by A. L. Jambor
She exhaled when she saw Phil come into the café. He'd promised they would go to the cottage when he got out of work at three. She told him to blow off work, and he said he could never to that.
"I promised I'd work until Labor Day."
"Call in sick."
His eyebrows came together and he shook his head as he looked at her.
"I'd never do that."
No, Phil wouldn't, and that's what Mari liked about him. She could rely on him. He didn't lie.
She watched him order his coffee and kept her eyes on him as he walked to the table. He exhaled loudly as he sat, and then he smiled, a big, happy smile. His eyes were bright, and his skin looked healthy. Phil was downright cheerful.
"What's up? You look happy."
"I am, because in one week, I never have to look at Jerry's face again."
She looked at his coffee. "Aren't you eating?"
"I'm not hungry." He drummed the table top. "Is Cassie doing anything for the holiday?"
"She's working, and Joey is gonna be with his grandma." She looked out the window. "Of course it's raining when we want to go to the cottage."
Phil pursed his lips and tapped his coffee mug. "I went there."
She glared at him. "What do you mean you went there?"
"I was walking and I ended up there."
He blushed, and Mari sensed a lie.
"You were just walking."
He blushed. "There's nothing there. It's just dark and stinky, and it's off-limits."
"Well, I might see things you wouldn't notice." She stuck her nose in the air.
"There's a padlock on the door. They're getting it ready for demolition."
"Why did you say you'd go with me today if you already went?"
"I was afraid you'd get upset, and I was right."
She sat back and Phil could hear her knee hitting the underside of the tabletop as she tapped her foot.
"A padlock, huh? That won't keep me out."
Mari's uncle, the P.I. from Bayonne, had taught Mari how to pick locks when she was thirteen. He'd even give her a set of picks for her fourteenth birthday, which she cherished now that he was gone.
"Because you can pick the locks," he said.
"That's right." She leaned forward. "Or climb into a window, or whatever it takes to get inside."
Now Phil leaned forward and placed his hands around his mug. He'd been thinking about the consequences of being seen entering the cottage and wished he hadn't promised her they would go there.
"And what if we're caught?" he asked. "I've got my new job to think about."
"All summer the cops have been working overtime policing the drunks at Morton's. Do you really think they have eyes on that cottage?"
Phil looked out the window and thought about Labor Day. It would be an ending and a beginning.
"I'm gonna miss this town."
Mari fought the urge to cry. She had done what everyone said to do and given herself time to get her emotions in check, but months later, she was still crying over the least little thing. Cassie kept repeating how recovery from a head injury was different for everyone, but it hadn't helped.
"So, I have to avoid those dog adoption commercials for the rest of my life?" Mari had said.
Cassie had smiled and taken Mari's hand.
"You should start to think about what you like to do now as opposed to what you did before. You might find a whole new career path you never even thought of, like being a counselor."
A counselor. Mari blanched at the thought of listening to other people whine the way she had to her therapist, Colleen. If anything, she needed a counselor, someone who never left her side, and she thought she had found one in Phil.
She looked at the rain, which was a deluge now, and put her hand on Phil's to get his attention.
"I'm sorry." She looked in his eyes. "It's just that I'll miss you, and working on this case is like what I used to do. It felt good." She took her hand away from his. "Cassie says I should think about a new career path."
"That's a good idea."
"She suggested I become a counselor, but I don't see myself doing that."
"You might be a good counselor."
"Are you nuts? Can you really see me listening to someone else talk about their emotional pain?"
Phil smiled broadly. "Well, no, but maybe you can come up with something you're better suited for."
"Like Sloth Keeper at the zoo."
Phil nodded his head. "Sounds like a good fit."
"Oh, god, I don't even want to think about putting myself out there, but I'm at the end of my money. I have to find a job, but I'm still afraid to leave Cape Alden."
"Have you even tried walking across the line?"
Another Dr. Phil episode had involved agoraphobia. Going outside bit by bit, taking baby steps, had been his suggestion, too. Could she go to the border between Cape Alden and Oceanville and cross that imaginary line?
Mari bent her head over her coffee.
"I haven't had time."
"You haven't had time. You do nothing. How could you not have the time?"
She glared at him. "Whose side are you on?"
He leaned forward. "You will never get out of here if you don't try."
She sighed. "I know."
"Do it today. I'll drive you over there. Just take one step."
"She's paying you, isn't she?"
Phil narrowed his eyes. "Who?"
"Cassie. You're on her payroll."
He smiled at her. "You have to try."
"Fine. I'll go to the border."
"And you'll take one step over the line."
She made a face at him. "Yes, Dad."
She was like a spoiled kid, and at her age, it wasn't so loveable, but he had no idea what she was like before. Maybe this was the best she could do, this childish behavior. Maybe the injury had caused this regression, and if so, how could he hold her responsible?
He got up and waited for her. She rolled her eyes and got up, too. They dropped their mugs off at the counter and went outside. The road was full of cars, impatient kids, and barking dogs. Mari couldn't wait until it all ended and the town went back to the peaceful place she'd learned to love.
