Wynn in the Willows

by Robin Shope

  “Boone did go to your place first, before taking the ferry, didn’t he?” Wynn asked.

  Marilyn nodded. “I lied to Wynn and Roxie.”

  “You mean you lied to the police and everyone else, too.” Jackie spat.

  “That’s right, Jackie. I did see Boone when he returned from Nepal. Just as always, he came to say hello to me first, and bring me a few presents from overseas. A cashmere, hand embroidered shawl, some gold pieces of jewelry are what he gave to me. Everything seemed almost normal, like all the other times, except this time he seemed distraught. He said his business was bankrupt. It was about to be seized by the IRS. He would lose everything. Boone asked for the inheritance from his father. That ring.”

  Wynn was mesmerized. “Go on.”

  “I told him he couldn’t have it. That it was my ring. Not his inheritance; not yet. We argued. He said he always supported me and Agatha and would continue to do so, but needed the ring to pay off debts or we would all be living off welfare.”

  “Where is Boone’s luggage?” Jackie asked Marilyn. “I want it just as he left it. Nothing removed.”

  “It’s at your house. I left it there before coming here today. Boone changed out of his suit when he arrived, into casual clothes. But everything else is there, just as he left it.”

  Wynn cleared her throat. “One of the witnesses thought perhaps you were a nurse giving aid. Someone else said they saw you take his wallet. Still, another witness said you put something on him.”

  “This is so hard.” Marilyn took a deep breath. “Boone’s suits are always filthy when he returns from his trips. I took it to the cleaners. When I got there, the clerk went through the pockets and found his wallet with his identification. I slipped it into my purse to return it to him.”

  “And when the homeless man was hit, you saw your chance to trade identities.”

  “Not at first. Not at first.” Marilyn swallowed hard. “I knelt beside the man to check for his pulse. There wasn’t any. I reached into his pocket to find an ID. There wasn’t any. That’s when I thought about Boone’s wallet with all of his information. It was a spur of the moment decision. If Boone was pronounced dead, we could collect on his life insurance.”

  “But Boone wouldn’t go along with that,” Roxie said.

  “That’s right. But at that moment on the street, the idea seemed to be the solution to all of our problems.”

  “How did you propose to hide Boone?”

  “No hiding. We’d move some place warm, overseas. But when I returned and told Boone my plan, he was livid. We argued. He left in a rage, leaving his suitcase behind. I thought he was going to the police to get things straightened out concerning the accident. But I swear, I don’t know what happened after that.”

  “We believe you.” Jackie crossed the room and hugged her trembling mother-in-law.

  “I called the coroner’s office about the homeless man. I assumed Boone would be also headed that way to get his wallet back. But when I called, I found out that Boone hadn’t come for his wallet, after all. The coroner asked me to come to identify Boone’s body. So I did. I asked that he be cremated. Here is Boone’s wallet, Jackie.”

  29

  Wynn placed her samples between glass before covering them in layers of bubble wrap, and then double boxing them. Her notes and papers went into a separate container. By the time she was finished loading everything, the entire backseat of the car was filled with her completed grant. She took a deep breath and thanked God for seeing her through it. Before she headed to the post office, she decided to deadbolt the Tree House for the first time.

  Too many mysteries seemed to be swirling around the island and she didn’t want a nasty surprise to greet her behind a closed, unlocked door when she returned. Now that she had a kitten, she needed to keep him safe, as well as all of the expensive scientific equipment.

  Roxie might like to go for a swim in the cove with her once the packages were mailed. Lately, she felt connected to her aunt in new ways. Whatever the truth was about her family, she would forgive. Spending time with the Bible study ladies and in prayer had taught her many things, but the most valuable lesson was mercy. Most of her life had been spent being critical of her mother and aunt. Just recently, she realized she needed to offer forgiveness.

  At the turn of the drive she noticed the Bible study ladies’ cars. Not wanting to intrude, she headed back towards her own car, feeling wounded. No one had mentioned any meeting today; either Bible study or task force.

