In the Wake of That Night

"Are you all right, Mom?"

Barb nodded. She cleared her throat then said, "Did he say anything more?"

Lana nodded. She was almost as afraid of this part as what she had nearly admitted to earlier. "Mom... he... he said I should talk to you, ask you... he-he said I should find my grandparents... he said... 'find them' a-a couple times." Lana got more scared when she saw her mother's face go slack. "Mom... I... I want to do what he said. I-I at least want to meet them. Can... can you help me with it?" More tears ran down her face.

Barb stared unseeingly at her daughter. She didn't know it was for over a minute. During that time she recalled what she had thought only a few minutes previously, how it might have been better to have let her parents raise Lana, at least for a time if she herself had gone into rehab and changed her own life. Maybe even after that.

Since being incarcerated, she had spent a lot of time thinking about her parents, her growing up, how things seemed to change after she started high school. She had always blamed her parents for the lousy relationship they had during her teenage years. She had thought they were dictators, mean, too strict, too overbearing, but since entering prison, she had concluded that they had been worried sick about her, that they had tried to control her stupid and wild behavior, but just didn't know how to do it.

She had been slow developing and petite like Lana and went out of her way to appear her age or even older, probably for her self-esteem. One way she had come up with was to attract the attention of the boys. She had started having sex when she was fourteen, a freshman in high school. At fourteen she also had her first drink, not beer or wine, but whiskey with a couple guys and another girl. A year later she was pregnant with Lana. She had insisted on keeping the baby, and her parents never once tried to convince her otherwise, but kept saying she'd have to grow up really fast. That made her angry too back then, she had told them she was grown up already, she was going to be a mom. She had been wild and crazy and arrogant. She had stopped drinking during the pregnancy though, she had all the attention she craved, not only from her friends, but her parents too. Those nine months were the longest dry period she had, that is, until she was incarcerated.

Barb blinked. She saw fear on Lana's face. Barb took another slow breath. "What... what have I told you already? I... I-I can't remember."

"You... you said you had a fight with them, that... that they said they were going to take me away from you, that they were going to call the cops and have child services take me away for adoption. That... that they didn't love you or me, and got so angry at you that... that they threw us out of their house. Is... is that the truth?"

Barb suddenly felt as if the entire weight of the building had come down on her. She only vaguely remembered telling Lana those things. She had been drunk the two or three times Lana had asked about them. How could I have told her that?! Once again tears started running down her face. She wiped her eyes with the tissue. She squeaked out, "No."

"No? No to what?"

"All of it. M-most of it." Barb wiped her eyes again. "I'll tell you the tru... Lana... Lana they... th-they loved you so much... and... I'm sure... they... they still love you... ju-just as much now."

Lana started crying too. "T-tell me about... about them."

Barb did.

One of the first things Lana learned was that her real surname wasn't Sullivan, it had once been Logan.

*

Lana brought herself back to the present when she thought how lucky she had been with her other visits with Mom, that Barb never asked for more details about that horrible night. During every visit, she was scared her mother would. She was afraid that some day she'd have to repeat that it was all her fault and explain it better so her mother would know it was the terrible truth. She was even more afraid of that day now because she and Barb were growing closer little by little and Lana knew if Mom ever knew the whole truth their growing friendship might be lost and they'd never have any sort of relationship. Yet, could they ever have a truly good relationship if she withheld the whole truth from her mother?

That worry was deep because Lana felt even though she and her mother were growing closer, they still had problems, sometimes they seemed to be on thin ice. They were trying to get passed them though, and slowly they seemed to be doing that. Sometimes the visits were like therapy sessions, mostly talking about their relationship as mother and daughter, their history, apologies, recriminations, anger, tears, and although rare, sometimes even laughter. Little by little Lana was coming to a better understanding of her mother, and maybe of herself too. Lana didn't want to lose her.

Lana grabbed a few more tissues, wiped her eyes and face, then blew her nose. As the therapist had told her to do, she closed her eyes, took a few deep, slow breaths, and tried to focused her mind as best she could to the task at hand. She was going to meet her grandparents. She had waited months to do this, for a few reasons, mainly because she hadn't felt emotionally strong enough, especially after her first meeting with Mom.

