“No, no,” Lorna interrupted before he could finish. “You can’t be late today! I have an appointment at six with someone.In Pflugerville.I should be leaving now, Seth. This is really important.”
“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry,” Seth said again. “We’ve had a system failure, and I need at least another hour. Maybe Liz—”
“I’ll take him with me,” Lorna said abruptly, and looked at Bean for approval. He nodded enthusiastically and then started to jiggle his hips like he was dancing. Or running. She wasn’t sure.
“Take him? No, I don’t think that is a good idea. I don’t know where you’re going or who you’ll be with. I’d rather you give me a minute to track down Liz and ask her to look after him.”
“I don’t have time for you to track her down and I can’t miss this meeting. I’ve been waiting for it for thirty years.”
“What? I don’t—”
“Thirty years, Seth!” she said, louder. “It will be fine, really. It’s a house. An old friend. No drugs, no parties, no guns.” She sincerely hoped that was true.
There was a pause. She sounded crazed, and not in a good way. “I’m not sure what any of that means, but... but let me talk to Bean, okay?”
“Make it quick.” She handed the phone to the kid.
Bean listened as his dad presumably explained his predicament. Lorna could only hear Bean’s answers, which were “Yes,” “Yes,” “Uh-huh,” and then “It’s her best friend, Dad,” as if that were an obvious fact being overlooked. And then he listened. For what seemed forever to Lorna, but at last he said, “Okay,” and handed the phone back to her.
Lorna put the phone to her ear. “Seth?”
“Okay,” he said. “He can go. I’m so sorry, Lorna. I know this is a huge imposition, but I’m between a rock and a hard place here.”
Lorna glanced at the clock. “No offense, but can you give me your apologies later? We’ve got to go. I can’t be late.”
“Sure, and tha—”
Lorna clicked off in a mild state of alarm. She had enough to deal with just in her own head—her terror at being rejected by Callie, her sudden and vicious determination that her memories were all wrong, the uncertainty of what she would say and if she could say it without pissing anyone off—and she had not counted on a kid tagging along. But she would not miss this shot. “Okay, dude, we gotta jet, and you’re riding shotgun,” she said. “Bathroom?”
“Nope.”
“Aggie needs a treat.”
“On it,” he said, and headed for the pantry.
“Okay.” Was she missing anything? She was too worked up now to think clearly, especially with a literal clock ticking next to her head. It had taken a monumental effort for her to get here, so the idea that a slight ripple to her plans could knock her off course was not only unfathomable but unacceptable. She remembered something and hurried to the desk with the stack of unopened letters. She pulled open a drawer and grabbed a small homemade bracelet, put it in her purse, and said to Bean, “Ready?”
“I have to get my Ranger Explorer backpack. Then I’ll be super ready,” he assured her, as if they were off to save the world.
Chapter 18Lorna Now
The address callie had provided led them to a solidly middle-class neighborhood in the bedroom community of Austin. The houses here were mid-century ranch, and US flags flew from many of them, interspersed with the ubiquitous burnt-orange flags of the University of Texas and, occasionally, the maroon flags of Texas A&M.
Callie’s house was on a corner lot. It flew a rainbow flag. The house was green with black shutters and was surrounded by a wood and wire fence. There was a Little Free Library tucked into the corner of her lot, where big oak trees shaded a manicured lawn. A playscape dominated the right half, and two bikes had been discarded next to the walk. This looked like a happy home. A family home. Just like the house Callie had grown up in. A wave of happy nostalgia hit Lorna so hard she gulped a breath. And then another. “You wouldn’t happen to have a paper bag, would you?” she asked Bean.
Bean opened his Ranger Explorer backpack and rummaged around. He withdrew his first aid kit and opened it, studying the contents. “No. But I have this.” He produced a flattened-out gum wrapper.
“Nope, won’t work. I need a paper bag to hyperventilate into.”
“What’s that mean?” Bean asked.
“It means I’m about to panic.”
Bean turned in his seat and put his hand on Lorna’s. “It’s okay if she doesn’t want to be your friend,” he assured her. “Because I’ll always be your friend.”
Lorna looked at his small hand on hers. She’d never wanted to hug someone so bad in her life. A tear slid from the corner of her eye. “You’re not just saying that? You promise?”
“Promise.” He handed her the gum wrapper and she dabbed at the tear with it.
