by Dawn Atkins
“I don’t think so.” But hope flared in Aurora’s eyes before she firmly put it out.
“Losing that baby was not your fault. And as to being scared on your own, well, you did your best,” she said, repeating her mother’s consoling words to her.
Aurora seemed to think that through, then dismiss it. “You’re getting me off track. My point is that you would have taken charge. You wouldn’t have been wimpy and weak like I was. And why was that? Because I brought you here.”
“Okay…” she said, though her mother’s reasoning was seriously flawed. She was flattered that her mother thought she was strong and brave.
“I knew you needed to escape the nuns and the rules and those bossy girls you liked so much. You were getting boxed in, your whole soul stifled. I wanted better for you, Christina Marie.”
Emotion made Christine’s nose sting. All these years, Christine had assumed she was an annoying burden to her mother, not her reason to come to Harmony House.
“From the moment I got pregnant with you I did everything right, too. I took every vitamin, got plenty of rest, saw the doctor once a month. At first I was living at Bogie’s place, then in Colorado with friends, but I stuck to my promise.”
Movement made them look up to see that Bogie had come into the barn carrying a jug of water and two Mason jars. “You should try for a nap, Aurora,” he said, filling both glasses and handing them each one. “You know how you are after too much heat.”
“I have a clean bill of health.”
“And you practically fainted yesterday. Drink up,” he said more firmly than Christine had ever heard him speak to her.
“You almost fainted?” Christine asked.
“I stood up too quick is all. You both worry too damn much.” But her tone was friendly. Aurora looked at Christine, then back at Bogie, who was turning to leave.
“Stay a minute,” Aurora said to him.
Bogie looked at her. “All right.” He sounded wary, but he dragged a sawhorse over and sat. “I just want to say again how sorry I am about that marijuana,” he said to Christine. He’d apologized three times already. “He never took much and I just didn’t want to rock the boat.”
“That’s your whole problem, Clancy Hampton,” Aurora said, suddenly blunt. Christine hadn’t heard her mother use Bogie’s real name since she’d introduced him to Christine before they came to Harmony House.
“Sometimes you have to rock the boat. Hell, sometimes you have to tip the damn thing over. It’s time to tell her.”
“Tell me what?” Christine said.
A look passed between the two of them, heavy and slow, before Aurora continued. “We’ve been talking about the old days, so now’s as good a time as any. You promised.”
Bogie hung his head.
“Bogie?” Christine stared at him, hardly able to breathe for the way her heart pounded in her chest. “What is it?”
“Oh, Crystal.” His eyes filled with sadness and shame.
“Hell’s bells, do I have to do everything for you? Bogie is your father, Christine. There. It’s done.”
“What?” Her mind stalled out. “But my dad’s a policeman—”
“I made him up for you,” Aurora said. “Bogie was out of the picture and you wanted a hero so damn bad.”
“But I remember him. His coat. His aftershave.” She remembered him throwing her into the air, the brush of his stubble, the scratch of his badge when he hugged her close.
“You’ve always had a good imagination.”
“You and Bogie were together?” She couldn’t imagine. Bogie seemed so much older than her mother.
“It’s only ten years between us. And Clancy was a handsome man. Jesus. Anyway, when I got pregnant, Bogie couldn’t handle it and took off.”
Bogie hunched his shoulders, but didn’t look up.
“He was afraid is all. It was a different time.” Aurora cleared her throat. “I went to stay with friends in Colorado.”
Christine kept looking from one to the other. She felt as though she was in a bad dream, foggily fighting to wake up.
“When Clancy found me at that rally, I didn’t want him to tell you. You had your hero, first off, and I was still angry at him.” She shot him a look. “Talk to your daughter now. Here’s your chance to explain.”
“I’m no kind of father,” he said huskily. “I knew it then and I know it now.” He stood stiffly and walked away.
