Chapter 46
This photo taken through the windshield of a Wyoming sunrise doesn't do the breathtaking beauty justice. There have been a few times I've found myself still writing as the sun breaks over the mountains near my home. Umm, I had to take the good ol' vow to be non-grumpy on those days and pretend I wasn't tired. I've burned the midnight oil many times. It's what writers do.
Hidden Secrets
Leona Palmer Haag
Chapter 46
Jenn sealed the envelope and glanced at the clock. She
had precisely fifteen minutes to get dressed, dress Katie, and be gone.
"Time to move it," Jenn said, taking Katie's plate of half-eaten
pancakes away. Katie responded with an ear-splitting, "Ahhhhh!" and a
quick grab at breakfast. The syrup bottle was knocked over and sticky syrup
went everywhere—floor, countertop, bar stool and across Jenn's nightie.
Katie stopped mid-yelp. In fascination she watched
sugary brown fluid ooze down the side of the counter in a slow motion river
that puddled on the floor. She looked at her mother with big,
I'm-in-trouble-now eyes. Jenn's first reaction was to rush to the sink for a
wet cloth, but her second reaction won. She laughed. "Well, we'll soon see
how we like our cleaning crew." Like a football, Jenn grabbed Katie and
tucked her under her arm and turned away from the spreading mess. It was the
first time, and possibly the last time, she'd ever run away from a kitchen
disaster.
Jenn and Katie were both sporting wet hair when Jenn
buckled Katie into the SUV eighteen minutes later. "Since we're not
supposed to stick around, what are we going to do for the next three
hours?" Jenn asked, looking at Katie in the rear view mirror as she backed
out of the garage.
"Puppy," Katie said, seeing a fluff of fur
race across the neighbor's small patch of front lawn and plop down on the porch
like a rug.
"I agree. We'll puppy shop," Jenn said,
loving the sudden inspiration.
After four pet stores where Katie happily looked at
fish, birds, puppies, kittens, turtles and snakes, Jenn thought they'd seen
enough. Next came a park, but the wind was too strong to stay long. Then came
the post office where Jenn sent the over-stuffed envelope to Kevin. He'd
forward the sketches to Angela in Chicago so they had a Dallas post mark.
Finally they visited McDonalds. Katie played on the slide and in the balls
until Jenn said, "That's enough, baby girl. We can go home now."
The sky darkened and the wind whipped around them as
they headed for the SUV. Lightning flashed on the horizon. Just as Jenn
finished buckling Katie inside, the clouds burst. Rain fell on Phoenix. Not
like it did on Dallas. Heaven spit just enough drops to make the dust on the SUV
turn into muddy pocks. With the wind still chasing dust clouds and the sky
threatening to release more water dimples, Jenn started home.
"Hey, Uncle Kevin, is it safe to go back?"
Jenn asked when Kevin answered the phone.
"The coast is clear," he replied. "Call
me when you get your laptop booted up. I'll give you the passwords and you'll
be set for some happy surfing. We've got filters on your email account. Just be
aware that you won't have access to your paypal account, so your spending power
will be nil."
"Am I on probation, Uncle Kevin?"
"No. Go to the mall if you want to shop," he
gruffly replied.
Jenn pulled the dirty SUV into the garage and took a
deep breath. Was it really safe to enter the castle? She finally unlatched her
seatbelt and slid out. She unbuckled Katie and leaned her sleeping daughter
over her shoulder. The keyless entry blinked green when she punched in the
code. Jenn pushed the door open and peeked inside. The kitchen was spotless. As
if no one lived there. Especially sloppy, pancake-eating, syrup drizzling, lazy
people who didn't clean up after themselves.
"Hello?" Jenn whispered.
Not even an echo.
"Hello?" she called louder.
No reply.
Katie lifted her sleepy head. "Hello?" she
groggily mimicked.
Jenn examined the kitchen first. It was spotless. No
hint of syrup anywhere. The dishes had been washed, dried and put away. Almost
as if she'd done it herself. She
wandered through the empty house. The sheets had been changed. Laundry done.
Toys put—somewhere. But where? Now Jenn had to play hide and seek to find them.
It took a while. She discovered them neatly stuffed inside a cupboard in the
basement fitness room. Far from ordinary daily family life and very
inconvenient.
Finally satisfied they were alone, Jenn lay her drowsy
daughter down on the family room couch and faced the laptop sitting on the
kitchen counter. A moment later it was open and Kevin was on the phone. Within
minutes Kevin had hung up and Jenn was scanning the weather in places where Nick
might be. Then places he wouldn't possibly go, like the Himalayas or Singapore
or Madagascar.
It was more reasonable to see what it was like where
people she knew lived, so Jenn typed in Chicago. It was seventeen-degrees and
snowing in Andrea's neighborhood. Dallas was suffering at thirty-eight degrees
that felt like twenty-nine. Phoenix was fifty-seven with the expected high to
rise to the low-seventies on Saturday. Katie's swimming lessons would resume
then.
When Katie awoke, Jenn took her hand and led her down
to the toys. Jenn turned on country music and played on the fitness equipment
while Katie raided the cupboard, tossing toys out right and left like a maniac
cyclone. Jenn sang along with the music, talked to Katie, and enjoyed the loud
commotion.
It was suppertime when Jenn and Katie finally called
it quits. They both loaded up armfuls of treasures and made their way up the
stairs to the main floor to scatter them. Jenn popped in a DVD for Katie and
turned to her laptop to find a recipe to try out. Stuffed flounder? Poached
salmon? Broiled swordfish? Irish potatoes? Candied carrots?
"Katie, I've got tuna sandwiches ready,"
Jenn said, setting two plates down on the large ottoman in front of the TV.
Katie toddled over and dinner began with Sponge Bob in the background.
After Katie fell asleep that night, Jenn opened the
laptop and wrote:
One week in the lap of luxury has passed in utter
loneliness. I'd give anything to know where Nick is. Why can't he contact me
when he's working? Who made up that silly rule, anyway? I think it stinks.
Jenn paused to have a good cry. Perhaps her tenth or
twelfth since arriving in Arizona. She
finally wiped her eyes and wrote some more: Uncle Kevin is trying to keep me
pacified. But what is money when my husband is so far away? Good grief, Nick
could be across the street for all I know, but since I don't know where he is,
it feels like he's a million miles away."
Jenn had another heart-wrenching cry.
Okay, I've cried twice tonight, she wrote. How many
times does that make it now? Better question: has it been six or seven gallons
of salty tears?
Jenn pushed the computer off her lap and crawled out
of bed and paced the room in frustration. She finally ran a hot tub of water
and soaked in a bubble bath. She willed herself to think about something
else—anything besides being trapped in a castle. Like Rapunzel. Like Sleeping
Beauty. Like Snow White. Like plain old ordinary Jenn Washington who never hurt
a flea or caused trouble. Not even as a teenager.
Wrinkled, Jenn let the water out. She crawled back to
bed and read her journal entry. She wrote one last note: How long is this
magical, yet dreary, wonderland going to last before I'm jolted back to my
favorite place—home?
End Chapter 46
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