by Stephen Bly
“Hey, it’s cool, Mom. Really. Kath has been a big help with the Linc thing. She is so smart when it comes to men, you know?”
“Oh?”
“Good old Linc had the nerve to call the other day and try to apologize. Kathy answered the phone. Man, she tore him apart up one side and down the other. Practically had him begging for his life. It was so excellent. He wouldn’t dare ever call me again. She’s a bulldog, Mom.”
“I’m glad you two are working things out.”
“Kit and I wanted you to know about the welcome home party for you guys tonight. Mark and Amanda are coming up. They can spend the night, can’t they?”
“Sure. It’ll be great to see you all.”
“And Mark says he has something important to talk to you both about.”
“What?”
“How would we know? Big brother doesn’t tell little sisters anything, but I have my guesses.”
“Well, don’t work too hard on a party. We’ll be delighted just to be together.”
“That’s why Josh insisted on picking you up. He wanted to make sure we had time to get things ready.”
Josh insisted on giving them a ride from the airport? The son who didn’t like waiting three seconds for anything? Something was going on. “Tell Josh that Paul is welcome, too.”
“Yeah, well,” Kit added, “we sort of wanted just family, you know?”
“That’s great, girls. I’ll tell your father. We’ll see you tonight.”
“Bye, Mom. Could you put Mel back on?”
“Mel? You mean Melody?”
“Just for a minute.”
Price was sorely tempted to listen, but she didn’t. She dabbed on makeup, slipped on her liquid silver jewelry, and packed toiletries. “Might as well get done early and maybe have time for a walk along the shoreline.”
“Sounds great, darlin’.”
“What do you think about these feathered earrings?”
“Ravishing.”
“I don’t know why I even ask you.”
“Because I give you one man’s honest opinion.” He winked.
Price rolled her eyes. “I’ll see if Melody is really cooking breakfast.”
“Are we going to tell her about the x-ray?”
“Can we do it without trying to jump to conclusions? Let’s don’t beat her over the head with it all at once.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. The Wyatt Earp of subtlety.”
Don’t say it… don’t say it!
“Trust me, darlin’.”
The kitchen smelled of burnt eggs and weak orange juice, but the counter housed a bouquet of fresh yellow dahlias and bakery-made cinnamon rolls.
“I’m not a very good cook yet,” Melody said. “I’ve never had anyone to cook for. But I had to do it. I’d regret not fixing you at least one meal.”
“Thanks, kid. It seems strange to be packing up.”
“Did I hear you say you got the book all finished by midnight?”
Tony looked her in the eyes. “What else did you hear?”
“Oh, just a little. I didn’t mean to be listening, really.” Melody turned back toward the stove. He poured a cup of coffee.
“You were talking about my book, weren’t you? It’s bad and you just don’t know how to tell me. Is that it? Really, Mr. S., I can take it now. I know I might sound kind of, you know, flighty sometimes, but I do understand. I’m not a total ditz. Looking at you and Dr. S. this summer, I can tell I’m a long way from being a real writer. Please level with me. Don’t lead me on. It’s very important to me that you treat me like an adult. Give it to me straight.” Tears rolled down her brown cheeks. “My grandmother and mother live in make-believe worlds. I’m determined not to do that. I’m twenty-five years old and I want to face facts.” She tried to wipe her eyes with the back of her hand and smeared grease instead.
“Come here, young lady,” he commanded. “You need a daddy hug.”
She threw her arms around his waist and he put his arms around her shoulders. He held her close and rocked her back and forth as she alternated between sighs and sobs.
“I hope I’m not interrupting,” Price said in a low tone as she entered the kitchen. “Did you tell her…?”
Tony shook his head.
Melody dried her eyes on a tea towel. “I can’t remember the last time I got a hug from a man who wasn’t trying to take advantage of me. I really needed that, Mr. S. Thanks for the daddy hug. Now I’m ready. Go ahead and tell me about my book.”
“Her book?” Price asked.
