Ellen opened her office door and sighed with relief. A beam of light from the lobby illuminated the dark room enough to reveal two sleeping figures. The first, Jamie, was curled up in an armchair, snoring quietly. The second, Lisa, lay on the sofa, legs stretched out and one arm hanging off the edge. A piece of folded paper lay on the floor next to her as though she’d dropped it in her sleep. Curious, Ellen stepped closer and picked it up. The note was written on a sheet from a doctor’s prescription pad. In an untidy scrawl, it read: “Lisa, I can’t see you again. It’s over. I’m so sorry. Patrick.”
“Good riddance,” said Ellen under her breath, then immediately regretted it, surprised by the depth of her guilt. Patrick could have died today, and it would have been her fault. She couldn’t possibly have anticipated an earthquake would strike, but he had been in the wrong place at the worst time because of her.
Still, Patrick had been a means to an end. Even in the chaos surrounding the earthquake, Ellen had managed to lock down the Five Firs pod with an officer on guard. Within days, the remains of Sheila’s Airstream and those of her associates would be dragged to a city lot where they would be carefully examined by all the legitimate DEA agents Ellen desired. Arrest warrants would follow. The theory that Victor was the real kingpin behind Sheila’s operation was a tantalizing puzzle, though it was nothing Ellen wouldn’t work out soon.
First though, Ellen knew she had to apologize to Lisa. She looked at her sleeping daughter and was reminded of the fierce love she’d had for her when Lisa was a child. Over the past several hours spent coordinating rescue efforts, her thoughts kept returning to Lisa. What if she and Jamie hadn’t heeded Ellen’s warning and had attempted to cross the river and return to their apartment in the southeast? Another bridge could collapse, there could be more aftershocks, and what about the downed power lines all over town? So many hazards and obstacles barred their way. But for once Lisa had listened to Ellen—or more likely Jamie—and here the girls were, safe and sound.
“Mom?” Lisa yawned and sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
“I didn’t mean to wake you, darling.” Ellen joined Lisa on the sofa, then handed her the note. “I’m so sorry, dear,” she said, surprised to realize that she was being honest. She put an arm around Lisa and squeezed her shoulders gently.
“Thanks,” said Lisa, with a rueful smile, as though unsure how to read her mother’s affections. Carefully Lisa folded the note and then crushed the paper in her fist. She glanced at Ellen. “I know you didn’t like him.”
“My opinion isn’t important. You obviously cared for Patrick very much.”
“He’s a jerk,” said Jamie, who had uncurled from her chair. She yawned widely and stretched. “He’s also going to survive.”
“Patrick is going to be okay?” asked Ellen.
“Got away with a dislocated shoulder, which I hope really hurts. Lisa was worried, so I went to check up on him. He was signing some paperwork when I finally tracked him down. The hospital was in absolute chaos. Anyway, he told me he was fine and that he needed to take off. He gave me that note for Lisa and just walked out. It was so bizarre. Why would he leave like that?”
Lisa sighed. “Maybe almost dying made him realize that he and I shouldn’t be together. My life is a big mess. I can’t really blame him.”
“Bullshit,” said Jamie. “There’s something else going on. He was acting so strange earlier.”
“Really, it’s okay, Jamie,” said Lisa, her voice tense. “Can we talk about something else?”
“Yeah, of course. I’m sorry,” said Jamie quietly.
“My office is looking much better than when I stopped in earlier,” said Ellen.
Jamie nodded. “Everything was on the floor, so we picked up what wasn’t entirely broken and put it back. We even managed to rehang your artwork, though some of the glass is cracked.”
“That’s so considerate of you both. Thank you.”
“No problem, Mayor Salder. How bad is the damage from the quake? We haven’t been able to get online. I did get through to my parents on their landline, and they said their neighborhood wasn’t hit too hard.”
“I’m glad to hear they’re safe, Jamie.” Ellen looked at their worried faces and decided for tonight to spare them the worst. Lisa and Jamie had already been through so much today. Soon enough they’d hear of the search and rescue teams who were pulling victims from the wreckage, and about the bridges that had collapsed, leaving untold numbers of bodies floating in the Willamette River.
Keeping her voice confident and upbeat, she said, “Our first responders are working around the clock to keep everyone safe. The governor has issued a state of emergency and the National Guard is on their way. It’s going to be tough going, but we’ll get through it.” They looked reassured by her words, and Ellen was glad she’d stretched the truth. “It almost seems trivial now, but before I forget, did you happen to check on Sheila before you left the hospital?”
Jamie nodded. “She was still unconscious. I saw an officer guarding her door in case she wakes up and tries to make a run for it. Theo said he’d stick around too.” She yawned again. “I’m hungry. I wonder if our leftovers are still in the fridge.”
“Why don’t you go check, dear. And, I really shouldn’t, but could you make me a . . .”
“Martini? You got it.”
After Jamie left the room, Ellen turned to her daughter. “Lisa, I want to apologize.”
“Really? Mom, you never apologize.”
Ellen grimaced. “It’s something about myself that I’m trying to change.”
