SUMMER INTERNSHIP POSITIONS/DEPARTMENT 26 page

"You can't imagine how you've helped us," Mr. McAdams said. "We just wanted to say thank you."

Tully was so moved by their words it took her a moment to respond. "That's what I wanted to do with the live show: change someone's life. It means a lot to me that it worked."

Her phone rang.

"Excuse me." She answered it. "What is it?"

"John is on line one, Tully."

"Thanks. Put him through." When he came on the line, she said, "Too lazy to walk fifty feet to my office? You must be getting old, Johnny."

"I need to talk to you, and not over the phone. Can I buy you a beer?"

"Where and when?"

"Virginia Inn?"

She laughed. "God, I haven't been there in years."

"Liar. Come to my office at three-thirty."

She hung up the phone and turned her attention back to the McAdamses, who were standing now.

"Well," Mr. McAdams said, "we've said what we came to. I hope you can help other folks like you've done for us."

She went to them, shook their hands. "Thank you. If you don't mind, can I schedule a follow-up show for next year? To show America your progress."

"Sure."

She walked them to the door, said goodbye, and went back to her desk. For the next few hours, while she made notes for tomorrow's show, she found herself smiling.

She'd done some good with her show. She'd changed the McAdamses' lives.

At three-thirty, she closed up the folder, grabbed her coat, and went to Johnny's office. Together, talking about ideas for the upcoming shows, they walked up the block toward the Public Market and turned into the dank, smoky bar on the corner.

He led her to the back wall, took a seat at one of the small wooden tables by the window. Before she even sat down, he flagged down a waitress, ordered a Corona for himself and a dirty martini for her. She waited until the drinks were delivered before she said, "Okay, what's wrong?"

"Have you talked to Kate lately?"

"No. I think she's pissed at me over the concert. Or maybe it's still the modeling thing. Why?"

He ran a hand through his unruly hair. "I can't believe I'm going to say this about my own daughter, but Marah's being a first-rate bitch. Slamming doors, yelling at her brothers, ignoring her curfew, refusing to do her chores. She and Kate battle all day, every day. It's wearing Kate out. She's lost weight. Isn't sleeping."

"Have you thought about boarding school?"

"Kate would never go." He smiled tiredly at his own joke. "Honest to God, Tully. I'm worried about her. Will you talk to her?"

"Of course, but it sounds like she needs more than a friendly talk. Should she see someone?"

"Like a shrink? I don't know."

"Depression is common in at-home moms. Remember that show we did on it?"

"That's what worries me. I need you to find out if it's something I should worry about or not. You know her so well."

Tully reached for her drink. "You can count on me."

He smiled, but it looked tired. "I know that."

On Saturday, Tully called Johnny first thing in the morning. "I've got it," she said when he answered.

"What are you going to do?"

"Take her to the Salish Lodge. Get her relaxed and massaged. That sort of thing. And we'll talk."

"She'll tell you she's busy and blow you off."

"Then I'll kidnap her."

"You think you can make it work?"

"Have you ever seen me fail?"

"Okay. I'll pack a bag and leave it by the door, then I'll take the kids out so she'll have no excuses." He paused. "Thanks, Tully. She's lucky to have a friend like you."

Tully ended that call and immediately made another one, and then another.

By nine A.M., she had everything set up. Packing quickly, she threw what she needed in her car and drove to a store on Capitol Hill for a few supplies, then continued to the ferry. The wait on shore and then the crossing seemed to take forever, but eventually she drove into Kate's driveway.

The front yard had a wild, untended look about it, as if long ago a young mother had spent her spring months outside, planting bulbs and perennials, with her babies in blankets on the grass around her, and over the years, as those kids had grown up and chosen their own summer pursuits, the time for gardening had been lost. All those plants still thrived in the short, hot blast of a Northwest summer, though, returning year after year as reminders of an earlier time, growing up and out and into one another, just like the family that lived in the house. Now, in the midst of a cold, gray November's day, every plant looked leggy and brown. Leaves lay strewn everywhere, multicolored splashes hung on dying roses.

Tully parked her Mercedes in front of the garage and got out. As she picked her way through the bikes and skateboards and action figures strewn across the gravel path, she couldn't help admiring how homey this place was, even at this time of year. The shingled house, built in the twenties for a wealthy lumber baron's weekends, wore a new, crisp coat of caramel-hued stain; bright glossy white trim outlined the mullioned windows, beneath which were flower boxes filled with the last blooming geraniums of the season.

On the front porch, she squeezed past a freestanding clown/punching bag and knocked on the door.

