“It was my penance. I had nothing else to do, so I put my efforts into that.”
I don’t think he cared for the penance crack. “And all of this was because of what happened with James?”
“Yes.”
Moses stepped down off the porch.
“We all struggled with what happened. It was a terrible thing to have to deal with. Esmeralda was devastated. She loved you boys, and in an instant, you were all lost to her. Miguel took care of her, but only from a distance. You left, and James was dead. She asked about you, many times. Like me, she had hoped you’d be at the gathering, but… She died two years ago of cervical cancer. We buried her with James and his father.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Esmeralda was a black woman from Jamaica. Her family moved to New York when she was a child. James’ father, Franklin, grew up in this valley. He met Esmeralda in Washington, D.C., where she was going to school. Franklin had been in the Army and was working for the government. They moved here when Franklin was sent to Vietnam, but he was killed in the last year of the war. Moses asked her if she would teach us kids. That’s when I first met them. Miguel ended up with us after being booted out of public school. His mother pleaded with Moses to let him go to Esmeralda’s class. He was too smart not to be educated. Both he and James did well. I did what I had to in order to avoid her grave disappointment when I did less than stellar work. That seemed to be the story of my life. “What did Miguel do? I thought he had to get out too?”
Moses sat down on the porch step. “Miguel supported Esmeralda by setting up an account for her. There was no pension after Franklin died, and we could only pay so much. After James was killed she withdrew for a while. She needed time to heal, so Miguel, with the help of his cousins, made sure she had enough money to support herself.”
“And the Pronto brothers? Miguel told me they were dead. I thought for years they would find me, come after me.”
Moses shook his head.
“No, they made the mistake of underestimating Miguel cousins. They were connected to people in Mexico who were a lot more powerful than the Pronto brothers could ever be and they were angry about what happened. They wanted revenge. Miguel told the brothers he had what they wanted and set up a time to meet them out on that same road. I think the Pronto brothers thought they’d do exactly what they had done before, but the cousins were waiting. They took the men who were with them and left the Pronto brothers tied to their truck. They were found with their guts opened up.”
“Miguel did it?”
“That surprises you?” Moses’ face was dark.
“No.” I remembered Miguel’s face, how angry he was.
“After that, Bob got everyone together and basically told us it was over. He didn’t care if it was just us and for our own use. He was way ahead of his time in that regard, but when people are being killed it changes everything. We were on our own, no more looking the other way. The state came up to investigate. Esmeralda hated that her son was considered a drug dealer, but that perception never changed, and you three were dealing. Since there were no witnesses or weapons, no one was arrested. Those of us who knew kept quiet. It wouldn’t bring anyone back. The Pronto brother’s family, shit that they are, thought they had it made after a hundred grand was found at their place, but the Feds took it, deeming it drug money. That was that. There are still drug problems around here, but they’re no different from anywhere else. I don’t mean to downplay what happened or how it affected you, but you can’t let it bury you; life goes on.”
Life goes on.
I was tired. I wanted this to be cathartic, an end to so many years of grief. It was out there, but it didn’t change anything. I took the old man’s hand and thanked him. For the first time in my life I saw tears well up in his eyes. He put his arms around me and kissed my cheeks. I kissed him back. We went to find Meredith and Agnes. It was time for supper.
Meredith wasn’t kidding. There were balloons and flowers, and above us all, tacked across the entrance, were the words any grown man would love to see:
Welcome home, Sunshine.
I’m pretty sure my parents were high when they named me.
Emily came and stood by me as I took in the decorations. She put her hand in mine. This surprised me, as did her smile when I looked down at her. I’d forgotten how safe this place felt as a child. I smiled at her and asked if she helped with the decorations. Yes, she stated emphatically, those were her letters above the door. She personally directed the other kids to help bring closure to a man named Sunshine, although I doubt she thought of it in those terms.
“They’re very beautiful. I want to thank you for your hard work.” I don’t know why I said it that way.
“You’re very welcome. You can sit by me.”
So I did.
Agnes helped bring out the food from the kitchen. She was wearing an apron that gave every sign that once again she was elbow deep in the preparation of the celebratory meal. As with the other meals, we held hands and said grace. As the guest of honor, it fell on me to give the invocation. I stammered through it trying very hard not to sound like an idiot. Moses rose to speak. Everyone at the table looked at him and then at me. I found it exceedingly uncomfortable being the center of attention. I didn’t see myself as worthy.
“I’m so glad you were all able to be with us today.” He was looking at me. “It’s not often that my oldest has come home to see us. My hope, naturally, is that he will come to see us more…” He was choking up. Brewster, with fork in hand, cleared his throat. “Yes, yes, yes, I see you’re hungry. All right then; to a very good day, I commend this supper.”
