His Other Life

Chapter 12

TWELVE

ISLA

Present day

Nancy stared at Isla across the bowls of steaming chicken soup in front of them on the table. “You’re doing what?” she asked, spoon frozen in mid-air. “A road trip?”

“I’m going to go back to Bend to see if it will help me remember. Mav is taking me. You said it yourself—I need to move forward. And in this case, we think all the unknowns are stopping me.”

She didn’t say there was a chance Jonah had kept things from her. Barely wanted to acknowledge that to herself. But that photo of him existed, which meant somewhere out there was a person who’d made him smile when Christmas with Isla and his family hadn’t. As much as she couldn’t put her finger on why, these seemingly disparate points in the past conjured a constellation connected by invisible lines she’d yet to decipher.

“We?”

“Mav and me. And Louise too. She’s going to help.”

“So everyone’s on board.” Mom put the spoon down. “And by everyone, I mean these people who you barely know.”

Isla’s nerve wobbled. “You think it’s a bad idea?”

Nancy huffed and gave a small shrug. “I didn’t say that. But I’m your mother; I’m allowed to worry.”

They had a few bites in silence before she spoke again. “What I don’t understand is why this Maverick person would offer to do this in the first place? And he’s old, isn’t he?”

“He’s a young ninety.”

“Ninety!” Nancy balked. “How is his vision? His reflexes?”

Isla’s spoon clanged against the bowl as she set it down. Those were legitimate questions and ones with the ability to make her quake if she spent too much time on them. But Mav was sharp, and she needed to do this. “I know. I have thought about that, but I think it’ll be fine. We’ll only drive in daylight, and only a couple of hours per day. Or do you want to take me?” Isla knew the answer to that. Between Mom’s social commitments, new moving plans, and preference for her own kitchen and bed, that was never going to happen.

In the background, the song changed from a country standard to the swelling violins of the Moulin Rouge soundtrack.

Nancy put her spoon down. “I want to meet him.”

Isla held her tongue even though she itched to point out that she wasn’t seventeen anymore. “Of course. If that makes you feel better. And to answer your other question, he says he’s doing this because being old is boring and it’s been years since he last had an adventure.”

“Ha!” Mom nodded. “Ain’t that the truth.” She seemed to mull this over for a minute, then she reached for her bread roll and broke it in half. “And what if you don’t find what you’re looking for?”

Isla knew what she meant. Would this trip to the past amplify the grief anew, make the nightmares worse, lock her down in inaction once more?

“At least I’ll have tried.” She reached for one of her mother’s hands and squeezed it. “But, Mom, what if I do find it?”

Nancy drove them across town two days later. She had a made-from-scratch Hamburger Helper casserole in the backseat because “it was your dad’s favorite and all men love hamburger helper,” and a nice silk scarf around her neck as if they were going to church.

“No need to be nervous, Mom,” Isla said from the passenger seat.

“Who said anything about being nervous?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Nancy tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. “But I keep thinking about those tattoos, and I worry I won’t be able to keep a straight face. Is he very rough around the edges ?” She lowered her voice as she did on those rare occasions when she couldn’t help but curse.

“Oh my God, Mom. He’s like any old man. Just… decorated. They’re from his sailor years.”

“Okay.” Nancy sucked in a deep breath. “Okay, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Isla smiled out the passenger window. This would be interesting.

Maverick, too, had cleaned up for the occasion. The sparse white hair on the top of his head was water combed to one side, and he wore a vest on top of his usual shirt.

“Welcome—come on in,” he said, holding open the door for them. He grasped Nancy’s hand in his and shook it, then turned to Isla. “So this is your mother?”

“Nancy,” Mom said. She was doing her best not to stare at the tattoos, Isla could tell.

“Lovely to meet you, Nancy.” He ushered them into the sitting room where Isla hadn’t been before more than in passing. “I understand you have reservations about our little journey.”

“Right to the point,” Nancy replied, sitting down in the seat Mav indicated. “I like that. Reminds me of my late husband.”