Kate answered, wearing a pair of worn black leggings and an oversized T-shirt. With her blond hair badly in need of both a cut and a color, she looked ragged. Worn out. "Oh," she said, tucking the hair behind her right ear. "What a nice surprise."

"I'm going to ask you once, nicely, to come with me."

"What do you mean, come with you? I'm right in the middle of something. The boys' Little League team is having a quilting fundraiser. As soon as I finish—"

Tully pulled a bright yellow squirt gun out of her pocket and pointed it at Kate. "Don't make me shoot you."

"You're going to shoot me?"

"I am."

"Look, I know how much you love drama, but I don't have time for it today. I've got to quilt about fifty bits of fabric before—"

Tully pulled the trigger. A stream of cold water snaked through the air and hit Kate full in the chest. Moisture seeped through her cotton T-shirt, leaving a stain.

"What the—"

"This is a kidnapping. Don't make me aim for your face, although you appear to need a shower, frankly."

"Are you trying to piss me off?"

She handed Kate a black blindfold. "I had to go into that creepy sex toys store on Capitol Hill for that, so I hope you appreciate it."

Kate looked utterly confused, as if she didn't quite know if she should laugh or be pissed. "I can't just leave. Johnny and the kids will be back in an hour, and I need to—"

"No, they won't." Tully looked past her, into the cluttered living room. "There's your suitcase."

Kate spun around. "How—"

"Johnny packed it this morning. He's my accomplice. Or my alibi, if you give me trouble. Now get your suitcase."

"You expect me to go somewhere with only the things my husband thinks I need? I'll open that suitcase and find sexy lingerie, a toothbrush, and clothes I outgrew two years ago."

Tully shook the blindfold. "Put it on or I'm going to shoot you again." She started to squeeze the trigger.

Finally Kate threw up her hands. "Fine. You win." She put on the blindfold, saying, "You know, of course, that intelligent criminals blindfold their victims before the crime. I think it has something to do with thwarting identification."

Tully bit back a smile and went into the living room, where she grabbed the suitcase and then gently guided Kate to the car.

"It's not every kidnap victim that gets to ride in a Mercedes."

Tully popped a CD into the stereo. Within minutes they were rocketing across the Agate Pass Bridge, and winding their way through the reservation land, where the local tribes' boarded-up fireworks stands lined the highway.

"Where are we going?" Kate asked.

"That's my business, not yours." Tully turned up the volume on Madonna singing "Papa Don't Preach." In no time at all they were singing along. They knew the words to one song after another, and every song took them back in time to when they were young. Madonna. Chicago. The Boss. The Eagles. Prince. Queen. "Bohemian Rhapsody" was their particular favorite sing-along. They tossed their heads in time with the music in a perfect imitation of Garth and Wayne.

It was just past two o'clock when Tully pulled into the driveway of their destination. "We're here. The doorman is looking at you funny so you might want to remove the blindfold."

Kate whipped it off just as the doorman welcomed her to the Salish Lodge and opened her door. As if from everywhere at once, they could hear the distant roaring of Snoqualmie Falls, but from here they couldn't actually see it. The ground vibrated with the force of the falling water. The air was heavy and moist.

Tully led the way to the front desk, checked in, and followed the bellman to their room, which was a corner suite with two bedrooms, a fireplace in the sitting room, and view of the rushing, whitecapped Snoqualmie River as it moved toward the falls.

The bellman gave her their spa schedule; she gave him a healthy tip, and then she and Kate were alone.

"First things first," Tully said. She'd been on television long enough to know when a script was needed. She'd devised a format and schedule for the entire duration of their stay. She opened her suitcase, pulled out two limes, a shaker of salt, and the most ridiculously overpriced tequila she'd ever seen. "Straight shots."

"You are insane," Kate said. "I haven't had a straight shot since—"

"Don't make me shoot you. I'm running out of water."

Kate laughed. "Okay. Pour up, bartender."

"One more," Tully said right away.

Kate shrugged and drank up.

"Okay. Bathing suits. Put yours on. There's a robe in your bedroom."

As usual, Kate did as she was told.

"Where are we going?" she asked as they walked down the glossy slate floor of the lodge's main floor.

"You'll see."

They came to the spa and followed the signs to the hot tub.

In a back corner, they came to a beautiful steaming pool surrounded by Northwest and Asian styled accents. The air smelled of lavender and roses. Lush green plants in ceramic and bronze pots made it almost feel as if you were outdoors.

They climbed down into the hot, bubbling water.

Kate immediately sighed and leaned back. "This is Heaven."

Tully stared at her best friend, seeing now, amid the softening curtain of steam, how tired she looked. "You look terrible," she said gently.

