Read Breaking Josephine Online
Authors: Marie Stewart
Breaking Josephine (18 page)
I dragged myself
to work on Tuesday, reluctant to leave Hartley Manor and leave Dex. But he
needed to attend to Hartley Industries and I needed to earn some money before I
found myself unable to pay rent. Besides, I thought to myself, some time apart
might be a good thing. I felt consumed by Dex, everything I did, everything I
thought revolved around him. Getting some space and perspective couldn’t be
bad. And I liked the rhythm of the Red Barn, its hustle and bustle in the
morning, taking orders, filling empty coffee cups, smiling and chatting about
innocent topics like why it rained all the time in Oregon and how the beach was
so different up here in the Pacific Northwest compared to sunny Southern
California.
When my shift
ended, I grabbed my things and headed up to Mable’s to relax by myself with a
cup of coffee before picking up a few groceries in Jack’s down the street. As I
waited in line, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around to see Macy’s mom
Diane behind me in line. Her dyed-blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail and
her face was strangely make-up free. I realized I’d never seen her not done up,
and noticed the wrinkles around the corners of her eyes and mouth for the first
time. She tucked a stray bit of hair behind her ear, and the diamond rings
covering her fingers sparkled under the coffee shop’s lights.
“Oh, hi Mrs.
Daugherty,” I said, smiling at her.
“Hi Jo. You know
I’ve said this before, but Jo you really can call me Diane, it’s okay,” she
said, smiling.
“I know,” I said,
feeling uncomfortable and out of place, “it’s just a hard habit to break. So
what brings you into Mable’s?” I said, trying to be friendly.
“Oh,” she said casually,
“I just finished yoga down the street and thought I’d take a break with a
coffee before I have to go work on plans for the charity auction I’m hosting in
the fall. How about you?”
I smiled and
replied, “I just thought I’d take a break too. I just finished work at the
restaurant and need some groceries, but I thought enjoying a coffee would be a
nice way to relax for a while.”
Diane gave me a
warm and smile and said, “well, how about I buy and we sit for a few minutes
and chat?” Sensing my reluctance, she added, “that way I can try and pry all
you know about Macy and William out of you for a few minutes. You know she
never tells me anything.” Diane laughed a bit and gave me another smile. I knew
she was trying to be friendly, but it seemed phony and artificial. I felt
awkward and didn’t really have any interest in spilling Macy’s secrets to her
mom, but at the same time I didn’t want to be rude. Diane had been nothing but
nice to me since I became so close to Macy. And she did buy my dress for the
social and I hadn’t thanked her yet. Giving her a few minutes of my time and
answering some questions about Macy was only fair payment for her generosity.
“Okay,” I said,
finally.
“Great!” said
Diane, clasping her hands in front of her. She turned to the counter and
ordered our coffee. We picked them up a few minutes later and found a small
table by a window.
Diane took a sip
of coffee and opened her mouth to talk, but I jumped in first, hoping to steer
the conversation to lightweight topics. “You know, I wanted to thank you for
buying my dress for the Memorial Day social. I don’t think I’ve had the chance
to really do that yet, and I didn’t want to forget. You didn’t have to buy my
dress and I really appreciate it,” I said, taking a sip my coffee.
“Oh, you’re
welcome, and it really wasn’t a big deal,” Diane responded. “I wanted Macy to
attend the social and I needed to find a way to accomplish that, and buying
your dresses seemed to do the trick. It’s all about finding the right encouragement
for Macy, what will motivate her.” Diane paused and sipped her coffee. I braced
myself for her to launch into uncomfortable questions about Macy and William,
but instead she kept talking about the social.
“It seemed like
you had a good time at the social, after what looked like quite a run-in with
Dex Hartley, that is. Are you all right? It seemed like he was quite angry when
he saw you there.” I looked at Diane. She seemed to be innocently curious, but
I didn’t understand why she was asking about me and Dex and not Macy and
William.
“Let’s just say he
finally figured out where he knew me from, and was mad I hadn’t said anything,”
I said. “But we’re fine, he’s fine. If you can believe it, we’re actually
dating.” I looked down and took a sip of my coffee. Saying out loud that Dex
and I were dating to someone I hardly knew, even if she was my best friend’s
mom, seemed almost daring. But it was true, and I needed to get used to saying
it out loud.
“Really? Well,
congratulations I suppose then.” Diane took another sip of coffee and continued,
“Macy had mentioned you might be interested in Colin, William’s brother, so I
thought maybe you two were dating instead.”
I shook my head. “No,
I don’t think he’s ever been interested in me that way.”
Diane sat at the
table quietly for a minute or two, sipping her coffee and looking out at the
ocean. I watched her flip her sandal-covered foot up and down under the table
and I wondered if she had second thoughts about prying into her daughter’s love
life. Before I could excuse myself and leave, however, she started talking again.
