Meant to Be (13 page)

Dad surprised us earlier this week by announcing that he was taking some vacation time next week (which is also spring break for me). “And I've booked a cruise,” he announced, as if that should be the happiest news ever. “I found a great deal online, made a fairly low offer, and it was accepted. We're going!”

“You and mom?” I asked hopefully since I really wanted to stick around and do some things with Matthew next week. We'd already made some tentative plans.

“For all three of us,” he said cheerfully.

“Of course,” said Mom, “we couldn't leave you home alone, sweetheart.”

“Oh, but you could,” I began, then seeing the disappointment in her eyes, I instantly reneged. “What kind of cruise?” I said quickly, as if I was really
interested. It turns out it is a Caribbean cruise and something that Mom has always wanted to do. Of course, this is news to me. Still, I have no reason to doubt Dad.

“You could invite a friend, Kim. It doesn't cost much more for another person,” said Dad. “Wouldn't Natalie love to come along?”

Well, under normal circumstances, I'm sure that she would. But understandably, Dad's a little out of touch when it comes to me and my friends lately. Not that I have so many friends beyond Nat. And I doubt that they'd want me to invite Matthew, although I did consider this possibility for a few very brief seconds. “I think Nat's busy next week,” I finally said to Dad. But Mom seemed to see right through me as she put her hand on my shoulder in what I'm sure she thought was a comforting gesture.

“Well, it'll just be the three of us then,” said Dad. “But don't worry, Kim, we'll make a good time of it.”

Okay, I know this whole spur-of-the-moment vacation thing has to do with Mom's illness. I know that Dad is thinking our time with her is limited and that she's not going to get better. And I have to admit that she doesn't really seem to be improving much. I mean, she has good days and bad days…but she usually seems worse after visiting the doctor.

Still, she drinks her veggie drinks and green tea and several other strange-looking herbal remedies she picks up at the health food store on a weekly basis. So who
knows? And despite what Natalie thinks about my faith or lack of it, I am still praying for a miracle, and I don't even mind if it's an eleventh-hour miracle. I do believe that God can make
hei
well—in His timing.

Matthew was disappointed when he heard that I would be gone a whole week, but he was encouraging too. “Of course you gotta go, Kim. This is a once-in-a-lifetime deal. Just go and have fun and come back with a great tan.”

So Mom and I did a little vacation shopping on Thursday night, but she wore out early, and we decided we might just buy some “summer” clothes during our trip anyway. Then Matthew and I went out tonight, and now it's time to pack and finish up a couple letters to run in my column while we're gone.

Its funny how reassured I felt after answering that letter. Because despite my “mature” sounding response, I've been known to worry about my looks too. I've had lots of times when I wished I were taller, thinner, and less Asian. But I'm thankful I never tried to change anything.

My self-esteem has improved a lot by being with Matthew. For one thing, he totally loves that I'm Korean. He says I'm exotic and beautiful, and I think he really means it. He also likes that I'm petite, and he even picks me up and carries me around just to make the point, which is a mix between embarrassing and fun. Okay, I don't honestly see “exotic” and “beautiful” when I look in the mirror, but I do see myself in a more positive light.

That is, unless I'm trying on swimsuits like I did last night. That was pretty torturous. But if I squinted just right and imagined a little tan…well, it might be okay. Besides, who's going to be around to see me during the cruise anyway? Well, other than my parents and a bunch of old people. So why worry?

The cruise was actually pretty fun. To my surprise there were a number of teens cruising with their parents too, and I actually made a couple of friends to hang with. One girl, Audrey, was an adoptee from Korea, and we found we had quite a bit in common. We even exchanged e-mail addresses and plan to stay in touch. She's really been spending a lot of time searching for her birth mom lately I told her that I'd kind of “been there and done that” but that I still get curious sometimes.

I didn't mention to Audrey that my mom has cancer and that her precarious health might have something to do with my general lack of interest in finding my birth mom these days. Somehow I just didn't want to go there. I didn't want Audrey to feel sorry for me or uncomfortable about how to act. And selfishly, I suppose I just wanted to be carefree and have fun.

