Journey, The (30 page)

She had insisted on taking her car to the cabin because she had wanted the freedom to come and go as she pleased. She had left her car
at
the cabin because she hadn't had a choice. She had run out of gas just as she had arrived. But that was a situation the family would remedy in a couple of hours when they returned to the tiny house to prepare it for summer.

Shelly rolled to her side and took a look at the alarm clock. Eight thirty. It was probably time to wake her hard-sleeping parents or at least take a shower. She didn't really like the shower in their room. The water was too cold and the faucet leaked. But any shower beat smelling like a stinky dog all day.

She got out of her bed, adjusted her nightshirt, and walked to a counter that stood outside of the bathroom. She filled a plastic cup with water and drank half the contents before grabbing her toothbrush and commencing a hunt for some paste. When she found it, she went back to the glass and froze. The water sloshed back and forth as if she had dropped a goldfish in the cup. Shelly raced to the room's lone window and threw open the curtains, allowing bright daylight to spill into what had been a fairly dark space. She stared out the window as if in a trance.

"Shelly, what's wrong?" Fred Preston asked as he sat up in his bed.

Shelly turned to face her father.

"We're not going to the cabin today."

CHAPTER 57: MICHELLE

Sunday, May 18, 1980

In the last minute of her life, Michelle Preston Richardson Land noticed and appreciated the beauty around her. She took in butterflies and flowers, a chipmunk on a log, majestic hemlocks and firs, and a deer that had stopped to look at her from a few feet away. They were all amazing creations and she wanted to savor them one last time.

For that reason, she did not make a mad dash toward the top of the ridge. She knew that she would never make it and did not want her final moments to be filled with fear and panic but rather by beautiful sights and meaningful memories.

As a wall of sulfur dioxide, rock, and ash raced toward her at nearly 700 miles per hour, Michelle sat on a log and took stock of her life. She thought of her rocky relationship with her mother, her mostly idyllic childhood, her joyless marriage to Scott Richardson, and her unbelievable second ride through 1979 and 1980.

She had long wondered how her life would have turned out had she not entered the Pennington mansion on August 13, 2010. Would she have remarried? Would she have written books and followed new dreams? Would she have found happiness? She wanted to answer yes to all of these questions but wondered if that was nothing more than wishful thinking. Starting her second life poor, alone, and hopeless had forced her to adapt and seek fulfillment in ways that might have seemed impossible to Michelle Richardson.

The happiness was tinged by regret, of course. Michelle thought of Shelly Preston and their broken date. She had no doubt that her young friend and younger self was alive and well in some mundane location and would soon get on with the life she had been meant to lead. She felt sad that she would not be able to be near her side when she graduated from college, published her first book, married, and had children. But she knew that she had given her the tools and inspiration she needed to make the critical leap to adulthood.

Michelle thought also of the influence she'd had on two others and was proud that she had nudged both in better directions. April Burke would live to sing another day. She would find a man who truly appreciated her amazing virtues and do this, that, and the other things to the delight of those around her. Brian Johnson too was also a good bet for a happy life. He knew now that he had nothing to prove and a lot to give. He knew that he was fine as is and would eventually meet someone who shared that opinion.

Then there was Robert. How could she do justice to him in mere seconds? He had taught her that true love was not only possible but worth fighting for. He had accepted her as a total stranger in September and again as an evasive liar in March. He did so because he saw that she was worth the effort and worth the time, even if their time was now drawing to a close.

Michelle thought of other things as well, such as the children she would never hold and the lives she could no longer touch. She wondered if she would have been a good mother but quickly dismissed the question. She knew the answer, just as she now knew the answers to so many other questions. She had lived a good life – two of them – and knew that she would be fondly remembered for who she was, if not what she did.

She closed by making a pact with God. If He gave her the chance, she would do more. No matter what her form or what her mission, she would serve others as often and as freely as she possibly could. She looked forward to her next assignment.

Michelle tried hard to hold onto these comforting thoughts and keep harsh reality at bay. She tried to focus on the positive and block out the rest. But she knew she would not be human if she did not at least recognize the sadness of the moment and the horror to come.

She felt the inevitable wave of fear as she looked to the south and saw the blast rip through the valleys below and destroy everything in its path. She did not want to go this way. She did not want to die. There was nothing pleasant about death by incineration.

But there was a lot to be said about honor and bravery. So as her last act Michelle put on the bravest face she could find and did what she so often had not. She stared down her fears. She turned to face the plume, looked death in the eyes, and met her end like a warrior.

CHAPTER 58: SHELLY

Unionville, Oregon – Thursday, May 29, 1980

Shelly stared at the closed casket and pondered what-ifs. She had done so often since a search team had pulled Michelle, still wearing a bright green UHS jacket, from near the top of Barton Ridge. What if she had called her friend from Castle Rock? What if she had left a more informative note? What if she had honored their date and had simply stayed
home
? Whatever the answers, one thing was clear: Guilt would be a constant companion for the rest of her life.

Standing in the front pew with her parents, Scott Richardson, the Burkes, and the Johnsons, Shelly turned toward the entrance of the sanctuary and watched three hundred people fill St. Mark's. She had never seen this many in the building, not even at Christmas, but then she had never seen a person quite like Michelle Land.

They had suspected the worst on May 18, when Michelle had not returned, and had their fears confirmed four days later, when state police had found Robert's Jeep. Evelyn Preston had told her daughter the terrible news shortly after she had returned from her last day of school.

Shelly had not had the opportunity to speak to Robert Land. He had not returned to his classroom since the eruption and had not attended Unionville High School's commencement. He had instead secluded himself in his home, where he grieved with his brother and his daughters and, according to Karen Land, wrestled with what ifs of his own. All four Lands sat together in a small pew to the side of the pulpit.