But now, in April on a gray, rainy day, she was only a mile or two from their house. She had tried to plan exactly what to say to them, but after four days of writing down some ideas, she gave up. She didn't know these two people at all, just that they were her grandparents, Mom's mother and father. Her grandmother had wanted to talk longer on the phone when she called and asked to meet them, but Lana had been so nervous, she had told the woman that she really wanted to talk face to face. Lana hadn't known how to tell them any of the things she had to, not just the killing, but that their daughter, her mother, was in prison. She hadn't answered any of the questions her grandmother had about Barb, just saying that Barb was all right and knew she was calling them.

Her anxiety level rose once more, and she repeated the slow, deep breaths. She would take one thing at a time with them. Maybe she would let them pick what was first. Lana knew it would be Barb, their daughter. Lana took more slow breaths. There was no way the meeting would go well, it wouldn't from the very start. She thought about driving back, not seeing them at all, but she knew she couldn't do that. She had to meet them, and she knew why. He had told her to do it. With his dying breaths he had told her to find her grandparents.

She wiped her eyes again, then took one more deep breath. She looked around. The other car was gone and the rain had stopped. She pushed in the clutch and brake pedals, then turned the key just as he had showed her that first time. The engine started. She shifted into reverse, checked her mirrors, then twisted in the seat to look out the rear window. She slowly let out the clutch and backed up. She had the map nearly memorized. She faced forward, shifted into first and got back on the street.

*

Pat gazed at his wife looking out the picture window facing the street. Maureen's right arm was around her midriff, her other was folded up, the fingers of her hand were pressing against her lips. It was her worry pose, her near crying pose. He had seen it numerous times during their marriage. Neither of them had gotten over what they had started calling the "disappearance" of their daughter and granddaughter. Barb had only sent them one letter, saying not to look for them, that she was never coming home and that she'd never see them again. The letter had been postmarked in Los Angeles. They had spent $5,000 on a private investigation firm in LA to look for her. They didn't find a thing, concluding Barbara had given the letter to someone else to post in California.

Patrick had always had a suspicion she had gone to Chicago, or that area. They had lived there for a period when she was little, and later had taken quite a few trips up there visiting friends. She was somewhat familiar with the city, and also with St. Louis. They had gone there many times, but his daughter had always liked Chicago better. They spent another five grand on an investigator there. They had a large folder of pictures of many Barbara Logans, none of their daughter or their beautiful granddaughter, Lana. Over the last fifteen years they spent another twenty-five thousand, usually when Maureen "got a feeling" that Barb was here or there. Nothing ever panned out.

He was a lawyer and law professor, so he knew how to search records, but he found nothing about her. If she had gotten married, it might have been in any state, she might even have actually gone to California. They finally concluded that the only way they'd see her or Lana would be if Barb came to them, or as it turned out, Lana would. At least it seemed to be about to happen. He was as nervous and excited as his wife, but also knew it was silly for her, and him too, to be staring out the window. It wouldn't make his granddaughter arrive any sooner.

He stepped up behind Maureen and placed his hands on her shoulders. She jumped. "Sorry, honey, didn't mean to surprise you."

"She said she'd be here at 2:00. It's been raining. What if she had an accident? What if she changed her... h-her mind? Why isn't her cell turned on? What if..."

Pat wrapped his arms around his wife, kissed her cheek and interrupted, "Firstly, she said sometime between 2:00 and 4:00. She said she'd call if she had to cancel out because she had to work or something came up. Thinking she had an accident is silly. She's probably like me and turns her cell off when she's driving, which is a smart thing to do. It's only 2:45. You can call her cell again if you want. We have her address. If she can't make it here today, as we told her on the phone, we'll drive up there and see her." He felt his wife tremble. Without looking at her eyes, he knew she was crying again, it was momentary though. Her fingers wiped her eyes. His voice softened as he held her closer. "Honey, everything will be fine. She'll be here. We're going to see our gra..." Maureen shoved his arms away.

Maureen watched the old pickup truck turn into the driveway. "She's here! She's here!" Maureen ran to the front door.

