A Sea Change (38 page)

“I bet we win.”

“What’s this ‘we’ stuff? I don’t see you doing any work here.” Nick pulled out a handful of slime and seeds and dropped it in a plastic bag. Wiping his hand on a paper towel, he said, “Time for a little participation on your part. You scoop this thing out, while I try to figure out how we’re gonna carve this masterpiece. And don’t get any goop on your cast.”

As the work progressed, and Becky cleaned out the last of the pumpkin’s innards, he asked, “Where are you gonna put it?”

“On the front porch at your house. Can we light it tonight? I want Maddy to see it.”

Her two statements caught him off guard.

“Are you staying with me this weekend?”

Becky’s tone made it clear she thought his question fairly lame. “Mommy helped me pack my suitcase this morning.” Her next words might as well have been, “Get a clue, Dad.”

Nick was stunned by Janet’s change of heart. Not more than five days ago, she’d been adamant that until Becky’s cast came off, his weekends with his daughter were over.

He suddenly grinned, and silently thanked Alec Michaels. Nick’s phone call to his lawyer, immediately following Becky’s fall, had paid off. He was a little puzzled that he hadn’t heard anything from Michaels about this, and then remembered the pile of unopened mail on his kitchen table. There had been an envelope from the firm, but Nick figured it was a bill. Apparently, it was something else. Like, maybe, a copy of a letter Michaels had sent to Janet. A letter telling her she didn’t have the right to keep his daughter from him.

Nick could still hear Alec’s comforting, no-bullshit words: “She doesn’t have a prayer in hell. You have too many character witnesses. And your daughter’s the best one.”

Nick turned his smile on Becky, who had already taped the pattern on the pumpkin and was carefully tracing over her mother’s lines.

“We’ll get some candles on the way home.”

She nodded, the tip of her tongue firmly ensconced in the corner of her mouth.

“What do you want for dinner?”

“Pepperoni pizza.” Becky pulled the paper off and stood back to check her work. “’Cause Maddy likes that, too.”

“Maddy won’t be having dinner with us.”

She looked up at him, startled. “How come?”

“How about we talk this over later and get on with the business at hand?”

She took another quick look at him then picked up the knife, which Nick promptly took from her hand.

“I don’t think a one-armed eight-year-old needs to be using a lethal weapon.”

Nick made his way down the school corridor in search of a bathroom. The door he found read “BOYS.” He eyed the height-impaired urinals and opted for a stall.

As Nick stooped over the sink, lathering his hands, wondering what he was going to tell Becky regarding the Maddy situation, a very tall parent wandered in. The man stared at the squat porcelain fixtures. One glance at his face, and Nick knew exactly what he was thinking.

“Challenging, aren’t they,” Nick chuckled.

“I don’t think I was ever that small,” the man replied. “You’re Patrick McKay, aren’t you?”

“Guilty.” Nick had to seriously bend over to reach the paper towels.

“I’m Carl Fisk. Jeff’s dad.”

“Didn’t you used to catch for the Sox?” Nick grinned, shaking his hand. “I remember you being a lot shorter.”

The man smiled back. “I get that a lot. No relation. Did I hear you’re living up here now?”

Nick nodded.

“If I’m out of line, you can tell me, but would you be willing to do some private coaching? My kid’s been bugging me to take him down to Jim Nettles’ place, but Tacoma is – like – in another country as far as I’m concerned.” Fisk entered one of the stalls, but kept talking. “I don’t know what Nettles charges, but I’ll match it. Anything to get Jeff off my back. The kid’s got a little talent – that’s what everybody says, anyway…” The toilet flushed, and the door opened again. “And he’s got a birthday coming up. Figured ten or fifteen sessions would be the perfect present.”

Nick stood rooted to the tile floor, wondering why the possibility never occurred to him before. He knew
of
former Major League outfielder Jim Nettles’ business – he was pretty sure it was called “Grand Slam” – but that’s where his education on the subject ended.

Fisk finished wiping his hands and pulled out his wallet. Handing Nick a business card, he said, “Give me a call if you think it’s something you want to do.”

“Yeah.” Nick tucked the card in his shirt pocket. “I’ll think about it.”

Nick hefted the pumpkin out of the truck bed and carefully set it on the wide porch rail, the red ribbon still pinned to its side. First Place had gone to a more traditional design, but Becky had taken the defeat well.

“Can we light it now?” Becky shouted from the sidewalk.

“Can we wait until it’s dark?” he said, walking past her to retrieve the two grocery bags.

