“But remember how I told you that mermaids have to learn how to be mermaids?” Avery asked solemnly. “That goes for swimming too. No more going into the water until you have swimming lessons. And even then, you have to talk to your mom first, okay? Promise me you’ll never do that again.”
“That goes for you too,” Minerva said, addressing her daughter. “If you ever pull a stunt like that again, I’ll ground you for a year!”
Avery laughed. “Very funny, Mom.”
Minerva looked like she wanted to say something else, but couldn’t get the words out. Despite Avery’s sopping swimsuit top and bedraggled hair, she threw her arms around her daughter. “Don’t you ever do that again, Avery. Ever! I was so scared.”
Avery patted her mother on the back, shushing her. “It’s okay, Mom. I’m fine. Everything is fine.”
Watching the emotional scene, Joanie, Meg, and Trina started to cry. Even a couple of the pirates started to sniffle and dab at their eyes. Evan, too, looked like he was ready to break down, but for a different reason.
“Well, I guess that’s a wrap,” he said. “We’ve only got permits to use the pier until three. Guess we’ll have to reschedule it for another day.”
Avery looked at him. “Why? It’s only two o’clock.”
“Yeah, but by the time we dry your hair, fix your makeup, and set up again, we’ll barely have time for one take.”
“Well, then I guess we’d better get it in one.” She looked toward the pirates. “What do you say, gentlemen? Shall we try again?”
The captain called for all hands on deck. The pirates cheered. Avery patted her mother on the shoulder and told her she had to go, accepted yet another hug from Mrs. Margolis, kissed Lilly, and waved good-bye to her sisters and niece as she was wheeled off to the makeup tent.
Mrs. Margolis had to get to work so she left with Lilly. Meg had to take Trina to a workshop at the Science Center so they left as well. Minerva wanted to watch the rest of the shoot, but Joanie had promised Allison that she’d come over and advise her on a home decorating project.
“I’ve canceled on her twice already,” Joanie told Minerva. “I can’t do it again.”
“I can take Minerva home,” Hal said. “I already told Avery I’d give her a lift back to the house and there’s plenty of room in my car.”
“Are you sure?” Minerva asked. “I hate to put you to any trouble.”
“You’re not at all,” Hal replied, smiling. “I was hoping we could find some time to talk.”
Chapter 42
Joanie sat cross-legged on the floor of Allison’s bedroom, surrounded by swatches of cotton duck decorator fabrics.
“I like that one too,” Joanie said, pointing to a spa blue, yellow, and gray ikat floral on an ivory background. “But if you’re going to use it for the duvet, then you go with a solid for the drapes. Otherwise it’ll just be too busy in here.”
Allison picked up the floral swatch from the floor and considered it for a moment. “Yeah, I think you’re right. This for the bed, light gray for the window shades. Okay, good. Decorating disaster averted. Now let’s get back to you.” She put down the fabric and looked Joanie in the eye. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Want to?” Joanie let out a hollow laugh. “Definitely not. But I’m starting to think I have to. What do you think?”
“Doesn’t matter what I think. This is one you’ve got to decide for yourself, Joanie. So talk it out. Tell me the reasons for and against.”
“Well, the reasons against are pretty straightforward—there’s a very good chance that just about everybody in my family, including my son, will end up hating me and won’t speak to me for the rest of my life.”
“I think the rest of your life is probably taking it a little too far, but there’s definitely some risk involved. On the other hand, how much more upset will they be if you don’t tell them and someday they find out? That would be worse, wouldn’t it?”
“Probably.” Joanie raised her gaze to the ceiling, staring at the light fixture with glazed eyes. “And it just doesn’t seem fair, especially to Walt. When he came in that day and told me how much it bothered him, knowing less about his own history than he does about some stranger who died two hundred years ago, I suddenly realized . . . I’m just like my mother.”
Allison clucked her tongue. “You are not ‘just like’ your mother. You made some hard choices because you thought it was the best way to protect your family.”