Christine’s mind reeled. The universe had suddenly tilted on its axis and she felt dizzy. Her heroic father was gone, replaced by a humble hippie who had left her pregnant mother all alone.
“Don’t let him chicken out now,” Aurora said. “He has a side in this story, you know. He’ll be in the greenhouse.”
Dazed, Christine went after him. Sure enough, he’d escaped to his sanctuary. He looked up, startled, watering plants that clearly didn’t need it.
“You left Aurora pregnant?” That seemed so awful and not like Bogie, who’d always been steady and loyal.
“I freaked out. I left her all the money I had and the house had a year’s lease. And I was only gone for a week. When I came back, she’d gone. I hitched out to Denver—I heard that was where she was—but never found her.” He lifted his shoulders in a tiny shrug, that passive, noncommittal Bogie move.
“When I saw her again at that antinuclear protest, I knew it was my chance to make it right, to fix what I’d done.”
He smiled. “I’ll never forget when I first laid eyes on you. You had on a pink dress and black shiny shoes, and I knew I’d do whatever it took to spend time with you. I was so honored to meet you. Honored.”
Christine’s throat tightened. She felt so confused and shaken. The beloved father she remembered had been replaced by the humble ghost of Harmony House. “Why didn’t you tell me back then?”
“You talked a lot about your dad. You were so proud of his being a cop and a hero. I couldn’t ruin that.” Bogie’s face contorted and she saw he was crying. “I couldn’t take it if you hated me, you see.”
“How could I? You were always good to me, Bogie.”
He shook his head. “Then you got here this time with David, so I figured I could be a father to you even if you didn’t know who I really was.”
She looked into his gray eyes, watery with tears. Now she knew why they’d always seemed so familiar to her. They were the color of her own. She had her father’s eyes.
It was all suddenly too much. Her emotions were crashing like waves in a storm—confusion, anger, sadness. She needed to sort them out, adjust her thinking, recast her whole life. She had to get away before she burst into tears or started throwing things or yelling.
“It will take me a bit to get used to this,” she said. “I’m glad to know the truth…and I’ll…just… We’ll talk later.”
She left, her heart tight in her chest. Her brain, which already swirled with worries about David and sadness over Marcus, felt as if it might burst wide open.
She needed to talk about this, get the words out in the air. There was only one person who could help her. He’d said if she needed anything…
Without stopping for a moment of doubt, she ran up the stairs to Marcus’s room and knocked on his door, hoping he was there.
He answered, looking rumpled and foggy, as if she’d woke him from a nap. “Did you hear from David?” he asked.
“Not yet. Nothing more from Skip, either.”
“David will call. Try not to worry.”
She smiled, wishing she were as confident as Marcus seemed to be. “Did I wake you?”
“I guess I dozed off,” he said, rubbing his face. “I’m not sleeping much at night. What’s up?” He widened his eyes, as if trying to be more alert.
“I just learned something I need to talk about, so I wondered if you—” She hesitated. “Maybe you should sleep.”
“No, no. Please. If I can help, I want to. Let’s talk.” He smiled, clearly pleased to see her, despite everything that stood between
them. He motioned her inside, but there were too many memories there.
“Can we walk to the river maybe?”
“Absolutely.” He pulled his door shut and they set off. Usually, she had Lady with her on walks, but the dog seemed to be waiting for David, staying in his room or standing guard outside the door, making Christine even sadder.
Marcus stayed silent, waiting for her to speak. But Christine just wanted to walk with him beside her, strong and tall and reassuring. Being near him settled some of the chaos in her head. The sun was warm on her face and arms. Crickets buzzed and birds twittered genially.
Soon they reached the cottonwoods and then the river and found the rocks they’d sat on the first time they’d come here, before they made love.
“So,” she said, glancing at him, then away, suddenly shy. “Here’s the deal.” She took a deep breath and blurted it out. “It turns out that Bogie is my father.”
“He’s…what? But your father was a policeman.”
