Sylvia LaMonte stood up.
“Doug uncovered some information that had been sealed for thirty-five years,” she said. “Information that I had hoped would remain undiscovered. It’s not that I’m ashamed of it, I want you all to know that—especially you, Mara, but information that would serve no useful purpose for you to know. Information that it has been my greatest fear would one day surface to cause you pain.”
“Doug, what’s going on?” Mara said, looking shaken.
“I was never a great believer in destiny—you know, in that way that some people think that their life has been predetermined. When I first met you, Mara, it was purely unintentional. I call it happenstance, and I thought nothing of it at the time. The fact that I kept running into you when you needed me amused me, and made me feel important. I liked you right away. That’s why I called you Jane. The name, Jane, has always had a special importance to me.”
Mara sat quietly, listening as Sal spoke.
“When Doug discovered the paperwork in Albany, the news of its existence came as no real surprise. I had discovered it myself about three years earlier, and had decided to take the information it contained with me to my grave. I saw no need to bring it forward. I felt that doing so would cause more harm than good. I want you all to know that.
“But when Doug came to me with the information, after having stumbled upon it himself, I knew that I could no longer keep the secret hidden.”
Sylvia LaMonte dabbed her eyes.
“Joe knows about this. I told him this morning. And of course, Doug has known since last week. The reason we’re here now is to tell you, Mara. To tell you here with those who love you and who want you to know that we will always be here whenever you need us.”
Mara reached into her pocket for a Kleenex and felt the feather deep inside. What else could there be that hadn’t happened to her already? She took a deep breath and braced herself for the news.
“Maybe it would be best if you just read it here first, Mara,” Doug said, handing her the folded papers that he had been carrying around for a week.
She took them from him and began to read, stopping when she got to the adoption papers that listed her parents names.
“I need you all to know that I’ve always known that I was adopted,” she said. “My mother told me when I was old enough to understand. She told me the whole story about my birth mother having to give me up and prepared me for the fact that I would never know her. I was okay with that. My parents loved me and I loved them. It didn’t matter to me that someone had given me up to a good home. As I became an adult, I knew that that meant love—that someone had cared enough to see that I had what maybe they couldn’t give me. My mother taught me to be okay with that—to feel compassion and acceptance.”
Doug put his arm around her. “Keep reading.”
Mara did as instructed and re-read the papers.
“It looks like my original name was Jane,” she said.
Then she put it together.
“It says that a woman named Sylvia LaMonte Kindle was . . .”
Suddenly she felt faint. How could this be happening? As much as she wanted to run, she felt frozen in time—unable to move.
“I’m your birth mother, Mara,” Sylvia LaMonte said simply.
Mara gasped, her eyes darting between Sal and Doug, then to Joe.
“What your mother told you about me was true, and what I want you to know is that I helped choose her from the many who wanted to take you home. You were a beautiful baby—quiet and serene. Your mother had that same quality, that same beauty and serenity. I knew the minute I saw her that she was the one.”
“You two met?” Mara asked.
“Not really,” Sal answered, explaining the one-way glass and the process as it was in those days. “I almost backed out at the last minute, but I knew I wouldn’t be a fit mother for you—not with everything that was going on. You were what we called a change-of-life baby—unplanned, unexpected, and a secret even from your father, who died before knowing that I was pregnant.”
Mara looked at Sylvia LaMonte as if seeing her for the first time. Somehow, she managed to speak even though her mind was jumbled and racing in a panic of random thoughts.
“I guess you know that I’m pretty shocked,” she managed to spit out. “And that I’m going to need some time to absorb all of this.”
“I don’t expect you to treat me any differently,” Sal said. “Your mother is the person who raised you and who loved you during your entire life. I would never want to take that from you even in a small way.”
Mara looked at the old woman and said nothing. She was at a complete loss for words. Doug squeezed her shoulders with one arm and drew her near, while Joe Michael clasped the hand of his wife.
“I’m not really that hungry,” Mara finally said.
“I understand,” Sylvia answered.
“I’m not mad at you,” Mara told her. “I just need some time.”
Chapter Sixty
Healing and Bonding
A strange calm embraced the soul of Sylvia LaMonte. It was as if the greatest burden of her life had been lifted from her heart. Mara would come around. She felt certain of that, and she planned to ask nothing of her because of the revelation. It was enough for her that she had reclaimed her own life. Although she would strive to remain a part of Mara’s, she would let Mara settle in her own place of inner peace.
“It’s weird,” Joe Michael told her, as the two of them remained behind and ordered a second glass of wine.
“What’s that, Joey?”
“All of it. Just weird. Kinda thought she’d have trouble with it. She seemed pretty calm.”
In a way, though, he understood. Having been through enough loss and discovered enough shocking truth about his own life, he, too, had become almost numb.
“I think it went as well as we could hope,” he told his wife. “Now we’ll just have to see.”
“Yes. We’ll just have to see,” Sylvia said. “I want to go home soon, Joey.”
“Me, too,” he said.
“I want to sit in my chair by the window and watch the fog come over the water.”
“And I want to sit there with you,” Joe laughed. “Only maybe now I’ll make tea sometimes. You know, since you’ve been through so much.”
