Juno's Daughters (33 page)

Just then Frankie stretched and, rubbing her eyes, sat up and looked around. She saw where they were, the lot, the boat, the water, and for the first time in a long while, perhaps, thought Jenny, since the play had ended, she smiled.

T
he weather was changing. The back of the hot spell had been broken and a cold wind from the sea was stirring up fog on the coast. Most of the tourists returning from a day trip to Anacortes or on their way to check into their bed-and-breakfast on San Juan came out on deck for a short time to look at the view and then went shivering back inside. Jenny and her daughters stood in the wind and spray and gulped in the sea air.

Arm in arm on the deck and draped in whatever clean clothing they could find, they made a curious picture against the gray sky and tree-covered ridges. The wind whipped their long hair around their faces. They stood silently and watched the diving birds. As the temperature dropped each fall, the gulls, ducks, auklets, and grebes became desperate to get their fill of the Pacific herring moving through the Sound in huge schools. The auks had short, strong wings, and they dove down into a bait ball, filling their beaks with silver fish and driving the others to the surface for the gulls. Their calls filled the air.

Smoke was rising from the chimneys of the houses tucked away in the trees on the islands they passed. Pleasure craft and fishing boats rocked in their moorings. The stands of trees were shadowed in the mist. Out on the deck with the water crashing against the hull and the waves reaching out to touch the private coves on the smaller islands, the city seemed remote indeed. It was not a dream exactly, but something far, far away.

When the boat passed Lopez Island and entered the narrow channel to San Juan, the engine slowed and the rough wind grew gentler.

“We should go and get in the truck,” said Jenny. She gave both girls' arms a slight tug.

Frankie pulled away. “Not yet.”

Jenny sighed. She leaned against the railing and watched Friday Harbor come into focus. The rows of boats. The walkway along the water dotted with restaurants and shops. The commercial life of the town lay hidden behind the hill rising behind the terminal, where cars were waiting to board the ferry: Mary Ann's antique store, the wine bar, the grocery, the gas station, the bookstore. Their home.

Lilly narrowed her eyes and leaned over the railing to get a better look. “Is that Phinneas?”

Jenny followed her gaze. “On the dock?”

“Nu-uh. There.” Lilly pointed at a tall thin figure in a long flapping coat.

“You're right.” Jenny stared ahead as the boat slowly drew closer. “He's not alone, either. Chad's with him. And Sally.”

Lilly pulled her hair back and tied it with a bandanna. “Dale and Peg are there, too. Hey, I think that's even Stu Barnes.”

They got closer and Jenny could see still more people whom she recognized: Winifred Calloway and the Burtons from Waldron. David. She did not see Mary Ann and knew, without a moment's doubt, that it was because she was in the cabin waiting for them.

Frankie turned and pressed her face against Jenny's chest. “They're all going to be so mad at me.”

Jenny grabbed Frankie's shoulders and held her away from her body so that she could see her face. “What are you talking about? Why?”

“For causing so much trouble.” Frankie would not meet her mother's eyes.

“Don't be ridiculous,” said Lilly. “They love drama. Especially Dale and Peg.”

“They love you,” said Jenny. “They'll be relieved that you're home safe.” She pulled Frankie back into her arms, both to comfort her and because she could not say the word
safe
while looking at the scabs and bruising on her daughter's face.

“I don't want to talk to anyone, okay?” Frankie's hand moved to her damaged face. “I don't want them to see me.”

Jenny touched her lips to the top of Frankie's head. “But they want . . .”

“Please?”

“Okay.” Jenny rubbed her back. “I'll tell them. Let's go inside.”

They walked single file through the warm air of the interior to the windowless stairs that led below deck. Other passengers were already behind the wheels of their cars and waiting for the boat to dock. Frankie curled up into a ball on the seat between Jenny and Lilly and put the hoodie over her head like a tent. Light flooded the passageway around the cars and the uniformed crew member, a woman with her brown hair in a ponytail, waived first the bicyclists, then the motorists, off the boat. David saw Jenny's truck first and jogged toward it, with the others following. Jenny pulled out of the line of cars and stepped out to meet him, with the engine running and the two girls inside.

