Title: Meet Me in Barcelona
Author: Mary Carter
Publisher: Kensington
Pages: 352
Genre: Mainstream fiction
Format: Paperback/Kindle/MP3 CD, Audiobook, MP3 Audo, Unabridged
Purchase at AMAZON
A
surprise trip to Barcelona with her boyfriend, Jake, seems like the
perfect antidote to Grace Sawyer's current woes. The city is dazzling
and unpredictable, but the biggest surprise for Grace is discovering who
arranged and paid for the vacation.
Carrie Ann wasn't just
Grace's foster sister. Clever, pretty, and mercurial, she was her best
friend—until everything went terribly wrong. Now, as she flees an
abusive marriage, Carrie Ann has turned to the one person she hopes will
come through for her. Despite her initial misgivings, Grace wants to
help. But then Carrie Ann and Jake both go missing. Stunned and
confused, Grace begins to realize how much of herself she's kept from
Jake—and how much of Carrie Ann she never understood. Soon Grace is
baited into following a trail of scant clues across Spain, determined to
find the truth, even if she must revisit her troubled past to do it.
Mary
Carter's intriguing novel delves into the complexities of childhood
bonds, the corrosive weight of guilt and blame, and all the ways we
try—and often fail—to truly know the ones we love.
First Chapter:
Grace
Sawyer had never believed in magic, or miracles for that matter, but
that didn’t mean a girl couldn’t pray for a little bit of both. She’d
been praying a lot lately. She stepped into her mother’s hospice room
and crinkled her nose as the scent of SpaghettiOs and Lysol washed over
her. She glanced at her mom’s bedside table. Sure enough, sitting too
close to the edge was a chipped brown bowl overflowing with SpaghettiOs,
paired with an industrial-sized bottle of Lysol. Grace hesitated.
Processed food in a can and industrial-sized cleaners were just the kind
of things that could trigger an emotional avalanche inside her. This
wasn’t what life should come to in the end. It wasn’t right. If
replacing those bits with yellow roses and a nice roast dinner would
have changed a single thing about this horrific situation, Grace would
have done it lightning quick. This was her mother. The woman who had
taken care of everybody else her entire life. Who had opened her heart
to homeless, damaged children. She deserved more. But strangely, Lysol
and SpaghettiOs were two items Jody Sawyer had insisted on lately. Grace
had to fight her instincts, her primal desire to make everything nice,
and instead keep each visit as pleasant as possible. She smiled even
though neither of her parents had noticed her yet.
Her mother was
wide-awake, eyes glued to the television in the corner where a soap
opera blared. Before she had moved into this facility, Jody had never
watched a soap opera in her life. She wouldn’t have been caught dead
eating SpaghettiOs either. The Lysol, on the other hand, was familiar.
Grace’s mother had spent her entire life within an arm’s reach of it.
Most likely the product of having a revolving door of foster children.
Where were they now? Not a single kid from the past had come to visit
Grace’s mother. After all she’d done for them. It made Grace rage
inside, but her mother hadn’t complained about it once.
Her
father, Jim, sat next to the bed on his favorite recliner from home. Jim
had put up quite a fuss to get them to allow it in the room, and he was
extremely proud of the accomplishment. “I put up my dukes!” he’d say
with a grin. Then he’d pump his fists in the air. He’d been practically
living here since the doctor had given them the latest grim diagnosis.
Grace couldn’t help but think it was probably a welcome relief for her
father’s patients. Her father was a psychotherapist, and although he was
insightful, Grace had always thought he was a tad too prying. Then
again, maybe that was the whole point of going to a shrink. Baring your
deepest, darkest secrets. It was Grace’s idea of a worst nightmare. “Hi,
Dad,” Grace walked over and planted a kiss on her father’s cheek. He
looked almost as thin as her mother. He lowered his newspaper and took
off his reading glasses. “Well, hello there, Graceful.”
“How is she?”
“In and out.”
Grace nodded and slowly approached her mother’s bed. “Mom?”
Her mother’s eyes didn’t leave the television set. “Oh, hello,” Jody Sawyer said. “Are you the cleaning lady?”
