Morning Glory

by Sarah Jio

  “Mom,” Jim says, “please, Father will hear you.”

  She holds up her hand to silence him. “It makes no matter. It’s no secret to him.”

  Jim looks at his hands in his lap.

  “Yes, I loved Dexter Wentworth. But it was all a mistake, a terrible mistake. Not just because he was my patient, but because he was married. I destroyed everything he had with Penny.”

  Jim stands up and walks into the kitchen as if this revelation is too much for him to take.

  “She was everything I wasn’t,” Naomi continues. “Sweet and gentle. Innocent.” She lets out a nervous cackle. “I wanted to be like her.”

  Naomi looks at Jim. “I’m so sorry, son,” she says tearfully. “I wasn’t the mother I wanted to be. Will you ever forgive me?”

  “I forgave you a long time ago, Mom,” he says, sitting beside her again.

  “Naomi, what happened the night that Penny disappeared?”

  She closes her eyes as if the memory is close, perhaps painfully so. “She and Dexter had a fight,” she says, opening her eyes. “He was distraught. I took him into my arms.” She closes her eyes and embraces the air as if he’s kneeling in front of her. The vision seems to soothe her, momentarily, before Jim speaks.

  “You told him you could never be happy unless you were together,” Jim says to his mother. “It’s funny, after that night, I realized that your unhappiness had nothing to do with me.”

  “Oh, Jim, dear, of course it had nothing to do with you.” She pauses, and her eyes widen. “Wait, how did you—”

  “I was there,” he says. “I saw you together when I was looking for my stick. I found it and I ran back to the dock. But it was too late then. She was gone.”

  I cover my mouth and shake my head. “Jim, what happened?”

  “I don’t know,” he says. “Dad was standing there. He was crying. It was the first time I saw him cry.”

  I take a deep breath. “So she just slipped and fell into the water? It doesn’t make any sense. She’d lived on a houseboat for years; surely she had good balance.”

  Naomi looks pained by something. I look into her eyes. “Tell me what you’re thinking about,” I say.

  She bites her lip. It’s as if she’s trying to keep the memories bottled up and hidden away, but there’s a crack in the bottle now. They’re seeping out and she has no control over them anymore.

  “It was the best and the most terrible night of my life,” she says. “Dexter told me he was leaving Penny. One minute I was elated, imagining us finally being together. It’s all I could think about. And the next minute, that dream was gone, forever.” She dabs her handkerchief to the corners of her eyes once more. “After . . . the accident . . . Lenora and Tom knocked on our door. I guess they knew I was inside with Dexter; maybe everybody knew. Well, they told us what had happened. I’d never seen so much pain in a man’s eyes. He ran out of the house, with his shirt unbuttoned. He didn’t care anymore. He didn’t care about me anymore. The only thing that mattered was Penny. I followed him down the dock and pushed through the crowd of onlookers.

  “He just kept pacing the dock, screaming her name. I had to look away,” Naomi continues. “It was the last night I saw Dexter. His houseboat was always rented out after that.”

  I nod. “Naomi, if she . . . if she was killed, who might have been to blame?”

  She stares at a speck on the wall and shakes her head as if deep in thought. “I knew it when I saw him standing there crying,” she says. “I could see it in his eyes.”

  “Gene?”

  Jim looks away.

  “Yes,” Naomi says. “I’ve come to believe that he did it for me. He did it so I’d be happy.”

  “And is that why you forgave him?”

  “Yes,” she says, before a shadow of concern comes over her face. “You aren’t going to have him arrested, are you?” she pleads. “Not in his condition.”

  It’s all happening so fast. I don’t know what to do. But I know that no matter what the circumstances, Penny deserves justice. “The police will want to at least take your testimony,” I say. “For the record.” I place my hand over hers. “Naomi, Penny was pregnant that night.”

  “My God,” she says. “I didn’t know.”

  “What do we do next?” Jim asks.

  We’ve been so deep in conversation, none of us notice Gene standing in the kitchen until he clears his throat.

  “Gene, dear,” Naomi says. “What are you doing up?”