“I guess.” She shuffled up the cement path. “Can we order the pizza now?”

Nick sat across from her at the kitchen table. “You promised you’d eat the salad and drink your milk.”

“I did.”

“One cherry tomato and a couple of bites of lettuce doesn’t qualify. Not if you’re serious about watching
Ghostbusters.
”

“Daddy? How come your bed doesn’t have any sheets and stuff on it?”

Puzzled by the conversational shift, he asked, “Why do you wanna know?”

She shrugged then in a fairly accusatory tone said, “You’ve been sleeping on the couch.”

How could he tell her that the bed he and Maddy had picked out didn’t appeal to him anymore? That it seemed vaguely wrong to climb into the antique brass four-poster without her?

“How come Maddy didn’t come over for dinner?” Becky asked.

“Isn’t it time to light that pumpkin?” Nick said, as he stood and picked up his plate.

“Daddy!”

“Aw, come on, Becky. This isn’t something I want to talk about with you. It’s kind of an adult thing.”

“Are you guys mad at each other or something?”

“Let’s just say we had a disagreement.”

“But you’ll make up, huh? ‘Cause I really like Maddy.” She got up from the table and guilelessly put her arms around his waist. “And you got her that ring, and everything.”

Nick sighed. “You know I won’t lie to you, Becky. It wouldn’t be right. So the honest answer is, I don’t know.”

“Can I call her?”

Nick closed his eyes in agony, then finally said, “Sure. She’d probably like that.” He was sure
that
was a lie. “Get the candle, Becks. I’ll be out in a minute with the matches.”

He entered the bedroom and pushed the button on the old-fashioned light switch. A book of matches sat on top of the oak dresser he’d managed to salvage from his marriage, and he picked them up. Then, without really meaning to, he opened the top drawer and took out the small, black, velvet box with the hinged lid. The diamond flanked by two small sapphires – her birthstone – glittered, even in the soft light.

“Come on, Daddy!” Becky called from the living room.

It was a done-deal, Maddy.

The box shut with a loud snap, and he let it drop. He tried to close her memory, along with the drawer, but knew there was no forgetting.

Chapter F
orty-Five

The chill dampness seeped into the cabin, and his bones. Too many years away from the Northwest had all but erased Danny Phillips’ memory of how monotonous – and how depressingly short – the late-fall days became.

It was just past the dinner hour and full darkness had descended. A low-pressure system arrived in the region a few days earlier and unpacked all its bags, intent on a long stay. The continuous gray cloud cover, the unrelenting drizzle, the fifty degree temperatures – all threatened the psyches of even the most optimistic. The rest of the population’s selective – and collective – memories had already forgotten the hot, arid summer. A few took the coming winter even more personally. This morning the first jumper of the season took to the top of the Narrows Bridge, stopping commuter traffic for nearly two hours until he was finally coaxed into coming down – back into a world he obviously felt held little hope for him.

Danny understood this feeling well. Life with Maddy in it wasn’t what he’d imagined. Instead of bringing them closer, Nick’s two-week absence had become a tangible barrier. She’d cancelled their nightly dinners three days in a row. Tonight her excuse had been a stomach virus. Yesterday she’d needed time alone.

Maddy’s unhappiness haunted her eyes; invaded her body. Danny wanted to exorcise Nick’s ghost, but didn’t know how. When he brought up the subject – telling her to forget him because he’d obviously forgotten about her – Maddy’s face would harden. And Danny could see her anger was directed at him, not at Nick McKay, but he didn’t understand why. It had been Nick, after all, who’d left her. Nick, who’d acted as if it had been Danny’s fault Becky had fallen. Couldn’t she see it was Nick who caused her heartbreak?

He lifted his arm – heavy with the weight of his dissatisfaction – and turned on the bedside lamp. The brightness made the world outside the windows even more black. Picking up the sketchbook from the floor, Danny rifled through the pages. He’d bought it less than a month ago, but it was already nearly filled with drawings.

In an effort to connect with his sister, he’d begun his own record of Salmon Beach. It was to be a gift to her. Something Maddy could use in conjunction with her own book, if she so chose. Almost everyone on the beach was represented. He’d done quick portraits of the people, and detailed drawings of their surroundings. There were whimsical studies of dogs, cats, and other assorted pets. The only person missing was Mary Delfino. The almost-innate adversarial climate between them had kept him away.

Now, as the lonely evening loomed he wondered if one last attempt to get Mary on his side would somehow bring Maddy back to him. It was the only reason he would place himself within Mary Delfino’s orbit. She frightened him like no one else could, because somewhere deep inside he realized she saw through his façade and knew him for the charlatan he was.

