The Widow's Watcher

by Eliza Maxwell

  Jenna smiled then, a slow, sad smile. “Can I get that in writing?”

  He let out a snort of laughter and raised his gaze to the sky.

  “Look, Jenna,” he said suddenly, pointing a finger up and to the north.

  Jenna followed his line of sight and caught her breath.

  “Is that . . . ?” She trailed off, awestruck at the sight.

  “The northern lights.”

  A buzzing warmth flooded her as she stared, transfixed, at the dazzling display.

  A play of green and violet hung in the sky, as if painted there by God’s own hand.

  “That’s a sight, isn’t it?” Lars said on an amazed breath. “Rare to see so far south.”

  Jenna thought of the words she’d spoken into the darkness. Maybe Matt had heard her after all.

  “You don’t owe me a thing, Lars,” she told him softly. “Not a single thing.”

  He took her arm in his and they stood, side by side, watching their own private miracle.

  60

  “How do I look?” Lars asked for the third time as he fiddled with the top button of his shirt. “I should have worn the suit.”

  “Dad, that suit is from 1982, and it makes you look like an undertaker,” Owen told him. “You look fine.”

  Jenna sent him a smile of encouragement. “Take a breath.”

  He nodded shakily, and his cheeks puffed as he blew out a long exhale. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

  “What time is it?”

  “About two minutes past the last time you checked.” Jenna reached up and placed her palms on his chest, smoothing his crisply ironed shirt.

  “Trust me, she’s as nervous as you are,” she said. “But from what I saw, she’s a warm and compassionate person. She’s going to love you.”

  His eyes were big and filled with wonder as he bobbed his head at Jenna’s words. Her heart swelled for him. She cleared her throat and busied herself with rearranging the lunch that had been prepared.

  Beverly shooed her out of the kitchen, her birdlike hands waving through the air.

  “Find somewhere else to hover, Jenna, for goodness’ sake.”

  Jenna backed out of Beverly’s self-designated domain, holding up her palms in acquiescence.

  The older woman had been flitting about the cabin all morning, fluffing and dusting and finally focusing her boundless nervous energy on putting together an impressive buffet lunch.

  They could always take the leftovers to the church kitchen, Jenna supposed, surveying the copious amounts of food.

  “And just where has Hannah run off to? Owen, that girl—”

  “She’ll be here, Grandma,” Owen said, rubbing a hand down his grandmother’s back. “It’s going to be fine.”

  If he’d said those words once, he must have said them a dozen times that day, a voice of reason among them.

  “I’m going to wait outside.” Lars rose suddenly from the chair he’d only just sat in.

  “No, Dad—” Owen reached out, but Lars had already shut the door behind him.

  Owen sighed and grabbed his coat and his father’s.

  Jenna gave him a smile. “It’s a big day.”

  He nodded, and Jenna saw a hint of his own nerves.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, it is.”

  Owen opened the door to follow his father but stopped dead at the sight of Diane’s sedan, followed closely by a gray SUV, pulling slowly into the driveway.

  “They’re here,” Owen said.

  “Oh my God, Jenna,” Beverly cried. “Did he say they’re here?” She patted her hair as she hurried to the door.

  “We probably shouldn’t crowd her—” Owen gave up when he saw the uselessness of the words.

  Lars stood stock-still as Diane stepped out of her car and sent him a small wave.

  Jenna was glad Diane could be there that day.

  In the weeks since the housekeeper’s truth had been revealed, Diane had aged, but also seemed lighter somehow. Relieved of the burden of lies she’d carried for so long.

  Inevitably, Sergeant Allred had taken Diane into custody. There was no statute of limitations on kidnapping in Minnesota. There were additional charges to sort through related to the burial of Will and obstruction of justice. Diane had gone willingly.

  Her eventual fate was still up in the air, but given she posed no immediate threat and wasn’t a flight risk, the judge had granted bail.

  And while Diane’s relationship with the Jorgensens remained tenuous, her daughter had asked for her to be there today.

