Fox Island

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Fox Island Page 21

by Stephen Bly


  “He’s in for a long conversation.” Tony wound the vacuum cleaner cord. “I’m through in here. You want me to leave the vacuum out?”

  “Okay, I’ll get the bedroom.”

  “I’ll sweep the deck.”

  “I’ll get the front door.”

  Tony headed to the kitchen for the broom as a familiar voice boomed from the front screen door. “Shadowbrook, you going to scoot off the Island without saying goodbye to old Peterson?”

  Tony backtracked and held out his hand. “Thanks for stopping by, Harvey. Did you look over those declassified Navy papers?”

  “I can’t begin to thank you enough. Absolutely amazing.”

  “I was wondering how you thought they’d affect your book.”

  “I think sales will really boom, especially when I bring out my new book, based on these documents. I’m going to call it The Conspiracy Continues. Incredible how they concocted that entire assassination story just to cover up the invasion. This is the smoking gun. I’ve got proof now.”

  “Well, I wish you luck in your new writing venture.”

  “I figure this will take more time to develop than the first book. Probably a whole month.”

  “A month?” Price echoed.

  “Hey, that’s the sacrifice we writers have to make, right? It’s a shame you folks don’t settle down on the Island. We could use a few more straight-thinking folks. The type that’s movin’ in makes a man want to pack up for Alaska. I got you and the missus a little memento of this summer.” Harvey walked out to the back of his old Jeep CJ5 and pulled out a three-foot piece of driftwood. A two-foot-high seagull perched on top.

  “Is it a carving?” Price asked.

  “Shoot, no. It’s the real thing. I trapped him and stuffed him myself. A little souvenir taxidermied right here on the Island.”

  “But I thought… Isn’t it illegal?” Tony began.

  “Hey, don’t mention it. Happy to do it. You two brought a little excitement to all of us. Why, everyone I know is wondering who will be mentioned in your book.”

  “Actually,” Price said, “we don’t usually put the names of…”

  Harvey sidled up to Tony. “Listen, it’s all right with me if you tone down my language at the community meeting. I get a little spicy, and I wouldn’t want parents upset when their children read the account.”

  “I guarantee none of those colorful phrases will be included.”

  “I knew I could count on you. Well, I’ll see you folks on down the road. If I ever get to Scottsbluff, I’ll look you up.”

  “We live in…” Price elbowed Tony midsentence. “Thanks for the present, Harvey.”

  Peterson retreated toward his Jeep, then yelled back. “Take it easy with that bird. Those legs aren’t all that strong. You could snap them off if you banged it good. Best carry it in your lap. Adios, amigos! Hey, I almost forgot to tell you,” he shouted from the driveway. “Anthony Shadowbrook is now an honorary member of the Chainsaw Militia.”

  They waved as he departed.

  “We are not taking that home,” Price said.

  The next two hours they finished packing, scrubbed the house, and entertained six more visitors.

  “Do you think we’ve got everything in the four suitcases and two briefcases?” Price dusted the picture frame of Two Girls at the Beach.

  “Except for one red rose, a mystery acrylic painting, a stuffed sea gull, a dozen gooey brownies, a basket of fried chicken and homemade biscuits, a bag of miniature daffodil bulbs, a Clay Baby in the shape of a rotund hula dancer, and a jar of wild cherry preserves.”

  “And chapter five,” Price added.

  “Two copies of chapter five,” he corrected.

  “We’ll take them with us on the plane.”

  Tony studied the recently acquired treasures. “What about the rest?”

  “We’ll lunch on the food. I’ll cram the bulbs and the rock in my briefcase.”

  “Yes, go on.”

  “The rest can go in the basement. But I’ll feel real guilty.”

  Tony patted the sea gull. “Guilty enough to carry these lovely items on your lap all the way to Scottsdale?”

  “Not that guilty. Come on, let’s eat. Then we can have our last walk.”

  They settled down at the deck redwood table just as Melody and her mother appeared and sat down with them.

  “Well, the Shadowbrooks turned my world upside down … again,” Barbara said. “What am I going to do now?”

  Price searched the woman’s eyes for a hint of her condition. This woman didn’t need more disappointments. Lord, I surely hope we did the right thing.