“Like I said,” her father said. “In and out.”
“It’s me, Mom. I’m your daughter, Grace.”
“My daughter doesn’t clean,” Jody said.
“She’s got that right, “ Jim said.
Grace
burst out laughing, then quickly tried to squelch it with a cough. Jody
Sawyer pointed to the television and shook her head. She wanted them to
be quiet. Grace looked at her father.
“Why don’t you wait for a
commercial?” he said. He patted the folding chair next to him. Grace
sat. “How was your day, sweetheart?”
Grace reached into her bag
and removed two McDonald’s bags. She handed one to her father. He
grasped the bag in one hand and squeezed her hand with the other like
she’d brought him champagne and caviar. “Actually pretty wild,” she
said. “I have news.”
“Do you mind?” her father said.
“Go right ahead.”
He
unwrapped his Big Mac and took a bite. “Mm-mmm,” he said. He looked
blissful. Grace wanted to bury her face in her sleeve and sob.
SpaghettiOs and soap operas, and Mickey D’s? Didn’t they know they
deserved better? They were from such a humble generation. Not like the
entitled kids of today. Her parents were simple and good people. Let
them enjoy what they enjoy. No use forcing kale or tofu burgers on her
father now. Grace forced another smile, then reached into the second bag
and handed him a napkin.
He winked at her and dabbed his mouth. Then his eyes went to her ring finger. “Did the boy finally pop the question?”
Grace
laughed and stretched out her hand in front of her as if examining it
for the first time. She hardly ever wore rings or bracelets; they got in
the way of playing the guitar. Maybe now she would start. She would
wear silver rings with semi-precious gems, like amber, and big chunky
bracelets. Maybe even grow her nails and paint them pink. Was that a
good enough trade for giving up on her dream? Grace slipped her hands
under her legs as if she could shut out making any decisions by sitting
on them. “Not yet. But you’re never going to believe this--”
The
soap opera went to commercial. A jingle for car insurance came on.
“Gracie Ann!” her mother said. She smiled and opened her arms as if
Grace had just walked into the room.
“Hi, Mom.” Grace got up and
hugged her mother. She felt so frail and tiny in Grace’s arms. Grace
could probably pick her up and carry her around the room without
breaking a sweat. Not fair, God! Not fair. “You didn’t eat your lunch,”
Grace said, glancing at the SpaghettiOs.
“She insisted on them,” her father said.
“I ate ten Os,” her mother said. “I couldn’t possibly eat more than ten Os. I have to watch my figure.”
“If you stuck her in the middle of a cornfield, crows would land on her,” her father said with his mouth full of burger.
“You’re not far behind, Dad,” Grace said.
“Just
how we wanted to spend our golden years. Hanging out in a farmer’s
field like a couple of straw men,” her father mused in between bites.
Anything
would be better than this place, Grace thought. She wished she could
bring her parents to a beautiful field at the height of autumn. Give
them trees with leaves on fire, and hay that shone like gold underneath
an afternoon sun. Give them the smell of apples and the embrace of a
warm wind.
“You look beautiful, Grace,” her mother said. Jody
Sawyer reached up with a trembling hand and touched the pearls around
Grace’s neck. “Is it your birthday?”
“In a few weeks, Mom.”
“Happy birthday, darling.”
“Thank you.”
“How old are you now? Thirteen?”
“I’m turning thirty,” Grace said. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m
all better now, Gracie. I can go home now.” Jody Sawyer looked at her
husband Jim, as if expecting him to start packing up the room.
“I
don’t think today, Mom,” Grace said. Or ever. As much as she tried to
shut it out, Grace could hear the doctor’s voice in her head in a
constant loop. Maybe a month, six months at the most, we can’t say for sure. All we can do now is make her comfortable.
Make her comfortable? Was there any comfort in knowing you had six months, maybe one?
“Gracie said she has some news,” Jim said.
Her mother clasped her hands under her chin. “I love news,” she said. “And fries,” she called to her husband.