“I know. Aurora made that up to give me a hero. It was a lie. A lie that she and Bogie stuck with for thirty-five years. I feel so stupid. Like a fool. And hurt and disappointed.”
“What I hear in your voice is anger,” Marcus said.
“Exactly!” He’d said what she needed to hear. “I’m furious. At both of them. For lying all these years. For lying in the first place. For…all of it.”
“That’s understandable, Christine.”
“But it’s more,” she said. “I’m disappointed, too. Bogie’s a great guy and all, but he’s my father? I mean, I felt so lost and lonely and unloved as a kid and he just left me like that.”
“What should he have done in your opinion?”
“Been a lion for me. Defended me against Aurora, protected me at school. I could have talked to him about Dylan that awful night. He should have hugged me, told me he loved me. All those years…nothing but silence and a lie.” Tears clogged her throat.
“So he didn’t do any of that. What did he do for you?”
She looked at him. “I don’t know. He was just Bogie.” She thought back, then sighed. “He bought me that Barbie doll I told you about. He used to show me things in the greenhouse and the gardens.” She smiled, remembering something else. “He would pay for the junk food and Teen Vogues I swiped from Parsons that Aurora would never buy for me.”
She paused, thinking it through. “I guess I felt him on my side whenever Aurora would get on my case. He looked out for me in his quiet way.”
“But that wasn’t how you expected a father to behave?”
“Of course not. My father was a hero, remember?” She managed a smile. “And exactly how could Bogie ever live up to that fantasy? He said he didn’t tell me because he didn’t want to ruin that for me.”
Marcus smiled, too.
Sharing her outrage had eased some of it. “I always felt safe with him. He was always there. And he stuck it out all these years with Aurora, no matter how bossy she got.”
“So he’s loyal.”
“Or maybe scared to leave. No, that’s not fair. Bogie’s a strong person. Steady. And you know he cares. But he’s not—”
“Father material?”
“Huh.” She paused. “He’s not the father I would have chosen, but he’s the father I have. Is that what you’re saying?”
Marcus simply looked at her.
“Once a shrink, always a shrink, Marcus.” She threw a rock into the water. “Okay, so Bogie didn’t teach me to ride a bike, or make sure I did my homework, or grill my dates at the door like I wanted. He did what he could.”
A child is big. You want your child to be happy. He’d said that when she’d told him her hopes for David and he’d looked so sad. Meanwhile, she’d been his child and he’d been afraid to tell her so.
“So I’ve been living in my fantasy bedroom with the canopy bed all this time, completely oblivious to reality.”
“You had no way to know about Bogie.”
“True, but I missed things I should have seen. About Aurora, too. She told me she moved to Harmony House for me, to help me be more independent. She said it was hard to let me go when I ran off. I always thought she was glad I was out of her hair. I guess she loved me, but I never felt it.”
“She wasn’t the kind of mother you wanted.”
“Not even close. And I kind of told her so, I think. A lot.” She grimaced, feeling sheepish. “Maybe I wasn’t such an easy daughter, either.”
Her mother hadn’t hugged her much, but with a childhood like Aurora’s, no wonder. Instead of affection and encouragement, Aurora had offered lectures and commands. But she’d worried about Christine, loved her, held her in her heart, let her go even when it hurt.
“I think I’m starting to get a handle on this,” she said.
With Aurora, you had to read between the lines. That was where the love was. “At least I’m not so angry now.”
“It’s a lot to take in,” Marcus said, his eyes kind. How she’d missed his eyes on her. “It will take time to adjust as you reexamine and reinterpret your past through this new lens.”
“That makes sense. Thanks so much, Marcus, for talking to me. You helped a lot.”
“I only listened, Christine.”
“Not everyone knows how to do that very well. I need to apologize for dumping on you when David ran away. I panicked and flipped out. You were only trying to help.”
“You needed comfort and support and I gave you arrogant analysis. I let you down.”