  Melody hugged her mom. “We had a really good talk. We both believe Grandma changed her name to Jessica after the wreck.”

  “Are you going to talk to her?” Price inquired.

  “Frankly…” Barbara blurted in her characteristic loud voice, “I don’t have the slightest idea how to bring the subject up without falling to pieces or causing Mother a heart attack. How would you suggest we tell her we think she’s pretended to be her dead twin sister for over fifty years?”

  “I’m not sure. Would you like us to go with you?”

  Tony felt his heart sink. No, no, no! Price, we can’t do that!

  Melody’s eyes brightened. “That would be great, Dr. S. We were hoping you would say that. But maybe we ought to get a bite to eat first.”

  “Why don’t you join us?” Price ignored Tony’s jab. “We have more than plenty.”

  Barbara nudged her daughter. “Don’t just sit there. Get us some plates.”

  The four of them left Mrs. Reynolds’ apartment after 2:00 and trudged back to the car. Tony chauffeured them in the white Oldsmobile back to the house.

  “It’s going to take a while for Mother to get used to us knowing her secrets,” Barbara said.

  “At least she wasn’t hostile,” Price added.

  “Or even bitter. I think your love and understanding helped a lot,” Tony said. “It could have been easy for you and Melody to approach her with a lot of anger.”

  “A few weeks ago, I would probably have cussed her out, then gone home for a drunken jag.”

  “You were real calm, Mom. I was proud of you.” Melody sighed. “I was a nervous wreck.”

  “That’s a switch. Well, I’m glad she admitted the whole thing.”

  “Do you think she’ll recant?” Melody said. “Tomorrow she might claim to be Jessica again.”

  Barbara pulled off her heavy dark sunglasses and wiped her eyes. “She’s got to work it through her own way. But so do we.”

  Price turned around from the front seat. “I did hear her admit that Bennington was your father.”

  “Yes,” Melody injected, “but she also said he was a jerk whom she hoped would rot in Hades.”

  “She’s been living in deception for a very long time,” Tony reminded them. “It will be difficult to change.”

  “What do you think you’ll do now?” Price asked.

  Melody twirled a lock of her hair. “Get you guys to the airport, then…” She sat straight up and slapped the palms of both hands on her knees. “I’m going to be a schoolteacher.”

  Price smiled her full approval. “I’m sure you’ll be a great one.”

  “The first thing I’ve got to do … is call up this Mr. Bennington.” Barbara choked up.

  Melody slid closer to her mother and slipped an arm around her. “Go ahead and say it, Mom.”

  Barbara sniffled into a tissue. “I’m going to call my father and introduce myself before he dies,” she managed to say with a shaky voice. “I hope I can keep from yelling and screaming about him showing up fifty years too late.”

  “Do you want to call him now?” Tony prompted.

  “No. Not yet. I’ll wait until … No, I think … it would be better to call right away, when Melody’s with me. Otherwise, I’m afraid I’ll chicken out.”

  When they reached the house, Melody and her mother marched to the kitche
n phone. After packing the car, Price and Tony hiked to the beach for one last look at Puget Sound and penitentiary island across Carr Inlet spread with a great expanse of wooded mystery, full of stories yet to be heard. Northwest a hazy outline of the Olympic Mountains shimmered like a mirage on the horizon. A seagull flopped in the air above them, as though expecting tidbits to be thrown. Tony skipped a rock across the water and the gull swooped down for inspection. Price picked up litter—a flyer for a luau sponsored by the Yacht Club and some scratched-out lottery tickets.

  Tony swept his arm above the gravelly shore. “And now we bid a fond farewell to Fox Island, a memorable respite in a sea of turbulence.”

  Price hugged Tony’s arm close to her chest. “Phoenix was 106 yesterday.”

  “Good, we’ll be going home during a cool spell.”

  “What do you think’s happening up there?” She nodded toward the house.

  “About fifty years of suppressed emotions, I suppose.”

  “Do you think the shock will be bad for his health?”

  Tony squeezed Price, then pulled away to peer at a car coming down the driveway. “I don’t figure his health can get any worse. We better go see who that is.”