  All the way into town and even standing in line at the post office, she tried to divert her thoughts from the meeting, and towards her future. By fall she’d leave the island, whether Doug had been exonerated or not, whether the mystery of her dad’s death was solved, or not. Perhaps there are things that should be placed into the hands of God. Isn’t that what Roxie was always trying to teach her? Wynn twitched a smile in thought.

  Dare she stay here and risk disappointment? But wasn’t that what living was all about? Hurt and joy? Disappointment and gratification? Her heart kept arguing with her mind.

  In truth, she wanted to remain here; get to know Doug better. She desired to live among the vegetation and wildlife, be a part of those lovely Bible study women, and most of all, regard Roxie as a mother she never had.

  She managed to find her way into a community of women who were smart, independent, supportive, and enjoyed one another’s company without ever competing against each other. They were the oasis she had needed all her life.

  Wynn stopped for an ice cream cone and decided to head to the cove alone to enjoy the sun and the waves—right along with the rest of the day. Nearly there, the car suddenly listed to the side. She slowed. Wynn pulled over, and hopped out to examine the car. There it was—a very flat, right rear tire.

  Wynn pulled out her cell, but there weren’t bars. She popped the trunk and looked in. OK, she could do this. She hadn’t changed a tired since high school. She found rocks to stick under the rear tires to keep the car from rolling, and then set out the reflective warning. She pulled up the flap trunk’s covering and unscrewed the wing nut releasing the tire. Wynn returned to the trunk to get the jack and the lug nut wrench.

  A brown paper sack fluttered in the wheel well. Wynn opened it expecting to find tire changing instructions.

  The temperature around her filled with humidity. The world seemed to stand still, nothing moved; not a fly, not a leaf, not a rabbit’s tail—certainly not a cloud—for a split second there was only silence ringing loudly in her ears.

  The heartbreak that had hidden for a lifetime suddenly revealed itself as the horrifying truth. It made her stand frozen in time—all due to the blue and white model speed boat she held in her hand. A light switch came on in the dark room of repressed memory and now she could see clearly as if the frames of a movie sped by.

  ****

  It had taken them months to paint, put together, seal, and attach the water proof electrical motor. Wynn turned it over in her hand and flipped the switch. A weak roar began that gradually became louder and louder. She ran the fingers of her right hand through her hair because she had a death grasp on the boat with the other hand.

  Six-year-old Wynn drank orange juice. They were in the kitchen, an airy, art filled room lit by the morning sun which filtered through glass doors opening onto a tiny porch.

  Dad was staring at her with that marvelous smile that always made his lips seem crooked. The very same smile she had seen on her own lips in the pictures Roxie had hidden from her.

  She looked down at her hand—no longer the hand of her adult self—but of her six-year-old self holding the boat. “Dad, please let’s go to the lake today.”

  “No,” her mother contradicted. “It’s way too choppy. Your boat will be lost in the waves. You may have to wait until spring, now.”

  Wynn furrowed her brow. “No. I want to go now.”

  “How about if we try the tub, pumpkin?” Dad was eager to appease her.

  “Can
we please put it in the lake?” Wynn begged again. “I want to see it go fast!”

  After a moment of hesitation, he capitulated. “I guess it’d be OK, but just along the shore.” Dad went for their coats. “Come on, Ruth!”

  “This is what spoils her, Steve, you always giving in to her—just like Roxie.”

  The back door creaked open. “Did someone say my name?”

  “Aunt Roxie you’re here! Yay! Now you can come, too!” Wynn hopped on one foot, and then on the other.

  “And just where are we going?”

  “To put this in the lake!” Wynn held out the boat.

  “Sounds like fun.”

  “Not fun. Too cold.” Ruth adamantly shook her head.

  A frown covered Roxie’s face. “Your mom is right. It is cold out there.”

  “Who’s cold? I’m not cold,” Dad said.

  “Who’s cold? I’m not cold,” said Wynn.

  “Who’s cold? I’m not cold,” said Roxie.

