“I don’t know,” I mumbled. “Nobody is ever gay around here.”
Valka craned her head around the diner. “This place is so charming,” she said. “I just want to take it home with me and plant it in Santa Monica and have Timber make me lunch every day for the rest of my life.” Her phone rang—a ringtone of “Let It Be”—and she pulled it out of her bag. She looked at me and raised her eyebrows even higher. “It’s Paul McCartney,” she mouthed, and then answered the phone. “All right?” she said.
I fished my phone out of my bag and dialed Jenny again, and then my mom. No answers all around. Maybe they were sleeping off the storm, too.
“Kiss-kiss,” said Valka. “And thanks again for the flowers. They stirred my soul.” She shut her phone. “Well. This is really turning out to be a hell of a trip.”
I was glad for Valka, that she was getting such a kick out of her life at that moment. And if we were still safe in bed in Las Vegas I could have even mustered a smile. But I was not with her on the other side anymore. I was not the Catherine of my childhood, or the Moonie of my marriage, or the Cathy on the run in Las Vegas. I was just a girl in a diner in Nebraska trying to figure out what to do next.
Timber brought over two burgers. Mine was smothered in cheddar cheese.
“You looked like you needed a little cheese,” said Timber.
Valka clapped her hands together. “This is the prettiest burger I’ve ever seen,” she said. Timber stood and watched Valka take her bite. Some of the juice from the meat dripped down her hands and Valka licked it up gingerly. “Delish,” said Valka. Timber just smiled and stared at her. He was in love with her as much as I was, any fool could see that.
She took another bite and then put her burger down. “Now,” she said. “We just need a plan.”
“I don’t even know where to start.”
“What do you need a plan for?” said Timber.
“We’re here on a mission,” said Valka. “A secret mission.”
“Tell me more,” said Timber.
And then Valka said the same word to Timber that she said to me in Las Vegas to get my ass on the plane.
Jenny. It was all about Jenny, of course.
Jenny, and that tiny little life bubbling up inside her. Jenny’s arm in a sling. Our mother waiting for another chance to teach her a lesson. Jenny trapped in that house forever, or out in the snow somewhere, worse or better, I could not decide. Jenny making the wrong decisions. The decisions being made for her. My little sister, lost and alone and hurt. Doing her crooked cartwheels so no one would notice what was wrong with me. Jenny with her hands on her hips, looking at me.
Where do you think you’re going, missy?
“Timber, where is my sister?” I said.
Timber shook his head and sat down next to me in the booth.
“Your mom’s got her over at the house. She said she took away her car keys, locked her up in her bedroom, and she’s been telling everyone she’s not letting her out till spring.” Timber looked at me kind of funny. “We all were just kind of hoping she was kidding.”
“But what about the baby?” I said.
“There’s a baby?” said Timber.
“Uh,” I said.
“I don’t know anything about any baby. She’s been telling everyone that Jenny said she was going to run away. To find you.” He put his hand on mine. “Looks like you’re her hero.”
It was not possible I could be anyone’s hero. But when I looked at Valka she was nodding, and when I looked at Timber he was nodding. I did not nod back.
In the end, we did not need much of a plan. We just got in the BMW and drove to my parents’ house, Timber following us in his truck. Although we did act like we were secret agents as we were walking out the door of the diner. Valka sang the theme song to Mission Impossible and Timber pretended to shoot imaginary criminals and did a dive into the snow. If we had known what we were going to face when we got there, we would not have acted so carefree.
22.
No one had cleared the snow from the driveway at my childhood home. At every other house on the block the massive drifts had been pushed aside onto front lawns and sidewalks. At our house, the snow piled up above the bottom of the front porch and around Jenny’s car all the way to the windows. Giant, swirling icicles hung everywhere, blocking the windows and the garage. I noticed for the first time that the right side of the roof was sagging. Had it always been that way and I had just never noticed? It was starting to get dark, and a new layer of chill crept over me.
“I have never seen snow like this in my life,” said Valka, as we waded toward the front door. “It must crush the spirit.”
“I don’t mind it,” said Timber. “You kind of buckle up and go for the ride. And just when you think there’s no chance for hope, that you’ll never see another black-eyed Susan—”
“—or the cornfields,” I said.
“—or an American elm,” said Timber.
“—or cranes on the Platte,” I said.