrying a baby. “Mom!” I cry out without thinking, dropping both Katie’s and Jonah’s hands.

  Lily turns, her mouth falling open for a second before she gets the biggest smile on her face. “Well, look who’s here,” she says in a mom-to-baby voice. “It’s your grandma.”

  She brings the baby over, and it’s plain he’s a boy—a big, hearty creature, with giant hands and a headful of black hair. “Oh!” is all I can manage as she nestles him into my arms. His face is bruised and a little swollen from the trauma of birth, but his eyes are distinctly, clearly the same color as Katie’s and Oscar’s. He yawns and then looks at me, calmly and easily, and in that very second I am smitten. Falling down the rabbit hole of love all over again. It makes me dizzy, and, helplessly, I look up to find Jonah’s face. He smiles broadly.

  Breathless, I bend back over the baby, kiss his forehead. “Hello, little man. What is your name?”

  “Marcus Gallagher Wilson,” my mother says. “He was nine pounds, fourteen ounces.”

  I blink at her. “What? How is my daughter?”