  “OK, OK. I see I am outnumbered.” Mom laughed, pulling on her jacket and bringing the hood down over her head. “But just the shallow end. Agreed?”

  “Agreed!”

  “Agreed!”

  “Agreed!”

  They walked through piles of blowing, colored leaves with Wynn in the lead. When they reached the shoreline, Dad let Wynn turn on the motor, and set the toy boat into the water. It gurgled at first, and then whizzed twenty feet along before getting hung up on old lake weed.

  “I want to take it out there where other boats go.” Wynn pointed to the horizon.

  “No.”

  “Take my inboard.” Roxie held out the keys tethered to a cork bobber.

  “Roxie, you aren’t helping.” Ruth glared. “We are going home now, Wynn.”

  “Wynn, your mother is right; this is as far as we go with this. Now you have to wait until spring.” Dad pulled the zipper up on his coat.

  “Ruth, you and Steve go on home. My boat hasn’t been put up for winter, yet. I’ll take Wynn up the shore to my place and we’ll go out for a just a few minutes.”

  “Oh yes, please, please, please.” Wynn placed her hands together as she turned to her dad with plea-filled eyes.

  “Well, if someone goes out, it will be me in the boat with Wynn.” Dad was insistent. “I’m the captain and Wynn is my First Mate!”

  Overjoyed, Wynn clapped. There was the odor of water over stones and the musk of decayed fall leaves, a wild, fragrant sensation filled the air.

  “Come on!” Dad led the way. It seemed to grow colder by the minute since there were only a few hours of daylight left, but Wynn felt icy hands and toes were well worth it. By the look on her dad’s and Roxie’s face, they felt the very same. She couldn’t see her mother’s face, but she felt tension.

  They stood on Roxie’s dock together. Dad’s voice was soft, explaining in uncomplicated terms what they were about to do with the toy boat. Wynn nodded her head, pretending she understood, wanting so to please her dad.

  Dad removed the tarp from the inboard and reached towards the pier to help Wynn into the boat. He strapped a life jacket on her.

  Ruth reluctantly hopped into the boat.

  “Come on Roxie, you’re next.” Dad held out his arms to her.

  Roxie hung back. “I think this is a mommy—daddy—Wynn event. I’ll watch from here. Everyone needs a cheerleader. I will be yours.”

  Dad’s face caved. He nodded, and then untied the boat from the slip.

  Mom started the boat and she slowly drove through the choppy water as an occasional cascade of lake water rained over them.

  Wynn remained portside, close to her dad, while Mom kept her eyes locked on the sea before her.

  “This is far enough from shore!” Dad called, cupping his hands around his mouth and shouting.

  Mom slowed more and cut the motor.

  Dad leaned over the side and placed the toy boat in the water, aiming it towards shore. There it went, dipping in and out of the waves.

  They clapped and shouted “Hurrah!” Suddenly it disappeared from sight.

  “We need to go in, Steve! It’s freezing and we are all soaked to the bone!” Ruth called. More words were said between them.

  Wynn rubbed her forehead and tried to remember them.

  Her mother started the boat again; then turned and aimed for shore. That’s when they caught sight of the toy boat again, seemingly out of gas and at the mercy of the water bouncing it about. Mom got as close as she could without running it over, but it seemed as though the waves took the big boat in one direction and the toy boat in another.

  “Get closer Ruth! I can almost reach it.”

  Wynn pictured the extension of his arm, his wide hand, and the long fingers reaching towards it, a few inches too short. Then he leaned out even further, his waist over the side of the boat. Now he hung precariously above the water. Just as his fingers touched the tip of the toy, a large wave pushed the big boat sideways causing him lose balance and drop overboard, landing in the water at the same time his head hit against the boat.

  Blood painted so many swirls and twirls in the water. His unconscious form drifted down, down, down until Wynn could no longer see him.

  Wynn screamed and opened her hand. The toy boat dropped to the road and cracked. She knew why no one wanted to tell her the truth about her dad’s death. No one wanted to tell a six-year-old she killed her dad.

