This Golden State, page 29
I moved and Harry rearranged me on his lap. He was so skinny, he wasn’t very comfortable. But he was strong, which was kind of comforting.
“Harry, I have to go,” I said softly.
“I know,” he whispered near my ear. “I just ran into Alix.” Then, louder, “Alix, what were you saying?”
That was when I noticed the beautiful brunette.
She nodded. “Yeah, so, like I was saying, did you know you can just take someone’s DNA? It’s legal.” Her voice was throaty and her hair gleamed like she’d just had a blowout before putting on a bikini.
The word “DNA” stood out to me first. Then her features sharpened into focus. It was like looking into my mother’s face. Her eyes were gray, like my mother’s.
Harry squeezed my waist. Then began rubbing my back.
Alix Bell. I remembered, right here in this exact spot, one of Harry’s friends had cited my resemblance to her.
How the gray eyes were such a dominant feature in that family was incredible. Even more mind-blowing was that someone who was a cousin could look so similar to me and my mom. With her same dark hair and lack of freckles, Alix looked more like my mother than I did.
I knew I was staring, but so was everyone else, rapt. She seemed like as big or even bigger a draw at the table than Harry. I began to listen to what she was saying.
“So what did they tell you exactly? That’s so weird,” a redheaded guy to her left said.
“Not much. You know how police have started using those DNA test sites to solve cold cases? Well, I guess they had some of her DNA uploaded to a database. Then, suddenly, after all this time, they got a hit. They think it’s her daughter. But they took DNA from all of us to fill out the family tree, to try to place her, make sure that’s who she is.” Alix rubbed her bare arms like she had goose bumps. “So, yeah, we’re all on edge right now.”
“Oh my god, that’s insane,” someone muttered.
“She logged in from Atherton, guys,” Alix Bell said in a hushed tone, truly uneasy, sharing a secret with her friends.
“Logged into what?” a girl with a buzz cut asked.
“The DNA site.”
Harry put his hands on my hips and gently pushed me off his lap. Then he stood up behind me and took my hand. I was floating somewhere high in the sky, miles above the pool.
“Every day, we think they’ll find Maisie by the end of the night. We’ve been thinking that for at least two weeks.”
“Shouldn’t she be hiding in South America or something?”
“Yeah, but her brother just died, which maybe brought her back. It’s so weird: no one would ever speak of her, and now all of a sudden … this is weird for my mom. They grew up together.”
“Did your mom ever talk about her?”
Alix combed her fingers through one side of her hair and looked wistful. “She said she was the cool cousin, but she was always looking for trouble.”
“We’ve got to go,” I heard Harry say to the group. “Later.”
* * *
“You’re okay. You’re okay,” Harry kept repeating softly as he guided me through the blacktop parking lot. For a moment he halted, like he’d lost his car.
“Harry.”
“I know. I know.”
Harry held up his key and his car, one among multiple Porsches, chirped from somewhere straight ahead. He put his hand on my back and guided me, opening the car door for me when we reached it.
At my side, he leaned in and kissed me somewhere under my cheekbone. He had the foresight to know that might be the last time we touched.
When Harry started the car, I opened my backpack to find the little burner phone.
He put the car in reverse. “What are you doing?”
I held the phone in both hands, cradling it, shaking.
My dad had been right all along.
“I need to tell my dad. Message him that we have to go. Right now.”
Harry drove down the long club driveway. He kept raising his eyes to the rearview mirror.
“Poppy?”
“What?”
I typed it: 111. I drew half a breath, held it, then pressed SEND. I imagined it traveling through the air, across the one mile between me and my family. Right now even one mile between us was too much.
“I don’t think you should be in the car with me,” Harry said.
“I’m so sorry, Harry. I know you shouldn’t be with me. I have to meet at the emergency spot. The Starbucks downtown. Can you get me a little closer to it?”
“No, I mean, this is why I keep getting pulled over by the cops.” Harry locked the doors. Beads of sweat were forming on his forehead. “I got pulled over two days ago by my dad’s old house and then those mornings right by the school.”
“Wait. What are you saying?”
“You used my laptop at those locations. Also, at my dad’s house. That’s where I set up your email.” Harry thought for a second. “I wonder if that guy going through the trash was someone watching the house.”
“Harry, I’m so sorry.”
“You didn’t know.” Harry started laughing. “The cops must be so confused. They’re looking for a girl and they keep finding me.”
“I logged in yesterday. After you told me not to. At the library.” I thought about what I’d believed was my dad’s paranoia. Both incidents had taken place at the library. There’d been the strange man when he was there with Emma. That had triggered his desire to leave. Then yesterday he’d noticed a white sedan for a second time. My dad was the smartest person I knew.