“Okay,” said Lisa, clearly not convinced.
“You never make anything easy, do you honey?”
Lisa shrugged. “Sorry.”
“No, you have nothing to be sorry about. I’m sorry for what I said to you last night at the party.” Ellen took Lisa’s hand. “I should never have brought up your father. He loved you so much. The thought that my words pushed you to leave with George Green kills me. I’ve been thinking about what you said at brunch too, how my help always comes with strings attached. You’re right. I want you to know that I can change. Anything you need, just ask. I never want you to be in a position where you feel helpless or worthless. You’re neither of those things. You’re my daughter.” She paused and waited for Lisa to respond, certain that she would be impressed by this rare display of humility. The bright tinkle of a cocktail shaker sounded through the open door.
Lisa didn’t look ready to forgive. She pulled her hand away, narrowed her eyes and said coldly, “All day you’ve been using me and Patrick to get what you wanted. And you expect me to believe that you’ve suddenly changed?”
Ellen nodded. “I absolutely deserve that. It’s true.” She paused as she searched for the right words. “I’m responsible for what happened to Patrick. I was so focused on my goal that I was willing to sacrifice him to get it.”
“Was it worth it?”
Ellen sat back and wondered if she could ever convince her daughter she was being honest. Her guilt was real, but so was her satisfaction that she’d brought down Sheila’s operation. “Today I realized that all my plans and ambitions mean nothing if I don’t have you in my life. You’re my family, Lisa. All I ask is a chance to be your mom again. Let me try to do better.”
Lisa stood up from the sofa and stepped toward a group of paintings that hung opposite Ellen’s desk. She pointed at one, a watercolor of children playing near a mountain lake. “Where did you get this?”
Thrown off by the sudden change of topic, Ellen stammered out, “Oh, that. The school sent me that painting along with a few other belongings you’d left behind.”
“Why is it here?” Lisa demanded.
Ellen stood and looked more closely at the image. “It reminds me of that beautiful day I came to visit you at the Academy.”
Lisa just stared at Ellen for a moment, then turned back to the painting. Her next words were tinged with bitterness. “You’re right. It was that day. But it wasn’t beautiful. It was terrible.” She looked at Ellen, her eyes pleading. “Mom, if you really want me back in your life, you’re going to hear the truth behind this painting and every other awful thing that happened to me at that school. And this time, I need you to believe me.”
Ellen swallowed and blinked back tears. She’d never seen Lisa look so vulnerable. “Yes, honey,” she said, nodding. “I will listen and I’ll try—”
Lisa placed her hand on Ellen’s arm to stop her from saying more. “No, Mom.” Lisa paused and took a deep breath. “Trying isn’t good enough. I need to know that you’ll believe me. Please.”
Ellen nodded and said softly, “I will, honey. I will.”
Jamie appeared at the door, looking nervously from mother to daughter. “Just checking in. Doing okay in here?”
Ellen brushed an errant tear away and composed herself. “Yes, Jamie. I believe we’re doing better. Lisa?”
Lisa looked at Ellen carefully, then turned to Jamie with a quiet smile. “We’ll get there.”
“Then how about some tasty leftovers,” said Jamie. With a grand gesture, she motioned Ellen and Lisa toward the lobby. The coffee table was strewn with to-go containers from their brunch at Screen Door earlier that day, along with paper plates and napkins. A martini glass filled to the brim sat waiting for Ellen, and two bottles of mineral water for Lisa and Jamie. They gathered round, opening the white boxes and filling their plates.
As Ellen sipped her cocktail and watched the girls argue over who deserved the last hushpuppy, she wondered at how much could change in a single day. The party last night; that awful George Green and his wife, Sue; Patrick and Sheila; the specter of Victor Smith; and finally a devastating earthquake that would have her city in chaos for months, possibly for years to come. Yet all of it led here, to this moment. A trio enjoying the simple pleasures of a midnight picnic.
Ellen reached across the coffee table, plucked the final hushpuppy from its white box, and popped it in her mouth. Lisa and Jamie looked at her, astonished, and they all burst out laughing.
***
Patrick reached the stone wall that curved around the property and rolled his bicycle to a stop. Trying to catch his breath, he dismounted and walked the last hundred feet.
His shoulder was feeling better, but he knew it would ache badly tomorrow after the long ride from Portland. Considering how he’d treated Lisa, he deserved the pain. He couldn’t stop thinking about her tearstained face, how it had turned from terror to pure joy after Theo had pulled him from Sheila’s smashed Airstream trailer. All the way to the hospital Lisa had held his hand, saying over and over that she loved him. When they finally reached the emergency room and he was wheeled away, Patrick knew he could never see her again. If he did, he’d confess the truth—how her father had died and that Patrick was the son of a murderer.
Before he could lose his nerve, he stepped to a small keypad set in the stone wall and tapped in a sequence of numbers. A pair of heavy wooden gates opened and he walked through. He continued down a short path to the front door and rang the bell. After a few moments, the door opened.
“Hi Dad,” he said.