  No one was inclined to deny her.

  Diane walked to the passenger window of the SUV and spoke for a moment with someone in the vehicle.

  The anticipation on the porch was thick and insufferably heavy.

  Beverly, standing at Jenna’s side, reached for her hand, though her eyes never left the vehicle in the driveway. She needed to touch someone, anyone, and Jenna would apparently do.

  Owen stood behind Lars, who hardly seemed to be breathing.

  Finally, the driver’s side door opened and a tall man unfolded himself from the seat. He saw the welcoming committee standing on the porch, waiting, and raised a hesitant hand in their direction before he reached to open the door to the back seat.

  At the same time, Diane took a step back and the passenger door opened.

  Owen placed his hand on his dad’s arm, wordlessly supporting the man who’d waited almost thirty years for this day.

  Jenna caught her bottom lip between her teeth. It was nearly unbearable to watch Lars’s face as his daughter stepped out of the car, yet Jenna found she couldn’t look away.

  He took a slow step forward, then another, descending the steps of the porch. Little Francie, now a grown woman, walked toward him and shyly tucked a strand of dark hair behind one ear. Lars drew closer, and his steps quickened.

  They met in the middle of the icy driveway and stared wordlessly into each other’s eyes. Lars held out his hands, and she placed her own in his, finding a connection neither had ever dreamed to have.

  When Lars opened his arms wide, silently offering his long-lost child who’d finally come home his unreserved acceptance, Jenna caught her breath. When the woman who would always be Francie Jorgensen, somewhere deep inside, stepped into his embrace and hugged him tightly in return, Jenna couldn’t stop the tears that fell.

  It was one of the most wondrous and precious sights she’d ever been blessed to witness.

  How many minutes passed no one could have said, certainly not Jenna. But at the precise moment she thought she had a handle on the emotions flooding her, the tall man from the driver’s seat took a step forward.

  “This is your grandson, Thomas,” he said, shifting the baby seated on his hip, who clutched a midnight-blue bunny that was love-worn and threadbare. It had silver stars for buttons.

  Lars threw his arms open again with a teary laugh, full of such warmth and gratitude, such utter joy, that it was contagious, spreading outward in ripples until there wasn’t anyone present who wasn’t smiling through their own tears.

  Even the baby gurgled happily and waved his prize around.

  “Come in,” Lars said to them all. “Please, come in.”

  With nods all around, the group began to move toward the cabin, wiping tears from their cheeks.

  Francie’s arm was woven through her father’s, but she stopped. She searched out and found Diane, who followed a few steps behind.

  The younger woman held out her free hand, which Diane tearfully accepted, and together, the family that never had a chance to be and the family that never should have been walked side by side.

  After a round of tearful introductions on the porch, Beverly ushered the whole crowd inside.

  Jenna hung back.

  “Well, come on, then,” Beverly said, as she urged her inside. “You’re part of this family now, too, whether you like it or not.”

  Owen, who was standing between the two women, smiled and swept one arm l
ow. After you, the gesture said.

  Beverly’s proclamation caught Jenna off guard and brought up conflicting feelings, but she stored them away to pull out and examine later.

  She’d drawn even with the threshold when Owen placed a hand on her shoulder.

  Jenna peered at him, but his gaze was trained toward the road.

  “I believe there’s someone here to see you,” he said.

  Jenna turned. She heard a car door slam, then saw the top half of Hannah Jorgensen walking toward the cabin, passing along the far side of the parked vehicles in the driveway. Hannah quickly waved back to the driver who’d given her a ride as the unfamiliar car pulled away.

  Happiness lit the teenager’s face and her laughter traveled over the snow, reaching them before she did.

  Jenna had no idea why the girl was so pleased, but she doubted it was the thought of seeing Jenna.

  “What are you—”

  Jenna stopped short as a blurry streak of pale yellow bounded around the front of the cars and made a wide turn in her direction.

