37,000 ~ 40,300

Sam had never been to Northfield. She knew of it; the college town sat just an hour south of the Twin Cities, but it wasn’t a place she’d ever thought of visiting. Until now. Sam stayed the night at a motel just off the highway outside of Cedar Rapids, Iowa. She couldn’t find one that allowed pets so she had to sneak Kate in and out. To avoid too many sidelong glances, she’d gotten up before daylight and hit the road. The three hour drive had gone smoothly and Sam found herself in a strange town with hours to kill before her surprise meeting with Jordan Miller.

It never hurt to do recon so Sam headed to the St. Olivers campus to look around. Even at 10:00 in the morning, parking was easy to find. It was a beautiful campus with lots of trees and green-space between the old buildings. To Sam, it looked a lot like her alma mater, Occidental College, though the surrounding area was a lot nicer than Eagle Rock, California had been. Several students sat studying on benches and at bistro tables set up near what seemed to be the student union. Everyone seemed to have a coffee cup or water bottle in hand.

She stopped by a small kiosk that held advertising for a variety of student events and a campus map. Sam smiled as she perused the colorful ads for the campus ministry (the crosses on many of the buildings indicated St. Olivers was clearly religiously affiliated), the womens’ softball team was hosting a pancake breakfast fund-raiser at a local restaurant the following weekend, and a student production of Shakespeare’s ‘The Taming of the Shrew’ was in full-swing. Sam had loved her college experience and the thought quickly passed through her mind that she should return for an advanced degree. Austin had plenty of colleges and universities to choose from.

Sam turned her attention to the campus map. Sure enough, the student union was behind her. Davidson Hall, the location of Jordan’s office according to her business card, was on the other side of campus. First things first, Sam thought. Coffee. She turned to look at the union building. A sign for Joe-Moe’s coffee hung over glass double doors. As Sam approached the doors a handsome man in a black suit and a clerical collar opened the door and held it for her so she could enter. Sam thanked him and told Kate to wait outside.

Sam people watched as she waited for her turn to order. Several students sat at tables hunched over their Apple laptops. They all seemed to be attached to them via white headphone cords. A small group of students chatted loudly while lounging on a black leather sofa and loveseat. The sofa listed to one side as if it had a broken leg. The students didn’t seem to mind. Sam picked up a copy of the school magazine from a metal rack and sat in a fairly comfortable gold colored chair near the door while she waited for her coffee.

“Large non-fat latte?”, a voice called out from behind the counter.

Sam picked up the steaming beverage and moved to a side counter to doctor it up. She ripped open two Splenda packets and stirred them in. She affixed the plastic top, slid the white cup into its cardboard holder, and headed out the door with the magazine tucked under her arm. Sam looked for Kate and immediately saw her. That little chick magnet, thought Sam. A woman had stopped to pet her.

“I hope she wasn’t bothering you,” Sam said as she approached.

“Oh, no. Not at all. I just couldn’t resist. I had to pet her. I hope you don’t mind.” The woman stood and made eye contact with Sam. Sam took a nearly unnoticeable step backwards. The woman looked so familiar, but where had she seen her? Sam had never been to Northfield or St. Olivers before.

Sam immediately returned her attention to Kate.

“No, ma’am. It’s fine. She is hard to resist.”

“What’s her name?”

“Kate.”

The woman leaned down to pet the dog again.

“Well, Kate, it was nice meeting you but I’ve got to run.” She gave Kate one last scratch behind her ears and stood.

“Thanks for letting me pet her.” This was to Sam.

“Hey, no problem.”

Sam watched her walk away across the quad.

“’Hey, no problem’? Fuck me, Kate. Why do I always say the dumbest things to the prettiest women?” And the woman had been pretty, not Sam’s preferred kind of pretty, but pretty nonetheless.

Sam took one last look at the campus map and headed off to continue her recon. No more than five minutes later, Sam was looking up at Davidson Hall. Well, that was easy, thought Sam. In no rush to leave, she took a seat on a wooden bench and opened the campus magazine. She hoped that there might be an article on Assistant Professor, Dr. Jordana Miller, or at least a random picture of her. Sam wanted to be able to put a face with a name before their actual meeting. Sam imagined that she looked like the female psych professors she’d had in college. Dr. Dred, her real name was Dr. Dredson, was smart, fun, and funny but had short spiky brown hair and a long, thin nose that made her look a lot like the rats she loved to study. Then there was frumpy Dr. Schnellenberg who spoke in a monotone and thought a C was a good grade. Sam had only taken her once.

