Wynn in the Willows

by Robin Shope

  “You mean Boone’s money,” Jackie said.

  “What?” Marilyn countered.

  “You said if it weren’t for your money. Actually, it’s Boone’s money. Boone has been more than happy to help. Marilyn, let me take Agatha. It sounds like you need a break.” Jackie remained composed.

  “I see your top priority isn’t finding Boone’s body, and It makes me wonder why.”

  “What a cruel thing to say, Marilyn, and it’s certainly not true. Down deep, I believe Boone is still with us. I can feel him inside of me, calling to me.”

  “Face reality, Jackie.”

  “If I am wrong, then I have no fear that Boone’s body, or ashes, will turn up at any moment now. Curtis Lansing will see to that. If not, then we’ll contact the police, but I suspect this is nothing more than a huge mistake, or a cruel hoax.”

  “Police? The police will be contacted? Are you referring to the two brothers who drive golf carts around the island in lieu of patrol cars?”

  “They only drive the golf carts in the summer.” As Jackie defended them she moved back into Wynn’s view, but now she blocked the view of Marilyn.

  The front door was open. The breeze off the lake ruffled Jackie’s dark hair and picked at the hem of her dress. Jackie kept clenching and opening her hands. “There are patrol cars for them to use during the winter months.”

  “Somehow I have no more confidence in your funeral director—who lost my son—than I have in Officers Tom and Jerry.”

  “Their names are Don and Berry.”

  “Whatever. When I get back to the mainland, I’m hiring a private detective.”

  “You do that, Marilyn. I welcome the added help.”

  “Mother, I am of age and I am going to stay with Jackie,” Agatha insisted, backing further away as she touched her cameo brooch. “I don’t care if I ever see you again.”

  How could Agatha not want a relationship with her mother? All her life Wynn had yearned for her mother. Did one always want what they didn’t have? Ever since returning to the island, Wynn felt her mother’s presence everywhere; she couldn’t rid her from her senses. Small pieces of memories erupted, and then blew away like morning fog on the lake. Other times it was as if her real spirit was buried in the graveyard alongside her dad. Wynn felt tears deep inside her throat. Or was it something that the women would refer to as faith?

  If there truly was a God, then there had to be a day of reckoning, or punishment for Ruth, for abandoning her daughter to her grandparents. Wynn forced the thoughts out of her mind.

  Marilyn looked even more furious. “OK, Agatha, you can stay, but after two weeks with Jackie, you’ll be begging me to let you come home. I’ve had a lifetime of your problems. Let Jackie handle you from now on. I’ll have my life back.” Marilyn capitulated. “By the way, Jackie, I’ll need my share of Boone’s life insurance money as soon as possible. When can I expect it?”

  Jackie’s face bloomed with genuine surprise. “I-I haven’t even contacted the insurance company, yet, and now with Boone’s body missing, I’m sure they’ll launch an investigation of their own. There is no telling how long it will take.”

  “Then I’ll need some funds to tide me over.” Marilyn demanded help. “Boone would want it this way.”

  “You’ve spent all of Boone’s last check?”

  “Of course. I have expenses, too!”

  “There’s not much left in our personal account right now, and I don’t have access to his business account. I’ll talk to our accountant by the end of the week to see what can be done.”

  “End of the week? Make it Monday, first thing.”

  “Are you sure you don’t have any money to use until this is all settled?” Jackie’s voice cracked.

  “There’s not old money in our family, only old people.” Agatha laughed.

  “All right. I can write a check for a few thousand. It’s the best I can do for you right now. Just make sure it lasts. I still have my cleaning lady, and the gardener, and then there are the…”

  “I’ll take it!”

  “Good, then I’ll get my purse.” Jackie headed towards the kitchen.

  Not wanting to be discovered, Wynn dashed across the room to the sink. The women breezed through the room without a glance in her direction.

  Marilyn walked out alone, struggling down the steps with a large suitcase, and a check pursed between her lips. The cabbie jumped out, took hold of the luggage and crammed it into the trunk. Within seconds, they pulled out of the drive. Immediately the air seemed cooler; the sunshine a bit brighter.