  A familiar euphoric barking filled the sky as all the breath left Jenna’s body.

  She dropped to her knees just in time to catch the golden retriever as he leapt up the steps and found his way home again, safe in her arms.

  “Beckett,” she cried, and thought she heard Cassie echo the word. She hugged the exhilarated dog, running her hands over his downy fur, while he showered her with the million kisses he’d missed the opportunity to give.

  “Oh, Beckett,” she said, her chin trembling. “Buddy. Oh, buddy, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

  The tears hit her with a great, crushing wave. All of them. All the tears she’d tried so desperately to hold back for months and months.

  But she’d waited too long. The dam she’d built, stone by stone, to store her monumental grief was cracking. She heard it spread and sensed the enormous weight and roar of what was coming for her on the other side.

  She was powerless as it washed over her with the force of a shifting continent. She had no choice but to let it come, wave after wave. Tears for a phone call out of the blue, tears for a funeral all in black, tears for a carved wooden box. Tears for the eyes of a beloved dog, watching her mournfully as he was left behind. Tears for a family, an entire family that no longer was, and the separate, distinct, and amazing individuals it used to be.

  And Beckett was there for her through it all, his love unconditional. His fur soaked up her grief, and his tongue lapped the tears from her cheeks.

  His forgiveness was complete.

  EPILOGUE

  Jenna hadn’t mentioned where she was going.

  Not that it was a secret, but this was something she needed to do alone, so she held even the words that would describe her intentions close.

  She’d risen before dawn. On a normal day, she’d click a leash on Beckett’s collar and the two would set out on a run. Jenna mostly to combat the hours she spent in a chair with her fingers tapping a keyboard, and Beck for sheer pleasure. Some days Hannah would join them. The teenager had warmed to Jenna. Sort of. Though her affection for Beckett was probably at the heart of the girl’s newfound tolerance.

  The dog had taken to Minnesota. When the snows began to melt and spring blossomed again, Jenna found herself marveling at the resilience of everything around her. In a fit of spring fever, she was nearly brought to tears by the first blooms she spotted on the ground.

  Nearly. But Jenna had cried enough tears for five lifetimes once she’d fallen headlong into her grief. She’d always known it was too big for her, that it would destroy her with its scope.

  And it did.

  What she hadn’t anticipated was coming through the other side. Yet she had. Wounded, bloodied, and battered, Jenna had endured.

  Today was not a day for a run.

  With her bag slung over her shoulder and Beckett padding beside her, Jenna walked the length of the dock she’d helped to install once the ice had thawed.

  Mornings on the lake were a benediction, a prayer to the close of night.

  The mournful call of a loon traveled across the water. It echoed through the thin layer of fog.

  Beckett gave a soft bark. His tail wagged and his back end wiggled suspiciously from side to side as he contemplated something in the water beside the dock.

  “Beckett, no,” she said with a gentle note of warning. “No chasing fish. Not today, buddy.”

  An ancient aluminum fishing boat was moored along the edge of the dock.

  “Beckett, come.” She patted the side of her leg. He needed no more encouragement. He bounded past her and leapt into the boat. Jenna stepped in after him.

  Going through the steps Lars had insisted she learn, Jenna slipped on the life jacket that was stored in the boat, then primed the little motor attached to the back.

  The first time Lars walked her through these steps, he’d gotten a laugh out of watching her try to pull the rope to start the motor, before she’d glared at him and asked what was so funny.

  “I’ve wired it for a push-button start,” he admitted, as she blew back the hair hanging in her eyes.

  “Funny,” she said. “I hope you enjoyed that.”

  “I did, as a matter of fact,” he agreed with a chuckle, then directed her to the little red button that brought the engine to life.

  Jenna started the motor and let it idle as she unwound the ropes that held the shallow boat to the dock, then slowly, patiently, navigated away from the shore toward the center of the lake.

  The light steadily brightened. The sun winked over the horizon, hinting at its own brilliance. Jenna cut the motor and drank in the silence.