Sam sipped her coffee and flipped through the magazine. When she got to the end, she looked at her watch. 11:17, almost time to get some lunch. Sam was nervous for the meeting but her nerves seldom made her not want to eat. She and Kate walked back toward the visitors parking lot. As she unlocked the Xterra, Sam caught sight of a student walking nearby.

“Hey,” she called out. “Are there any good Chinese places in town?”

“Yeah, there are a couple close by, but I like Mandarin Garden downtown just off Division. It’s worth the drive.”

“Cool. Thanks!”

She turned to look at Kate who starred up at her.

“What? I haven’t had Chinese in days. I’ll get you an egg roll.”

~


The floor squeaked as Sam stopped in front of the office door. The name plate said, “Jordana J. Miller, PhD’. It was cracked open about a foot and a half. Sam could hear classical music. Sam took a deep breath and exhaled. This was the place. Behind that door was the woman who could very well lead Sam to her goal, to Ruth Ann Goldman. She held her hand up as if to knock and stopped. She breathed again and tried to calm the heart pounding in her chest. She held up her her hand to knock again and breathed out slowly. She rapped softly on the door three times.

“Yes? Come on in.” The voice from last night’s voice mail called out.

Sam slowly pushed the door open and took a step inside. The woman looked up from the mess of papers on the desk and pulled off her reading glasses. Sam stopped speechless. She could hear the music in the background. It was a piece she knew, one of her favorites actually - ‘Adagio for Strings’ by Samuel Barber.

“Yes? Can I help y…” She stopped and smiled. “It’s you. From the quad earlier. Kate’s mom.” She looked at Sam quizzically.

“Yes, Ma’am.” The woman looked so familiar, a lot like her mother, but that wasn’t it. She still couldn’t place her. Sam struggled for words.

“Um… Dr. Miller? I’m… I’m Samantha Stephens. I left you a voice mail yesterday.”

“Oh my goodness. Yes! You did. Samantha. Sam. Please, come in.” She rose and came around the desk with her arm extended.

“Jordan. I’m Jordan.”

Sam reached out to shake her hand. Her grip was firm and her hand cooler than Sam expected. They made eye contact and Jordan smiled.

“Please have a seat.” She gestured at an old blue wingback chair as she moved to shut the door.

Jordan sat down in an identical chair across from Sam, but immediately hopped back up.

“Sorry… Let me shut off that music so we can talk.”

“No, no. It’s fine. I love that piece.”

“You know it?”

“Yep. My dad gave me a love for the classical stuff, even opera. But I know this one because I dated a cellist who played it over and over getting ready for a concert,” Sam laughed at how at ease she felt.

“Ha! I got it from my step-mom. I’ve got this on repeat. Sure it’s ok?”

“I noticed and yes, it’s fine.”

They sat a moment before Jordan spoke.

“So, your mother knew my mother? When?”

“Well, I think my mother knew your mother. I’m looking for a woman, named Ruth Ann Goldman, Ruthie to my mom, who grew up in Hamilton, Ohio in the fifties and sixties.” Sam unzipped her backpack and pulled the manila envelop out. She reached inside and found the picture. She handed it to Jordan.

Jordan studied the picture. Her hand went up to cover her mouth. Sam waited breathlessly for her response.

“Oh my God… Yes. I’ve seen this before. Well, sort of. I know that house. And yes, that’s my mom. And… Jeanie… Jeanie Taylor? She’s your mother?”

“You know about my mother?” Sam asked incredulously.

“Absolutely. Absolutely.” She studied the picture again. “How old would they have been here?”

“It says ‘Summer 1959’ on the back, so thirteen.”

Jordan flipped the photograph over.

“That’s about the time Jeanie moved away.”

“I haven’t asked my mom, but I think it’s probably the last picture they took together.”

Jordan looked at the picture then back up at Sam.

“You look like her…”

“So do you.”

“Jeanie Taylor is your mother. That’s just crazy. You know a year ago my sister and I thought about looking for her. We didn’t have anything to go on, though. Just a name and a city where Mom thought she’d moved to eons ago.”