  The guests began to leave. The hired servers were cleaning up the rest of the kitchen allowing Wynn to resign her post.

  She walked out onto the patio to, hoping there was still plenty of lobster bisque and fresh fruit for the guests. Sparkling water would go down so nice, too – after being in the hot kitchen.

  It was disappointing to see the tables being folded and loaded back into the catering trucks. On the other side of the patio Jackie sat on the lounger. An envelope was crushed tightly in her hand.

  Roxie hovered protectively.

  “What’s wrong?” Wynn asked.

  Jackie twisted the paper in her hands. “Someone is holding Boone’s body hostage.”

  “Hostage! This is a joke, right?”

  “Here! Read for yourself!” Jackie held out the letter.

  Now that we have your attention, we want you to know that we have Boone’s body in our possession and are willing to trade it for the ruby ring. Details will follow.

  “Where did you get this?” Wynn asked.

  “It was in the stack of sympathy cards on the table. The author didn’t sign it—but I suspect Marilyn.” Jackie was wringing her hands.

  “We need to let the police and Mr. Lansing know and wait for developments.” Roxie said with an air of practicality, as if discussing who to have for tea.

  “I will take care of that.” Jackie’s tone was wobbly, but she straightened her shoulders and said goodbye to the last of her guests. “Roxie, you should go home and rest, Wynn, take her with you. I have Agatha here and I plan to notify the police of everything.”

  Roxie stared hard at Jackie and something passed between them, unspoken.

  Wynn marveled at their silent communication, a testament, once again, to old friends who knew each other well.

  Wynn and Roxie said their goodbyes to one another at the Tree House.

  Thoroughly exhausted from the long and emotionally charged day, Wynn got ready for bed. Coming out of the bathroom, her gaze caught sight of the backpack on the table. She unzipped it and took out the old container she found in the car.

  The subtle gold swirls against the dark navy color were delicate, as though hand painted with a small brush held by patient hands. Mysterious.

  Wynn tried snapping the lock open, but the metal was too thick and sharp. Maybe a knife would pry it open, but she held back; concerned it would scrape the lovely design. Perhaps old photos or love notes? It was fun to think about.

  She brought the box into her room, and then set it on her night stand, staring at it as she climbed into bed.

  At midnight, just as Wynn drifted off, the sound from a motor traveling past woke her. She lay there looking up at the moon thinking about a little toy she and her dad built.

  It was a model engine powered boat, painted blue and white. They tested it the bathtub where it worked just fine. Why didn’t they try it out on the lake? Whatever happened to that boat, anyway? Why was she thinking about this now? And why did the word ‘twirling’ suddenly come to mind?

  Wynn flipped her pillow to the cool side. She’d always loved boats and the sea. Maybe she should have become a sailor instead of a scientist. She had been scratched on rocks and thorns, she had gotten poison ivy so often that she began to regard the rash as freckles, and she had gotten stung by ground bees more than she cared to remember. Something was bubbling up inside of her.

  Roxie would probably refer to it as a spi
ritual awakening, but Wynn thought she might be getting closer to the truth. Never before had she felt close to other women. Was it because of her mother being so remote? In school, she found most girls dull because they obsessed about boys, and dates, and twirling in their new dresses bought from high end department stores. So that’s why she thought of twirling.

  Wynn turned over in bed holding the old container like a beloved teddy bear and went back to sleep.

  9

  Wynn’s hair flew wildly as she rode atop a large leaf from the Scalesia forest above the Galapagos Islands, relishing the reverberation of life forms. If only she had remembered to bring along her binoculars. A sound of pellets smashed against her leaf, nearly thumping her from the sky.

  “Wynn! Wynn! Are you up there?” The voice popped the wind, sending her careening towards the earth. She landed with a thud.