  Kim and Amigo without body paint bounded out of the flaking gray ’58 Mercedes and ambled toward them. “We just came down to make sure you had a ride to the airport.”

  “Thanks for the offer. Melody’s inside. We’ll make it fine,” Tony answered.

  “You mean, if we leave in the next five minutes.” Price pushed her sunglasses up. “We really appreciate your coming by, don’t we, Tony?”

  “Yes, we do. In fact, we have something for you. Don’t go away.”

  “You do?”

  “We do?” Price echoed.

  Tony ducked inside the front door and returned with the acrylic painting. “Kim, you are so into art, I thought you could appreciate this original piece.” He turned it around.

  “Wow, for me? It’s great.”

  “What is it?” Amigo asked.

  “He doesn’t know squat about art. See that big rock, it’s symbolic of the forces of the universe. And the sunlight represents the centuries of time. And this flower is you and me, Amigo.”

  “It is? What about the cloud thing with the red lipstick?”

  “That’s the breath of life about to be kissed into us.”

  “I knew you’d like it.” Tony nearly crowed with delight.

  “Boy, someday, I’d sure like to paint like that,” Kim said. “Did you paint it, Mr. S.?”

  “Oh no, I assure you, I couldn’t paint anything like that. But it is an original piece from a local artist. You won’t find another like it anywhere.”

  “Wow!”

  “What about me?” Amigo pouted. “Do you have something for me?”

  “As a matter of fact…” Tony ignored Price’s frantic motions as he ducked back in the house. Out came the stuffed sea gull. “I want you to have this.”

  “A sea gull?”

  “Not just any sea gull. Its name is Adios. Is that awesome, or what?”

  “I don’t get it.”

  Kim shook her head. “Come on, Adios, Amigo … see?”

  “Oh, wow, that’s cool. It’s like the dawning of Aquarius. It’s a sign, a cosmic omen. Do-do-do-do-do-do-do … a Twilight Zone thing. I can hardly wait until I show the guys at work.”

  “Where do you work?” Price asked.

  “Dos Amigos restaurant.”

  “What do you do?” Tony pressed.

  “Dos Amigos—that’s me and my dad. We own the place.”

  “Your real name is Amigo?”

  “Amigo, Jr.”

  “Well, Amigo, Jr., thanks for stopping by to check on us.”

  They blew diesel smoke all the way up the driveway.

  Price glanced at her watch. “We’ve got to go.”

  “You want me to check with the ladies?”

  “Here they come.”

  Melody grabbed another box of tissue as they scooted out the door.

  “Well, what did he say?” Price quizzed.

  “We’d better get you to the airport. Mom’s going to ride with us. We can tell you everything on the way. Mr. S., would you mind driving? My eyes are a little blurred.”

  The trip whizzed by as Melody and Barbara retold, word for word, Bennington’s reaction.

  “So,” Tony finally broke in. “He didn’t croak right on the phone?”

  “After the shock, he truly sounded relieved.”

  “Settling the score on another of his list of twelve?”

  “Yes, but he really seemed sad that he didn’t meet us when he was out here,” Melody continued. “The doctors are saying he’s got two to four weeks at best.”

  “Isn’t this ironic?” Barbara wheezed. “All my life there’s been an emptiness about my father. Now I’ve found out the truth, and he’s dying three thousand miles away.”

  “I think the Lord had something to do with the timing. Maybe you weren’t able to handle this until after you got some priorities straight in your life.”

  “Yeah. You sure might be right about that.”

  “What time is it?” Tony asked.

  “Ten after three.”

  “That’s cutting it close. I’ll check us in at the curb and let you ladies out. You grab our boarding passes, then I’ll park the car and meet you at the gate.”

  “No,” Melody blurted out. “Let me park the car. You want to wait here, Mom, or do you want to go with me?”

  “I think … I’ll go straight to the ticket counter and book a flight for Maryland.”

  “What?” Melody gasped.

  “Go for it,” Price encouraged.

  “Mother, do you want me to go with you?”

  “Nope. There are some things a daughter has to do for herself. And this time, I’m the daughter. You’ve got a teaching job waiting. It’s important to me to do this on my own.”

