Chapter

30

Thanksgiving was really getting on my nerves. There was too much laughter as all the cousins ran around like maniacs, yelling and giggling. There was too much chatter as my gaggle of aunts cooked and gossiped in the kitchen, talking at once and answering each other in the middle of their own sentences. There was too much food, carb-laden and greasy, everywhere I looked. I knew I couldn’t eat any of it.

Mom saw my frustration and understood. Earlier in the day she had let me know that I would have the house to myself that evening because Hannah, Dan, and Rachel were staying at Aunt Erin’s, and Mom was going back to the hospital. Space and time to myself. I saw it for the gift that it was. She caught my eye and winked at me, then nodded. I took it for permission to get out of there, even though dinner wouldn’t be ready for a while. I made my excuses to Aunt Erin, hugged and kissed Mom, and then left quickly.

Mom had been driving Dad’s sedan, leaving me the station wagon to chauffeur my siblings around. I fished in my jacket pocket for the keys and started the engine, grateful to be escaping. By the time I got home, I was full of anticipation for what I would do with twenty-four hours all to myself.

For the first hour I tried to find something to do. I sifted through my parents’ video collection and bookshelves, but nothing even remotely caught my interest. I thought about taking a long bath, but I wasn’t really in the mood. Finally, I had to admit defeat. I realized that free time wasn’t really what I wanted. Home was what I wanted. This wasn’t home.

I had been stuck here for eleven days. Eleven long, long days, and I was homesick. Was I ever going to get home? Did I really, truly have to live this life all over again? I had considered the possibility but had dismissed it. Surely I would get home at some point. Still, if I were here to fix something, to right a wrong, I should have been home by now. Corrie had blown off Jesse. Hannah and I seemed to be doing much better. My parents seemed to understand that I really was trying to change. What more was there to do? Shouldn’t I be home now?

I wandered into the kitchen to search for a snack. I hadn’t been in the mood to eat at Aunt Erin’s, and my stomach was protesting the neglect. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the red light blinking on the answering machine at the end of the counter. I grabbed an apple out of the bowl on the table and pressed the play button while I took a bite. The voice that burst out of the machine brought instant tears to my eyes, and the apple fell from my hand unnoticed.

“Hi, I’m trying to reach an Anne Kelly. I’m not sure if I got the right number, but she stopped by my house last week, and I’m just trying again to reach her. If this is the right number, please have her call me back. My name is Mitch Kelly, and my number is 555-2807.” There was a beep, and his voice disappeared. I reached out a trembling hand and pushed the button again to replay the message. He sounded so strong and whole, his deep voice matching his height. I replayed the message over and over, reveling in the sound. I had taken it for granted during our marriage. What a simple thing, to hear the voice of the man that you love day in and day out. Now it was a miracle.

I also realized that I had written the wrong name in the note I gave to Margaret at his house that day. I’d used my married name, Anne Kelly. I’d dropped the “I” in my first name when I went to college. “Anne” had sounded much more professional when I was auditioning. Mitch’s message said he would call again. I remembered now that my mom had answered a phone call that she thought was a wrong number when I was sick the week before. Had I been that close and missed him again?

I picked up the phone to call him back, but then hung it up again. What was I going to say? “Hi, I’m Annie May, but I accidentally left the wrong name with you last week”? What would I talk to him about? This was the same problem I ran into every time I had thought about calling him in the past few days.

“Face it,” I told myself out loud. “You are just going to have to wait and meet him when you go to college. You have to be patient if you want things to work out the right way.”

I sat at the kitchen counter and replayed the message until the sun went down and the darkness made it hard to see the button. I put my head down on my folded arms. Face it, Annie, I thought. You’re pathetic.

The ringing of the phone startled me, and I quickly answered it, Mitch’s voice still running through my mind. The male voice on the other end made my heart race until I realized that it was Sam, not Mitch, calling. Then a different kind of warmth started in my chest.

“I just wanted to see how your Thanksgiving went,” he said.

“Pretty lame,” I said with a bit of a self-deprecating laugh. “How about yours?”

“Well, Leonard was in rare form. He got drunk and threw the turkey out on the front lawn. My mom got pretty mad, and she and I left and went and had Chinese food. Now he’s feeling all sorry, so they are in one of their happy times, cuddling on the couch and watching It’s a Wonderful Life. It’s sickening, actually.” He tried to keep his voice light, but I heard the undercurrent of pain that was always there when he spoke of his family.

“Sounds charming,” I said.

“So, are you sitting at home, feeling sorry for yourself?” he asked.

“Yep. How about you?”

“The same. Let’s go for a drive,” he suggested.

I accepted immediately. “Sounds perfect.”

“I’ll pick you up in five minutes.” He hung up. I held the receiver for just a second longer and placed it back on the cradle.