When I Find Her (18 page)

“Great.” He stands there in his tattered robe, slippers, and oxygen tubing. Shabby clothing, yet I couldn’t be prouder that he’s my grandfather.

“Bye, Grandpa.” My sister gives him a big hug. He squeezes her so hard she laughs.

“Bye, Gramps,” says my little brother, also getting a hug.

My mom follows with a kiss to the cheeks. My dad gets a handshake.

“Take care of yourself, Dad,” says my mom.

“Good to see you again, George.” My dad lifts our luggage into the van.

It’s my turn with my grandfather. My eyes prickle and water. I struggle to keep the tears in check. I’d like to hug him, but I haven’t done that for ages.

He likely doesn’t want to embarrass me, so he sticks out his hand.

I grasp it. His handshake is a lot firmer than he looks. His gaze is unwavering on my face. He frowns at my unshed tears, and swallows deeply to withhold his.

The handshake goes on and on forever. I never want to let him go. Finally, I don’t care if anyone sees me, I step close and embrace him.

“I love you, Grandpa,” I whisper.

I hear him sob as I turn to get into the vehicle. Only as we drive away do I allow myself to look back. It’s a beautiful, lasting image. He looks stronger and happier today than I’ve ever seen him.

Grandpa.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“Hey dummy,” says my sister over the car seat. “Wake up. We’re home.”

I open my eyes. I wasn’t sleeping, but thinking of Jennifer and her possible whereabouts. I have some new information I’m dying to tell Vlad.

My dad pulls the van into our driveway. I collect my things and think again of Grandpa and everything that happened at his house. I
died
and saw Heaven. Awesome doesn’t describe it. When Grandpa goes, he’ll be with Grandma, which is what he wants more than anything. I’ll see them again. I hum and wonder how they were able to select an age to appear to me. I wonder if I’ll be able to select my own age when I get there.

Sixteen’s not so bad.

I climb out of the van and take my bag and my brother’s.

“Hey that’s mine,” he says.

“I’ll help you with it,” I say.

“What about mine?” says Ivy.

“Throw it on,” I tell her. “I’ll carry it, too.”

She tosses her trendy bag onto Simon’s kiddy-blue suitcase and the jolt of weight offsets my balance. I lurch forward to stabilize. Simon laughs. I tell him, “Climb onto my other side to balance me out.”

He hops aboard my duffel bag. Now I’ve got three bags and him. Hey, I can do this. I run to prove my point, heaving up the stairs with him and the bags, my sister shrieking with laughter behind us.

We fall into a heap at the top of the stairs. My brother rolls onto the hardwood floor. My sister trips over us.

We laugh while my mom hollers from below. “Don’t scratch those floors!”

“You and your dumb feet, you made me trip,” Ivy says between giggles.

It feels natural, her calling me names and teasing me. I like how in this timeline, she never apologizes afterward. She doesn’t regret what she says to me. She’s strong and sure of herself, and doesn’t know that I’m about to get leukemia and that it’s going to twist her inside out.

They take their bags and disappear into their rooms. I go into mine. We ate sandwiches for dinner on the road, so I know that no one’s gonna miss me if I don’t come out of my room for the rest of the night. It’s safe to return to real time.

This was a good trip. In some ways, I’m sad to leave. But I’m not fourteen anymore. I’m sixteen, and I need to find Jennifer.

∞

Two days have passed in real time. This is Monday, four o’clock in the afternoon. The red dice delivered me to my bedroom in the middle of the night. The pain in my side from my broken rib was a nasty surprise. Luckily, I still don’t have any major side effects from the chemo. I’m a little weak, though, and stayed home from school today, as the doctor recommended. I go downstairs and my mom and Ivy and Simon are acting normal, so I must be on some sort of autopilot when I travel back in time and the world goes on living as it always does. I suppose I’ll never really know how it happens, only that it does.

Classes are over, so I rush to Vlad’s house, clutching my taped ribs.

Vlad’s mother answers the door. I rarely see her, so the sight of this petite woman with short blond hair is unexpected. She’s in her workout clothes.

“Hello, Luke,” Mrs. Novak says with a big smile. “Come in. Vlad’s making pizza.”

“He learned how to cook?” I joke.

“It’s his latest hobby. Says he wants to be a chef.”

“I do not!” Vlad hollers from inside the house.

