The Right Kind of Wrong Page 8

"My mom painted that." It was the last picture she painted before she died.

  "She was good."

  I walk over and the speckled bits of paint prickle against my fingertips. "Yeah, she was."

  I take Vince through the kitchen, which is as clean and immaculate as one would expect from someone who's never home. We move through the living room and the office until we get to the hallway that leads to my father's room and my old room.

  I expect a clean, upgraded bedroom turned office or workout room, but when I bring Vince into my room, I'm transported back in time. My lavender and yellow paisley bedspread covers a twin-sized bed and though there are layers of dust covering the dresser, nothing has changed. Nothing has moved. It's exactly the same as I left it. I'm not sure whether I'm creeped out or touched.

  Vince taps me on the shoulder. "Is this your mom?" He holds a framed picture of my five-year-old-self wrapped in my mother's arms with my father laughing in the background. He found it. I knew it was in here somewhere.

  My mother’s been gone so long, sometimes I forget about the ache in my chest when I think about her. But right now, it's hard to breathe.

  "That's her." I take the picture from him.

  "She was pretty. You look like her, you know."

  I snap my head up to look at him but he's looking around the rest of the room.

  I've always wanted to look like my mother. His words hit me in a place in my heart that I don't share with anyone. The place where I hold my emotions hostage.

  I clutch the picture to my chest and check the closet, shaking my head when I see pastel colored tights and other child-sized outfits. Why did he keep everything? Too lazy to clean? Or did he think he could preserve what we had once so long ago?

  I hear a clinking noise. Vince is fingering a set a medals hanging off a shelf. He holds one up. "Someone was good at soccer, huh?"

  I half-smile. "Yeah, I was pretty good."

  "Did you stop playing once you got to college?"

  "No. I quit the team once I moved in with my grandparents. They couldn't really get me to the practices and I really didn't like it all that much anyway."

  I'm maxed out on my emotions when I walk toward the door.

  "I think we've seen everything here. I'm starving. Want to grab something to eat?"

  Vince sets the medals on the shelf. "Sure."

  Once we're in the car, Vince clears his throat. "You okay after that?"

  "Oh yeah. I'm good." I wish I'd never stepped in the front door.

  It's only a three-minute drive to Cooper's Diner. I pull myself together and smile big. "Ready to have the best burgers in the Midwest?"

  "That's a pretty big claim. I don't know if you know this about me, but I'm an expert on burgers. You’d better be able to back up your assertions."

  "Just wait and see."

  We sit in a booth near the back and a young girl saunters over to take our order.

  "I think we're going to have two Cooper Specials," I say handing her our menus.

  A short set of beeps emit from my purse and I check my phone. I've missed a call and a new message flashes across the screen. It's from Kyle. I'm sorry. I miss you. I want to see you.

  I'm proud that Kyle has barely crossed my mind since we left California. Vince has kept me pretty busy. I take this as a sign that my heart isn't too broken up about our failed... whatever it was.

  "Let me guess. It's Kyle?"

  I meet his eyes. "How'd you know that?"

  He rolls his eyes. "I'm a guy, remember? I know how the apology booty call works."

  I raise my eyebrows. "How often do you use this apology booty call?"

  The lines around his eyes crinkle as he laughs. "I don't have to use it. I just know how it works."

  "Uh huh."

  "So, what's next for this project?"

  "The library is on the way home, so we'll stop there first."

  "What are we looking for at the library?"

  "There's gotta be some articles on my grandfather, right? Shouldn't we start there?"

  Vince considers this. "I guess."

  "That doesn't sound very enthusiastic," I say as the waitress brings us our food. Thick, succulent beef, stacked with cheddar, swiss and provolone cheese sits between a grilled bun. I bring it to my mouth when my name is called.

  I turn and see the last person I expected to run into while I was here. I'm suddenly very aware of my plain boyfriend t-shirt and boring cowboy boots. It's exactly how I looked the last time I was in town.

  "I thought that was you. How are you?"