“If only this were the end of it,” Sylvia laughed, “But we still have to face Elzianne and that whole mess.”
“Yup,” he answered.
“Part of me feels like just letting it go. You know, not even fighting her,” Sylvia said.
“Look, Sal, I don’t blame you for feeling tired, but I’m not going to let you be a quitter either. The woman’s wrong and she needs to be dealt with. The whole thing makes me so mad, I sometimes figure a gun would take care of her and that would be that.”
“Don’t talk that way, Joe, you know you don’t mean that,” Sylvia admonished him.
“I know, Sal,” Joe said. “Let’s go back to the room. We’ll just pay for the wine and leave it.”
As they made their way out of the dimly lit restaurant, neither of them saw the shadowy figure in the next booth watching their every move.
Not until they reached the edge of the parking lot did she make her move.
“Stop right there, dear sister,” Elzianne LaMonte demanded, raising the derringer she had just pulled from her purse.
Sylvia LaMonte and Joe Michael turned around slowly.
“I loved your gun idea,” Elzianne said to Joe. “Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, don’t you agree?”
“You’d be the expert on that, wouldn’t you, Elzianne?” Sylvia answered without revealing the intense fear she felt for her safety.
“Tell your eskimo to give me the papers,” Elzianne hissed.
“Tell me yourself,” Joe Michael said.
“The proper term is Native elder,” Mara said, stepping out from behind one of the parked cars. “And by the way, just so you know—”
Thor lung
ed at almost the exact moment that Elzianne spun around, knocking the gun from her hand and causing her to fall backwards onto the ground. The fall didn’t stop Elzianne from scrambling for her gun, but Mara kicked it out of her reach.
“My mother was right about you. You are the face of evil,” Mara said.
Two police cars pulled up as a small crowd gathered around the scene.
“I saw the whole thing,” one of the servers who worked at the restaurant told an officer. “And on top of pulling a gun on this nice old couple, she left without paying her bill,” he said, pointing to Elzianne.
“We’re gonna need a medic,” another officer said. “I think she might’ve broken a hip.”
Mara ran to Sal and Joe, hustling them away from the scene and back inside the restaurant. A third officer followed them inside. Moments later, Doug arrived, where he found them all sitting in one of the tall booths.
“What’s going on,” he said, visibly upset.
“Where’s Thor?” Mara asked.
“In the car,” Doug answered. “Now what’s going on?”
“Excuse me, sir,” the officer said, standing.
“He’s with us,” Joe Michael said.
“Step back,” the officer told Doug. “I don’t want to have to arrest you for interfering with police business.”
Doug did as instructed and went outside to check on Thor. As he walked among the people still standing outside the restaurant, he pieced together the story of what had happened. Meanwhile, back inside, the officer continued taking statements, beginning with Sal.
“My name is Sylvia LaMonte Michael,” she began. “And the woman on the ground is my only sister, Elzianne LaMonte.”
Sal went on to explain how she and Joe and just exited the restaurant when Elzianne had confronted them with the gun.
“There’s a long history of animosity between us,” Sal said, “and we are currently involved in legal action against her. If it hadn’t been for my daughter showing up . . .”
Just then, Sal collapsed against her husband’s shoulder as she began to sob.
Thirty minutes later, the scene at the restaurant became normal once more and a shaken Sylvia LaMonte emerged from the restaurant with her husband and the daughter she had given up thirty-eight years ago.
“I heard what happened,” Doug said. “They took Elzianne to the hospital, but the police assured me that she’ll be placed under arrest as soon as she’s been treated. They took the derringer into custody and got statements from a half dozen witnesses. As far as I know, everyone said the same thing.
“You okay, Mara?” he asked his wife.
“More than okay,” Mara answered, smiling at Sal and at Joe. “I mean, we’re all a little shaken for sure, but we’re family—literally,” she said, smiling at Sal, “and we’ll get each other through it.”
Doug stood there speechless.
“It’s been a roller coaster of a day,” Sylvia LaMonte told him. “For all of us.”
“I’m gonna get her back to the room for some rest,” Joe Michael said. “I’m thinking it might be a good idea if we all rested after all this.”
“You’re right, Joe,” Doug said.
Mara walked up to Sylvia LaMonte as the two embraced and as their husbands watched years of estrangement melt away. On the ground beside Mara, the feather had fallen to the ground. Doug picked it up and placed it in his own pocket with ultimate care. He’d return it to his wife once they were back in their room. Meanwhile, he would be right there beside her.
Chapter Sixty-One
Is Peace Overrated?
“I can’t really explain this, Joey,” Sylvia LaMonte said as she lay next to her husband for a nap, “but some part of me thinks I should visit Elzianne—and believe me when I say that I am as surprised as you are to hear myself say this.”
“Can we talk about this later?” Joe answered. “I don’t think right now that it would be a good . . .”
Joe Michael fell into a deep sleep, leaving his wife beside him still awake. When he awoke and found her gone, he somehow knew she was with Elzianne.
Since no charges had yet been filed against Elzianne, Sylvia was able to get in to visit her despite a police presence at the door.