  “I’m going to turn myself in,” he says.

  Naomi stands up and shakes her head. “Dear, you’re not well. Go back to bed. You need—”

  “No,” Gene says lucidly. “I know what I’m saying. I know what I did. I need to confess before it’s too late to do it. I’ve carried this for too long, dear.”

  “This is what I was trying to prevent from happening,” Jim says to me. He shakes his head as if trying to sort out what to do next. “I didn’t mean to frighten you, but you were asking so many questions about Penny, I worried there might be something inside your houseboat, something incriminating. Look at him. He’s in no state to go to prison.”

  “You,” I say. “It was you who was trying to break in?”

  “Yes,” he replies. “I long suspected this ugly truth in my family’s past. Sometimes I thought it was a dream, a recurring nightmare, but deep down, I knew what I saw as a boy. That horrible image of my father’s hands around her neck—it’s burned in my memory.”

  Naomi shakes her head. “Gene, no, I won’t let you do this. You don’t know what you’re saying. Go back to bed.” She looks at Jim. “Jimmy, stop this nonsense. Take your father back to bed.”

  “No,” Gene says, holding up his hand. “This family has suffered too long because of what I did. To think I had everyone on Boat Street believing that Jimmy was to blame. It’s the only way they’d keep the pact.” Jim looks at his feet as his father shakes his head slowly. “It’s time I come clean.”

  “Father,” Jim says. His face looks ashen. “You told them that I—”

  “I’m sorry, son,” he says.

  Naomi is crying now. She stands up and walks toward him, throwing her arms around his shoulders. “Please,” she begs. “Don’t do this. Don’t go to the police.”

  He takes her face in his hands. “I knew you could never love me the way you loved Dexter Wentworth,” he says in a quivering voice. “I thought that if she were gone, he’d be too guilt-ridden to continue the affair.”

  Naomi shakes her head. “No, Gene. No, I won’t hear of this.”

  “And I was right,” he says. “But what I didn’t know was that you’d only be half here. One part of your heart would always long for him. I didn’t factor that into my plan.” Gene touches her chin lightly, but she turns away.

  “All this time,” she says, searching his eyes, “I thought you did it for me. I thought you wanted her out of the way so I could be happy.” She shakes her head. “But you did it for yourself.”

  Gene is stoic, but I can see that her words have pierced him in a place that only she can reach. He walks to the closet. “I’ll just go and get my coat. Son, will you drive me to the station?”

  Jim stands. “Dad,” he says. “I—”

  I squeeze Jim’s arm. “Let him go,” I say under my breath. “He needs this.”

  “But his health . . .”

  “The police will take that into account, I’m sure,” I say.

  Jim nods. I watch him walk toward his father. I know it must be painful for him, for all of them. But this scene should have played out fifty years ago. The sadness in the room is thick, but there’s relief, too. I see it on Naomi’s face; Gene’s, too.

  “All right, Pop,” Jim says slowly.

  “You’re doing the right thing, Gene,” I say, standing up.

  “Oh, Penny,” he cries. “Will you ever forgive me?”

  “Her name is Ada, Dad,” Jim interjects.

  Gene looks momentarily stunned, then nods
. “Of course it is.”

  I reach into my pocket. Penny’s hospital bracelet is there, as is the crumpled paper I found in the chest. “Here,” I say to Jim. “Something I found in the houseboat. I think it belongs to you.”

  Jim unfolds the wrinkled paper and studies the comic strip he drew as a boy, with its crude figures and jagged lines. It was once a castoff, perhaps, but years later, I look into Jim’s tear-filled eyes, and I can see that it might just be the greatest relic from a lost childhood. While this little freckle-faced boy may have been lost in the shuffle of his parents’ own heartache, he mattered to Penny.

  Chapter 33

  After Jim escorts his father to the police station, I practically race up to the street, then run down Alex’s dock. I can’t wait to tell him about Gene’s confession, about all of it.

  I stop, out of breath, in front of his door. I place my hand on the doorknob, but pause when I notice a pair of lime green flats and two adorable little girl’s UGG boots. I peer through the window that looks directly into the kitchen and living area, and my heart seizes.