  I stare at my very tall, blonde haired ex-boyfriend, Sean. A lanky, redhead hangs on his arm.

  "Sean! It's such a surprise to see you here."

  He nods. "I'm in between classes at Drake right now. Thought I'd better come home to see the parents."

  The girl on his arm is clearly uncomfortable. She covers it with a fake smile and an extended hand. "I'm Hannah, Sean's girlfriend. It's meet-the-family weekend for us."

  Sean notices Vince, whose face now wears the smuggest smirk I’ve ever seen. "How are things with you? You're still in school in California, aren't you?"

  He's pretends not to know the answer, even though it was the entire reason we broke up.

  "Yeah, Sacramento State."

  "So this must be a meet-the-family weekend for you, too?"

  Vince answers for me. "Yeah, exactly. Elaine is such a peach. Had to see her before our documentary debuts at the Cannes Film Festival."

  That earns him an evil look from Sean's girl. Sean laughs nervously. "Really? Well, that's fantastic. We always knew you'd make it big."

  I plaster on a smile. No you didn't. You told me I was chasing after a pipe dream. "Thanks. Nice to see you again."

  He glances at Vince and then back to me. Something in his eyes makes my insides churn. Sadness? Pity? Admiration? Whatever it is, it's gone as quickly as it came and Hannah pulls him away from our table.

  Vince’s crooked smile is adorable.

  "Why do you look so smug?"

  "He totally wants you."

  "Are you kidding me? Did you see that thing on his arm?"

  Vince laughs. "That thing on his arm isn't going to be famous or win awards for investigative journalism. She also doesn't have me."

  "What does having you have to do with anything?"

  He winks and takes a bite of his burger. "Everything. By the way, you're right. These burgers are fucking delicious."

  I grin. "Told you."

  The Everson Library reminds me just how small this town is. The ramshackle building, with its discolored ruddy bricks is about the size of the Archives room at The Bee. It looks miniscule, despite the exaggerated comparison.

  "This is the library?" Vince brings his camera to his face.

  "Yup."

  "There are actually books and shit in there?"

  "Something like that." I walk to the front doors.

  Inside, the building has been split in half. A podium and a row of chairs are to the right. To the left, there are a few bookshelves and a portly woman sitting at a desk in the middle of the room. She looks up when we approach.

  "How can I help you?" Her face flashes with recognition. "I'll be damned. I wasn't sure we'd ever see you around here again."

  I offer a sincere smile and point to Vince. "Hi, Miss Cross." I introduce them. She reaches for her cane and hobbles from behind the desk. "I know you didn't come in here just to see little old me. What can I do for you?"

  "We're doing a project on World War II with our focus on Grandpa. I wondered if you had anything for us to look at?"

  "Oh, dear. Our budgets have been cut several times and they’ve moved most of our reference section to the main branch in Cranton. Dr. Adams took what was left to the historical society."

  Damn. I hoped to get all our background information done before we started interviews. "It was worth a try. Thanks, anyway."

  "I can give Dr. Adams a call and see if he has anything at the historical
society you could look at?" She hobbles back around the desk and picks up the phone.

  Miss Cross nods and mhmms and uh-huhs through a conversation and then hangs up the phone.

  "Dr. Adams said he could meet you tomorrow or the next day if you want to stop by there."

  "That's great!" I say too enthusiastically. "Thanks, Miss Cross. We'd better get going but it was great to see you again." She reaches for my hand and holds it for a few seconds. Her hand shakes against mine. "Your grandfather would be proud of you."

  My breath catches in my throat. I don't know what to say, so I just whisper, "We have to go." I pull my hand from hers.

  As we drive down Main Street, a stagnant silence fills the car. I can't stand the quiet accusations that fill my ears. I clear my throat. "When we get back to the house, we’ll see if Grandma is up to an interview?"

  Vince fiddles with his phone, his fingers sweeping across the screen at ridiculous speeds. "Sure." Who is he talking to? And why do I care? But I do care. My curiosity tugs at me until I just say it. "That must be some girl."