“Poppy, if I get pulled over now—between here and Starbucks—they’re going to know who you are.”
The cell phone beamed red in my hand. 5 minutes was the response.
Harry glanced down at the cell phone. “I texted your phone. If they’re tracing mine, they’re tracing that one. It’s pinging cell-phone towers, and they know where you are. Throw it out the window.” Harry rolled down my window, took it from my hand, and tossed the phone like a Frisbee. It landed over the steel fence of a mansion, on private property. He fished his phone from his pocket, slowed, and hurled his after mine.
“How could I have been so stupid?” I said. “And so selfish. They told me not to go looking.” My dad had always said it would be a slipup that got us. I’d pictured Emma saying the wrong thing, a surveillance camera at the pack-and-ship store. I hadn’t known it would be a colossal mistake made by me, the rule follower, because I’d been living in a different century.
We were nearing the small downtown, stuck at a four-way stop with three cars ahead of us. Harry palmed the back of my head. His eyes were scared and he stared straight ahead.
“It wasn’t selfish,” he said. “It was selfish that they wouldn’t tell you.”
We slowly drifted past the fire station. A group of firemen and first responders milled in the front. One held a softball and glove in his hand.
Harry laughed.
“What?” I asked. I was thinking of what Harry had just said—about me not being the selfish one.
“I realized, if we get pulled over—right now—you didn’t actually do anything.”
“Yeah,” I croaked. I knew exactly what was coming next.
“I have to say it one more time: you can leave them and have a normal life. You could do it right now.”
“My sister.”
“You would be an example. Maybe when she’s your age, they would let her go to you.”
“They’re all I know, Harry.” I couldn’t not see them again. Even the thought—it felt like part of me would be cut away. To not be part of a family of four. To not be with my dad.
Harry shook his head. “They’ve raised you to be the amazing person you are, so you can be independent.”
“They don’t think that.”
“Deep down, they do.” Harry squeezed my hand so hard it hurt. “For all their faults, they’ve done the best job.”
“I’m sorry,” I said again. I saw the candy store on my right and the pet store on the left. Harry braked for a pedestrian, and I couldn’t remember if the Starbucks was one block away or two. Each remaining second with Harry felt alive and like it passed in slow motion.
“I love you, Poppy,” Harry said. For the first time, it wasn’t hidden in the sentence among other words, leaving me guessing.
“I love you,” I said. I stared at him until he turned his head to look at me. I wished I could convey all the facets of my love for him: appreciation and attraction and respect. “Harrison Addison.” I tried to lighten the mood.
He wasn’t going for it. “Poppy Connelly. That would probably be your name, right?” He pulled forward and I saw the Starbucks.
“Poppy Connelly.” I’d found out who I was this summer.
I saw the minivan already idling on the small side street. It was tucked between a Mercedes SUV and a Smart car that reminded me of Professor Alexiev’s.
“They’re right there,” I said to Harry, placing the back of my hand against my window, showing him where they were while covering them up at the same time.
Harry slowed and we drove past. I saw my mom and dad in the front seat, but they couldn’t see me. They looked like just two regular people. For a split second, I wanted to tell Harry to keep going.
“You can let me out on the corner.” Harry took a right and pulled into a handicapped spot. I’d thought he would just drop me off and he would drive away, fast and far.
“Harry,” I said, “go. I have to run.”
“No way. I’m watching you leave. I have to. I need to.”
There wasn’t any more time. “Bye,” I said decisively. I swung open the car door and, with my backpack hanging from my elbow, I ran across the street. At the corner, I made eye contact with my dad, who was watching in his side mirror.
I stopped running. Maybe it was the fear of seeing my dad, that he knew I saw him for who he really was. I stood on the sidewalk. It reminded me of my last day in Illinois. I’d been the only family member outside of the car. I’d known we were about to drive away from a place where I’d found some happiness. I’d felt so tired and had a glimpse of separateness from them. But last time, the thought of being apart had scared me and I’d leaped into the back seat with Emma and swiftly closed the door. I didn’t feel that way anymore.
My dad got out of the car. His face was ragged. He tilted his chin up in greeting at someone past my shoulder. I turned around and saw Harry standing a few feet behind me, staring back at my dad. The expression on Harry’s face was somewhere between calm and confrontational.
My dad searched my eyes. His were wary and tentative. I saw that he believed I hated him. He said, “I made my choice, Poppy. You get to make yours.”
By giving me that freedom, in one fell moment, I released all of the rules, all of the structures that had penned me in tight. He and I both knew what I needed to do.
In answer, I said, “Do you know how much I love you?” We both knew what that meant. What choice I was making.