We raised our glasses and dug in. I, as the center of attention sat at the end of the table. Moses, at the head of the table was to my left and Emily to my right. Meredith sat across from me with Agnes next to her. On the other side of Emily was her mother. She was a small intense woman named Calista. Calista and Emily came from Philadelphia. Emily informed me they had been here for almost four years and that she was learning a lot. Like most children, the animals, especially the babies, were her favorite, but she also found gardening interesting. Her mother, she pointed out, was in charge of the herb garden and she helped her organize it this year.
Emily reminded me of Rebekah, energetic, smart, and opinionated. I told her I had a daughter. Calista chimed in saying they met her when she came back for the gathering. I hadn’t seen Rebekah in more than a year when she had come to LA. She needed a break and wanted to see me. I don’t know why. I was a poor father. Emily brought that into stark relief. I longed for a do-over, to have Rebekah when she was…
“How old are you, Emily?”
“I’m ten, almost eleven.”
“It’s a great age, ten, so much to look forward to.”
“I guess.”
I didn’t expect her to understand, but Moses, Meredith, and especially Agnes understood. They were caught up in my talk with Emily and Calista. They’d never seen me with a child before. Rebekah was just a baby when we left. I’d never come out with her, and they never traveled to Virginia; too many nevers. Emily wanted to show me her part of the garden. She had twenty different plants, you know! I told her if there was time, we’d go look after supper; if not we’d do it in the morning before school.
“Thanks, Mr. Sunshine.”
“Call me Monk.”
She turned up her nose. “I like Sunshine better!”
The audience applauded.
Supper concluded after dessert of homemade apple pie and ice cream. This had been touted as one of my favorites, which, I had to admit, it was. Again, I felt overpowered by a sense of personal fraud, but I kept my mouth shut. Feigning surprise didn’t fit the bill. We cleared our dishes,
and Emily grabbed my hand to take me to her garden. Agnes asked if she could come along. Emily said no, but Calista overruled her. The three of us ventured out with Emily in the lead, me right behind, and Agnes carefully keeping her distance. We listened and made pleasant noises as Emily detailed the various herbs she had planted. There was basil, cilantro, and dill, fennel, lavender, and parsley. Agnes and I marveled at the plants she had and her knowledge of them. Emily warmed to Agnes as we went along the garden, showing both of us rather than simply favoring me. We wandered the garden until the light began to fade, at which point we took Emily back to her mother.
Agnes sat with me at the edge of the courtyard. The rest of the folks had turned in leaving the two of us to the twilight and the quiet. It was a warm evening. I was half tempted to gather some wood for the fire pit; something I hadn’t done in years. Agnes liked it here. It freed her from the worry that buried her when she was with her family. Mine was a fine substitute she said. I was feeling better. Emily did more for me than the trip to that goddamned stretch of dirt. I still grieved for James and the part of me that died with him. Miguel had made his peace. I needed to make mine.
The next morning I gathered up some flowers and went to the place where they were buried. The graveyard, set just off the road, was quiet and still, save for the faint rustle of the trees that were spread about the cemetery. I followed the hand-drawn map Moses made for me and found them by a stately Wilderness Oak. Three small markers. I bent down and ran my fingers along the ridges of the stone. I said a prayer and asked James to forgive me. I was better with prayer. Even if I wasn’t a good Christian anymore, I remembered enough to say what I meant, and I believed enough of it to keep myself from being a complete hypocrite. I sat with them for a while. It was a beautiful day. I wondered if it was monotonous to continue thinking that. I decided it wasn’t. Before I left I asked both Franklin and, especially, Esmeralda to forgive me. I wiped my eyes and said goodbye.
We stayed another two days, most of which Agnes spent either with me wandering around or with Meredith in the kitchen. The woman who refused to learn to cook! I got to know most of the people there and we promised to come back as often as we could. Minus the fact there was no guarantee Agnes and I would stay together, it wasn’t a completely idle promise. As we had planned, the trip home went through Napa where, on Meredith’s urging, we got together with Sterling. He showed us around and took us to dinner. Agnes, emboldened by her successes in my part of the world, called Anna and asked if she would like to meet for a few minutes. It took a number of pleases, but Anna relented.
We found a place to stay not far from Simon and Eric’s house, made our way to say hello, and for the most part had a nice time. Eric, as usual, was charming, Anna reserved but more receptive to her mother’s entreaties, and Simon put out but careful not to say anything to piss off either Eric or Anna. Before we left, Agnes took her daughter aside for what I assumed were promises to do what she could to make things right between them. I promised we’d come back in the future, and there were hugs and kisses that intimated that while everything was not forgiven, at least, for now, there was a sense of it being possible one day.
After Eric hugged and kissed me, on the cheek, I casually mentioned he was a lot like my father. Agnes started laughing and nearly spilled the beans on my terrible secret.
“You should hear what they call him…”
“Aggie!” I shouted.