What little courage he’d mustered nearly deserted him as he stood at Mary’s door. Rain dripped off the hood of his poncho and onto his nose and cheeks, ticking off the long seconds it took him to finally ring the bell.

Mary Delfino’s face betrayed so many emotions it was like watching a seamlessly pieced-together film. Eagerness, shock, disappointment, caution: all flitted across her ageless features. Danny knew there would be no shining her on with his usual grab bag of personas. Only honesty would do the trick.

“I’m working on something for Maddy.” He moved closer to the door. Under the narrow eave, Danny pulled the sketchbook out from the protection of the cheap plastic cloak that covered him. Flipping the pages for her, he said, “It won’t be finished until you’re in here, too.”

Mary took a step back. “That isn’t going to make up for the loss she’s suffered.”

“I know that.” Danny had to bite back the words threatening to escape; that his sister’s loss wasn’t his fault. “But it’s the only thing I know how to do well.” Her eyes narrowed slightly, and he could imagine her reading everything about him just by her gaze. “I know you’re suspicious of my motives,” he said. “If you never believed me before, then believe me now – I’m doing this only for Maddy. I
do
love her. She’s all I have. This is all I have to give.”

“How very admirable of you.”

“You don’t like me. Fine. You don’t have to. Just let me do the sketch, and I’ll leave.”

“How long will it take?”

“Fifteen, twenty minutes.”
Too long to be under your eagle eye.

She finally nodded once then moved away from the door.

Neither spoke as they walked down the hallway. Danny entered the studio/kitchen area for the first time, and with genuine appreciation said, “What a great space.” He spotted the potter’s wheel, saw the vases and bowls and planters – most of them fired in greens and grays, but some with an astonishing shade of blue he’d never encountered – and put two-and-two together. “We have something else in common,” he said.

“What would that be?”

“Creation,” he replied. “These are exquisite.”

“Thank you.” She paused. “You said, ‘something else.’ I fail to see what else you and I could possibly have in common.”

Danny set the cachepot he’d been examining back in its place, and turned to Mary. “We both love Maddy.”

She pointedly ignored his statement, and asked, “Where do you want me?”

“The wheel.”

Mary sat on the stool, saying, “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

He flipped the pad open and slowly paced in front of her until he found the angle he liked. Pulling up a chair, he sat and – as he drew – began to talk.

“When we were little Maddy used to be my shield. She tried to protect me from the world. And she did such a good job of it that I had a really hard time dealing with real life when I left home.” His pencil moved swiftly, but his words were deliberate. “See, I never really felt like I fit in. Part of that’s being gay – it took me a long time to own up to that – but the real reason is knowing I wasn’t wanted. By my parents. By other kids…”

“That isn’t an excuse for dishonesty.”

Danny looked up. His eyes fixed on hers. “I didn’t say it was. I’m just trying to make you see I’m not a bad person.”

“I think, therefore I am,” Mary quoted. Danny simply regarded her with feigned bewilderment. “You don’t fool me. You think of yourself as someone special. Someone beyond the laws of humanity. You believe the world owes you something for the humiliation you’ve had to suffer.”

“I’m not a bad person,” he repeated.

“You don’t believe that for one minute. You’re only saying it to convince me.”

Danny’s head dropped back down to his work. “I
do
believe it,” he said quietly. “But I also believe I have very little worth. I don’t think the two things are the same.”

For the next few minutes, the only sound in the room was the soft scratching of his charcoal pencil on the paper.

Mary broke the silence. “You understand that Madeleine can no longer shelter you from the world? That it’s not her place, or her vocation, to do so? If you’ve come back to her thinking that to be the case, I must tell you, you’re very wrong.”

Danny’s hand went still. “I’m beginning to see that.”

“Fine, then. Are we almost finished?”

He nodded, afraid to look at her lest she see the tears in his eyes. “Do you want to see it?” he asked.

“No,” she said then quickly relented. Her voice held a redemptive note. “Yes. I do.”

Danny held up the sketchbook.

She was quiet for a moment as she looked at what he’d done, and then she said, “I don’t believe ‘worthless’ is the word I’d use, Daniel. You’re very talented.”

It was the first time she’d said his name. He quickly stood and turned to leave.

“You are also wrong about something else,” Mary said.

He waited.

“Yes, I do love Madeleine – for what she is and can be.” She paused. “But I think you love her for what she was.”