Kiss Me If You Dare

31

First thing in the morning, I headed to the bank to take care of financial details. With a little finagling, I was able to access my accounts.

“Lucky for you your estate hasn’t reached probate yet,” the teller reported. “Thought for sure you were dead. The church ladies put on a good funeral luncheon. Heard the food was delicious.”

“Nope. Just a big misunderstanding.” I cleared my throat. “I hope you’ll keep my visit confidential. To some people, I’m better off dead.”

She nodded, her brown hair bobbing. “I understand. It’s all hush-hush where I’m concerned.” She counted out the cash I requested and put it in an envelope.

I smiled and thanked her, figuring it didn’t matter if she blabbed about my return. I was flying out in a few hours anyway.

Back at Puppa’s, I took a few moments to tie up loose ends. Scrounging up a piece of stationery from his office, I sat down to write.

Dear Professor Braddock,

Thank you for allowing me to stay in your beautiful home and helping me further my education. I am enclosing a check, an approximate payment in full for all the expenses you incurred during my stay, including tuition.

I am no longer in need of your patronage and will make my own arrangements for lodging when I return to Del Gloria next semester.

Many blessings,

Patricia Amble

I stared at the note. Couldn’t be more to the point than that. At least now he could start looking for a new heir. I didn’t want anything from him. Not after the way he’d dealt with Brad.

My pen slipped out of my hand and I covered my face at the memory of the exchange between Brad and his estranged father. Here I’d been caught up in my own family’s dysfunctions when all along Brad had a wacky family too. But with Brad, you never knew it. Before his injury, he didn’t obsess over the fact that he was half orphan like me. He’d come to terms with his parentage.

Sadly, Brad’s state of mind had changed in the past seven months. Even though I was angry with Denton, I still empathized with the professor when it came to Brad’s lifetime of treating him as less than a father. What else could Denton do but use greed and jealousy to try to get Brad back on his feet? I’d stooped to low tactics myself. At this point, anything was worth a try.

Already weary, I sealed and stamped the letter. I would drop it at the post office on my way to the airport.

Upstairs, I repacked my meager belongings. When I was done, I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the suitcase that belonged to Denton. I’d scrounged it from his attic before I took off on my jaunt from Sacramento to Manistique. The contents fell short of appropriate for winter gear for the Upper Peninsula I could only imagine how inadequate my clothing would be in a place like Churchill Falls, the day after Christmas.

Another cup of coffee, then out to the waiting truck. Puppa had agreed to drive me to the airport, but only after some major convincing.

“Who would think to look for me in a place like Churchill Falls? Come on, it’s the perfect hideout.”

He shook his head, doubtful. “Too small. Too remote. Too far away.”

“Like I said, it’s perfect.” I didn’t tell him I’d be returning in a little over a week. He might not be as open to driving me if he thought I’d deceived him.

On our way out, I waved to my horse. Poor Goldie. Would I ever get a chance to spend time with her? My life felt like one of those rides I used to love at the fair when I was young. Life spun so fast, I spent most of my time plastered to the wall. And when things slowed down, I was too motion sick to feel like doing much of anything. It seemed any attempt to slam on the brakes backfired, only adding to the chaos. Still, I couldn’t help but feel there were just a few more loose ends flying in the breeze. Once those were tied up, I’d have that peaceful, serene life I wished for.

We drove through town, passing the bank, Sinclair’s

Grocery, and the Silvan Bay Grille. I pointed to the post office.

“Can you stop a minute? I’ve got a letter to mail.”

Puppa pulled up to the drop box and posted it for me. Then we were headed to Sawyer International, a fancy name for the airport south of Marquette. Past the sign for the cider mill, where I turned to get to Candice’s house for tea every Thursday. Past the sign for Valentine’s Bay Lodge, the house Sam and Cousin Joel stole from me. Past Silvan Corners and onto US-2, headed west, the same direction I’d taken that day I’d run away from everything… and everyone. A quick stop at the convenience store in Rapid River, then north on 41.

“You sure about this?” Puppa asked as we neared our destination.

“Very.”

“You don’t know anyone there. How are you going to get along? How will you get a job? Where will you live?” Puppa asked.

“Come on,” I said, swatting his arm. “You’re taking all the adventure out of it. It’s not fun if you’ve got everything planned ahead.” I stole a glance his way. “Have you even heard of Churchill Falls before now?”

To my surprise, he nodded. “Once. A long time ago.” I gave him a questioning look.

“Jake, your dad, was looking into it when he was young,” Puppa said. “Thought he’d like working at a power plant. A lot like the paper mill, he figured. But, I never heard of it again.”

My brain churned. “Do you think…”

“No,” Puppa cut me off. “I already looked into it. No Jacob Russo in Churchill Falls.”

The snap in his voice shut down the topic.

I stared at the snow-covered pines flying past and tried to swallow the lump in my throat. Why did I even get my hopes up when it came to my father? Couldn’t I just accept the fact the guy had dropped off the face of the planet, or more likely was dead? But it seemed the fairy-tale princess inside me wanted to believe in magic. Wanted to believe she had a father out there somewhere who wasn’t a penniless frog, but a king in disguise, ready to throw a banquet for his long-lost daughter the moment of their reunion.

My knuckle caught an escaping tear. I slouched in my seat, afraid to say anything more in case my voice came out a pathetic croak.

We followed the signs to the airport. Puppa parked the truck and came inside the clean, modern facility, visiting with me as I printed my boarding pass at the kiosk, then brought my suitcase to the small-town baggage checkpoint where my luggage was inspected on a table while I watched. The guard rubbed circular white pads on the inside surfaces, in case I was some terrorist with bomb-making residue on my clothing. Other passengers scrutinized the process as they waited in line, leaving me glad I packed my undies on the bottom. The security officer put the chemical pads under a sensor, then gave me the green light.

Puppa and I headed toward the waiting area, where he could sit with me until the boarding call. At that point, airline passengers would go through security screening to a separate waiting area that had everything but a restroom.

“There’s no guarantee you’ll be safe from Majestic and his goons even in Churchill Falls, you know,” Puppa said.

“I know. But I figure if anyone gives me trouble, law enforcement can step in.”

“I don’t know if you’re faithful or foolish, Patricia. Sometimes you ask God to perform a miracle to cover your back, when you’re someplace you shouldn’t be to begin with.”

I gave a nervous chuckle, remembering my bargain with God on the cliff that day. God had certainly held up his end of the deal and got me out of my tight spot. But here I was, about to do something else stupid. Was God obligated to rescue me from this whopper of a mission, or had he already done his part and could now just sit back and laugh as I dangled from the next tricky spot? With revenge my prime directive, I resolved it was too much to ask of God to go with me anyway. I’d have to leave God here at Sawyer International and hope he’d be waiting for me when I returned.

The call for my flight came over the loudspeaker.

Puppa stood. “Well, Patricia. I’m going to miss you. I wish you could have stayed put awhile. I sure enjoy your company.”

“I’ll be back. Don’t worry. You’ll see me again, maybe sooner than you think.” Yeah, but would he ever speak to me again after what I had planned for his girlfriend? Maybe that “friend’s” apartment in Havana was waiting for the possibility of Puppa reconciling with Candice.

If that were the case, Puppa might not appreciate my quest for justice.

We hugged.

“Take care, Patricia. I love you,” Puppa said, walking me to the security line.

“I love you too. I’ll be fine. Now go.” I gave him a playful swat and watched him leave the building, wishing I could have my revenge and still keep my grandfather. But somehow, I knew I couldn’t have both.