As usual, Dad and I tried to wear our sunny faces, pretending that all is well with our little family. But Mom was moving pretty slowly. And she spent a fair amount of time just resting on the deck in her favorite lounge
chair and a fat novel, which I have a feeling she didn't actually read. Whenever we questioned this or whether she wanted to go on shore and do something, she always replied that looking at the ocean and soaking up the sun with a good book was “perfectly heavenly.” Then she'd encourage us to go off and take some excursion. “Then you can tell me all about it during dinnertime.” And so we would.

I suspect that she spent some time napping while we were gone, but she was always dressed for dinner and wearing a smile by the time we got back. In fact, I actually started to think that everything was just fine and that she wasn't sick at all. But she seemed pretty worn out by the time we got off our last flight today. She slept all the way home from the airport. But she told us both that she'd had a fantastic time and that the cruise was all she'd hoped for and more. So I guess Dad was right to book it after all.

Just the same, I'm so glad to be home. If we hadn't gotten in so late, I probably would've done something with Matthew tonight. But we talked on the phone, and he assured me that he desperately missed me. So I guess all is well. I have to admit to some insecurities while I was away, imagining that he'd meet some wonderful girl who would steal his heart away during my week's absence. Just call me paranoid and insecure. Although all I have to do is read the Just Jamie mail to be reminded that things like that really do happen.

“I have some good news for you, Kim,” my dad told me when he came in the house today. Being a newspaper editor, its not unusual that he'd been at the office on a Saturday.

“What's that?” I asked without even looking up from the music sheet I was studying, trying to memorize a new piece for our upcoming spring concert.

“You've been syndicated.”

I looked up to see that he was still wearing his soaking wet raincoat. “What?”

“Your Just Jamie column has been syndicated.”

“You mean other newspapers are actually picking it up?”

He nodded with a smile as he removed his raincoat, gave it shake, then hung it on the hall tree. “It's really pouring out there.”

I frowned at him now. “Is this an April Fools’ Day joke, Dad?”

He laughed as he hung up his hat. “No, not at all. Isn't it great?”

“Seriously? I've really been syndicated?”

“It's only about a dozen other papers, and the deal is to test the column for a couple months to see how it goes.”

I jumped up and hugged him. “That's awesome, Dad! It's almost like being famous.” Then I stopped. “But of course, I can't tell anyone, can I?”

“Not really.”

“That's what I thought.”

“But if it keeps going and if other papers pick it up… ” Dad looked so pleased that I thought he was about to burst at the seams. “Well, it's as if you've already launched a little writing career, Kim.”

“That is so cool!”

“That also means you'll be making more money”

“Noway!”

He nodded. “But don't start making any expensive plans just yet. I suggest you put it into savings and see how it goes with the other papers.”

“Sure. I just wish I could tell someone the good news.” More than anything, I would've loved to call Matthew just then.

“Why don't you tell your mom?”

“I will, Dad. As soon as she gets up from her nap. We made some black bean soup in the Crock-Pot this
morning. I think it might be ready if you're hungry.”

“Sounds great.”

So I've been syndicated, I keep telling myself, feeling famous and happy and yet slightly frustrated that I can't tell anyone. Well, other than Mom. And I have to admit that it was pretty fun telling her.

“That is fantastic, Kim!” she told me after she heard the news this afternoon. “And I'm not a bit surprised. I've been very impressed with your answers, and I've even heard other people, mostly moms, who think Just Jamie is wonderful. It's all I can do to keep my mouth closed and not brag that it's written by my own daughter.”

“I know how you feel. I'd love to tell the world right now.”

She smiled. “Well, maybe that's what keeps it so genuine and helpful—the fact that you can write it anonymously. If everyone knew it was you, you might have a hard time being so honest and forthright in it.”

I'm sure that she's exactly right. I mean, I'm not sure how I'd answer the following letter if everyone in town knew that Kim Peterson was Just Jamie.