Grace
nodded at her father. He picked up the second bag, then passed it up to
Jody. It was odd. If Grace gave her the fries before she asked for
them, her mother wouldn’t touch them. If Grace waited until Jody voiced a
desire for them, Jody ate every single one. Just one of the little
mysteries of dementia. What a double whammy. The doctors weren’t sure if
fighting off the cancer had brought on the problems with her memory, or
if she would’ve been hit with it anyway. There were just no two ways
about it; life could be extremely cruel. “Give us the news,” her father
said. “Hurry before her show comes back. We’re not allowed to talk
during Days of Our Lives.”
“Jake won an all-expense-paid trip to Barcelona,” Grace said.
“Well, I’ll be,” Jim said. “How’d he do that?”
“The veterinarian group had some sort of a raffle,” Grace said. “But Jake didn’t even enter.”
“He won a raffle he didn’t even enter?”
“Dan went to one of the conferences without Jake and entered for him.”
Dan was Jake’s partner at the animal hospital. He and Jake were like
brothers.
“That was mighty nice of him.”
“But we feel guilty. Dan could have taken the trip himself.”
“I’m sure he filled out an entry for himself as well as Jake.”
“True.”
“And Jake won. Seems fair to me.”
“But
we would be leaving Dan to run the clinic all by himself, and he’d even
have to watch Stella.” Stella was the best English bulldog a couple
could ever ask for. If she could, Grace would take Stella to Spain.
Stella was a hit wherever they went due to her prowess on a skateboard.
“Well, isn’t that special.” Jim slapped his knee. “Jody did you hear that? Gracie and Jake won a trip to Spain.”
He
had entirely missed the point that they felt guilty that Dan would be
getting the short end of the stick. It made her wonder how often he
misunderstood his patients.
“That’s wonderful, dear,” Jody said. Her eyes traveled back to the television.
“I’m not going,” Grace said.
“What do you mean?” her father said.
“There’s a catch.” There always was.
“You have to pay for your hotel?”
“No, it’s all paid for.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“The dates are set in stone. We’d have to go at the end of next week.”
“So?”
“It’s a ten-day trip. I don’t want to leave Mom for that long.”
“Nonsense,” her father said. “You have to go.”
“I’d be gone for my birthday.”
The soap opera was back. Jody snatched up the remote and aimed it at the television like she was holding it up at gunpoint.
Grace’s
father patted her knee. “We’ll celebrate with you when you get back,
kiddo. Take it from me, kiddo—life’s too short not to take free trips.”
Jody glared at Jim and pressed on the volume until it was almost
deafening. A few seconds later, there was a series of soft knocks on the
wall behind her bed.
“Sorry, Mrs. Maple,” her father called out. “You have to turn it down, dear.”
“That
old bitch,” her mother said. In all Grace’s years growing up, with all
the strange boys tearing through the house, and fighting, and even
through the whole Carrie Ann ordeal, Grace had never heard her mother
curse, let alone direct it at somebody. Jody turned the volume down a
smidge and pointed at the television. “He’s the one I like,” she
exclaimed. There was a tall man, visible only in silhouette behind a
flimsy shower curtain. “They think he’s Flo’s long-lost brother, but
actually he’s just escaped from prison where he was convicted of
murdering his second wife. Or is it his third? I can’t remember. Second
or third wife, take your pick. It’ll come to me. Darn tootin’ he’s
totally innocent, but I know that Flo. She’s going to be sniffing around
his tight buns like a hound dog short of a bone. Second. Definitely
second wife.”
Grace and her father looked at the television. The
naked man stepped out of the shower, surrounded by steam. All you could
see were his six-pack abs and bulging biceps. Grace supposed they wanted
you to imagine something else bulging. This was definitely soft-core
porn for women. Tan, and slick, and ripped, and glistening, he didn’t
seem to be in any hurry to pick up a towel. He walked up to the bathroom
mirror, reached up, and wiped away the condensation. Soon, his gorgeous
face came into view. Grace had to stifle a laugh as he began to touch
his cheekbones like a blind man trying to see what he looked like.
“Isn’t it awful?” Jody said. “Pretending to be someone else? When all he
wants to do is search for his wife’s real killer.”
Grace raised
an eyebrow at her father. He looked down at his stomach, and in doing so
dripped a thick glob of ketchup onto his fraying cardigan. “Didn’t even
look like that when we got married,” Jim said.