“Melody heard us blabbing away and thought we were discussing Out Fox Island Way.”
“You weren’t? Then what is it you’re afraid to tell me?”
“Let’s step out on the deck and get some fresh air,” Tony suggested. “We ran across some information about your grandma. We’ll tell you what we know … and what we don’t know.”
Tony, Price and Melody paced the deck under a pale, late August morning sky that hovered over the blue-green waters of Carr Inlet. They told her about the x-ray and their suspicions of the Davenport sisters.
Then came more tears. And hugs. Lots of questions. And more tears.
When they returned to the kitchen, Melody didn’t serve the cold eggs, but they drank the juice and ate the rolls. “I can’t believe you guys knew this for a week and didn’t tell me.”
“We wanted to make sure,” Price said. “We hoped to find something that proved our suspicions.”
“Sounds convincing to me.”
Tony added, “Dr. Crayn in Tacoma said your grandmother definitely broke both legs years ago. And Patsy Mitchell reaffirmed it was Jill, not Jessica, who had the ferryboat accident. But the coroner’s office in Pottawattamie County, Iowa, said they lost their records in a 1964 tornado. So unless we had a death certificate or your grandmother’s confession…”
“Or both,” Price added.
“…we can’t prove it for certain. But for the life of me,” Tony paused as though going through his list again, “I can’t explain it any other way. I know better than to jump to too many conclusions. Maybe there’s a piece of the puzzle we haven’t thought of.”
“Perhaps there’ll be a way you can talk to your grandmother about it someday. Maybe you could start with the x-ray and make it sound like you were checking up on her health,” Price suggested.
“Do you think Grandma Jessie… I mean… oh, man, if this is true, it’s going to be hard… Grandma Jill would keep the death certificate?”
“Maybe at one time. There’s a possibility if she wasn’t sure she could pull it off, she would want the records. But after all these years of getting away with it, I’m not sure she’d keep such a document. Like I said, I dug around in her files and found nothing.”
“Did you look in her safe?” Melody asked.
“What safe?”
“The one behind the ‘Two Girls at the Theatre’ painting downstairs.”
“No, of course not.”
“Let’s go look. I know the combination. It’s my grandma’s birth date.” Melody led them toward the stairs.
“This is totally up to you, kid,” Tony said. “From here on we’re stepping out of it. You only have to press this as far as you want.”
“Do you know what this means if this is true? Oh, man… Bennington might be my grandfather. And my mom? She’d have a father… still alive.”
“For a little while,” Tony reminded her.
Price spun around at the dong of a bell. “I’ll get the door. You two go on. But no more hugging until I get there.”
“Is Dr. S. the jealous type?” Melody whispered.
“Like a wounded mama bear,” Tony whispered back. “She’s dangerous to be around if she gets jealous.”
“Wow, she is so sophisticated. She doesn’t look that sort at all.”
Melody still spun the dial on the safe when Price joined them, carrying something wrapped in green tissue.
“Who was at the door?”
Tony inquired.
“Kenny Mallard.”
“What’s that?”
“A long-stemmed red rose.”
Melody stopped spinning the dial. “Isn’t it just like a jerk? He thinks he can make up for everything by bringing me a red rose. Some people are so naive.”
“Actually, it isn’t for you. I think it’s sort of a going away present for me,” Price sheepishly replied.
Melody clutched her throat. “What? For you? Kenny Mallard gave you a flower?”
Tony stood arrow straight and jammed his hands on his hips. “What did he say?”
“Something to the effect of… ‘If you ever get tired of the old man and need me to unlock your computer or anything else, just call and I’ll charter a plane. I can be in Arizona in four hours.’” Tony flung both hands in the air. “He said that?”
“Wasn’t that sweet of him?” Price flashed a plaster smile.
“If that leather jacketed gigolo shows up in Arizona, he’ll face forty grains of powder and two hundred grains of lead,” Tony snarled.
Melody drew her hands across her face in mock horror. “Whoa, he’s like a wounded mama bear when he gets jealous.”