The rain had stopped, but the tourists were still exiting town in droves since the weather report said it would continue to rain until the middle of next week.
"I'll meet you when you get out of work," she said, and left him standing in front of the café.
Mari followed the traffic heading out of town. Her leg didn't hurt, and her back didn't ache. Being alone gave her time to think, which is why she walked almost everywhere these days. Her mind was evolving, and she was getting sharper. The only thing standing in her way was her anxiety. Today she would walk over that damn line and knock anxiety on its butt.
She thought about Charlie Jackson. He was a kid, and he knew Charlotte. At the time, it must have been traumatic for him, knowing what had happened to her with her living so close to his family. Mari had planned to talk to him but had put it off for too long. Now, he was dead, and had turned into a deranged ghost determined to stop her from finding out the truth.
She wondered about his relationship with his mother. She'd have to ask Cal about that. He mentioned that Charlie might have been jealous of Josh. But that still didn't explain Charlie's motive for trying to keep Mari quiet. Josh wasn't well-known anymore. His days as a golden boy ended over seventy years ago, so she asked herself again, who was Charlie trying to protect? His mother was also dead. If she had killed Charlotte, it wouldn't matter anymore. It made no sense. If Charlie had a motive, she couldn't figure out what it was.
She walked the first mile and it wasn't so bad. Her leg started aching, but as long as she kept walking, it wouldn't stiffen up. About halfway through the second mile, though, it started to throb, and she wasn't sure she could make it back home let alone all the way to the border. It had been foolish to walk, but the pedal on her bike came off when Charlie tried to kill her
, so she had to walk, but the farther she went, the more she thought she wouldn't be able to walk back to town.
She kept going, changing her walk a bit as she progressed, trying to ease the pain, and before she knew it, the sign between Cape Alden and Oceanville appeared up ahead. Mari's heart began to race. Anxiety like a warm pool surrounded her, making her feet feel heavy. She hobbled along, forcing herself to move closer to the end of her journey. She felt like Frodo in Lord of the Rings as he approached Mount Doom, only she didn't have a friend to carry her over the line. She'd have to do it herself.
"You'll feel so good about yourself when you do." It was her mother's voice.
It's easy to talk when you feel good, Mari thought.
It was hot, and the rain brought out the mosquitoes. Sounds seemed so loud, like the chirping of the birds, and Mari started to cry. She was so close. She had to at least try before turning back.
The pain in her leg was burning now. She continued to walk, only now she dragged that leg. When she reached the border sign, she grabbed it and held on. All she had to take was one more step and she could tell everyone she had done it. She closed her eyes and felt her heart beating. It pounded in her ears.
Come on, Mari, she thought. One step and you can have ice cream.
She lifted her good leg and placed it over the imaginary line. Nothing happened. The earth didn't open up beneath her feet. She opened her eyes and saw Celia Morton standing a few feet away. She was smiling at her. Was she encouraging Mari?
"Are you helping me?" Mari asked.
Mari took two steps forward, but Celia was gone, and Mari was well over the border.
"Celia, you sneaky devil, now I really owe you."
She became aware of the burning pain in her hip after she stood for a few minutes, so she sat on the wet ground and stretched her leg a few times the way Ron had shown her in the hospital. It seemed so long ago now. She put her hands out behind her back and looked up at the sky. That accident was a line in her life that would never go away -- before and after. All she had to figure out was who she was now.
I can be anything I want to be, she thought.
"Shit, I never thought of it that way."
It was as if the past had been wiped away, leaving her a clean slate. Anything was possible. She could take a different path without worrying about what was at the other end.
"Maybe," she said. "Let's not be hasty here."
She rested for half an hour and then got up. Her leg and hip felt better, but she would have to take her time getting back to town. Now that her anxiety had receded, her muscles felt less tense, and the muscles in her back had loosened, too.
She had walked the first mile back to town and was hobbling badly when a car came alongside her.
"Are you all right?"
It was an older woman Mari had never seen before.
"I'm fine."
"If you're going to town, can I give you a lift?"
Would it be cheating if she rode back to town? No.
"Thanks."
Mari got into the sedan and a sense of relief washed over her. She would make it back to town after all. She looked at the woman and noted the strands of red hair mixed with gray.
"Do you live around here?" Mari asked.
"No. I'm here for my brother's funeral."
"Oh, sorry."
"Thank you, but we weren't really that close." She glanced at Mari. "That sounds terrible, doesn't it?"
"Not really. What was his name?"
"Charlie Jackson."
Mari's heart began to race. Would she remember the night they left the lighthouse? No. She looked too young.
"He used to be the mayor," Mari said.
"Yes, he was."
"I also heard your father was the lighthouse keeper."
"That was before my time. I was born in Wisconsin. Oh, dear, where are my manners. My name is Virginia Turner, but everyone calls me Ginger."
Mari felt chills crawl up her arms raising goose bumps.
"I'm Mari. So you never lived in the lighthouse."
"My mother didn't like it here. She wanted to go home. She had four kids at the time, and I would be number five." She glanced at Mari. "Can you imagine having all those kids in that tiny house?"