Sam attempted to process what she’d learned. Jordan knew who her mother was. Ruth must have spoken about her over the years, something Jean had never done. Jordan had a step-mother and a sister, though Sally Grace hadn’t mentioned either.

“How is it that you’re sitting here? You spoke you talked to my cousin? I assume you mean Sally Grace. Did you see try to shoot you? But how did you find her?”

Sam laughed. “She scared the shit out of me with that shotgun.”

“Sorry about that. She’s a little… rough around the edges, not too good with people. But, damn… She’s like the horse whisperer with horses. Sally Grace lives out in the middle of nowhere. How did you find her?”
 

“It’s a long story. How much time do you have?” Sam said with a wink.

“Damn. Not much. Geez. I’m sorry. I have class at 3:00. Say, I’m supposed to have lunch with my mom tomorrow. Do you want to come along and meet her?”

“Meet her? You means she’s here? In Northfield?” Sam was visibly shocked.

“Close enough. Up in St. Paul. I usually hang out with her on Fridays”.

“No way. No freakin’ way. Your mom lives in Minnesota.”

“Yeah, has for almost thirty years. Why is that so crazy?”

“My mom lives here, too. Chisago County. She and my sister both live in Lindstrom.”

~

 

“You’re kidding. You have got to be kidding,” Jordan said, shaking her head. It was her turn to be completely surprised.

 

“I know. That’s why I looked so shocked when you said your mom was in St. Paul.”

“That is just crazy. Good crazy. This might be just what my mom needs.”

Jordan looked at her watch and said, “I’m sorry I have to run, but lunch tomorrow? You can tell me the story on the way.”

“Definitely. Absolutely.”

“Cool. I’ll text you tonight. I assume the number you gave me is your cell?”

“Yes, Ma’am, it is. That sounds good.”

Sam stood to leave and extended her hand. Jordan’s hand was still cool and the grip strong, but the handshake lasted a bit longer.

“Oh, and bring Kate tomorrow. My mom loves dogs”.

Sam stood in the door way a moment. “Sure. Thank you, Jordan. It was great meeting you. See you tomorrow.” Sam swung the door shut behind her and fist pumped the air. She’d found her.

Sam was almost to the first landing when she heard footsteps behind her.

“Hey, Sam…” Jordan was standing at the top of the stairs.

“Yeah?”

“Would you want to come to my place for dinner tonight?”

“Um… Yeah. Sure. I’m going to be in town with nothing to do anyway.”

“Great! Say, 7:00? I’ll text you my address.”

Jordan turned back toward her office and Sam jogged the next flight of stairs. She was still berating herself when she found Kate laying in the shade near the building.

“’I’m going to be in town with nothing to do anyway’? I’m a fucking dumb ass, Kate. Dumb. Ass. Damn pretty women make me say all kinds of ridiculous things”.

And she was pretty. Jordan was. Dr. Jordana J. Miller. She wasn’t Sam’s type; Sam generally preferred tall, lanky blonds, like Holly and Malin, but there was something very appealing about Jordan. Her long, dark hair had been pulled back from her forehead in a ponytail and she was barely taller than Sam. Regardless, she was smart and fit and funny… And her mother’s childhood best friend’s daughter.

“Stop, Sam. Just stop. She’s off limits.” Sam reminded herself. But still there was something about Jordan that Sam really liked. She just couldn’t figure out what it was.

~

 

Sam decided to call Malin on her way to dinner with Jordan. The day had been big, huge really, and she desperately wanted to share it with someone. Sam supposed she could have called her mother, but she feared that Jean would suck the joy right out of it. Besides, she wanted to meet Ruth before she told her mom too much.

Sam found Malin’s name in her Recent Call Log and clicked. The phone rang once, twice, three, four times. Just when she assumed it was going to go to voice mail, she heard Malin’s distinctive voice.

“Hej.” Sam smiled. You could take the girl out of Sweden but…

“Hi.” Silence on the other end.

“You answered.”

“I did.”

“You still mad at me?”

“A little.”

“You busy?”

“Getting there.”

“You gonna say more than two words at a time.”

“Maybe.” Sam could hear the smile in Malin’s voice.

“Malin, I found her.”

“Ruthie? You found Ruthie?”

“Well, almost. I found her daughter. We’re going to have lunch with her tomorrow.”

“That’s incredible. Where are you? Where did you find them?”