  He looks up from his phone and I alternate between watching the road in front of me and his confused expression. "Huh?"

  I nod toward his phone. "Your fingers haven't left your phone since we left the library. She must be pretty interesting." Probably more interesting than being stuck with some chick in Iowa, working on some stupid project.

  "Someone is a little jealous." I catch his grin out of the corner of my eye and become defensive.

  "Oh yeah. Jealous. That's me." I shake my head. "I’m happy anyone would willingly spend their time with you."

  I hit the gravel path and his grin widens. "Right. I forgot, you are the hater of everything me. Well, just for the record, it's not a girl."

  "Then who is it?"

  "None of your business."

  I should be embarrassed and apologize. But I don't. I spend every second controlling the small smile that wants to come out and play. I wonder why his admission makes me happy.

  When we pull up to the house, Grandma is on the porch swing, her glass of sweet tea sweating in the sun. Softball sized balls of rainbow colored yarn surround her on the swing.

  "Where have you two been?" She looks up from her crocheted masterpiece.

  I squint, adjusting to the shade of the porch after the sunlight. "Around. Took him to Grandpa's grave. And Cooper's. You wouldn't believe who I ran into there."

  "Who?"

  We sit down in the chairs across from her. "Sean."

  "Oh, yes. Verna said he might be back this week."

  I squirm. Grandma loved Sean. Thought he was the perfect gentlemen. She was planning a wedding before we ever graduated high school. "You haven't seen him since he's been here?"

  Grandma shakes her head. "No. I don't imagine I will. He has no reason to come over here anymore." She looks at me pointedly.

  I get it. I broke the heart of the only boy who's ever loved me and who probably ever will.

  "You don't have to worry about his broken heart anymore. He's got a skinnier, prettier girl on his arm now." My voice holds more venom than I intend. I’m not sure why, since I'm the one who broke up with him.

  "Uh-huh." Grandma's focus is back on her crocheting. It annoys me to no end that she doesn't acknowledge that what I did was the right thing. Just ignore it, Kara. Move on.

  "You think you're up to an interview, Grandma? We have a lot of questions about Grandpa."

  "Sure. Get me some more tea, will you?"

  She used to drink tea by the gallon, but these days getting to the bathroom is a challenge for her. I pick up the sweating glass and make my way inside.

  In the house, all the windows are open, and the incoming breeze whistles through the screens. I stop right where I am and close my eyes. I listen as the wind dances across my skin.

  This. These are the moments I miss the most.

  I hear Grandma ask Vince something and I tip-toe over to the closest window. Investigative journalism at its finest.

  "Did you enjoy the burger?" Grandma asks.

  "Oh, yeah. It was great. Awkward, seeing that guy though. What's his story?"

  Don't do it Grandma. Don't you dare.

  "Sean Prescott? I was so sure Kara would marry him when they were out of high school. He comes from a good family. Hardworking. He's going to Drake to be a lawyer, she tell you that?"

  "No, she didn't." Vince’s tone is dry.

  "He was good for Kara. Would have given her everything. I should've known not to get my hopes up. Kara’s like one of those exotic birds you try to keep in a cage. The harder you try to keep it, the harder it fights to get loose." So, that's how she feels. She's never said the words—never had to. But now I know for sure.

  Vince clears his throat. "You know what happens when you tell those exotic birds how beautiful they are and then trust and encourage them to spread their wings and discover the world?" I hear creaking on the porch. "They come back to you just as beautiful as when they left."

  The screen door in the kitchen opens and Vince walks in. Seeing me by the window, he drops his gaze and walks to the bathroom, leaving me totally confused.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  My heart pounds like I just ran a marathon. I try to shake the I'm drowning feeling.

  "What are you doing?" Vince asks.

  "Nothing. I was just going to refill Grandma's sweet tea." I walk to the kitchen.

  He gives me a dubious look and goes back out to the porch. I fill the glass quickly and join them outside.

  "Okay, is everyone good to go?" I ask.

  Vince nods, and opens his camera. "Ready when you are."