Kate opened her eyes slowly. Tully could see anger flash across her face, but as quickly as it flared, it died. "It's Marah. Sometimes when she looks at me, I actually see hate in her eyes. I can't tell you how much that hurts."

"She'll grow out of it."

"That's what everyone says, but I don't believe it. If there was just some way I could force her to talk to me, and to listen. We tried counseling, but she refused to participate."

"You can't make a kid open up. Only peer pressure can get them to do anything, right?"

"Oh, they'll open up. You just can't believe anything they say. According to Marah, I'm the only mother in the world who's so grossly overprotective."

Tully saw the deep unhappiness in her friend's eyes and although she tried to believe it was just ordinary motherhood stress, suddenly she was afraid. No wonder Johnny was so worried. Last year Tully had interviewed a young mother who was overwhelmed and depressed. A few months after the interview the woman had swallowed a bottle of pills. The very thought of that terrified her. She had to find a way to help Kate. "Maybe you should see someone."

"You mean a shrink?"

Tully nodded.

"I don't need to talk about my problems. I need to be more organized, that's all."

"Organization is hardly your problem. You don't have to go on every field trip or make costumes for every kid's play or cookies for every bake sale. And they can ride the damn bus to school."

"You sound like Johnny. I suppose now you're going to tell me that everything would be better if I did all this and wrote a book, too. Well, I tried. I've been trying." Kate's voice broke. Tears welled in her eyes. "Where's the tequila?"

"Excellent idea. We haven't been totally toasted in years."

"Like, fer sure." Kate laughed.

"We have massages in thirty minutes, though, so we'll have to wait a while."

"Massages." Kate looked at her. "Thanks, Tully. I needed this."

It wasn't enough by a long shot. Tully could see that now. Katie needed real help, not a few shots of tequila and a mud wrap, and she needed her best friend to find the answer. "If you could change one thing in your life, what would it be?"

"Marah," she said softly. "I'd get her to talk to me again."

Like magic, Tully knew what to do. "Why don't you come on my show? You and Marah. We'll do a mother-daughter segment. Live would be best so she knows there's no editing. She'll see how much you love her and how lucky she is."

Hope took ten years off Kate's face. "You think it would work?"

"You know how badly Marah wants to be on TV. She'd never let herself look bad in front of the camera. She'd have to listen to you then."

That tired desperation finally left Kate's eyes. In its stead was a bright anticipation. "What would I do without you, Tully?"

Tully's smile felt too big for her face. She could help her friend through all this, maybe even save her life. Just like they promised all those years ago. "We'll never have to find out."

"Will your makeup people hide my wrinkles?"

Tully laughed. "Believe me, when they get done, you'll look younger than Marah."

"Perfect."

Kate returned from the spa with a new attitude. The moment she walked into the house, Marah started in on her, complaining about some event she couldn't attend because of her curfew, but for once the words were arrows that found no target and clattered uselessly to the ground. Soon, Kate thought, smiling to herself, soon we'll find a way back to each other.

She put her clothes away, took a nice long bath, then gathered her boys into her arms for a story. They were just falling asleep when Johnny poked his head in.

"Shh," she said, closing the book. Kissing each little forehead, she tucked the boys into bed, then went to her husband.

"Did you guys have a good time?" Johnny said, pulling her into his arms.

"Great. Tully has a plan—"

Downstairs, the doorbell rang. Marah's voice followed: "I'll get it!"

Johnny and Kate frowned at each other. "It's Sunday night," Kate said. "She's not allowed to have kids over on a school night."

But when they got downstairs, they saw Mom and Dad in the living room, carrying suitcases.

"Mom?" Kate said. "What's going on?"

"Tully sent us over to watch the kids for a week. The car outside is going to take you two to the airport. Tully said to pack bathing suits and sunscreen. That's all you get to know."

"I can't leave work," Johnny said. "We've got Senator McCain on."

"Tully's your boss, isn't she?" Dad said. "I guess if she says you're taking a vacation, you're taking a vacation."

Kate and Johnny looked at each other. They'd never taken a vacation away from the kids.

"It might be nice," he said, smiling.

For the next hour, they ran through the house, packing, making lists, gathering telephone numbers. Then they kissed the kids—even Marah—thanked Mom and Dad, and went out to the waiting limousine.

"She doesn't do anything halfway," Johnny said, sliding into the plush, dark interior.

Kate snuggled beside him. "I feel more relaxed already and we're still in our driveway."

The car engine started, purred.

"Do you know where we're going?" Johnny asked the driver.

"The tickets are in the pocket across from you, sir."

Johnny reached for the envelope, opened it. "Kauai," he said.

It was where they'd gone on their honeymoon. Kate closed her eyes, picturing the swaying palm trees and pinkish sand of Anini Beach.