I expected this would crush him, but I thought I saw a burden lift from him. Relief, because this was the right thing. Relief that even though I knew his real story, that I saw all of him now—his secrets, his flaws, his shame—I still loved him. He didn’t need to be perfect.
“You’ve been the best dad,” I said. “You made it. You raised me.”
I had a flash of him pushing me from behind on my bike, me fighting him, not wanting him to let go. Then he’d released the bike and stayed behind. I’d been so terrified. I’ve got you. I’ve always got you, he’d said. But he’d let go.
I hoped it was that realization that played over his face. He’d completed what he’d set out to do. It was why he’d run in the first place. He’d raised me himself. He’d also made me ready. Because wasn’t that the job? To prepare me to start my own life?
My dad began to cry openly. “Ace that test for me, Pops,” he choked out. “It might not be too late.” He moved quickly to hold me close, but it was over so fast. He grabbed the door handle and got back inside the car. I walked alongside it. My dad started the car and rolled down the window. I leaned forward and saw my mom in the front seat. Emma stuck her head between them.
“Go to my mom’s house. I want you with her,” he said.
I didn’t see any belongings in the car. Only my mom’s purse and Emma’s stuffed badger. One thing each. I’d caught them unprepared. Because of me, the bulk of that money was lost, left behind on the closet floor.
“We’re always with you, okay? Even if we’re not. Got it?” My mom was bawling.
“Mom! I love you.” I had to make sure she knew.
She gave me a smile I’d never seen. It was pure joy. And relief.
She raised her tearstained face to mine and gave me a bigger smile—the one that made her the indelible Maisie Bell. I couldn’t help but return it.
“Emma, I’ll see you later.” I looked to my sister, needing her to be mature for a second and understand what I was saying.
Emma gave me an odd, preternaturally grown-up nod, us getting each other on a level no one else ever could. Then she threw herself back against the seat and tried to raise her feet up to kick the roof, a kid again. Just like that. She still needed them.
My dad rolled up his window and faced forward, steeling himself for the next challenge, ready to take care of everyone. He pulled out. I looked after the minivan until I couldn’t see it any longer, watching them disappear.
Part of me would always be with them in that car, with them wherever they went.
Harry came forward and took my hand.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
In a year full of twists and turns, I’m so grateful I didn’t have to make this journey alone. My thanks to the following people who inspired this book and made it a reality:
My beloved editor, Sarah Dotts Barley, who miraculously intuits what I want to accomplish and couldn’t be more fun, supportive, and smart along the way (and who doesn’t mind receiving emails with lots of exclamation points!).
Megan Lynch, for believing in this story, and the incredible, hardworking team at Flatiron Books.
My now longtime agent, Kerry Sparks, my intrepid partner, who made sure my career moved forward during a pandemic. Sylvie Rabineau, for championing this book and for all her efforts on my behalf.
Yaki Tsaig, Andre Beskrowni, Rick Redman, Diahan Southard, and Megan Frederick, for their expertise in areas where I needed guidance: mathematics, cybersecurity, life off the grid, and genetics. This book wouldn’t have come together without them.
My sweet friends who listened to me put this puzzle together: Vivian Raksakulthai, Mina Kumar, Meghal Mehta, Leigh Sebastian, and Elizabeth Burns Kramer.
Amanda Ward, Shellie Faught, and Shelby Boyer, for being early readers and giving insightful editorial guidance.
May Cobb, Peternelle van Arsdale, and Tara Goedjen: I couldn’t do this without author friends like you.
Joan Sanders, for sharing history of the Peninsula and especially Lindenwood, formerly the Flood estate. I’m so grateful for your and Mo’s friendship, and I can’t imagine my childhood without your family of five kids living over the fence.
The Wilson family, who was part of the early years and who gave me my copy of The Giving Tree.
My parents and my sister, Kjersti, as well as Sophy Hagey and Sandy Manley, for our years together in one of my favorite places on Earth.
My family: Jeff, Astrid, and Margot. The bulk of this book was written with everyone working in the same space, so I appreciate your patience and effort to make it work. Special thanks to both girls, who read multiple drafts of this book (maybe they were bored?) and gave me feedback and advice along the way. I think Margot knows Poppy as well as I do. I couldn’t have done it without you, Margie. I’m lucky to come from a family of solid editors and beautiful writers.
ALSO BY MARIT WEISENBERG
The Insomniacs
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
MARIT WEISENBERG has a master’s degree in cinema and media studies from UCLA and worked as a film and television executive for a number of years. She currently lives in Austin, Texas, with her husband and two daughters. She is also the author of The Insomniacs.
Visit her online at maritweisenberg.com, or sign up for email updates here.
Instagram: maritweisenberg
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Epigraph
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