There were questions, of course, questions that even Michelle's closest friends and admirers had begun to ask. How had she known that a major eruption was imminent? Why had she not made more calls to the police? Where were her relatives? Did she
have
relatives? Shelly had grown weary of hearing them but admitted that she had questions of her own. Michelle Land may have seemed like an open book but, when it came to her past, she was an enigma to the end.

Pastor Heinrich Schmidt opened the service at two with prayers, music, and words that he had probably uttered dozens of times but which today took on new meaning. "She came to us as a stranger," he said, "and left us as a friend." When he finished, he invited students, colleagues, and members of the community to step forward and offer their memories of the deceased.

Shelly approached the pulpit first. For days she had doubted whether she could pull it off. She cried at the sight of Bambi and babies. How could she possibly hold it together for this? She struggled as well with what to say. How did someone properly eulogize a woman who had changed her life? With sensitivity, she thought, and honesty and humor.

She recounted the time Michelle had "fixed her ticket" and the lessons she had learned in her impromptu classrooms. She also told the assembled how Michelle had provided critical guidance in difficult times and how she had been her tireless cheerleader, in school and in life. Shelly remembered Michelle as the truest of friends, a good listener, and a person she could count on when her parents and peers would not do.

Erin McLaughlin, a troubled sophomore from a broken home, described a caring adult who had persuaded her to stay in school when dropping out had seemed far more appealing. She said she would honor Michelle's "unforgettable kindness" by graduating and going to college.

Brian Johnson held nothing back. He shared a story about a woman who had talked him out of ending his life during a low point of his senior year. The revelation brought the mourners to tears and Shelly Preston to her knees. She had never heard the story and could not handle all that it represented. Caught up in the drama of her own life, she had not seen Brian's pain. She had failed her oldest friend even as Michelle, a newcomer, had saved him.

April Burke recalled a neighbor who baked the best cookies in town and a friend who had pushed her in positive directions, while three others praised Michelle's efforts as a tutor, a mentor, and a volunteer in numerous school and community activities. Marsha Zimmerman said Michelle was flat out the best friend she had ever had.

Tony Bronson spoke last. He admitted that he had never cared for Michelle and felt nothing but hostility toward her when she had confronted him at the bowling alley. But he paid her the highest compliment of all when he said that her actions had prompted him to reevaluate his priorities and start attending the weekly meetings of Alcoholics Anonymous.

Shelly clung to her father and then to Scott as the eulogies hit her like violent waves. What a fool she had been to believe she could make it through the service as if it were some sort of clinical exercise. Michelle Land had been more than a friend and a surrogate parent; she had been a part of Shelly in a way that still defied explanation. She was like a twin sister from another generation, a soul mate, a kindred spirit who was now lost to her for all time.

Then Shelly looked at Robert Land and finally pulled herself together. Her grief was nothing compared to his. She could not imagine his pain. She could not fathom losing a spouse for the second time in two years and losing her barely two months into a marriage that offered so much happiness and promise. Shelly hoped and prayed that her math teacher and mentor would somehow find the peace and tranquility that he so richly deserved.

April closed the service with "Amazing Grace." Though Shelly could not remember her singing more sweetly, her performance was almost anticlimactic. Mourners had already taken their emotional hits. All that was left were the memories.

CHAPTER 59: SHELLY

Thursday, May 29, 1980

Only eighteen days had passed since Shelly had last entered the home on Crestview Lane, but it seemed like eighteen years. Quiet, respectful mourners had replaced a cheerful host and tears and regret had supplanted hope and promise. Finger sandwiches, not cinnamon swirl coffee cake, awaited those who still had an appetite.

Shelly greeted Robert for the first time since May 11. He smiled sadly and gave her a hug but could not manage more than a few words. Shelly knew her math teacher well enough to know that this was killing him. Robert Land was an intensely personal man. She knew that he would rather do anything than speak with others about an intensely personal loss.

Ditching April, Brian, and her parents, Shelly walked out of the stuffy house into the backyard and the garden that Linda Land had created and Michelle had nurtured. She saw tomatoes, peppers, and onions that Michelle had planted but would never harvest and recent blooms that she would never enjoy. What a waste, she thought. What a waste.

Shelly glanced back at the house and saw mourners walk onto the deck. She saw April summon her with a hand but waved her off. She needed this time alone, not only to remember a close friend but also to think about her own life and where it was headed.

She had learned much since May 18 and the new knowledge had given her much to ponder. The grants and scholarships she had counted on to pay her way to Yale had not come. She would either have to take out loans for twenty thousand dollars or remain in state. Even Oregon was no sure thing. She would not receive her financial aid package for another two weeks.

Then there was Scott. He had not relented since the prom, asking her out as often as he could without putting her in a foul mood. He had remained respectfully silent since Michelle had passed, but his interest in reconciliation had not changed. What had changed was
her
position. While Shelly still saw Scott as selfish and callous, she also began to see him as her rock. He had been right about Nick. He had been right about them. They were good together when he was at his best, and he had been at his very best since she had not so humbly kicked him out of her life in February. Their future was still up in the air.

Shelly snapped off a lilac and brought it to her nose. She loved the smell of flowers. She loved the look of them. They were powerful symbols of beauty and renewal, a reminder that life goes on. She was about to investigate the tulips when she saw Karen Land approach.

"I thought I'd find you here," Karen said. "I wanted to talk to you after the funeral, but I guess you took off early."

"I did. I went back home to change my clothes and fix my face," Shelly said. "I thought I could make it through the service without blubbering, but I couldn't. I so wanted to be strong for others, particularly your dad."