“I think he must have had plastic surgery after his prison break,” Jody continued. “That’s why he doesn’t recognize himself!”
Jim
Sawyer watched his wife with a smile and a shake of the head. “You
wouldn’t leave her for ten days,” Grace said to her father.
“They
sure did a pretty good job on him though, don’t you think?” Jody said.
Based on where her mother was looking you’d think he’d had plastic
surgery on his crotch.
“If Jake wants some old man tripping along with him, just say the word and I’ll pack my bags,” Jim said.
Jody
glanced at Jim. He winked at her. She smiled back. Then she turned a
smile on Grace. It was actually the first genuine smile Grace had seen
out of her mother in a week. “You have to go, Carrie Ann.”
Carrie
Ann. The words felt like two gunshots to the chest. Just hearing that
name come out of her mother’s mouth made Grace’s heart start tripping.
She almost shot out of her chair. “I’m Grace,” she said. “Gracie Ann.”
Her voice cracked. “Dad?” she said.
“She’s confused, honey. The
past and the present, it’s just one big, ugly glob.” Pinpricks of shame
began forming at the base of Grace’s spine.
“I’m not confused,” Jody said. “Carrie Ann came to visit me.”
“My
God,” Grace said. This time she did shoot out of her chair. Carrie Ann
was the only girl foster child the Sawyers had ever taken in. At first
she had been like a sister to Grace.
“Who is she married to now?” Jody said. “I can’t remember.”
“Pay no attention to her, Gracie,” Jim said.
“Why can’t I remember?” Jody pressed on her temples with her index fingers, as if she could squeeze the memory out of her head.
Grace took a step toward her mother. “When did she come and visit you, Mom?”
“Grace, I told you she didn’t,” Jim said. “Don’t egg your mother on.”
“I’m not egging her on, Dad, but if Carrie Ann was here, I want to know about it.”
Her
father whacked his newspaper on the side of his chair. “I told you she
wasn’t! And I should know. I’ve been sitting right here!”
“She’s still such a pretty girl,” Jody said. “She asked about you, Grace. She asked me all sorts of questions about you.”
Jim got up and threw up his arms. “She’s out of her mind!” He began to pace.
“Dad,”
Grace said. “Hush.” Her mother suddenly became very still, which meant
she was listening. Grace took her father by his arm and led him back to
his chair.
“I’m sorry. She won’t remember me saying it.”
“That’s not the point.”
“I
can’t help it. Carrie Ann this; Carrie Ann that. I thought we’d put
that nuisance behind us for once and for all. Is this what it comes to?
Reliving your worst nightmare?”
“I’ve never heard you speak so
harshly about Carrie Ann,” Grace said. Her mom was the one who used to
say the worst things about Carrie Ann. She said Carrie Ann was evil. She
said Carrie Ann was a curse that would follow all of them to their
graves. Once she had even said there wasn’t enough Lysol in the world to
get rid of that stain. And each insult had cut into Grace like her
mother was saying it about her. Her sister. Of sorts. Her own
Dickens-like drama. Carrie Ann was the best thing that had ever happened
to Grace, and she was the worst. She’d been out of their lives for
nearly fifteen years. And Grace had spent every one of them trying, and
failing, to put the past behind her. She turned to her father.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
“That Mom’s been talking about her.”
“Because
I don’t want to dredge up all that nonsense. It’s her damn medication. I
keep telling the doctor it’s making her worse, and he won’t listen to
me.” Her father slammed his fist on the arm of the chair. “These people
think just because we’re old that we’re stupid. She wouldn’t be so
forgetful if she cut down on some of those pills. How do I know that?
Because she’s my wife. Because I’ve been married to this woman for forty-four years. You know what he said to me?”
“Who?”
“That snot-nosed doctor, that’s who!”
“What did he say?”
“Put
me in my place. In front of my wife. ‘You’re a psychotherapist,
correct? Not a psychiatrist? You don’t prescribe medication?’ That’s
what the snot-nosed so-called doctor actually said to me. Can you
believe that? Some twenty-year-old who just started wiping his own ass.