“Oh really?” Mav’s eyebrows twitched. “I hope you’ll accept my condolences for your loss. Isla’s told me about her dad.”

“Delwyn,” Nancy said. “Yes, thank you.”

“Delwyn.” Mav nodded. “Strong name. Irish, is it?”

“His father was Welsh.”

“Ah.” Mav sank into a worn upholstered high-back and crossed his legs.

“We brought some food for the weekend,” Isla said, holding up the casserole. “I’ll put it in the fridge and write down heating instructions while you two get acquainted.”

She took her time in the kitchen, moving things around in the small refrigerator to make room for the glass dish, locating pen and paper in one of the many drawers. The reason was twofold—first that she wanted Mom to make her own impression of Mav as only that would set her mind at ease, and second to allow her own nerves to settle. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Mav, or that she regretted the decision she’d made to face her past head-on, but at the same time, she hadn’t been able to escape the sense of being caught in an undercurrent with its own mind about where to wash her up ever since. And while she hoped it would be in a place of clarity, she was also very much aware she could end up right back where she’d started—or worse.

Mom’s laugh trickled into the kitchen, pulling Isla from her thoughts. Mav must have won her over then. She capped the pen and put it away, then returned to the living room.

“Did you hear the one about the whale and the seagull?” Nancy asked her before facing Mav again. “The adventures you’ve lived.”

“That I have.” Mav nodded. “And now here’s another one. Should we go see the car?” He slapped his palms onto his thighs and stood with some effort. “To assure you we’re not setting off in some dirty rust bucket.”

Isla and her mom looked at each other.

“Might as well,” Nancy said.

The three of them fit snugly in the small elevator that took them into the basement of the building. Maverick’s keys dangled from his hand, clinking together with each jolt of the mechanisms.

“This way.” He turned right in the garage, and they followed past cave-like, gray concrete walls. “She’s a reliable old gal this one. I normally tuck her in for the winter, but I’m sure she won’t mind coming out of hibernation a little early. Here we are.”

In front of them was a pristine silver-and-blue 1990s Chevy truck with a covered truck bed and sparkling hubcaps. Isla wasn’t sure what she’d pictured Mav’s vehicle of choice to be, but it wasn’t this “old gal,” of that she was certain. A beige LeSabre perhaps or a Lincoln Town Car. Something statelier. Then again, there was a lot she didn’t know about Mav, and the neatness of the vehicle fit with both his person and his home.

Isla opened the passenger door to look inside at the same time Mav took a seat behind the wheel, his wrinkled hands caressing it in a gentle grip. The blue cloth bench seat was in equally good condition as the exterior and smelled vaguely of pine air freshener.

“Do you drive a lot nowadays?” Mom asked, peering in next to Mav.

“You mean on account of my advanced age?” He smiled. “A fair bit. Not to worry. I still have eyes like a hawk and reflexes like the jungle cats of the Amazon, according to my doctor.”

Isla laughed, running her hands across the dash. “You do, do you?”

“More or less.” Mav stuck the key in the ignition. “And worst case, you still have your license, right?” He turned the key, and the engine rumbled alive as a cold hand gripped Isla’s insides.

She was about to protest, say that wasn’t the deal, when the engine sputtered twice then went out with a loud bang that echoed against the concrete walls. The silence that followed went uninterrupted for several seconds as all three of them had frozen in place.

“Oh my,” Nancy said finally.

“Hmm.” Mav released the wheel. “She’s never done that before.”

Despite the car issues and Mom’s renewed concerns, Isla spent the next few days making lists of places to visit and people to talk to so that she’d be ready when Mav was. He’d had the truck towed to a mechanic who’d ensured him it wasn’t a fatal fault, so they were optimistic this setback was only of the temporary kind.

Tuesday over lunch, she laid out her route for him, something more optimistic coating the lead weight of unease lodged in her chest.