“It’s a good occupation,” she yells back. “You could own your own restaurant, like your grandfather did. He was very wealthy, Vlad, in the old country.”

“I’m not gonna be a chef, Mom.” Vlad hollers.

“Then what? What’re you going to be?”

“I don’t
know
.”

“You should start a business. I don’t care what it is, it’s the way to get ahead!”

“Would you let my friend in, please?” he yells in an exasperated voice.

She pivots back to me. “Oh, sorry, Luke. How are you? How are things going with you? You feel all right?” She glances at my stubbly hair.

I step inside, self-conscious of my looks. I might be thin, but I’m feeling good. “Fine, thanks. Haven’t felt this strong in a long while.” Despite my rib, I’m regaining my energy. A solid night of sleep must’ve helped.

She smiles. “Happy to hear, happy to hear. The Guru of Wisdom is in there.” She points to the kitchen.

I make my way there and realize his mother is behind me. How can I talk freely to Vlad with her listening?

Vlad’s stretching pizza dough onto a baking sheet. “It’s gluten free.”

“You got a problem with gluten?”

His t-shirt’s splattered with flour. “I don’t like it.”

“Since when?”

“Since he heard it on the news.” His mom rolls her eyes. “Now he thinks we should all stay away from it.”

She opens the fridge and rummages through the drawers, making a ruckus. She’s a nice enough lady, but man, I wish she’d leave. I have to talk to Vlad alone.

“I didn’t see you in school today,” Vlad mumbles to me.

I nod and give him that look.
I was time traveling
.

“Again?” he whispers.

I nod.

“Isn’t your homework piling up?” he says.

The reminder makes my stomach tie in knots. “I’ll do some tonight.”

“When you didn’t show up in Science, I picked up your pop quiz.”

I mutter because I don’t want to hear about the results of our unexpected test last week.

“You got eighty-five.”

I frown. “Percent?”

“Yup.”

Man, I haven’t got an A in Science since...since over a year ago. This one was on cellular biology. Mitochondrial DNA, polypeptides, and matrixes.

“Have you seen my rutabaga?” Mrs. Novak’s voice echoes from inside the refrigerator.

“In the back left,” says Vlad.

More noise of glass bottles colliding.

“Ah-ha!” She holds up a purple and yellow ball-like vegetable. “It’s got a lot of vitamins. You boys want some?”

We shake our heads.

Finally, she goes downstairs, and I can talk privately to Vlad.

“I saw her on my trip,” I rush to tell him. “Jennifer.”

He moans. “Between you and my mother, you keep my head spinning. Do you like hot peppers on your pizza?”

“Just pepperoni if you’ve got it.”

“Of course I’ve got pepperoni. Who wouldn’t have pepperoni for a pizza?”

“She said she was visiting her uncle. Maybe he can lead me to her. I know where he lives.”

“Where?”

“Wasaga Beach. Can you borrow your mom’s car?”

“Now?”

“Please.”

“That’s a good two hours from here.”

“Can you get the car?

“But the pizza–”

“Please, Vlad. I’ll buy you pizza on the way.”

“My mom’s gonna be suspicious if I don’t wait for the pizza to bake. Twenty minutes, okay?”

Frustrated, I know he’s right.

So we wait for the dough to rise, and he goes to ask his mother for the car.

∞

“Find anything yet?” Vlad leans forward behind the wheel of his mother’s car to peer at the cottages lining the road across from the shoreline of Wasaga Beach. The sun is setting, casting the sky in streaks of red. Trees and tall grasses on the sand dunes block our view of Lake Huron. We pass a sign that says that Wasaga has the largest freshwater beach in Canada. I’ve been here before, two summers ago with Vlad and a bunch of friends at a cottage. That would’ve been the same summer I saw Jennifer at the gas station.

I stare into the search results on my cell phone, frustrated as hell. “There’s no one with the name Marks listed in the phone book.”

“Now what?”

“I’ll call the operator.” I punch in the numbers. “Phone number for a Mr. Marks in Wasaga Beach.”

She takes a moment to search and the whole time my heart is gunning to explode.

“Ah…”

“Yes?” I hold my breath.

“That number’s unlisted.”

“You’ve got one, though?”

“Yes but–”

“Please tell me. It’s an emergency.”

“Sorry. If it’s an emergency you’ll need to contact the police.”