  Wynn opened her eyes to look around; stunned that she was inside of a room and not knocking around in the sky. Sometime between sleep and waking, she had wrapped up in her feather comforter and rolled clear off the bed. Disoriented, she blinked against the sunlight streaming into the open window. She stared bleary-eyed at the clock on the wall. “It’s seven in the morning!”

  “I know it! I need your help!” the voice from below called again.

  It had been a week since Boone’s not-funeral. Roxie had gone every day to support Jackie in her time of need.

  Wynn had continued to do her research, content in the knowledge that if Jackie or Roxie needed her, they’d say so.

  Wynn shook loose the sheet that ensnared her right ankle. She stumbled over the tattered shoebox containing fifteen years worth of cards that she reread as part of her nightly ritual. Just as she reached the window a handful of pebbles hit again.

  “Finally! There you are!” Jackie breathlessly called.

  “Jackie? What are you doing here?” A pebble had lodged itself between the screen and the window frame. Wynn popped the screen until she was able to grab hold of it. “Hey, this is a Petoskey stone! Where did you find this?”

  “They’re all over the place down here.” Jackie snapped. “Roxie’s not at home. Do you know where she is?”

  “No, I haven’t any idea. What’s up?”

  “I have an appointment with my accountant in twenty minutes and I don’t want to go alone. I have a feeling he has bad financial news for me,” Jackie explained.

  Wynn looked around at the island plant life she had started to collect and chart. As soon as it was photographed, pressed and logged, it would join the rest of her research on the first floor of the garage. With a deadline looming, she really needed to stay here and work, but Jackie sounded pathetic. “Want me to come? I’m not Roxie, but I might be able to offer…”

  “Wonderful! Just hurry!” Jackie called.

  “OK, just give me a minute to throw on some clothes. I’m coming.” Wynn pulled on her blue jeans and a sleeveless white cotton top. After brushing her teeth, she put blush on her suntanned cheeks, and then added a touch of gloss to her lips. Her hair was gathered into an unforgiving ponytail. Before rushing down the steps, she caught sight of the container that had slipped from bed. She needed to tuck it away someplace, but where?

  Jackie called again.

  “I’m coming!” Wynn hid the container behind the pots and pans in the bottom cupboard. She hurried down the steps and slammed the door. “OK. Ready!”

  “That was fast. It took you less than five minutes. It takes me at least an hour to get ready.”

  “Yea, but you look so much better than I do,” Wynn said getting into her vehicle. “Come on. I’ll drive. What street am I looking for?”

  “Main Street.” Jackie wore black slacks with a silk top.

  “Why are we going to see your accountant? Will the office be open?”

  “Yes, I was told to come in before business hours.”

  “Have you heard anything more from...?”

  “Boone’s body snatcher? No. I’m not sure the island police are doing much about it, either. As much as I hate to admit it, Marilyn might be right about them.” Jackie pulled down the visor to check herself in the mirror, but there wasn’t one. She scowled and shoved it back up.

  “Are you doing all right?” Wynn asked as the Jeep slid nose first into a parking spot.

  “I’m about to find out. Come in with me?” Jackie nodded towards the door that read Peter Shamus, C.P.A.

  “Ah, I can give moral support from out here, but what goes on in there is really your private business.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” Jackie disappeared inside the office.

  Wynn’s stomach growled. She contemplated going into the diner across the street for scrambled eggs and toast, but decided to wait. She leaned back, looking up.

  The ceiling of the Jeep had a small brown stain on it. Wynn touched the spot. It left a gooey residue on her fingertips. She detected an oil like odor. Maybe the mechanic had gotten something on the inside of the car while he was checking it out. Had someone been in her Jeep? If so, why?

  She pressed the button on the glove compartment and pushed through the contents, hoping to find a napkin. There were fistfuls of old papers and receipts, some dating back years. Deciding a ten-year-old dry cleaners receipt was of no value, Wynn wiped her fingers. The compartment wouldn’t close. Wynn looked around for a bag. Not finding anything, she noticed a bakery next door to the C.P.A’s. She returned to the car with two empty plastic bags, and a jelly donut.

