A Sea Change (45 page)

Final Journal
Entry

April 6, 2001

I’ve been putting off writing for a while now. Too hard. But today is Nick’s birthday. And today is the day we went down to Salmon Beach together to scatter Mary’s ashes. So it seems fitting that I write, one last time.

Mary died in her sleep on March 21
st
. The first day of spring.

On the night of March 20
th
I had the strangest dream. It didn’t scare me. On the contrary, it left me with such a peaceful feeling that I woke Nick to tell him about it. It was a dream that didn’t fade with time. I still remember everything about it.

I’m standing on Jaed’s deck. It’s early morning. Foggy. Visibility is nonexistent. Even in my dream, I know I’ve had this dream before.

I’m holding something in my hand. It feels heavy and full. The weight is pleasant and familiar. “I’ve found it,” I say.

Then a female voice says my name. It comes from just below where I’m standing.

“Madeleine,” it says. “Please come closer.”

So I kneel down, and there she is again – my beautiful mermaid. When she smiles at me the fog rolls away like a wave uncovering a sparkling, sandy beach. She speaks again, and the water turns a vivid aquamarine.

“Madeleine, do you like what you see?”

“Yes,” I tell her. “I like it very much.”

“I’m glad, Madeleine. Your sea change has made me happy.” On the word ‘happy,’ a soft breeze picks up her flowing hair and it floats and hovers around her head.

I want to thank her, but she holds up a graceful hand, and I can’t seem to speak anymore.

“I’m going now, Madeleine. It’s time for
my
sea change.”

I reach out to touch her face, but she’s no longer there. And I hear her voice one last time.

“I’ll be with you as long as you need me…”

And she was, and is.

The last time I saw Mary was at the opening for my show, and I will never forget my beautiful mermaid.

Everyone who matters to me was there that night, making it one of the best moments in my life. Seeing my photographs hanging in the gallery made them seem legitimate; art at last. And when Nick shushed everyone, stood in front of me, and then asked me to marry him in front of God and everybody, my “yes” was barely audible for the roar of approval. I haven’t taken the ring off since that night.

I could see the festivities had taken a lot out of Mary. I asked if she needed to rest and she let me take her out to Rita’s van. I got her comfortable on the small bed in the back and sat with her. “Madeleine, go back inside,” she said. “Go now.”

I told her I’d come back out to check on her, and closed the van door. As I stepped onto the pavement I felt a presence. I looked down the sidewalk. There, maybe three hundred feet away, a man stood watching. He was tall, with curling hair that reached his shoulders, a backpack dangling from his shoulder.

I slowly raised my hand, knowing it was Danny. He raised his hand in return. Suddenly, Nick’s arm was around my waist, and his voice in my ear.

“Come inside, Maddy. Everyone wants to toast you.” He pulled me into the gallery.

I took one last look down the street, but Danny was gone.

 Rita Anders found Mary the next morning, and called us. Nick answered the phone while I was making breakfast. I remember how intimate, and how safe, it felt when he put his arm around me, still talking with Rita. I already knew what she was telling him.

I cried a little for the physical loss of her. So did Nick. But it didn’t hurt the way I thought it would. Her wisdom and love lives on. Nick and I are proof of that.

They put Mary’s ashes in one of the covered urns she’d made, the one with the white daffodil pressed into its side. We were both quiet as Nick drove down to Tacoma. We’ve been to the beach many times since December, but going down the steps this morning felt like the end of an era, and the start of a new life.

All the residents gathered on the path and on the decks and rooftops that surrounded the small beach where the mermaid sits on her rock. Jaed was there, too. She and Alex flew back for the ceremony. She seems to have found her soul mate. Jaed had given up her purple hair for aquamarine blue, in honor of Mary, and Alex didn’t seem at all perplexed by this.

The tide was just going out, and Nick and I walked across the wet pebbles until we reached the mermaid’s perch. The water was clear and cold. The morning, foggy. As small waves lapped at our feet, Nick removed the urn’s lid. He took my hand and placed it on his, and together we set Mary’s soul free.

The residents applauded. The solemnity of the ritual was broken. And the sun burned through the dense mist.

Nick and I came home and made love. A celebration of his birthday, and of life.

Ack
nowledgements

Dear Reader,

There are so very many people I’m indebted to for getting me through this process (finally) I don’t know that I’ll remember them all. But I’ll try.

Thank you…

To Mike Albov, friend, attorney, mentor, and ex-checker (that’s a pun, son).

To my amazing friends Roxie Anderson, Karen Dyson, Ann-Rodes Savage, Clayton Savage, Kris Sellgren, and Jean McKeon for always believing I could do this.

To my cousins Paul Rabbitt and Diane Goard for being that family I’d do anything for.

To my Aunt Lyda, just because.

To Mary Ann Dolphin, gone now but still my Idea Gal.

To my mother, who didn’t get to see this moment. I miss you every hour of every day, Mom.

To Mary Nugent, wherever you are, for introducing me to Salmon Beach.

To Kiara Rose for her beautiful photograph.

To fellow-author and new-found friend Jay Howard for her ecstatic cheerleading.

To all the people who’ve read my books and enjoyed them. I can’t tell you what a thrill that is.

And thank you to Michael P. Milligan, for your love, support, and calm demeanor in the face of my ever-present storm.

Annette Reynolds

November 30, 2012

ABOUT
THE AUTHOR

Annette Reynolds still lives in that house in Tacoma, Washington but now it’s 100 years old. Born in Greece, raised in California (Central and Southern), with a degree in Arts Management from Mary Baldwin College in Staunton, Virginia, she seems to have stopped her peripatetic life for the time being. Her first novel,
Remember The Time
, was nominated “Best First Book” by the Romance Writers of America.
A Sea Change
is her second novel and she’s begun work on her third.

Annette would love to hear from you.  Please email her at:
[email protected]

You can also visit her website at
http://www.annettereynolds.net

Do you Twitter?  Annette does @AuthorAnnette