I’m telling you she’s on too many pills! Makes her soupy. He won’t
listen to me!”
“It’s okay, Dad. Calm down. It’s okay.”
“I can’t bear hearing her talk about Carrie Ann. Your mother’s the one who told us never to mention Carrie Ann’s name again.”
Forbid us. Forbid us to ever mention her name again. “I know, Dad. I’ll talk to the doctor. Calm down.”
“I
always wanted to go to Spain,” Jody said. She turned off the television
and patted the side of the bed. So she’d heard and understood the
conversation. God, the brain was a mysterious thing.
Grace went over and sat down. “You never told me that.”
“I would hardly share that with a stranger.”
I’m your daughter! She wanted to shout. But her mother couldn’t help it.
“Just keep talking,” her father said. “At least she’s not dredging up ghosts, or drooling over naked stud muffins.”
And
now Grace couldn’t believe her father had just said “naked stud
muffins.” Maybe getting away for a bit wasn’t such a bad idea. Grace
turned back to her mother. “Why did you always want to go to Spain?”
“My mother went to Spain. All by herself. When she was in her seventies.”
“I
know,” Grace said. It had been just after Grace’s grandfather had died.
Her grandparents were supposed to take the trip together. Everyone
thought Annette Jennings would cancel the trip. Instead, she buried her
husband and packed her bags. Little Annette who had never been outside
of her home state. Grace had had many conversations with her grandmother
about that trip. She was proud of her too.
“It was really
something,” Jim said. “Because in those days seventy wasn’t the new
fifty or whatever the kids say today. Seventy was seventy.”
“Tell me about it,” Grace said.
Jody
Sawyer straightened up, and her eyes seemed to take in more light.
“Well, it’s not like it is now. Women didn’t travel alone back then.
Wasn’t that brave? My mother sent me a postcard from Madrid of a
beautiful tango dancer in a red dress. The dress was made of actual
material—beautiful red silk right on the postcard. I’ll never forget it.
She’d only written one sentence on the back. ‘Robert would’ve loved the
landing.’ My father was very picking with landings and always impressed
when the pilot pulled off a smooth one. Anyway. As soon as I got that
postcard I knew my mother was going to be all right. ‘Robert would have
loved the landing.’ After she died I spent hours just touching that
silky red dress with the tips of my fingers and imagining my mother
dancing in the streets of Spain.”
Jody Sawyer looked up and swayed
her upper body slightly as if watching her faraway self dance. Then she
looked down at her hands, twisting the bed sheet. “Look how ugly and
wrinkled I am now.”
“You’re not ugly and wrinkled, Mom. You’re beautiful.”
“I wish I had that postcard now.” Her mother looked up into space. “I lost it.”
Grace
hesitated. Did she, or didn’t she? Grace opened the bedside drawer and
took out the postcard. Her mother was right. The dress was silky. Grace
handed it to her mother and watched her eyes light up. Next her mother
gently outlined the edge of the dancer’s dress with the trembling tip of
her right index finger. Her fingernail was misshapen, the peach paint
flaking. Grace would have to see if they could bring in a manicurist.
Jody
looked at Grace, her eyes clear and bright. “Gracie Ann you have to go.
Film everything. I’m dying to see Barcelona through you.” Grace must
have looked stricken, for her mother laughed and then put her hand over
her heart. “Sorry, no pun intended.” Like antennas being manipulated for
a clearer signal, sometimes her mother tuned in perfectly. Jody Sawyer
laughed again, and Grace couldn’t help but laugh with her.
“Mom.”
“Make
me feel like I’m there,” Jody said, closing her eyes. “Help me shut out
this hospice. Let me see beautiful Barcelona.” She took Grace’s hand
and held it. “Do it for me. I’ll feel like I’m with you. Bring a camera.
And your guitar,” she added. “You never know.” When Grace still didn’t
answer, her mother opened her eyes, and lifted Grace’s chin up with her
hand like she used to do when Grace was a child. “Be brave, Gracie Ann.
Just like my mother.”
“Like my mother too,” Grace whispered back.
No comments:
Post a Comment