  Kellie’s standing barefoot in front of the stove, stirring something simmering in a large pot. Alex and Gracie are huddled over a picture book at the bar. Everyone’s smiling. It’s the picture of a happy, idyllic family.

  I take a step back. How could I think that I could insert myself into their world? I can’t knock on the door. I can’t think about going inside. I don’t belong here. I shake my head and run back up the dock.

  “Joanie, it’s me,” I say into the phone. “I’m coming home.”

  “Oh, honey,” she says. “What happened?”

  I rub my eyes. I know she can hear my voice cracking. “Nothing, exactly,” I say. “I met the man of my dreams. I fell in love. But he’s a part of a family, and I can’t break that up.”

  “Oh,” Joanie says. “Are you sure you’re not misinterpreting the situation? Didn’t you say he’s divorced, that he’s over his ex?”

  “That doesn’t matter,” I say. “I just saw them together. The three of them. You should have seen the way his little girl looked up adoringly at her mom and dad.” I pause to wipe a tear from my cheek. “I can’t interfere with that, Joanie. I’m catching a plane home this evening.”

  I spend the next few hours packing, and when my suitcase is arranged, I wipe down the counters and hand-wash the dishes in the sink. I dry the water glass that Alex used the night before, and I set it lovingly on the shelf. It’s for the best, I tell myself.

  I make the bed upstairs, then give the living room a once-over. I’ll miss this place. Jim. The ducks. The lake. The way the morning glory blooms just as the sun rises. I walk outside to the deck and kneel down to pick a white flower and tuck it in my pocket. I don’t ever want to forget Boat Street.

  I stand up just as Kellie is walking out of Alex’s houseboat. She’s wearing a coat, and her purse is slung over her shoulder. She stops briefly, then waves. “Hello,” she calls out. I’m a bit startled by the overture. Each of us knows of the other, and yet we’ve never spoken. What would I say to her?

  “Hi,” I reply.

  “May I come over?” Kellie asks.

  I nod stiffly. I don’t know what to expect. Will she plead with me to stay away from her daughter? From Alex? Will there be words? I brace myself.

  “Just a minute,” she says. “I’ll walk around.”

  Two minutes later, she’s standing in front of my deck. “What do you think?” she says, pointing to her shoes. “They were an impulse buy at Nordstrom. But lime green? I’m not so sure.”

  I grin. “They’re really cute.” I’m surprised by how much I already like her. She’s funny and warm and reminds me of Joanie, but I still regard her presence cautiously. “Would you like to come in?”

  “Yes, thanks. I was hoping we could talk.”

  Inside, she sits on a chair in the living room, and I sink into the sofa. My heart is beating wildly. I feel like I’m in the principal’s office. Will her smile morph into a stern expression before she warns me against spending time with Gracie? Will she confide that she still loves Alex and plead with me, woman to woman, to back off?

  We both began speaking at the same time. “Sorry,” I say.

  Kellie smiles. “This is awkward, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” I reply quickly. “Listen, I don’t want you to worry. I’m leaving, tonight, actually.”

  She looks confused. “Leaving? Why?”

  “I don’t want to interfere,” I say. “It’s best for Gracie if the two of you have the space to work things out.”

  “Work things out?” She lets out a little laugh. “Alex and me?”

  I shake my head, confused. “But I thought . . .”

  “Ada, I’m engaged,” she says, holding up an enormous sparkler on her left hand. “I moved on a long time ago.”

  “You did?”

  She nods. “Listen, we’ve had our past, and it wasn’t always easy. We were two people who were never meant to marry, but we did anyway, and the best result was Gracie. Alex and I were in a terrible place for a long time, but we’re good now. Gracie’s good. She loves you, by the way.”

  “She does?” I feel like Jell-O. This isn’t the conversation I anticipated having, and yet it’s the greatest, most unexpected gift.

  “Yes,” she says. “And so do I. Alex told me about you, about what you’ve been through. Well, what I want you to know is that I welcome you into this crazy, dysfunctional family of ours. You make Alex happy, and that makes him a better daddy. A win-win.”