  "Are you good?" Grandma’s eyes pass over me, and for a minute, I think she's going to burst into tears. "I'm okay, but I don't know how to do this, Kara. Do I look at him? Do I look at you? Do I have to talk loud? I'm not sure about this camera thing." Her voice has whittled down to soft, wispy words. I cup her hand in mine.

  "Just look at me and tell me a story. There's nothing else to it. You'll be great."

  Grandma nods. "Okay."

  I glance at Vince and give him the go-ahead. He pushes a button on his camera and the little light goes from green to red. I look back at Grandma.

  "I guess the best place to start is the beginning. So introduce yourself."

  Grandma bristles. She doesn't like talking about herself. "Well. I'm Elaine Yvonne Pierce. Born and raised in Everson, Iowa. What else you want to know?"

  Vince chuckles behind the camera. I'm guessing we'll have to do a fair amount of editing.

  "Let's talk a little about Grandpa. Who was he?"

  "You know who your grandfather was. Wesley James Pierce. The day I met Wesley, I thought he was the most handsome man I'd ever seen. Even his name was handsome. His voice was deep and gravelly, you'd wonder if it was a man talking or something else. And those eyes. I used to say it was like God unearthed two perfect emeralds and used them for Wesley's eyes."

  "Where did you meet?"

  Grandma picks up her crocheting and fiddles with it. "It was the summer my father made us all help out in the fields. It was 1940. We'd lost our farm help and so it was all hands on deck. Wesley came down the driveway like he was running from a demon, a trail of dust following him. To say my father was unimpressed is an understatement." She picks up her glass of tea and sips on it before she continues. "My father told us to keep working but once Wesley stepped out of his vehicle, I snuck as close as I could to listen in. He introduced himself to my father."

  "What did he want?"

  "He was trying to sell us the newest John Deere tractor on the market. He believed it could help my father capitalize on our crops, cut the labor in half. Of course, my father was skeptical of all technology and machinery." A small smile dances across Grandma’s lips.

  "Wesley was a goner before he ever stepped out of the car. My father was a stubborn man. And so was your grandfather. They butted heads all the way till my father died."

  I sit u
p in my chair, she's never told this story before.

  "Why wouldn't your father want a tractor that could increase his crops and make him more money?"

  She laughed. "Because it was thirteen hundred dollars. It doesn't sound like a lot today, but back then, it was more than we could afford. Even if he actually wanted it."

  "So Grandpa never got the sale then? How do you come into the equation?" I ask.

  "When I heard my father arguing, I stepped from my hiding spot. I don't know what I was thinking. There wasn't anything I could have done to change my father's mind. All I remember is wanting to meet the man who could get my father so worked up."

  "I bet your father wasn't happy you interrupted."

  "He was spitting mad. But it only took one look into Wesley's eyes and I was hooked. He asked my name and before I could say, my father told him to leave our property. You know what really got me, though?"

  "What?" I indulge her.

  "Wesley didn't argue. He looked at me, smiled and then tipped his hat, then thanked my father for his time. It was the ultimate show of respect."

  "So how did you two end up together, then?" Vince asks from behind his camera.

  Grandma's smile morphs into a mischievous grin. "He came back the next day and told me if I went out with him, he'd give my father the tractor for a trial period. What kind of daughter would I have been if I didn't oblige?"

  "So he bribed you?"

  "Well." Grandma thinks about it. "I guess he did. We were married seven months later, so I guess we both got what we wanted." I think about their faded wedding picture hanging in the hallway and it stirs up nostalgic memories. When I was younger, I'd pass the picture and I was sure it had two movie stars trapped inside. They were perfect in a completely flawed way.

  "What was Grandpa like as a husband?"

  "Oh, dear. Like I said, he was such a stubborn man, but lord did he love with all he had. He wasn't the type to do anything halfway. It was all or nothing with him. He couldn't sit back and watch his friends go to war without him. He wanted in on the action. I begged him to stay behind, but he wouldn't hear it. He was stubborn for sure, but he was gentle, kind and he loved his son and granddaughter fiercely."