"Slow down, honey! Don't scare her!" Patrick was nearly running too.

Lana stopped the truck, then turned off the ignition, leaving it in gear. The emergency brake had never worked. She saw the front door swing open. A petite, slender woman stepped out onto the little entry porch. Her hair was salt and pepper streaked, the dark brunette like her own hair. The woman's eyes were wide. Both her hands were covering her mouth. Lana could see she was starting to cry. Her own eyes welled up. A grayed haired man had followed her out only a step behind. He was at least 6 inches taller than the woman. He looked in shape, maybe a little thick through the middle. Lana knew the woman, she recognized her from the only picture she had of her, on the beach with her mother. It was her grandmother. As soon as Lana opened the truck door, the woman dropped her hands and virtually ran towards the driveway, followed nearly as quickly by the man who undoubtedly was her grandfather.

Lana stepped out of the truck and closed the door. The woman stopped a few feet from her, again the woman's fingers covered her mouth.

Maureen started trembling. Her vision blurred with tears. "Oh my god... it's you... Lana... you're here... you're finally here." Maureen saw her beautiful granddaughter's face scrinch up and tears flood her eyes as she nodded. Pat and she had discussed not overwhelming Lana, to keep things a little formal at first, not to deluge the girl with affection, but as soon as Maureen saw the tears, all that went out the window. She nearly jumped to Lana and wrapped her arms tightly around the petite girl. "Oh Lana.... oh sweetheart... I've wanted this moment for so long... so long."

Lana didn't know what to say. Her eyes overflowed and tears ran down her face. She squeaked out, "M-me too." The woman, her grandmother, didn't seem like she'd ever let go. It brought more tears to Lana's eyes. She hugged the woman closer. Lana thought she'd be taller, she was only a few inches above her own height, about her Mom's height. For a moment she wondered why she thought she'd be taller.

Pat moved closer. His hand went to his wife's lower back. "Hey, Maureen, mind if I meet my granddaughter again? And don't crush her before I can even say hello."

Maureen coughed out a brief laugh, then loosened her arms and finally slid them from around Lana. She used both her hands to wipe her eyes and face. She smiled at the teary girl, who was also wiping her eyes. "Lana, this is your grandfather, Patrick."

Pat smiled. "I know I'm a stranger to you, Lana, but I... I'd really like to give you a hug too."

Lana wiped her eyes again and all she could manage was to nod at the man. A moment later his arms enveloped her, her own went around his waist. More tears ran down her face. She felt him kiss the top of her head.

Pat's eyes joined all the others and teared up. "Lana, we've missed you so much, we spent years trying to find you. We..."

Maureen interrupted him, "Pat, we... we have time for that later."

He nodded and gave Lana's head another kiss. "Yeah, a lot of time now." He slowly released his granddaughter, then quickly wiped his eyes. "C'mon. Let's get in the house, it's starting to drizzle again." He was a little dismayed that Maureen put her arm around Lana and started leading her towards the house. He had wanted to do that.

Lana stopped. "Oh... I-I should bring in my shoulder bag."

Pat stepped to the truck door. "The black bag on the seat?"

"Uh-huh."

"I got it." He opened the door and grabbed the large nylon satchel. The rain suddenly started coming down harder. "We better run!" They all trotted to the front door and went inside.

In the small foyer, Maureen spoke first, "Are you hungry... um... do you want to freshen up first before..." She smiled. "... before anything? It was a long drive."

"I... um... yes, I would."

"Do you need your bag?"

"Oh... um... I guess." Lana took the nylon bag from her grandfather.

"I know you said you would get a motel tonight, but Pat and I still want you to stay with us. We tho..."

Patrick interrupted, "Maureen, let her go to the bathroom for chrissakes." He smiled at Lana.

Maureen glanced at her husband, then took a slow breath. "I'm sorry, Lana. The bathroom is... um... no, I'll show you the guest room bath."

Pat grinned then let out a brief chuckle.