The chills were now crawling up Mari's neck. "No, I can't."
Mari felt her chest constrict. She had four kids at the time. There was Joshua, a girl named Birdie, Charlie, a girl named Myrna, and the baby, whose name was Kerry. Ginger said she was number five. She couldn't have been number five. Which child was missing?
Mari's throat was dry. "Do you still live in Wisconsin?"
"Yes, I do." Ginger slowed the car for a red light and looked at Mari. "I came because my sister isn't well. We knew Charlie was sick, and the nurse told Birdie over the phone that he might not make it. She and I are the only siblings left." She smiled. "Do you have siblings?"
Birdie is still alive. "I was an only child." Mari sucked in her lower lip. "Did you say there were five of you?"
Ginger nodded. "We had a full house. Do you ever miss having brothers and sisters?"
"Sometimes. I used to ask my mother for a baby sister, but it never happened. I think I was enough for her to handle."
Ginger waved her hand. "Oh, I'm sure you weren't that bad."
"To hear her tell it I was a hellion. I liked having my own way."
"Don't we all?"
They laughed, and Mari watched Ginger parallel park the car.
"You did that well," Mari said.
"My sister taught me."
"What was her name?"
"Oh, that was Birdie, too. She raised me after my mother died."
"Oh, sorry again."
Without any prompting, Ginger told Mari about her mother's car accident, how Charlie had left home, how her sister had died so young, and about how much she missed Kerry. Mari kept counting kids and realized the only one Ginger hadn't mentioned was Josh.
"Listen," Ginger said. "I know I'm a stranger and all, but you remind me of my daughters, and it would be so nice to have someone at that funeral who felt familiar. Would you come?"
"Sure. What time should I be there?"
"It's at seven this evening."
They got out of the car and Ginger waved as she walked toward the beach. Maybe she was going to look at the lighthouse. Maybe she knew about Charlotte and was going to look at the cottage. Mari wished she had walked with her, but something told her to let the woman go. When she saw her this evening, Mari would find a way to bring up Charlotte Johnson to see if Ginger knew anything about her, or if she'd suddenly remembered having more than four siblings.
Ginger
The lighthouse was busy when Ginger reached the wooden walkway leading to Gable Cottage. She was curious about the place, but when she saw the bushes and the sandy walkway, she chose to stick to her plan of seeing the lighthouse her family had lived in before the war.
As she walked back toward the lighthouse, she felt a shift in the air, as if a cold breeze had been sent from Alaska, but it faded fast. Her mind was on the visit she'd had with Charlie's attorney, Bertram Gleason, two days before. He was a tall, white-haired man who dressed well and smelled of expensive cologne. He had smiled broadly when he saw her, and then remembered why she was here and assumed a dignified expression.
"I was sorry to hear of Charlie's passing," he said.
His office was perfect for an elder jurist -- understated and tastefully decorated, and his chairs were comfortable.
"I wasn't there when he passed, but the nurse told me it was peaceful," Ginger said.
"Well, that's a comfort. So, I imagine you want to know about his will."
"Yes, I do."
Bertram shuffled some papers on his desk, and then passed one to her.
"That's the contract with the funeral home. As I said, it's prepaid." He then pulled a folder from the stack and passed it to her. "That's his will. He made you the executor. It says he wants to be buried next to his wife
." He folded his hands on the desk. "Charlie left his estate to you."
Ginger blinked and her mouth fell open. "What do you mean?"
"He left everything to you. He's been estranged from his children for years, and they had inherited their mother's money, which was considerable, so he chose to leave it to you."
Ginger didn't know what to say. Why had he left it to her? It made no sense.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
"I couldn't figure out why his children wouldn't respond to my...wow. I can't believe he left everything to me. Charlie and I hardly ever spoke to each other."
"Well, those were his wishes. I'm sure he had his reasons. I know you don't have much time so I had the papers drawn up so you could sign them while you're here. How long will you be in Cape Alden?"
"I had hoped to have things taken care of by the end of the week, but I can stay longer if I have to."
"This might seem overwhelming right now, but once I file the will with the probate court there is little you'll have to do until the judge releases the estate. I'll handle the paperwork, and anything that needs a signature I can send to you."
Ginger was numb. She knew her brother's home had to be worth quite a bit, but she had no idea what he was worth. She was looking out the window when she realized Bertram was still talking.
"There is a local real estate office that could handle the sale of the house if that's what you want to do. I've worked with them. They're professional and will get the job done, and I'll have my secretary make a list of businesses that you might want to contact while you're here."
"I'd appreciate that."
"Do you have any questions?"
"Do you think his kids will contest the will?"
Ginger didn't want to enter into a battle with Charlie's children. She'd just as soon give them the whole estate and walk away.
"It's doubtful. They have plenty of money from their mother, and I know Ken has done well for himself. As far as Pam is concerned, well, I don't know. She's married. I'm not sure if she's had any children, so there's always a chance she might decide to put a claim on it." He smiled paternally. "Don't worry about the kids. His will is legal and binding. If they want to enter into a protracted legal battle, then so be it. I can handle that, too."