  She took everything out; went through every receipt, every scrap of paper, reading notations jotted on the back of napkins. In one bag, she put things Roxie might need or want, like car insurance and recent receipts. In the other bag went papers of no use anymore. The compartment was finally organized with only car maintenance information.

  Wynn tried closing it again, but something jammed. She pulled and the compartment door came off. The edge of a paper stuck in the plastic molding. She yanked it out. She turned the yellowed envelope over. There was no name or address on the front. No stamp or markings. Intrigued, she pulled out the letter.

  My darling,

  I tried to talk to you, in person, but you would have none of it. I don’t blame you. Not after your sister’s news. Loving you has become impossible. I betrayed you. Both of you. One by secrecy, the other by love. You’ve heard my surprising news. I’m going to be a dad. Imagine—me a dad. There’s no role I would rather have. Our relationship has to stop. It’s not right that I should love you this much when these feelings should belong to someone else.

  Forgive me, Steve.

  Paralyzed, she could only stare down at the note.

  “Steve?”

  Her heart tumbled in her chest. Her dad’s name. She laid her head against the steering wheel and inadvertently beeped the horn.

  An elderly lady walking in front of the car jumped and dropped her sack.

  “Sorry!” Wynn waved apologetically.

  There was no date. Was this Steve her dad? Had there been a love triangle between her dad, her mom, and her aunt? Was she holding the root of the reason she and her mom left the island? Steve was a common name.

  Her parent’s marriage was thirteen months before she was born. Could they have adjusted the year so Wynn wouldn’t know they had to get married? Maybe he had written notes to her aunt. If she could find a sample…guilt flooded her at the thought of snooping through Roxie’s correspondence.

  Guilt. Perhaps that was what her college money and this vehicle was really all about. Roxie’s gift of generosity was about culpability; recompense. It wasn’t about reconnecting and love as she hoped. Tears pooled in Wynn’s eyes.

  The passenger door opened and Jackie got back into the Jeep. “My life is over!” she wailed.

  Wynn clutched the note, blinking tears, trying to recover.

  “Didn’t you hear me? I said, ‘My life is over.’ Say something comforting. Quote a scripture.”

  Wynn struggled to answer unemotionally. She was certain if
there was a God, he wasn’t a God of convenience, but one of commitment. Reciting a Bible verse wasn’t about to happen.

  “You look positively ill.” Jackie said, tears in her eyes and her voice.

  “I’m OK really. Just ate a donut.”

  “Carbs and sugar. Transfats.”

  “Right. It isn’t setting so well. Tell me what happened, if you don’t mind sharing.”

  “It seems Boone’s business is bankrupt.” Jackie set her jaw. “I’m going to have to find a job. Can you believe it?”

  “Things could be worse.”

  “I don’t know how.” Jackie sniffled.

  “Work can be quite self-fulfilling and rewarding.” Wynn slid the letter into her purse.

  Jackie was too upset to notice. “That’s easy for you to say. You have an education. Me, I just have a pretty face, oh all right, a beautiful face, but it’s not getting any younger.”

  “What about Boone’s insurance money?”

  “Boone’s body hasn’t been found. And someone masquerading as me made the identification. It reeks of fraud to the insurance company.”

  “I’m sorry, but if the coroner verified Boone’s death that should be enough for the insurance company.”

  “There’ll be an investigation.”

  “I know you’re going through a rough time. I hate speculating, but do you have any idea who has Boone’s body?”

  “That’s the three million-dollar-question, which happens to be the amount of Boone’s insurance policy. If I could only find that stupid ruby ring, I’d gladly trade it.” She paused. “That sounded harsh. I’d give anything to have Boone back again, safe and sound. I’ve only loved him. I still cannot believe he’s gone. I wake up at night expecting him to be beside me in bed. Other times I think I hear his voice calling my name. You probably think I’m crazy. Maybe I am.”

  “Shouldn’t you be praying, or something?” Wynn drew a calming breath.

  “I have been praying, it’s what keeps me sane. God is there for me, but I don’t see how He’s going to help me out of this mess.”