  I grin. “I can’t believe I read the situation so wrong.”

  Kellie smiles. “It’s OK. All that matters now is that you stay and give it a chance. Think you can do that?”

  I nod.

  “By the way,” she continues, “those cookies you made for Gracie were really good. Do you have the recipe to share?”

  “No,” I say, “but I can get it for you.”

  “Please,” she says. “I’m working on a cookie book in the fall, and I’d love to include it.”

  “I have to admit,” I say, thinking of Penny, “the recipe isn’t mine. It’s from a woman who lived in this houseboat a long time ago.”

  “Oooh, history,” she says. “Even better. Stories always enrich a recipe.” She looks at her watch. “I have to go,” she says, standing up. “My editor will be at Wild Ginger in a half hour.” She leans over and rubs the back of her right shoe. “Serves me right to have to walk three blocks downtown when I wear a new pair out. You don’t happen to have a Band-Aid handy?”

  “Blister?”

  “Yeah,” she says.

  I run to the bathroom and return, handing her the bandage.

  “Thanks,” she says.

  “It took a lot of courage to come over to talk to me,” I say. “I don’t know that I could have done that.”

  Kellie shakes her head knowingly. “Yes, you could have. You’re a mother to a little girl,” she says, pointing up to heaven. She lowers her voice. “Alex told me.”

  I nod.

  “We do anything for our children’s happiness; you know that.”

  I blink back a tear. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Don’t say anything,” she says, smiling. “Go get your guy.”

  Chapter 34

  Jim returns from the police station at three in the afternoon, alone.

  I’m sitting at the edge of the dock, where I’ve been since Kellie left, and I turn around when I hear the creak of his footsteps on the dock behind me. Boat Street is changing; I can feel it.

  He slips his hat off and holds it to his chest. “Hi,” he says.

  I stand, and my eyes sting with tears. “Where’s Gene, is he—?”

  “They’re keeping him for questioning.”

  “Jim, I’m so sorry,” I say. “Please, believe me, it wasn’t my intention to—”

  He holds up his hand. “No,” he says, looking out to the lake through misty red eyes. “No, this needed to
happen. You should have seen him at the station.” He turns back to me. “It’s like a burden was lifted off his shoulders.”

  I think of what that might feel like—his secret, like a lead vest worn every day, peeled away—and I’m relieved for him, even if it means spending the rest of his life, however short it may be, behind bars.

  “And will they make a case against him?” I ask. Penny deserves justice, but I can’t help but worry about Gene’s age, his health.

  “The officer told me they’d look out for him,” Jim says, rubbing his brow. “They’d treat him kindly.”

  We don’t say anything for the next few minutes, and I try to imagine what Jim must be thinking about this place he’s called home for so many years.

  “What’s next,” I say, “for Boat Street? For you?”

  He kicks a pebble into the lake and it makes a tiny splash. I think of Penny out there still. I think of Jimmy’s hazy childhood memories, his pain.

  “I thought I’d take a trip,” he says, “on the Catalina. For Penny.”

  “She’d like that,” I say, smiling. “Where will you go?”

  Jim takes a deep breath. “Well, first Catalina Island, and then, well, I don’t know. Wherever the wind takes me, I guess.”

  “Sounds nice.”

  “Truth is,” he continues, “I probably should have made this voyage years ago. Guess I was worried about Mom and Dad, worried about . . .”

  “Go,” I say. “If Gene should need anything, well, I’ll give the officers my contact information. And Alex and I will look after Naomi.”

  Alex and I. I like the sound of it.

  Jim thanks me and walks up the dock to his houseboat. When he’s gone, I study the planks beneath my feet, remembering how I felt when I first arrived, how I fell to my feet and wept until I hadn’t a single tear left. I think of my journey, and Penny’s, and this dock we both have called home. Home.

  I look up, and I see Alex walking toward me. Gracie skips along beside him. She’s wearing pink leggings, a gray sweatshirt, and those purple UGGs, which Ella would have loved. The ensemble is punctuated, of course, with a fluorescent yellow life vest, courtesy of her daddy.