He pulled her to him in a bear hug. “You've got Lilly, too,” he said, waving at her.

Jenny said, “Only for a while.”

The others crowded around her, reaching out and rubbing her hair and her back until she began to feel like the Buddha that had once stood in the Westcott Bay Sculpture Park, worn smooth from so many hands. Except that it was she who had been blessed by them, she thought, and not the other way around.

“Thank God, Jen.”

“We were so worried.”

“How is she?”

Jenny shoved her hands in her pockets. “Exhausted.”

Phinneas started toward the truck. “I bet she is.”

Jenny reached out and grabbed his arm. “Wait.”

“What?” Phinneas turned. His hair under the knit cap was growing long and his pointed beard stretched almost to the round collar of his sweater. His eyes were bright with alarm.

“She doesn't want to see anyone right now. She just wants me to take her home.”

The last of the cars leaving the ferry climbed the hill past the knot of people and the idling truck. Jenny stood in the center of the circle, just steps from her children, and watched anger and worry and sadness spread like cracks through their faces.

Peg looked toward the truck. “Of course,” she said. “She can have all the time she wants.”

David kicked at the curb like a small boy, his face awash with confusion and pain. “Is there something . . .”

“Let us at least make sure that you get home okay,” interrupted Phinneas.

Chad added, “I dropped off some halibut and Mary Ann has it in the oven.”

“We won't even follow you down the driveway to the house,” said Jim Burton.

Dale said, “We'll keep going on Cattle Point.”

“It will be like an escort,” added Sally.

Peg nodded. “You can call us if you need us.”

Jenny looked at each of their faces in turn. “Thank you.”

Jenny opened the door and climbed up beside her girls. Frankie shifted under the hoodie, but she did not so much as peek out. Jenny watched as her friends found their cars and then she pulled slowly out into First Avenue. One by one they pulled out behind her, following at a respectful distance.

Lilly turned in her seat to look at the parade of vehicles: a late eighties Honda with mud on the wheel wells, a dented truck, a VW camper van, a Jeep, and a Subaru Outback. She said, “What are they doing? They aren't all coming home with us, are they?”

Jenny slowed for their road and put her blinker on. The cars passed them, one by one, on the right.

Lilly waved out the window and they flashed their lights in return.

The truck rumbled to a stop at the driftwood log.

Frankie lifted her head. “Are we home?”

“Yes, hon. We're home.” She took in Frankie's red-rimmed eyes and tousled hair. Her cheeks were rosy from her time spent under the hoodie. “Mary Ann is here.”

Frankie said, “That's okay. I don't mind Mary Ann seeing me.”

Mary Ann appeared in the doorway. She did not wait for them to unload their things but walked briskly across the path and grass and took Frankie in her arms. She held her tightly. Frankie's eyes were squeezed shut.

“Lilly,” said Mary Ann. “Go in the house and set the table.”

Lilly obeyed without even her customary rolling of the eyes.

Jenny and Mary Ann stared at each over the top of Frankie's head. Jenny did not realize how close she was to complete collapse until she looked into the older woman's eyes. She swayed on her feet. All the lamps were lit in the front room and Lilly was laying forks onto napkins. The kitchen smelled like rice and butter. There was a bowl of salad on the counter and Mary Ann had put a pitcher with daisies on the table. Jenny craned her neck and saw several slices of grilled fish steaming on the broiler pan.

“Look, Franks. Halibut. Your favorite.”

“I'm not hungry.” Frankie broke away from Mary Ann and headed straight for her room.

Jenny started to go after her, but Mary Ann stopped her with a gentle touch to the arm. “Let her rest. You look like you need to eat something.”

