She dug in her purse once again and pulled out her credit card, placed it with the bill, then waved the waitress over. The server came and disappeared with it. They sat there in silence.
“That’s a beautiful ring on your hand.” Mom pointed to it and her lips curled. “Is that just a nice piece of jewelry, or did someone special give it to you, with a promise for more?”
“I’m engaged.”
Mom nodded, tapped the table and looked about to burst out crying again.
“So, my Kimberly is in love… and I missed the whole thing.”
The waitress returned, thanked them for stopping by, and retreated.
Mom put the receipt in her purse.
“Mom…”
“Yes?”
“Thank you for coming. I want to believe you, but it’s difficult. We have a lot of healing ahead of us. It starts with being honest. It starts with the truth.”
The woman nodded and folded her hands, her gaze on the table.
“I have no plans to return to New York to live, Mom.” The woman slowly lifted her head. “I’m surprised, but I actually like it here quite a bit, and obviously,” she held up her hand, “I’ve met someone. Someone very important to me.”
“What’s his name?”
“Jackson Currant. Goes by just Jack.” Kim picked up her cellphone and pulled up a photo of her lover, her new best friend, then handed it to her mother. Mom’s smile went from small to big, to gigantic. Then, she heard that laugh. That infamous Angelique laughter people spoke of.
“Oh, my. Look at that beard and those gorgeous gray eyes… He looks like he’s pretty tall, too. Wow… He has a strength about him. He’s rugged, isn’t he?”
“A bit.” Kim smiled right back at her.
“He’s quite handsome, honey. What does he do for a living?” She handed the phone back.
“He’s a park ranger, and teaches classes about the wilderness, and ice fishing. He also hunts and sells his bounties, the furs and skins, and he does woodwork. He’s quite talented at it, too.”
“An outdoorsman. Very nice.” Mom rested her elbows onto the table and her chin on her folded hands. “I’m here for two more days. Maybe we all can have dinner together before I leave?”
“I don’t know. We’ll see.”
Mom nodded, gathered her purse, and got to her feet. Kim followed suit, and they walked out together.
“Okay, my sweet Kimberly.” She leaned in and gave her a hug, then a kiss on the forehead. “I’m going to call an Uber and head back to the hotel. I’m at the Springfield Suites.”
“Oh, you’re slumming it, huh?”
Mom burst out laughing and shook her head.
“Not really a lot of options out here, but it’s not too bad. I have—”
“I’ll drive you to your hotel, Mom. It’s no problem.”
“No, honey. I don’t mind. You see, the next time I see you, I want it to be on your terms… because you want to see me. Not because of my own needs, or my prayers that needed answered. I got what I wanted. To know that you’re healthy and happy. Now, it’s your move. Your turn at bat. Anything after today is extra. Whipped cream on the sundae. Drive safely, and I love you, honey. Never forget that.” Mom blew her another kiss before going back inside the restaurant, her cellphone in hand…
Chapter Twenty-Two
The auditorium was packed, with standing room only. He had to give Kim credit. She’d marketed and advertised the show all over Alaska, selling tickets online and giving some to students to sell for cash. Fundraisers galore, bake sales every week—so many she was exhausted from baking, but at least she had Martha and a couple of the woman’s sisters to assist in her endeavors. With the help of a few of her friends from New York who were costume designers, she had the clothing and intricate getups made but wouldn’t even let him take a peek at them until the last minute, when he’d assisted in loading them into the truck for the children to try on.
Jack sat up front in the vast theater, program in hand, as the lights dimmed.
A rich, deep, yet feminine voice came over the loudspeakers: “In the words of the Native Apsáalooke rapper, Supaman, ‘To dance is to pray, and to pray, is to heal…”
Suddenly, the curtains opened, and five children dressed in colorful Native garb stood still with their heads bowed. One mounted ahead of the other four. A boy with long brown hair stood in front, swaying his arms across the stage. Native drums began to play. The boy’s legs began to move in an almost mechanical way, then loosened, like a puppet finally released from its strings. His eyes were intense; black makeup covered his forehead while white surrounded his nose and mouth. Then, the four children behind him began to mimic his movements, all girls dressed like him, except they had colorful necklaces. Supaman’s song, ‘Why?’ began to play, and the crowd lit up, clapping and cheering as the small dancers hit high gear. Two other children joined the stage, one dressed like the sun, the other like a raindrop. Sounds of thunder clashing began, as the sun and raindrop danced almost shoulder to shoulder while the melancholy, yet oddly enough encouraging lyrics of the song kept on playing.