I mumble my disappointment.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“No, thanks.” I hang up with shaky fingers. “He’s here, Vlad, somewhere.” We turn the corner. There’s a grocery store on our right. “Pull over! Stop!”

When he does, I leap out of the car and into the building. For Monday night in September, it’s deserted. “Sir,” I say to the heavy man behind the counter. His scalp is tattooed. “I’m looking for a friend of the family. A man by the name of Marks. I’m not sure of his first name.”

“Marks?”

“It’s important. A matter of life and death.”

He slowly shakes his inky, smooth head.

I sigh. How many more dead ends can there be? Maybe I should go to the police, like the phone operator suggested. I recall passing a cop shop on the way into town.

I peel out of the aisle and crash into an elderly lady at the bread counter. “Sorry.” I reach out and catch her.

She clutches a loaf of rye. “Is it Brian Marks you’re looking for?”

∞

Five minutes later, hyperventilating from a combination of fear that I’m going down another blind alley, and excitement that I might meet Jennifer’s uncle, I direct Vlad onto a side road. “Turn here.”

“What are you gonna say to him?”

“The truth. That I’m looking for Jennifer. That if he could give me her address, I’d like to contact her. Phone her. Email her.
Something
.”

Vlad turns right.

“Vlad, when I was time traveling on the weekend, I think I...I had a near-death experience.”

He slams on the brakes. My body is thrown forward but my seatbelt snaps me back.

“Stop it.” In the near-darkness, his profile is a sharp silhouette. “This is all I can handle, okay? Don’t tell me another word.” He’s half-joking, but also serious.

I laugh at his exaggerated expression. “Okay, I won’t. I’m just sayin’.”

He points a finger at me. “Stop sayin’.”

“But it was interesting.”

“I don’t care if you flew to the moon and back. There’s only so much I can take.”

I have to grin at the guy’s wide-eyed expression. “Okay, okay.”

He turns to the wheel again and pulls forward. “Honestly. You need to talk to Burgen.”

“I will.”

“Soon,” he insists.

“I promise. By the way, there’s no more time traveling. I used up my third time.”

“Finally!” Vlad starts counting the house numbers. “Fifty-two, fifty-four…”

We’re looking for seventy-two. I wonder what I’m going to find. Early evening light casts the houses and trees in a brilliant crimson, as if everything’s on fire.

I count the numbers ahead, but even before we get to the house, I see it. A black Ford SUV parked in the driveway. It doesn’t have Illinois plates. It’s got Ontario plates. I’m confused whose it is. My heart picks up speed. Was this the SUV that her father was driving when I pumped gas for them and saw her in my time travel?

“Stop here.”

Vlad pulls over to the curb on the other side of the street. “Yup. Seventy-two.” It’s an older house, two stories with stained wood siding. Tall trees line the cracked cement driveway.

“Can you wait here for me?” I ask.

“Yeah. Good luck. A word of caution – don’t mention the time traveling.”

I grin. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Vlad turns on the radio as I leave the car.

The sun’s setting rays hit my shoulder as I walk to the front door. I press the buzzer but I don’t think it works. At least, I can’t hear it ringing inside.

I give it some time, but hear no footsteps approaching. I knock very loudly.

I
do
hear footsteps. My heart’s drumming against my chest. Who’s going to answer?

An older man with a beard opens the door. He’s got trimmed brown hair and clear green eyes. I don’t see any resemblance to Jennifer.

He frowns at me. “Whatever you’re selling, I’m not interested.”

“I’m not selling anything. I was wondering if I could speak to you, sir, about Jennifer Marks and her family.”

He stares at me long and hard. “What about them?”

“Do you happen to be Jennifer’s uncle?”

“This is a private matter and one we’d like to keep to ourselves.”

What’s a private matter? I’m confused.

He goes to close the door.

“I’m a friend of hers from school,” I say as I try to hold open the door. “I’d like to say hi to her. If you could give me her email address, or new phone number in Hawaii–”

“Why’d you come here? Why now?”

“I’ve...I’ve been trying to reach her for a year, since she moved. Nothing’s worked. I just discovered she has an uncle in Wasaga Beach. I take it that’s you, sir.”

“What’s this all about?” says another man from inside the house.

He appears at the door. Her father. Same cropped hair he had before. He’s wearing another business shirt. Hell. I’m speechless. My chest beats and my thoughts sprint at warp speed. What’s he doing here?