“No. You did your best. And you helped me all along. To be a better mother, for sure. I used your advice to talk to Skip, if you can believe that. And it worked.”
“I never meant to hurt you,” he said.
“The situation had hurt built right into it, Marcus. And I think we both knew it.” She missed him so much, the way he looked at her—deeply and with so much love.
“Perhaps you’re right.” He sighed. “I’m glad I was still here when you came by. I head to L.A. tomorrow.”
“For good? You’re leaving?” The idea panicked her, which was ridiculous. They’d broken up, after all.
“For a couple of weeks for now. I’m meeting with people about funding Carlos’s clinic. And I’ll be doing some interviews for my book. I’m starting over again, believe it or not.”
“But you were almost done.”
“I’m taking a different approach, thanks to my muse.” He smiled, then explained the book he would write with patient stories and far more heart.
“You sound excited really about it,” she said.
“I am. And I owe you thanks for that. You helped me break through the fog from last year.”
“I’m glad. So, see, we’ve been good for each other.”
“I just wish…” He touched her hair, a world of wishful thinking in his eyes.
“At least we tried, Marcus, you know? I’m not sorry we tried.”
“That’s good then,” he said, looking so sad she wanted to hold him, though she knew better. Her throat locked up and she feared she might cry.
“Something else.” He reached into his pocket for his wallet and took out a business card he held out. “When you do talk to David, would you ask him to call me? I’d like to sort out what happened and apologize. Here are all my numbers.”
“Kind of sad we’re down to exchanging business cards, huh?”
“And there’s one more thing. Lady.”
“That poor dog. Now she’s started howling for David. I’m forever tripping over her outside his door.”
“She’s very attached to David. That’s why I’d like to give her to him, if that’s all right with you.”
“Oh, wow. David would love that, but it’s no-pets at our apartment. I’m sorry. It’s a wonderful offer….”
“If anything changes, the offer stands.” Marcus gave her a quizzical look. “You know, I wonder if you might want to stay here.”
“What?” she said. “Are you kidding?”
“You’ve
built something here and you seem to enjoy more about Harmony House than you hate. You’re closer to your mother. And now this news about Bogie. A smaller school might be good for David, a fresh start with new friends. And of course, now you’ve got DSL and water pressure.” He smiled. “Just a thought.”
“I don’t see that happening. I’ve got my job and David has school. And our lives are there.” Though lately Phoenix seemed very far away and long ago.
“Anyway, I can’t think about that right now. Right now I’d better go talk to…my father. Thank you, Marcus.” She kissed him softly on the mouth. She couldn’t help it. “For everything.”
Bogie was still in the greenhouse, which didn’t surprise her. “Crystal,” he said softly, stopping his work to look at her, his hands loose at his sides. They were leathery and callused, the creases stained by dirt, the nails chipped and cracked. Everything about Bogie’s hands declared that he worked the earth. The earth had marked him as its own.
“I’ve been thinking this through,” she said.
Bogie waited silently for her verdict, his gray eyes anxious. He had always been a man of few words. He let his hands speak for him. In his greenhouse, in the commune he’d looked after all these years, and in the love he’d given to Christine and Aurora and, since he’d arrived, David, too.
The kindly hippie in the background of her life had, all along, been her father, her own flesh and blood. His genes twined at her core, his blood ran in her veins and she saw the world through the same gray eyes.
She stood still, remembering all he’d taught her in this greenhouse—the right time to remove dead blossoms, when to trim things, when to repot, that plants need enough room to stretch, but not too much, or all the energy goes to the roots and the plant suffers.
He’d said he’d been honored to meet her, his daughter. It all balled up in a tangle of emotion inside her and she said, “I’m honored you’re my father,” and threw her arms around him.
He was stiff at first, in her arms, but she held on until he looped his arms around her back and gave her three gentle pats. Afterward, he ducked his head. “Well, now, that’s just all right, isn’t it?”