“Hey,” said Lilly, looking beyond Jenny to the porch. “Where's Mom's loom?”

Jenny and Mary Ann both glanced at the empty spot where the loom had stood. The small end table was there with a bowl of water still sitting on it, and a few scraps of yarn littered the floor. Jenny glanced back at Mary Ann and started to say something.

Mary Ann pulled at a thread on her napkin. “It's at my house. I know you told me not to be here, but, well, I'm sorry. I couldn't do it.”

“Do what?” asked Lilly. She sat down and began loading her plate with salad.

“It's okay,” said Jenny. She gave Mary Ann a quick peck on the cheek. “Frankie's home now.”

They both knew without saying so that there were circumstances that might have stretched even this friendship to the breaking point.

Mary Ann handed Lilly a pot of rice to put on the table. “I'll ask David to bring it back over tomorrow.”

Jenny let herself be led to the table and seated before a plate of fish, salad, and rice. Mary Ann sat across from her.

Lilly ripped a piece off the loaf of bread and stuffed a hunk of it in her mouth. “I'm so starving you'd think it was me that lost my cookies on the ride.”

Jenny reached for the food that Mary Ann had so lovingly prepared. She willed herself to eat it.

“Trinculo called,” said Mary Ann.

Jenny stopped chewing. “Andre? When?”

“His name is
Andre
?” Lilly rested her elbows on the table and looked at each of the two women in turn. “I can't believe I didn't know that was his name after all this time. Even after we . . .” Her voice trailed off.

Jenny looked at her sharply.

Lilly blushed and averted her eyes. “We didn't do all that much, actually.”

Mary Ann spread butter on a piece of bread and tucked it next to the rice on Jenny's plate. “Earlier this afternoon. He said that his phone had been stolen from his apartment and that he had been trying to call you from his friends' house in Queens.”

Queens. She remembered the woman's voice on the answering machine and flushed. Now that she had a chance to put this together with what Lawrence had said about the break-in at Andre's, she did not need to check a directory to know that 718 would be the area code for Queens.

Lilly pointed at the untouched piece of fish on her mother's plate. “Are you going to eat that?”

Jenny pushed her chair back from the table without answering. She fished in the pocket of her jeans for the phone she had kept there, except for a brief window in the hotel when it was charging, since Frankie had gone missing. Frankie's silver dolphin charm emerged from the depths of her pocket along with the phone. Jenny considered dropping it into the dish by the door where she kept her keys and then changed her mind. Whatever luck it might have brought them, and they had been lucky indeed, she wanted just a little more.

She slipped through the door to the porch, scrolling through the missed calls until she found one with the 718 area code. It was the first of four missed calls. She pressed the button, her heart hammering while she waited for an answer. The phone rang once and then twice. With it still pressed against her ear, she crossed the dark garden to the fence that was supposed to keep out the animals. She closed a hole in the chicken wire large enough for a rabbit to slip through.

“Hello?” It was a different woman's voice this time.

“Hi. This is . . . my name is Jenny Alex . . .”

“Oh, Jenny! Marcie and I have heard all about you. Andre's not here, though. He left this afternoon.”

“He did?” Jenny's heart lifted and fell and then lifted again, as if it were a balloon in the hand of a running child. Marcie and Marcie's companion, this woman on the phone, had heard about her? Andre was gone?

“Sure. He's on his way.”

Jenny straightened. “On his way where?” She turned to look at the bright windows of her small house. She could see Mary Ann moving in the kitchen. Washing dishes.

“Well, out to Washington State. At least that's what I thought.” The woman held the phone away from her mouth. “Dre went back out to Washington, didn't he?” she called to someone in the room.

Jenny heard a muffled response and then the first woman's voice speaking back into the phone. “Yeah. That's where he went. His plane was going to leave about six o'clock.”

“Thank you.” Alone in the moonlight, Jenny pulled a sunflower toward her as if it were a person and kissed it square in the middle of its yellow face.