  Price gave Melody a hug. “Just in case you can’t find a parking place, you know we love you, don’t you?”

  Melody scrunched her nose. “Oh, bother, I’m going to start bawling again.”

  Tony wrapped his arms around her.

  “You’ve got the best daddy hugs in the world. I’ll see you at the gate … really.”

  Tony and Price said their goodbyes to Barbara inside the terminal. They left her in line at the ticket counter, then rushed toward Concourse D.

  “It takes a lot of nerve to do what she’s doing.” Price tried to keep up with Tony’s long stride. “I don’t think I could.”

  “Gate D12?” he asked.

  “Yes, it’s down at the end.” She got a quick glance at a mirrored glass window as they passed. “Do you think I need a little more color in my hair? To cover the gray?”

  Tony skimmed his own image. “Babe, it’s just the glass. It has a silver tint. It makes my hair look gray too.”

  “Your hair is gray.”

  “No way.”

  “Excuse me?” The woman wore a wide v-neck sequined blouse and trim white leather miniskirt. Platinum blond hair billowed down her back, pulled to one side by jeweled barrettes. Price detected a strong scent of violets. “Are you by any chance Anthony Shadowbrook, the one that writes westerns? I’ve seen your picture on the books.”

  Price slid her arm into Tony’s. “Yes, he is. I’m his wife.”

  “I can’t believe it. You start out thinking it’s just an ordinary day. Just going through the motions and then, all of a sudden, I meet someone famous. Can I have your autograph? Look…look…” She dug into a plastic sack. “I just bought Shotgun Creek. It would be tremendous if you’d sign it.”

  “We’re in a hurry. A plane to catch.” Price tugged his arm.

  “I always have time for an autograph.” Tony took the book. “What name shall I put in it?”

  “Sarah.”

  “Are you S-a-r-a or S-a-r-a-h?”

  “With an h, thanks. But I’m not Sarah.”

  “Y
ou aren’t?”

  “Oh no, this isn’t for me. I don’t read westerns. This is for my grandmother, bless her heart. She can’t get out anymore, so she reads everything she can get her hands on. You’re one of her favorite authors.”

  “Oh, how nice,” Price gushed.

  “We have to run,” Tony said.

  The blonde grabbed back the signed book and sprinted beside them. “Grandma says Mr. Shadowbrook never stoops to smutty language or compromising situations. Now, personally, that sounds too wimpy for me, but thanks so much. This will be a perfect present for Grannie Sarah.” The young lady strutted away toward Gate 11.

  “Wasn’t she a sweet girl?” Price commented. “Come on, Gramps, get your walker and let’s shuffle to our flight. I think they let old geezers board first.”

  The plane had not yet begun to board. They searched the crowd for Melody’s shining dark head and infectious smile. Finally, they sat in black padded chairs. Tony picked up a newspaper from the floor, pulled out the sports section, and read about the upcoming Ellensburg Rodeo.

  “Tony, are they calling our name?”

  “What? I didn’t hear anything.”

  “Listen, there it is again. Maybe there’s something wrong with the tickets.”

  Tony waded through the crowded boarding area and waited at the checkin counter until it was his turn. “Did you call for Shadowbrooks?”

  A short-haired, uniformed woman put down her microphone and pointed toward a courtesy phone. He headed for the white phone, then spent several minutes in animated conversation. By the time he returned to Price, they were pre-boarding the Phoenix flight.

  “It was the twins. Who else would call us at the airport?”

  “What’s wrong now?”

  “If I got this right, Kit borrowed Kathy’s pink shorts and matching lace-trimmed blouse without asking her. I guess Kathy wanted to wear them tonight when we get home.”

  “Kit never wears shorts like that.”

  “She does now.”

  “So, why the call?”

  “For me or you to tell Kit to give the clothes back.”

  “Oh, brother. Well, father of the twins, what did you tell them?”

  “I told Kit not to rifle through Kathy’s clothes. If she wanted shorts, she should go out and buy herself a pair. And I told Kathy to let Kit wear them tonight because I was hoping she’d wear the purple western dress with the white fringe yoke.”

 

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