Tony’s tension relaxed into a smile. “Come to think of it, old Kenny is pretty smart.”
“How do you figure?” Price cocked her head.
“He’s got good taste in women.” Tony patted the safe. “Come on, kiddo, open that sucker up.”
The eighteen inches square iron-gray safe showed little sign of use. Inside were stacks of papers and policies and several cigar boxes. Melody dug around in the boxes, filled mainly with assorted pieces of Victorian jewelry. The last box was sealed with thick, yellowed cellophane tape and held a small, locked journal.
“Did you find anything in those papers?” Melody asked as Tony spread the contents across the couch.
“Nothing yet. Maybe these old insurance policies have a clue. Read them over carefully.”
“It could be in here.” Melody held up the brown leather book.
“Is there a key?”
“No, but we could cut the strap,” Melody suggested.
Tony examined the book and handed it back to Melody. “That’s got to be your decision. It’s your family. Your grandmother. We can’t tell you what to do. There may not be anything in here. Or your grandmother Reynolds might want this, and it would be tough to explain.”
“Wait a minute,” Melody shouted. “This might not be Grandma’s diary.”
“It does say Jessica Davenport on the cover,” Price pointed out.
“Exactly. If Grandma Jessie is really Jill, then this isn’t her diary. It’s her sister’s.”
“Melody, if that is Jessica Davenport’s diary from her years as an artist, it could be really exciting in itself,” Price said.
“Talk about a writing project,” Tony commented. “The Davenport Diary… there’s your writing project. That, young lady, would be highly publishable.”
“Oh, man, this is turning out to be an incredible day. Do you think there could be some of Jessica’s personal papers inside?”
“Seems like a mighty good place to stick Jessica’s legal papers,” Tony suggested.
Melody tried to pull the strap loose. “Do you have something sharp?”
Tony reached into his pocket for his buckhorn cattleman’s knife.
Melody shoved the book toward Tony. “Cut it open for me.”
“Nope.” He opened the knife and handed it to her. “You’ve got to do it. It’s got to be totally your choice. Once it’s cut, it can never be locked again.”
She nodded, carefully sliced through the leather, and slowly flipped through the yellowed pages. Most of the faded entries were written in pencil. Two neatly folded papers fluttered to the ground. Tony stooped over and picked them up.
“What are they?” Melody’s voice was tight and high. “Read them to me.”
Tony handed them over. “You’ll have to tell us, darlin’. This is your family.”
She opened the one with gold embossing. “It’s Jessica Davenport’s baptism certificate from 1932.”
“And the other?” Price urged.
Melody held the sheet away from her as though it would catch fire any moment. She unfolded it. The room was dead silent except for the crinkling of the page. She stared for a moment, then her lips quivered. Her eyes puddled. She sucked air in deep gulps. “Oh, dear Lord…” she moaned.
“Is it the death certificate for Jessica Davenport?” Tony asked.
Melody nodded and flung her arms around Price for a second round of tears.
They walked Melody to her truck. “Don’t worry about us,” Price assured her. “We’ll arrange for someone else to take us to the airport. You’ve got a lot of things to take care of.”
“No, I want to do it, really. I’ll try to be back before 2:30. But if I’m not here, Kim is on standby. She said she would be happy to drive you. I want to show all this to Mom. The x-ray, the doctor’s evaluation, and the death certificate. I couldn’t tell her on the phone.”
“What will you do after that?”
“I don’t know. Mom and I will have to decide.”
“Do you think she’ll be able to handle it?” Price asked.
“She’ll be in total shock, just like me. But Mom was serious about that commitment she made to the Lord. She’ll do a lot better than she would have before.”
“Do you want us to come with you?” Tony offered.
“I know you’ve got a lot of last minute details, toting those documents back to the museum and all that. Besides, Mom and I might blubber all afternoon. I’m not about to make you late for your plane.”
“Listen, kid, if you need us, we’ll cancel the flight and help you work this through.”