Maureen turned to him. "You go sit down and quit laughing at me." She smiled at her granddaughter. "Come on, Lana, it's just down the hall." She started walking slowly. "I... we know we're just strangers to you now, Lana. I... Pat and I talked about not overwhelming you... not-not scaring you with... with too many hugs or... or whatever. We... we hope this is the first visit of many, many visits, but you probably guessed that already. Here, this room." She stepped into the bedroom first. She looked at Lana and smiled. "You don't have to make up your mind right now, but as I started to say in the foyer, we'd like you to stay with us tonight, but if you would feel more comfortable in a motel, we'll pay for it. You don't have to decide right now, but... well, I started to say it out there, so I thought I'd finish my thought now." She turned towards the attached bath. "There's fresh towels already put out."

"Thank you."

"We... we know it might be odd for you to... to call us grandparents, at least at this point, so... so if you don't want to call me Gramma, you can call me Maureen, okay?"

"Okay..." Lana wasn't sure what she wanted to call her grandmother. She could see her response had disappointed the woman, her eyes were tearing.

Maureen put a smile on her lips. "Let's start with 'Maureen.' All right?"

Lana felt as if she had made her first mistake, had hurt her grandmother already, but was now trapped into it. "Okay, Maureen."

"I'll wait in the sitting area, then we can find out if you're hungry or thirsty."

"I... I won't be long."

Maureen smiled, then left. Lana looked around the room. It was nicely decorated. She went into the bathroom and closed the door. She peed then washed her hands and touched up her minimal makeup. She wondered again if her eyebrow piercing had closed up. She hadn't worn her ring in it since... since that night. She closed her eyes and took a few deep, slow breaths, then walked into the bedroom. She put the strap of her bag over her shoulder, took another slow breath then walked into the family area of the house. Her grandmother was on the couch, her grandfather was sitting in an upholstered chair to the left of it. Lana saw a few books and what looked to be three photo albums on the coffee table. Both her grandparents were smiling.

Lana sat on the couch, near the middle, not right next to Maureen. She set her bag on the floor.

Maureen spoke first. "Are you hungry, Lana? Did you stop for lunch somewhere?"

"Um... no, but I'm not hungry."

Pat spoke as he stood up. "How about something to drink? We have soda, cranberry juice, and orange juice."

"Um... just ice water, please."

Maureen looked at her husband. "Bring in that snack tray I made up too, honey."

"What would you like to drink?"

"Some cranberry would be nice."

He smiled. "Comin' right up." He headed to the kitchen.

Lana leaned forward and opened her bag. She pulled out a manila envelope and opened it. She removed her birth certificate and her mother's change of name certificate and the one for herself. "Mom... Mom said I should show you these."

Pat brought in a tray with cracker hor d'voeres and the drinks, setting them on the long coffee table. "What are those?"

Maureen's face went slack. "Barb... Barb changed their... their names."

"Let me see those." His wife handed them to him. He looked at each, slowly shaking his head but the corner of his mouth curled into a partial smile. "Well, we knew Barb was smart. No wonder we never could find them."

Lana looked at her grandmother. "You... you looked for us?"

"Lana, we've... we've been doing everything we could think of to find you, since... since the morning we discovered Barb had taken you and left. We'll tell you all about it, but..." She looked at her husband.

Pat spoke. "We want to hear about you first, Lana, and... and Barbara. We... we want to know how she is, and if you can tell us, where she is. We... we want both of you back in our lives." He set the papers on the end table, then sat on the arm of the couch. He put his hand on his wife's shoulder who was sitting angled towards Lana. "Did she say you could tell us where she is? Give us her phone number? We assumed there was some problem... because... well, she's not here with you, that... that maybe she still doesn't want us in her life."

Lana had hoped it wouldn't come up right away, although she knew it would. How could it not? "I... I don't know how to say this other than... just saying it." She saw her grandmother's eyes well up again. "She... she's in prison. She..."

"Oh my god!" Maureen's hand rose, her fingers covered her partially opened mouth.

Patrick was breathless for a moment. "What... what happened? What did... what... where?" Pat instantly assumed it was for felony quantity drug possession if not distributing for sale.

"She and... her husband were... were in a car accident, she was driving. A-a sixteen year old boy was killed. She... she was drunk."