“The first day will take us to Olympia,” she said. “There’s a restaurant Jonah and I went to several times, but I don’t know if we ate there that weekend.”

“Worth a stop.”

“Plus it should be easy to get hotel rooms there with short notice.”

“And then?”

“Portland. Several of the photos on his camera are from Hoyt Arboretum, and Portland was part of his territory.” At Mav’s quizzical expression she clarified, “He was in pharmaceutical sales.” She pointed to the next bullet point on her list. “The drive from there to Bend is a little on the long side—three and a half hours—but maybe we can do half in the morning, take a long break, then drive the rest late afternoon?”

“As long as I have a good night’s sleep the night before, that should be doable,” Mav agreed.

“And from there, we’ll drive locally. The, um… spot where it happened, stores, restaurants, possibly the sheriff’s office. Louise is still waiting for confirmation about them sending the report. I’m hoping we can stay at the hotel so we can talk to the staff.”

She looked up and found Mav watching her, a small crease between his eyebrows, deepened by three inked dots on the left side of the bridge of his nose.

“Something wrong?” she asked.

“No.” His lower lip pulled up then released. “No, it’s a good plan. I suppose I’m just wondering how you’re feeling. About all this, I mean. I haven’t pushed you into something you’re not ready for?”

There was genuine concern in his eyes—enough that Isla didn’t want to dismiss it.

“I’m nervous, but I don’t feel pushed,” she said. “Not by you, anyway. I could back out tomorrow, but where would that leave me? Mom is still moving. I’m still going back to work in the fall. My life will change again whether I want it to or not. And I need to do something to get to a place where I’ll be able to handle that.”

“You’re very strong. Not that I’m surprised.”

“Ha!”

“No, I mean it. It took me many, many years to fully return to the world of the living after my brush with death. To recast my experience into something that was about more than me— my wounds, my guilt, my needs, my fears. My life. Disaster has a way of shrinking your world, making you look out for number one. To protect yourself. It made me selfish. But not you. You’ve taken what little spark you had left and shone it on others.” He gestured to his delivered meal. “That’s admirable.”

Isla blushed. “Thanks, but that’s not how I see it.”

Maverick raised a forkful to his lips then paused. “Then my hope is that by the end of this you do.”

Isla squirmed in her seat. For so long, the only voices she’d had in her ear were Mom’s concerned one and her own scathing one. Mav’s praise made her want to hide.

She took a big bite of her sandwich, chewing slowly while feigning interest in the empty street outside. March had begun with nonstop rain, but today there was a lighter aura above the clouds—a hint that there was, in fact, still a sun around which they whirled. If she leaned close to the pane, she could see the edge of the memorial park—not the west side where her family members were commemorated, but the other.

Look around. Nana’s words floated up from Isla’s subconscious, an echo from what now seemed like a dream. Was this what she’d meant? For Isla to go on this road trip?

With that thought, renewed urgency flooded her. That might be it. “How soon can we leave?” she asked Mav. “Did they say how many days it would take to fix the truck?”

“It depends on when they get the parts. He said I’d have it back Monday end of business at the latest. Could be sooner though.”

“Then we plan on leaving Tuesday. Is mid-morning too early for you?”

Mav blinked at her. “In a hurry all of a sudden?”

Isla ignored his question. “You’ll be ready? Let me know if you need help packing.”

“Oh, I can manage. Tuesday it is. I’ll make sure to make my other arrangements.”

“For?”

“Oh you know…” Mav gestured vaguely into the air. “What about your deliveries?”

Shoot, she’d almost forgotten about that. “Yeah, I’ll need to talk to Stan about someone covering those while we’re gone.”

It wouldn’t be a problem. It was only two days a week, and she’d been flexible with the scheduling so far and had earned his goodwill. Maybe Mom would even take over for her if she asked. With that last obstacle cleared in her mind, she cleaned up the table and took leave of Mav.

Tuesday.

The road she’d been stuck on for the past two years was coming to a fork, and it was high time for a detour.