“You’re never going to believe this. Jordan is a professor at St. Oly’s. In Northfield. Ruthie lives in… Wait for it. Wait for it. St. Paul.”

“St. Paul? As in St. Paul, Minnesota? You’re joking.”

“No, Ma’am. No joke. I drove all over the damn countryside and she was right down the road in the Cities.”

“Jesus, Sam. Amazing.”

Sam could hear the GPS giving her directions as she and Malin talked. ‘Your destination is ahead on the left’ the voice said in her ear.

“Hey, Malin. I have to go. I’m having dinner with Jordan and I think I just parked in front of her house. I really don’t want to be late.”

“You don’t want to be late? Samantha J. ‘I’m late for every damn thing in my life’ Stephens doesn’t want to be late? Are you feeling ok?”

“Yeah. Look, she’s the key to Ruthie and this whole thing. I don’t want to piss her off.”

“Oh my God. She’s pretty isn’t she?”

“Yes. No. Shut up. She’s… I don’t know. There’s just something about her. She’s… um… comfortable.”

Just then Sam realized where she knew Jordan from. Even though she’d never seen the face of the woman she’d been chasing in those dreams, she knew without a doubt. That woman had been Jordan.

“Ok, ok. Have fun. Call me later.”

Jordan walked out onto the porch as Sam and Kate made their way up the front walk. Her hair was down now and she’d traded in her dress pants and bright blue shirt in favor an old pair of blue jeans and a dark blue ‘Cal’ t-shirt.

“The house is a mess, but come on in. I wasn’t expecting to entertain tonight.” Jordan was clearly doing some remodeling. Paint cans and assorted painting paraphernalia sat near a ladder in the unfinished living room. The floor was bare concrete.

“It’s a work in progress. I bought it a year ago when I decided I was staying and it’s been slow going. I’m trying to do most of the work myself.”

Sam looked around for signs of kids or a husband and found none. She let Jordan lead her into the kitchen and a small dining nook that currently doubled as a den or family room.

“I thought we could grill out, have a few drinks, and you could tell me how you ended up here in Northfield asking about my mom.” She motioned toward the small wooden deck and nicely landscaped backyard.

“Sounds good.”

“Wine? Beer? I’ve also got vodka and I might have a little rum.”

“Ooh, rum if you’ve got it.”

“Got it. Diet Coke work for the mixer?”

“Perfect.”

As Jordan made their drinks, Sam looked at the pictures that adorned the den walls and quickly perused the bookshelves. It was a habit. You could learn a lot about someone from the books they read and the pictures they liked enough to put in frames. Jordan and a woman at a baseball game wearing Giants caps. Jordan and a different woman with what looked like the Centre Court at Wimbledon in the background.

“Holy shit. Is that Wimbledon?”

“It is. We went a few years ago. I should really take that picture down but it’s such a great shot.”

Sam let it go without asking and changed the subject slightly.

“Do you play?”

“Tennis? Yeah, played at Cal,” Jordan said, looking down at her shirt. “I don’t play as much as I used to anymore. Northfield isn’t the tennis city that San Francisco was. How ‘bout you? Do you play?”

“Yeah, not D1 like you are, though. I went to Occidental College in L.A. We were D3. Funny, we played St. Olivers and Carleton most years, but we never came here. They always came to us.”

“You still playing?”

“Oh yeah. I still act like I’m trying to make the varsity. So, why did you choose Cal? Where did you go to high school?”

“Cal was kind of in my blood. I went to high school in St. Paul, but Mom and Bev went to Cal and I’d spent a lot of time there when I was a kid. When it came time to pick a college, there was a big lobby in the family to follow in their footsteps and it’s where I’d always dreamed of going anyway. My sister broke with tradition and went to Northwestern. Big 10 if you can believe that.”

Sam had to stop and think. The Ruth she knew of went to Kentucky. Who was Bev? And who was this sister? She decided to ask.

“Didn’t your mom go to Kentucky? Class of ‘68? And I’m sorry, but who’s ‘Bev’?

“I thought Sally Grace would have told you a few things. She loves to talk about my mom. At my dad’s funeral, I heard her call my mom ‘that dyke tramp’. Anyway, Mom got her Masters at Cal after she left my dad. And Bev… She is… I mean… was my mom’s partner, my ‘step-mom. She died last year.”