  A flock of geese called from overhead, and Beckett woofed in reply.

  Jenna smiled wistfully, grateful every day for the delight he found just in being alive. For the insight of Owen in bringing him back to her.

  “We had to do a little snooping, I hope you don’t mind,” he’d said. “The Davises were sorry to let him go, but they send you their best.”

  The months had brought changes to this small place. Lars had asked Jenna if she would consider staying. She’d agreed.

  She sold her family home without ever returning. There was nothing left for her there. Just walls and the empty spaces between them. Shadows of what used to be.

  Her former neighbors had been happy to pack her laptop and photo albums and have them shipped to her. The real estate agent she’d hired to handle the sale of the house had sent a photo of the new owners, a young couple standing in the front yard, waving for the camera.

  They were expecting their first child.

  Jenna wished them a future full of happiness and a wellspring of hope large enough to see them through the tough times.

  Paige, as she preferred to be called, and her small family had become fixtures in their lives. She and the rest of the Jorgensens had forged a new relationship over the remains of the old, like a phoenix risen from the ashes.

  There were a few awkward moments. Paige refused to hear a word against Diane, standing by her after her arrest. Diane’s lawyers had suggested a plea bargain, and the district attorney, recognizing the difficulty of trying such an emotionally charged case, had agreed.

  Lars could understand his daughter’s support of the woman who’d raised her, a woman she still thought of as her mother, but when he learned Paige was an Arizona Cardinals fan, a remnant of the few years she’d spent in the state with Diane, he found that a difficult pill to swallow.

  “That woman has a great deal to answer for,” he’d muttered.

  After several heated discussions, Lars gave up, transferring his hopes to his new grandchild, who was the adorable recipient of a tiny Minnesota Vikings T-shirt and matching purple pants.

  Lars savored those times, Jenna knew, though they were bound together with a ribbon of sadness. Audrey had been released from the Minnesota State Secure Psychiatric Hospital. Paige visited her first mother at the private treatment center she’d be
en transferred to, under the care of Dr. Nancy Young, but there were no happy endings for Audrey. Though she was no longer a ward of the state, Audrey Jorgensen was the lost one now. The only one who’d yet to find her way home.

  Little Will Jorgensen’s bones had been laid to rest in the Raven Cemetery. At long last, Lars Jorgensen knew where his children laid their heads. All of them.

  Jenna took a deep breath, pulling the peace around her into her lungs like incense. She’d chosen this place with care.

  The perfect place to die.

  She’d intended to sink to the bottom of this lake, weighed down by the unendurable despair she carried with her.

  An old man, one old bastard of a man, was the only thing that had stopped her.

  Jenna knelt in the bottom of the boat as the sun crept upward and the fog danced its slow dance over the water.

  She slid the carved wooden box from her bag.

  Beckett gave it a sniff, then let out a soft whine.

  “It’s okay, bud.” She gave him a reassuring hug.

  As she unhooked the brass latch, Jenna said a silent prayer.

  Her cheeks were wet when she lifted the lid of the box and tipped the contents over the side of the boat to swirl into the water below.

  She had a few tears left after all.

  “Goodbye, my loves,” she whispered, wiping her cheeks and trailing her fingers in the dark water as the cloud expanded.

  Jenna was the sole guardian of the memories her family had left behind. She would carry them always, wherever life took her. They would fade with time, and grow ragged around the edges, just as she feared they would. She would treasure them all the same, a precious, precious gift.

  Jenna had no second thoughts about bringing the ashes here, to a place her family had never been.

  Because this was a place of beauty. Full of sorrow and hope. Of pain. Of healing.

  Cassie whispered in Jenna’s ear for the last time.

  “A place of forgiveness.”

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I owe a debt of gratitude to the incomparable team at Lake Union Publishing. Danielle, Christopher, Gabe, Faith, and all the rest, thank you. Thank you, always, to my fairy godmother, Miriam Juskowicz. Thank you to my agent, Katie Shea Boutillier.