"No fair going to sleep," Johnny said.

"I'm not sleeping." She twisted around, draped herself across his lap. "Thanks for helping Tully to kidnap me."

"I've been worried about you."

"I've been worried about me, too. But I feel better now."

"How much better?"

She glanced at the open window that separated them from the driver. "Close the window and I'll show you."

"Are we talking sex?"

"We're talking sex," she said, unbuttoning his shirt. "But if you'd hit the damn button, we'd be doing more than talking."

He smiled slowly. "Oh, I'll hit it."

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Kate and Johnny returned home, rested and refreshed, on the night before the big broadcast. The next morning, Kate woke up at five o'clock to go to the bathroom and found it impossible to go back to sleep.

The house was quiet and dark. She didn't bother turning on lights as she went from room to room, picking up toys and putting them away. She still couldn't quite believe today was going to happen. She'd waited so long, and prayed so hard, for a change in her relationship with Marah that she'd almost given up hope. Tully, and this program, had given it back to her. Even Johnny seemed optimistic. He'd done as Tully asked—or demanded, actually—and relinquished control over the segment. For this one broadcast, he was going to be simply an audience member, a father supporting his family.

In the bathroom, after she'd taken a shower and gotten dressed, Kate stared at herself in the mirror, trying not to notice the lines that had begun to collect in the corners of her eyes as she practiced what she would say. "That's right, Tully. I've given up my career to be an at-home mom. Frankly, I think it would have been easier to work."

The audience would laugh at that.

"I still want to be a writer someday, but it's so hard to balance work and motherhood. And Marah needs me more now than she did as a toddler. Everyone talks about the terrible twos, but in my house, it's the terrible teens. I miss the days when I could put her in a playpen and know that she was safe."

A murmur of agreement would certainly follow that remark.

She went downstairs, made breakfast for everyone, and set it out on the table. The boys were down the stairs in record time, clambering over each other in their quest for the perfect chair.

When Marah came downstairs, clearly excited for the taping, Kate couldn't contain her excitement.

This was going to work. She knew it.

"Stop grinning, Mom. You're creeping me out," Marah said, pouring milk into her oatmeal bowl and carrying it to the table.

"Leave your mom alone," Johnny said, walking past her. He paused behind Kate, squeezed her shoulders, and kissed the back of her neck. "You look gorgeous."

She turned and put her arms around him, gazing into his eyes. "I'm glad you're going to be my husband today and not her producer. I need you in the audience."

"Don't thank me. Tully pushed me completely on the outside. No one on-set is allowed to tell me anything or show me a script. Tully wants me to be surprised."

From that moment on, the day flew forward like the Millennium Falcon in hyperspace. It wasn't until they were on the ferry, crossing the bay, that she started to get nervous.

The audience would laugh at her, say she should have done more with her life, been more.

She'd look fat.

She was so caught up in her negative fantasies that when they parked she couldn't get out of the car. "I'm scared," she said to Johnny.

Marah rolled her eyes and walked away.

Johnny took her arm, unhooked her seat belt, and eased her out of the car.

"You'll be great," he said, leading her into the elevator. In the studio, there were people everywhere, running to and fro, yelling at one another. Johnny leaned close. "It's just like your old days in news, remember?"

"Kate!"

She heard her name ring through the busy hallway and looked up. Tully, looking thin and gorgeous, was coming at her with open arms.

Tully pulled her into a fierce embrace, and Kate finally felt herself relaxing. This wasn't just a TV show; it was Tully's show. Her best friend would make sure Kate did well.

"I'm a little nervous," Kate confided.

"A little?" Marah said. "She's been acting like Rain Man."

Tully laughed at that and looped her arm through Kate's. "There's nothing to worry about. You're going to be great. Everyone is excited to have you and Marah on the show." She led them to the makeup room and left them there.

"This is exciting," Kate said, sitting in front of the giant mirror. The makeup artist—a woman named Dora—immediately went to work on Kate's face.

Marah sat in the chair beside her. Another makeup artist went to work on her.

Kate stared into the mirror. In no time, a stranger emerged beside her: the woman Marah would someday become. In her daughter's made-up face, she saw the future, recognized a truth that had until now been hidden from her beneath the pretty gauze of childhood. Soon Marah would be dating, and then driving, and then going off to college.

"I love you, Munchkin," she said, purposely using the nickname that had gone out of fashion with Winnie-the-Pooh lunch boxes and Tickle Me Elmo. "Remember when we used to dance to those old Linda Ronstadt songs?"

