Always Dakota

“You’ll have to pay.”

Calla nodded. What a jerk. He collected an hour’s wages for driving her one block out of his way. If he charged her any more, she might as well take a taxi.

Jason wasn’t the talkative sort and they rode in silence. Calla had hoped to make friends before now, but it hadn’t happened. School had been in session nearly three months, and she didn’t have one friend. Not even one. Trying to get to class on time was difficult enough.

Her father was sprawled in front of the television when she let herself into the apartment. She brought the mail and the free neighborhood newspaper in with her.

“You bring me anything?” he asked, not moving his gaze from the television screen.

“Not tonight.”

That got his attention. “They throw away all the stuff that doesn’t get sold, so why the hell not bring me a taco burger?”

Calla wondered if it ever occurred to him that they might not have leftovers. “There weren’t any,” she said, tired and out of sorts. It’s after ten, she wanted to scream. Leave me alone!

“Damn! I was all set for a taco burger, too. I don’t suppose you could get me dinner?” He looked beseechingly toward her.

Like she was a magician and could pull a decent meal out of a top hat. “Get you dinner?” she repeated. “With what?”

He leaned back and dug into his pants pocket and tossed her his car keys. “With these.”

Calla left the keys on the floor where they’d fallen. She set down her books and sorted through the mail, although it was mostly dunning letters from bill collectors and a few advertising circulars. She paused when she saw the envelope with her mother’s familiar writing. This wasn’t the first letter she’d received, and her reaction was always the same—hope and excitement. Even though she didn’t want to feel anything for her mother.

Sarah Stern had lied to her, and Calla refused to forgive her—for that and a truckload of other faults. The biggest of which was marrying Dennis Urlacher.

“You going or not?” her father demanded.

Calla barely heard him. A wave of homesickness threatened to drown her. She missed Buffalo Valley, missed her friends and her old job at The Pizza Parlor and even her old school. Her mother had ruined everything by marrying Dennis. Calla’s entire life had been stolen from her and it was their fault.

“What’s that?” Willie asked.

“A letter from Mom.”

“She send me any money?”

Calla rolled her eyes. Willie insisted that if Sarah wasn’t paying him the child support he thought he was entitled to, then Calla had to pay rent. Therefore, Calla paid rent.

“Well, aren’t you going to open it?”

“Yes,” she said, and headed toward her bedroom. When she did read the letter, she had no intention of doing it in front of him.

Sitting on the side of her bed, Calla stared at the envelope. It was thick, as if it included something extra. Her curiosity got the better of her and she tore it open. Inside were an airline ticket and a letter. She unfolded the letter.

Dear Calla,

I haven’t been able to reach you by phone to ask about your plans for Thanksgiving. I’m hoping you can arrange to make it home for a few days. It would mean a great deal to me. I miss you, Calla. I realize I haven’t been the world’s best mother, and I’ve made plenty of mistakes, but I do love you.

On the chance you can get away, I’ve enclosed an airline ticket. The flight leaves Minneapolis Wednesday afternoon and returns on Sunday morning. Dennis and I would pick you up at the airport in Grand Forks. If you’re uncomfortable staying with Dennis and me, then your grandfather wanted you to know you could have your old room at his house.

Everything’s going well here in Buffalo Valley. Dennis and I bought the old Habberstad house. The two of us rattle around in it, but we both enjoy decorating it. With five bedrooms you could have your pick if you decided you wanted to move back home.

You haven’t answered my letters or taken any of my calls. I know you’re angry with me, Calla, and I’m sorry. It’s time we settled all this. Don’t you think so, too?

Love,

Mom

“What did she have to say?” Willie asked, standing in her bedroom doorway.

“Nothing,” Calla muttered, stuffing the letter inside her backpack.

“What’s that?” he asked, pointing to the airline ticket she’d set beside her on the bed.

“A ticket.”

He laughed. “Home for Thanksgiving, right?”

Calla didn’t answer.

“Home sweet home with Mommy and her new husband. You’re not going, are you?”

“I haven’t decided.”

He glared at her. “I was hoping you and I could spend the day together.”

Calla recognized that for the bribe it was.

“It’ll be the first Thanksgiving we’ve had in eleven years. You aren’t walking out on me now, are you, kid?”

“I said I hadn’t made up my mind yet.”

He leaned against the doorjamb, arms crossed. “Did she tell you she’s pregnant?”

Calla’s gaze flew to her father. He was baiting her and she refused to bite. It would be just like Willie to make this up, but at the same time Calla knew that Dennis wanted a family. She supposed her mother could be pregnant. Still, she wasn’t sure she could trust Willie.

“She told me so herself,” he muttered.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Ask her, then. She was saving it as a big secret, but she spilled the beans last time she called.”

Calla frowned uncertainly. Her father had a habit of lying, of saying exactly what she wanted to hear. Or didn’t want to hear, depending on the reaction he was after.

“I’ll tell you what,” Willie said, sounding bored with the subject. “You do what you want for Thanksgiving. Stay or go, it’s up to you. But as for your mother having a baby, ask yourself what you think is true.” With that, he left.

Calla stared down at the airline ticket. Then, with a deep sigh, jumped to her feet and threw it onto the rickety dresser beside the bed.

Her mother had made her choice, and she’d picked Dennis Urlacher over her.