“But what if I’ve been kidding myself? Walt has always been such a mellow, happy kid. Nothing ruffles his feathers, he just goes with the flow—Asher’s influence, I think. But when I saw his face that day . . . This has caused him real pain. And it’s my fault.” Joanie looked at Allison again.
“Maybe I didn’t plan everything out the way Minerva did, but the results are the same, aren’t they? I cheated my son out of half his heritage, I denied him the opportunity of knowing and having a relationship with his father, the same way that Minerva cheated me, Meg, and Avery. Maybe it’s a little less awful that I was responding to an accident, a mistake I’d give anything to take back instead of engineering the whole thing, but I don’t know. At least she owned up to it. I lied to everybody. Maybe even myself. Sure, I told myself I was doing it to protect Walt and the others, but wasn’t I protecting myself too? I’m starting to wonder if I haven’t been a little too hard on Minerva.”
Allison’s eyebrows popped into arches. “Too hard on Minerva? Now those are words I never thought I’d hear coming out of your mouth.”
“Me either. But I saw her face when Avery dove in to rescue Lilly; she was terrified. And then, when she broke down after the two of them were pulled out of the water . . .” Joanie shook her head. “It was the first time in my life that I felt like I understood exactly what she was thinking and feeling. At that moment, she wasn’t Minerva. She was just a mother. Maybe we have more in common than I thought.”
Joanie started picking up the fabric swatches one by one, laying them in a stack on her knees, making sure all the edges were even. Allison sat quietly, watching Joanie’s hands.
“So? What do you want to do? Come out with the truth or keep on going like you have been and just hope nobody finds out?”
Joanie’s chin dropped to her chest. She rested her hand flat on top of the pile of fabric. “Tell the truth,” she said after a long moment. “That’s what I should have done all along.” Joanie lifted her head. “But if my entire family disowns me, you’ll still speak to me, right?”
“Speak to you? Heck, I’ll adopt you. Or you can adopt me. It might be fun to be a Promise sister.”
“Not as much fun as you think; trust me. But it does have its moments.”
“At least you’re not boring,” Allison said with a smile. “So? How are you going to do this? You’re not going to wait until the dinner tomorrow and spring it on them all at once, are you?” Joanie shook her head. “Then who do you start with?”
“Asher.”
Chapter 43
Joanie came into the dining room, two black oven mitts on her hands, carrying a pan of lasagna. Hal stood in the corner, looking at his camera and tripod.
He wasn’t fiddling around with it the way he usually did, fussing with lenses or lighting or whatever. Instead he was staring at the camera with a slight frown on his face, as if he couldn’t quite remember why it was there. Joanie set the hot pan on the trivet in the middle of the table and took off the mitts.
“Something wrong? Dead battery? Bad light?”
Hal moved his head from left to right, the movement so small and imperceptible that Joanie wondered if he’d heard her. He lifted his head and blinked a couple of times, like he was trying to bring her into focus.
“Hal? Are you feeling all right?”
“Yeah, I just . . .”
Once again, he looked toward the camera, then back to her, but when he did he seemed more like himself, less distracted and more present.
“I’m going to take the night o
ff,” he said briskly, then started loosening the knob on the tripod prior to lifting the camera from the base. “Think I’d rather be a guest tonight.”
Joanie frowned. He couldn’t be serious, could he? After all the money and time he’d invested in making this film, the wheedling and cajoling he’d used to talk her into allowing him and his camera access to their lives, tonight he didn’t want to film? If he had any clue about what was about to go down, even the slightest inclination . . .
She wasn’t any happier about being forced back into the limelight than she’d ever been, but she’d made a deal, and after all she’d put him through she intended to live up to her end of the bargain. She’d overheard some of the conversations between him and Lynn and understood that his financial position was, if not dire, then at least shaky. Now, after heaven knew how many scores of hours of filming her and the rest of the family involved in the most mundane activities, he finally had the chance to film something genuinely dramatic, a revelation.