  30

  “Hello? Are you all right?” a man in a convertible stopped. “Can I fix that flat for you?”

  “What? Yes, please.” Wynn felt disoriented. When the new tire was on, she offered money which he waved off.

  Wynn started up the car and found a place in the road to turn around. She drove too fast towards home, expecting to be stopped at any moment, but what police golf cart would try to chase her down?

  Wynn staggered into the cottage reaching for the back of an empty armchair in the living room where she collapsed. Flinging her head and arms down over her knees, she sobbed.

  Roxie knelt in front of her. “Are you all right? Wynn, tell me what happened.”

  “I remember now.” Wynn looked up with a tear streaked face.

  “Remember what?” Roxie asked with trepidation.

  “I killed my dad. It’s my fault. He took me out on the water when the weather was too bad; mom warned us, saying we shouldn’t go. But I kept insisting. No wonder you wouldn’t tell me.” Wynn moved to the floor to be closer to her aunt and wrapped her arms around her, needing her more than ever.

  Roxie rocked Wynn in her arms. “You didn’t kill him, honey. But I wanted you to remember for so long and now I wish you hadn’t.”

  Wynn pulled back, choking on her tears, gasping for air and looking at her aunt. “I needed to know. I just have to find a way to live with it now.”

  “You will find a way through this. We both will.” Roxie pushed Wynn to arm’s length. “Wynn, look at me. You did not cause your dad’s death—you witnessed his death, and then blocked it out of your memory for many years. A lot of things happened, or didn’t happen that day, that contributed to it. You were just a little girl wanting to see your boat run in the water. I was an adult and knew better. Much better.”

  “Don’t blame yourself. Roxie, please forgive me. When I tell you about something, you will never forgive me.”

  “I’d forgive you anything.”

  “Not for this. Ever since I came to the island I thought you and Dad had an affair. Ridiculous. Don’t you see how wicked I am?”

  Roxie’s eyes widened. She got to her feet and walked to the windows which overlooked the lake. “No. Not totally ridiculous.”

  Wynn stopped sobbing. She got up from the floor and moved to the armchair. “You and my dad had an affair? Did Mom know?”

  Roxie turned from the window to face her niece.

  “Please tell me, it’s time for family secrets to come out.” Wynn sighed heavily. “For a while this summer I even thought you were my mother.”
<
br />   “If only. If only.” Roxie sat on the footstool in front of her and ran her hand around Wynn’s face. “But I will tell you everything. It is time.”

  “Good.” She breathed out.

  “Remember our talk the other day when I said all the clues are in front of you?”

  “Like this one?” Wynn pulled the cracked boat from her backpack and set in between them.

  “So that’s how the memories came back. Yes, I put that in the wheel well.” Roxie held Wynn’s hands. “It was important that you find the facts of your life—to remember them on your own. I didn’t want to taint your memories.”

  “But there are still gaps. Things I never knew. Things I need to know. What was your relationship like with my mom? Sheri said you two got along really well.”

  “Not true, but don’t blame Sheri for the misinformation. She doesn’t know. The truth is your mother and I never got along. Our mother, your Grammy, used to say that we fought one another even in her womb.

  “As toddlers we knocked one another off our feet. In elementary school there was fierce competition about who had the best grades, winning the most awards, being teacher’s pet, who our parents loved best. During high school there was less competition, thank goodness, because we started to change and become individuals. Ruth was a cheerleader, I played in the band. I began waitressing to save for college; while your mom chased boys and browsed catalogues for dish patterns. I wanted a career and she wanted marriage.” Roxie laughed with the memory. “Then I met someone the summer before college. Steve Baxter.”

  “Dad,” Wynn said with a voice filled with love.

  “Yes, your dad. The first look at him and I was smitten. Forever smitten. He was the love of my life.”

  “Is he still the love of your life?” Wynn asked.

  “It’s been so long Wynn, I just don’t know, but probably.”

  “Maybe Dad is the reason why you never married?”