Marah looked at her. For a second—just that—they were Mommy and Munchkin again, and though it didn't last, couldn't last in the hurricane of the teen years, it filled Kate with hope that after today they'd come together again, be as inseparable as they'd once been.

Marah looked poised to say something, then she smiled instead. "I remember."

Kate wanted to hug her daughter, but that would never have the desired effect. Physical contact, she had learned, was the surest way to put distance between them.

"Kathleen and Marah Ryan?"

She twisted around in her chair, saw a young, pretty woman with a clipboard standing behind her. "We're ready for you."

Kate reached out for Marah, who was excited enough to take her hand. They followed the woman up to the greenroom, where they were put to wait.

"There's water in that fridge, and feel free to eat anything in that basket," the woman said. Then she handed Kate a lapel microphone and the corresponding pack that attached to her waistband. "Tallulah said you'd know how to work this?"

"It's been a while, but I think I can still manage. I'll show Marah. Thanks."

"Great. I'll come and get you when it's time. As you know, we're live today, but don't let that worry you. Just be yourself."

And then she was gone.

This was really happening. It meant so much to her, this chance to reconnect with her daughter.

An instant later there was a knock on the door.

"We're ready for you, Kathleen," the woman said. "Marah, stay here. We'll come for you in a minute."

Kate headed for the door.

"Mom!" Marah said sharply, as if she'd just remembered something important. "I need to tell you something."

Kate looked back, smiling. "Don't worry, honey. We'll be great." Then she followed the woman down the busy corridor. Through the walls she could hear applause, even a smattering of laughter.

At the edge of the stage, the woman paused. "When you hear your name, you'll walk out."

Breathe.

Suck in your stomach. Stand up straight.

She heard Tully say, "And now I'd like you all to meet my good friend Kathleen Ryan . . ."

Kate stumbled around the corner and found herself standing beneath the bright glare of the stage lights. It was so disorienting that it took her a second to process her surroundings.

There was Tully, standing center stage, smiling at her.

Behind her was Dr. Tillman, the psychiatrist who specialized in family counseling.

Tully swept over to her side, took her arm. Beneath the swell of applause, she said, "We're live, Katie, so just roll with it."

Kate glanced over at the screen behind them. There was a huge image of two women shouting at each other. Then she looked at the audience.

Johnny and her parents were in the front row.

Tully faced them. "Today we're talking about overprotective mothers and the teenage daughters who hate them. Our goal is to get a dialogue going, to break up the logjam of communication that comes with adolescence and get these two talking again."

Kate actually felt the blood drain from her face. "What?"

Behind her, Dr. Tillman moved from his place in the shadows to a chair onstage. "Some mothers, especially the controlling, domineering type, actually damage their children's fragile psyches without ever really seeing what they're doing. Children can be like flowers, trying to blossom in too small a space. They need to break out, make their own mistakes. We don't help them by wrapping them in rules and rigid expectations and pretending that we can keep them safe."

The full impact of what was happening hit Kate.

They were calling her a bad mother, on national television, with her family right here.

She wrenched her arm away from Tully. "What are you doing?"

"You need help," Tully said, sounding reasonable and just a little sad. "You and Marah both do. I'm scared for you. So is your husband. He begged me to help. Marah wants to confront you about it, but she's afraid."

Marah walked onstage, smiling brightly at the audience.

Kate felt the start of tears, and the vulnerability fueled her anger. "I can't believe you'd do this to me."

Dr. Tillman came forward. "Come on, Kathleen, Tully is being your friend here. You're crushing your daughter's tender spirit. Tully just wants you to address your parenting style—"

"She's going to help me be a better mother?" She turned to Tully. "You?" Then she looked at the audience. "You're taking advice from a woman who doesn't know the first thing about love or family or the hard choices women have to make. The only person Tully Hart ever loved is herself."

"Katie," Tully said in a low, warning voice. "We're live."

"That's all you care about, isn't it? Your ratings. Well, I hope they keep you warm when you're old, because you won't have anything or anyone else. What the hell do you know about motherhood or love?" Kate stared at her, feeling sick enough that she thought she might throw up. "Your own mother didn't love you. And you'd sell your soul for fame. Hell, you just did." She turned back to the audience. "There's your icon, folks. A woman so fucking warm and caring that she's probably never told a single human being she loved them."

Kate wrenched off her microphone and power pack and threw them on the floor. As she stormed offstage, she snagged Marah's arm and pulled her along.

Backstage, Johnny rushed at her, took her in his arms, and held her tightly, but even his body heat couldn't reach her. Her parents and the boys ran up behind him, creating a circle around Kate and her daughter. "I'm sorry, honey," he said. "I didn't know . . ."

Date: 2015-12-17; view: 670