“Are you sure? How long have you been hoping to get footage of the whole family at the same time? Now’s your chance.”
He wasn’t listening. Instead, he was putting the camera back in the case, folding up the tripod. She walked up behind him, talking to his bent back.
“Hal, I mean it. I really think you should film tonight. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”
Hal closed the metal buckles on the camera case with a decisive snap, then stood up to face her.
“Uh-uh,” he said. “I’ll regret it if I do. I have violated the first commandment of a good documentarian—film the story, don’t become part of it. In other words, be an objective observer, don’t get emotionally involved. Too late. I’m already involved. I was from the first moment I laid eyes on you, in the green room of the talk show. Avery was right, I never got over it. Or you. So I’m calling it a wrap.”
Joanie shook her head; she couldn’t be hearing him right.
“Wait. You’re not going to make the movie? When did you decide that?”
“For sure? About ten seconds ago.”
“But, Hal, you’ve got so much riding on this. You sold your house to finance this film. Now you’re just going to walk away?”
He bobbed his head. “I know. Crazy, right? I had Lynn on speakerphone during the drive over here and she said the same thing, but with a lot more swear words. You know what I said?
“I said I didn’t give a fistful of sweaty nickels for any of it—the money, the movie, the business. None of that is as important to me as the Promise sisters, the entire, screwed-up, batshit crazy bunch of you. Kids, cousins, and in-laws included. And you more than all the rest put together.”
He took a step closer. Joanie felt her heart begin to pound in a way that it hadn’t for many years, so long that it might as well have been completely new. It was new. Whatever it was she was feeling, she knew she’d never felt it before. Hal reached up, pushed a strand of hair from her face, and locked her eyes with his.
“It’s a done thing, Joanie. I broke the rule. I got involved. What else can I do? Except this.”
He kissed her. She knew he was going to, had known as soon as he stepped toward her. And that pounding in her heart? It was hope—hope that she was right and he was going to kiss her—and yet, when he put his mouth on hers she was surprised because his lips were so soft, and his kiss so sweet, and she couldn’t recall being kissed like that ever before, because she hadn’t.
It was one of those moments when time stands still. She felt the way she had when Avery dove in after Lilly and she was waiting for her to reappear. It was as if the seconds elongated into some new dimension that was simultaneously so fast that it was hard to comprehend exactly what was happening, but so slow that you could examine every frame and moment, breath by breath.
At the moment Joanie’s brain caught up with her body and she thought, Yes, and started to kiss him back, raising her arms, exploring the blades of his shoulders with her hands, the dining room door swung open and Avery walked in, carrying a big wooden salad bowl.
“Oh,” she said, sounding surprised but not as surprised as Joanie would have thought. And then, “Hi, Hal. I didn’t know you were in here.”
Hal lifted his hand. “Hi, Avery.”
“Yeah, so . . . everybody’s here. Walt’s getting the door.” She put the salad down on the table and smiled. “I guess you didn’t hear the bell.”
Avery went back into the kitchen. Joanie dropped her hands to her sides and started to say something, but Hal shook his head to stop her.
“It’s okay,” he said. “We don’t have to talk about this now. Or ever. Unless you want to. Right now you need to focus on your family. You’ve got a long, tough night ahead of you.”
Joanie could hear the sound of voices in the foyer. She nodded and headed toward the door, smoothing her hair, her brain so overloaded with all that had happened and all that would or might happen before the night was through, that she didn’t think to ask how he already knew what kind of night it was going to be.
* * *
The lasagna could have used more oregano, but that didn’t stop Walt from taking a third helping. Avery had seconds and even Trina, who was normally such a picky eater, ate a double portion of the vegetarian lasagna Joanie had prepared for her. The three younger members of the family did most of the eating and the talking, still excited about Avery’s heroic rescue of little Lilly. The others were more subdued, but Joanie was so busy thinking about what she was going to say, and when she should bring it up, that she didn’t notice.