Price nodded agreement as she slipped her arm in Tony’s.
Melody stared at them. “You mean it, don’t you?”
“Yes, we do,” Price affirmed.
“You haven’t seen your family all summer, and you’d stay here with me?”
“Just say the word.”
Melody bit her lip. “Well, here’s the word: Go home. I can’t figure out why you treat me so good. Go home before I start crying like a kid being left at camp.”
“If your mother needs to talk, have her call me,” Price said. “I’d love to talk with her before we leave.”
“I’m sure she’ll appreciate that.”
They still stood in the driveway when a small green sedan zipped toward them. Barefoot and wearing camouflage shorts and olive drab tank top, Tulip jumped out of her car carrying a 2’ x 3’ artist’s canvas. Her braid flew out in a long tail behind her. “Hey, good. You aren’t gone yet.”
“We’ve hardly seen you since the night of the Island Fair. How have you been?”
Narrow green eyes peered right at Price. “I… I’ve been fine. Thanks for asking.” She turned to Tony. “This is for you.” She shoved the canvas into his hands.
“Did you paint this?” he asked.
“Yeah, I had to rush it when I found out you were leaving today. It’s my way of saying thanks for helping round up the animals. I could tell you really cared about them. It’s a quality in a man I find very appealing.”
Tony showed the artwork to Price.
“That big rock represents Tony, and the little flower is the Angora rabbit,” Tulip explained. “… and the beam of light is the rope. See how it surrounds the flower? Like when you roped the rabbit.”
“Actually, I didn’t rope it. I think I stunned it.”
“Why does this cloud have lipstick and a smile?” Price asked.
“That’s me. Well, not me, really. I have no need to paint my lips with caustic, polluting chemicals. It’s more like Mother Nature giving her approving kiss on the whole evening.”
“I see.”
“The whole piece is ecologically balanced and correct.”
“Of course.”
“But it’s still kind of wet. You might not want
to stick it in an overhead bin. It could get smeared. If I were you, I’d carry it on your lap.”
“Oh?” Tony’s eyes glazed as he appealed to Price.
“Listen.” Tulip’s sprinkling of freckles seemed to glow in the light of her all-natural face. “If you ever need someone to review your books, to make sure they’re politically correct, I’d be happy to check them out. Call me anytime. Here’s my home number.” She handed him a card shaped like a whale. One phone number was crossed out and another written in pencil.
“Thanks, Tulip. I appreciate your stopping by.” Tony gazed at the dark background with splotches of abstract color. “And I have a question for you.”
Tulip laid her right hand on Tony’s arm. “What’s that?”
“Out of a writer’s curiosity, is your real name Tulip?”
She whispered in Tony’s ear, “No, it’s Ashley.”
Tony nodded. “It fits.”
Tulip threw her thin arms around Tony’s neck, hugged tight, and kissed his cheek before she pulled back. “Thanks for saving those animals.” She tossed a perfunctory wave at Price, flung herself into the sedan, and ripped up the driveway to the road.
Price shook her head. “Oh my, I’m afraid Tulip has a bad crush on that famous author, Anthony Shadowbrook.”
“Don’t be silly.”
“She’s stuck on you. That’s obvious.”
“No, that’s ridiculous. Look at this painting.”
“It’s a love gift.”
“Serious?”
“I know when a woman is making a move for my husband. If that lady shows up in Scottsdale banging at our door, I’ll seriously rip her lips off.”
“This is getting bizarre.” Tony tugged Price back toward the house. “It’s time to go home.”
Tony ran the vacuum across the living room floor when he noticed Price race to the telephone. He shut down the machine and waited.
“No, she’s not here, Josh. Can I give her a message? She’s at her mom’s. Maybe she called from there. Josh, give her some time. She’s got something important to tell her mother. Josh?” Price talked to the dial tone.
“What’s our middle child up to?” Tony asked.
“I haven’t known what that kid is up to since he was six and took his bicycle to the top of the church bell tower. He said he wanted to talk to Melody.”