That stopped them. They were fascinated and shocked that I used Simon’s nickname for her. Agnes saw them staring at us and noted my grave disapproval. This was not the time! She sheepishly smiled.
“I’ll be good.”
We got in the car and waved goodbye. Simon, Anna, and Eric watched us, wondering what that was all about. Agnes tried to make nice.
“It is a wonderful name, you know.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Say what you will, but I like it.” She paused and put her hand on mine. “And I’m being serious here…”
I hesitated to say anything. “Yes?”
“You will always be my Sunshine.”
She burst out laughing.
Good grief.
36
“Monk, do you know your phone is blinking?”
I was standing by the window watching the cars go by. “It is?”
“Yes!” She said this with a great deal of exasperation. “You have four messages. Don’t you ever check it?” It was in her hand.
“It has messages?”
Agnes shook her head and handed me the phone. “We really need to get you up to date on this stuff. What if one of those messages was from me?”
“But you’re right here?” I did my best to look like the hayseed she took me for.
“Oh, brother! It’s a good thing you’re decent in the sack.”
I put my arm around her waist and started kissing her neck. I tossed the phone onto the chair, “You know why?”
“Why?”
My hands were undoing the buttons on her blouse. Her hands found my slacks and made their interest more explicit.
“Because I’ll always be your Sunshine…”
“Yes you will.” We maneuvered to our delightful motel bed.
The phone would have to wait.
Turns out the rest of the world, ignorant of our need for cathartic or near cathartic epiphanies, continued to churn on. There were three messages from Mr. Jones and one from Taylor Lagenfelder. Only the first message from the esteemed Mr. Jones had any relevance to the work we were engaged in. The remaining two echoed Agnes’s lament of my cluelessness concerning modern telecommunications. It’s too bad I didn’t care. Toying with the phone, I replayed the first message. They were watching Dahlia. I had almost forgotten about that. Other than the short synopsis I gave to Moses, it hadn’t crossed my mind. They followed her to South Laguna. There were three to five other people there. CALL! Reluctantly, I pressed the button for Jones’s phone.
“Buttman?” Mr. Jones sounded remarkably happy to hear from me.
“The one and only. So what’s the good word?”
“I think we may have found our girl!” Girl? I couldn’t picture Desiree Marshan as a girl. I know she must have been one once, but now she was a tattooed killer with a rich married boyfriend.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. My girl Martisse has been keeping an eye on her and yesterday she finally did something out of the ordinary, she went down to a beach house in Laguna. She said there were at least three people in the house and two guys hanging out in front. One of them was a woman who matches the description I gave her of Marshan. When are you going to be back? You want me to let Dulcimer know?”
I was trying to process all of this. The last few days had eclipsed any interest I had in the goings on of these people or what, in the end, they were after. Now it was right back on my plate, flopping around, waiting to be cooked.
“No, let’s wait to say anything till we’re sure. I’ll be back tomorrow. We’ll get together then and head down to see for ourselves. How’s that?”
“Alright, I’ll keep Martisse watching the house.”
“Works for me.”
I hung up. The next call was to my attorney. Her message was to please call at my earliest convenience. That was now. She answered and I told her who it was.
“I have some information for you. We have no record of Martin Delashay owning any beach property. The records of properties owned by Mr. Delashay are also in his wife’s name. They have two, the house in Beverly Hills, and a property in Michigan.” That made sense. Judith once lived there.
“Thanks.”
“One more thing,”
“Yes?�
�� I had the bizarre impression that Taylor Lagenfelder was playing with me.
“While Martin Delashay does not own any beach property, Todd Boyer did.”
“Down in South Laguna?”
A delightful moment of silence, “That’s correct. I was going to give you the address, but seems like you know it already. Can I ask how you came by this information?”
“Tricks of the trade...” I then explained my answer and asked for the address. After all, there could be more than one beach house. She passed it on and I thanked her for getting me the good word. I also asked her to thank Durant. I hung up and sat in the chair by the window. Moonlight broke the edges of the shade. Agnes was on the bed. Neither of us had any clothes on. I went over and got on the bed with her. I was tired. We pulled up the sheets. Agnes wrapped herself around me. I found it comforting.
“Monk?”
“Yes, beautiful?”
“You know, I don’t really know what it is you do?”
“Then it works out because neither do I.”
The lingering question, at least to the woman in my car, on our return to the greater Los Angeles area, concerned our living arrangements. The success of our trip, the fact that we were still on speaking terms, lent itself to the notion that we should consider living together. I wasn’t necessarily against the idea, merely that, despite our newfound understanding of each other’s personal flaws and emotional baggage, which had led to a deeper awareness and connection between us; it might be too soon.
“So you don’t want to live with me?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then what did you say?”
I marveled at her annoyance.
“That it doesn’t have to happen this minute. Besides it’s not like we’re not going to see one another for a while or anything like that. You know, there’s no rush…”
Where Fools Dare to Tread Page 29