“You should have been there,” Trina told her cousin. “Avery was awesome!”
“Yeah, it sounds pretty cool. But Hal got it all on tape so I can see it later, right? Uncle Asher and I had a great time. We’re going back for the three-day encampment in August. I’m going to bring my rifle.”
Minerva, without consulting Joanie, had given Walt a present—a reproduction 1859 Sharps Infantry model rifle, something he’d been wanting for a long time. She’d given Trina a similarly expensive gift, registration at a week-long summer astronomy camp at the Kitts Peak National Observatory in Arizona.
Joanie was too distracted to be irritated at her mother for buying Walt a gun without asking permission, and Walt was so thrilled that she wouldn’t have said anything anyway. She did wonder where her supposedly destitute mother had found the money to buy such expensive gifts. Then she noticed that the diamond tennis bracelet Minerva always wore was missing from her wrist.
It was getting late. Joanie glanced at Asher, who gave her a tiny nod, which she returned. Joanie cleared her throat.
“Is everybody finished?”
Walt looked toward her, the expectant look on his face saying he hoped she was about to announce dessert. But for once in her life, Joanie hadn’t made dessert. When she had everyone’s attention, she took a deep breath.
“There’s something I want to talk to you about. It affects everybody in the family,” she said, looking around the table, from Minerva, to Meg, to Asher, to Avery, to Hal—who was giving her a curious frown—and then back to the kids. “But the greatest impact is going to be on you, Walt.
“First, I want to say that I’m very, very sorry for not telling you the truth before tonight. Looking back, I realize that I’ve made a lot of really stupid choices. It’s time I owned up to that and took responsibility and—”
“Wait,” Asher said, cutting her off. “This isn’t all on you, Joanie. Meg and I discussed it and we think this is a conversation we all need to participate in.” Meg nodded, confirming his statement.
“Like Joanie said, this impacts all of us, the whole family. Yes, there were some really bad choices made that brought us to this point, but you weren’t the only one who made them. This whole thing started with me. Actually,” he said, frowning as he reconsidered his statement, “it started farther back than that—with me and my dad.
“You all know that I grew up outside of Spokane, that my mom died seventeen years ag
o, just before I met Meg, and that my dad and I don’t speak anymore. That started even before Mom passed. Even when I was growing up, my father was a very angry, very controlling man. I don’t pretend to know the reasons why; it just was what it was.
“My mom was the peacemaker in the family, the only one who could get around Dad. The only times I saw him smile was when he was looking at her. Mom said he loved us boys, but just didn’t know how to show it. If that was true, I never saw any sign of it. For some reason, I seemed to get under his skin more than my brothers put together. If I had a nickel for every time he yelled at me, ‘Wipe that smile off your face!’ I’d be a rich man. Sometimes I’d smile just to spite him but, inside, I was seething—just as frustrated and furious as he was. Maybe more.
“During my senior year of high school, we had a fight. I didn’t fill up his car after I borrowed it and when he drove to work the next day he ran out of gas. He was mad and I don’t blame him, but he wouldn’t listen to my apology. When he hit me, I hit him back. We rolled around on the floor, pounded on each other for a while. Then Dad went into his room, brought out his pistol, and told me to get out of his house.
“Seemed like a good time to move,” Asher said with a sarcastic shrug. “My friend Scott’s family took me in so I could finish school. Dad wouldn’t speak to me and told Mom not to either, but she’d sneak over sometimes when he was at work. When I graduated, she gave me an envelope with almost five thousand dollars inside. She said I should move to the city, make something of myself.
“I moved to Seattle, found an apartment, two roommates, and started working and going to school part-time. I always knew I wanted to make my living as a carpenter, that was one thing that my dad and I actually had in common. Studying English was something I did just because I loved books. I was an okay student, not a great one. I’m convinced some of my professors gave me passing grades for pure enthusiasm. But when I got to the point where I was going to have to take out some big loans to finish, I left college and started working construction full-time.
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