“I appreciate you letting me in, Lou,” she said to the childhood friend, who was now a retired member of the New York State Police, and who had taken a postretirement job with the local police force to guard prisoners.
Lou took her purse and searched her before letting her enter. He also summoned a nurse into in the room.
Elzianne was half asleep when her sister walked up to her bed, but her eyes flew open at the sight as she became agitated and tried to sit up.
“Did you come back to finish me off?” she snarled.
“You sound afraid, Elzi,” Sylvia LaMonte said evenly. “Perhaps you’re projecting your own inclinations onto me.”
“Nurse!” Elzi hollered.
The nurse approached Elzianne and reminded her that she could push a button to control her pain with her IV line.
Elzianne gave the button a series of punches.
“Now, Ms. LaMonte, remember, it will only let you have so much at a time,” the nurse told her.
“I’ll sit with her,” Sylvia said, smiling.
“She’s been agitated since she arrived,” the nurse said.
“I won’t stay long,” Sylvia replied.
“I’m not sure why I’m here, either,” Sylvia continued, turning to face Elzianne. “I think I’m going soft in my old age. I just wanted to see if maybe somehow, some way, I’ve been wrong about you. If maybe there had been some misunderstanding . . .”
Elzianne’s eyes fluttered closed, then open again, as if she’d gotten her second wind.
“You were always so naïve, Sylvia. So—so easy,” Elzi began. “I could never understand why you just always rolled over and let everyone walk all over you.”
“Nice matters, Elzi,” Sylvia said rather defensively.
“Haven’t you ever heard that good guys come in last?” Elzi chuckled. “Now here you are again, staring right down the throat of your own personal dragon.”
“I guess I was wrong in trying to give you the benefit of the doubt,” Sylvia said. “Somehow I thought that age would have mellowed you—matured you. If anything, it’s only empowered you to nurture your bitterness and hate.”
“Come on, Sylvia. Do you think that all that righteous talk is going to change anything? That maybe I’ll cry and beg your forgiveness?”
Elzianne LaMonte straightened her sheets and punched the IV line dose button again.
“I’ll make a deal with you, sister, you give up your claim to the Edo bowl—you know, say it was all a misunderstanding—and maybe I’ll decide to let you live out the rest of your life without bothering you or your family again.”
Sylvia LaMonte walked away and didn’t look back. She had done all she could to bridge the gap that had estranged them. It was obvious that Elzianne would never change. The realization enveloped her with a peace that had eluded her for much of her adult life.
“Feel better soon,” she called back.
How easy it was to be kind to the sister who had spent a lifetime trying to control her, now that she no longer blamed herself for the estrangement.
“Thank you, Lou,” she told her friend. “I know you might have bent the rules a bit for me, but I want you to know that this visit meant more to me than you’ll ever know.”
“I’m back, Joe,” she called as she entered their room. “It’s such a beautiful day. Let’s go for a walk.”
Chapter Sixty-Two
Starting to Wrap Things Up
Doug was on the phone with Dennis Connor when Joe and Sal returned from their walk. He continued talking while they took off their coats. Mara had her ear near his, trying to hear what was being said.
“Well,” Doug said after sitting down. “There’s plenty of news.”
Authentication experts hired by Dennis Connor’s
firm had confirmed that the bowl Mara used for Thor’s watering bowl was indeed an Edo Period Japanese bowl and one of only two that were ever made. The other was in the possession of the British monarchy. Because of the unique dip in the glaze on this piece, it was deemed to be more valuable than its counterpart.
“Wow!” Mara gasped. “Thank goodness Thor has a gentle mouth.”
The digital photos and chronographs that Dennis Jr. had used to catalog the tsunami debris, although deemed to be overkill initially, had turned out to have provided definite proof that the bowl was recovered by Beachmoppers, Inc. and also that it was used as Thor’s water bowl, where it sat beside the bench outside the gift shop that clearly showed the name Beachmoppers above it.
“Dennis even has a photo of Thor drinking from the bowl and Mara leaning over beside him pulling weeds,” Doug said.
“Maybe we can go home soon,” Sal said. “It sounded like we might be able to,” Doug answered. “Apparently Dennis Connor has already discussed his findings with the New York Cultural Museum, who will release ownership of the bowl back to Beachmoppers at the end of the exhibit, which is next week. He said that they have amended their advertising to state that it is on loan from Beachmoppers, Inc. and by mutual agreement with us—via Dennis Connor—will drop any claim to the bowl.”
“Sounds good unless the media get ahold of it,” Joe Michael said.
Doug proceeded to explain that the museum curator, the museum board, and Beachmoppers (as represented by his firm) would issue a joint statement to the effect that previously unknown and rightful owners have come forward, that the museum respects the veracity of their claim, and that the museum wishes to return the item to its rightful owners, while being ultimately grateful for the opportunity to have displayed such a priceless work of art.
The article would also express the intent of both the museum and of Beachmoppers to return the item to the people of Japan, who had suffered the loss of this priceless item that miraculously made its way across the ocean to Alaska and then to New York after the tsunami.
“It sounds like things are finally wrapping up,” Sal said.
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