“So, Macy said
that you grew up in Portland, right? Did you ever have family out here in
Cannon Beach?” I looked at her again, confused as to why she kept asking about
me. But I never really spent any time with Diane, and unless Macy had filled
her in on her summer best friend, Diane probably knew nothing about me. If I
was her, I would be curious too. Maybe she wanted to know if I made good friend
material.
“No,” I answered
simply, “my mom and I lived in Portland, and after she died, I lived at Overton,
a girls’ orphanage in Portland, until I turned eighteen.”
“So how did you
end up out here?” Diane asked, taking another drink of her coffee.
“I had visited
once on vacation just before my mom died, and I loved it. I always connected
Cannon Beach with happy memories of my mom and I thought it would be a great
place to get a new start and leave Portland behind. So I moved out here about a
year ago and have been here ever since.”
“Wow,” Diane said,
looking surprised, “I assumed you had some family here or some reason for
making this your home. What about your father or you parents’ families? You
have to have some family somewhere, right?”
I frowned,
irritated by Diane’s nosy questions. But I didn’t want to offend my best
friend’s mother. I took a deep breath and answered as best I could, “I never
knew my father, he died before I was born. And my mother never told me about
any extended family. I assumed if I had any that the social worker would have
found them when my mom died, and I wouldn’t have grown up in an orphanage. So,
no I don’t have any family anywhere, to the best of my knowledge.”
I looked at Diane
and saw her giving me an appraising stare, like she was looking at me and
comparing me to something or someone else. I remembered her giving me the same
once over at the social, right before Dex walked in and blew up in my face. Her
look put me on edge and had me rethinking the entire conversation. Maybe this
entire thing was a set up to ask questions about me and my past. As we sat
there, looking at each other, I got more and more irritated over her
inquisitive look and nosy questions until finally I blurted out, “What? Why are
you looking at me like that? You had that same expression on your face when you
saw me the night of the social. So did some other women who were there. What is
it?” I said, exasperated.
Diane pressed her
lips together into a firm line. She looked at me as if she was trying to decide
which way to go with her answer. Finally she asked, “You really don’t have any
connection to Cannon Beach?”
I lost it then,
and raised my voice, causing a nearby tourist couple to give me a sharp glance.
“Seriously, Diane, what is this about? I deserve more than just secretive
questions and stares.”
Diane closed her
eyes and squeezed the bridge of her nose with her fingers, then she opened her
eyes and stood up. “I’m sorry, Jo. It’s really none of my business. I shouldn’t
have been prying into your life. Give my best to Dex if you see him.” And with
that she threw her empty coffee cup in the trash and walked out of Mable’s.
It didn’t make any
sense. Why would Diane keep asking me if I had a connection to Cannon Beach? And
why wouldn’t she tell me what she knew? I swept the cardboard bits and pieces
into my palm, threw them away, and walked over to Jack’s to pick up some
groceries and clear my head.
As I walked
through the aisles, picking up bread, milk, and eggs, my head spun with
thoughts about Diane, her questions, and her reaction to seeing me at the
social. I checked out and carried my small grocery bag home, determined to
figure out exactly what was going on and why my past seemed so interesting to
people who hardly knew me.
After I put my
groceries away, I went into my bedroom and pulled a shallow box out from under
my bed. I opened it and rifled through the various papers until I found my
birth certificate.
“Josephine Anne
Sinclair, born December 8, 1990, in Portland, Oregon. Mother, Rebecca Anne
Sinclair, from Portland, Oregon. Father, Jacob Cunningham, from Portland,
Oregon.” I read out loud. No mention of Cannon Beach, no connection whatsoever.
I looked it over, and found nothing unusual. I pulled out the next paper, my
mother’s death certificate. “Rebecca Anne Sinclair, born January 29, 1970, died
April 5, 2003, cause of death, multiple traumatic injuries due to vehicular
crash.”
I sighed. Neither
piece of paper told me anything I didn’t already know. I pulled out a small
handful of photographs, the only visual reminders of my mother I still had. There
were pictures of her holding me as an infant, us together at the park, and
several of us together on Cannon Beach the week before she died that we’d taken
with a cheap disposable camera. I looked at her, my mother, and wondered if
there was something she didn’t tell me, something Diane knew or at least
suspected. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Diane
knew a lot more than her questions hinted at, and that if she would only be
honest and talk to me, I might learn more about my past and where I came from. I
put the papers and photos back in their box and shoved them under the bed. I
sat there in my bedroom, lost in thought, until I heard a knocking at my door.
I pulled myself
together and walked out into the kitchen. I opened the door and found Dex
standing there. He gave me a huge smile and wrapped me up in his arms, picking
me up off my feet. He twirled me around and set me back down.
“Well, hello to
you too!” I said, giving him a kiss. He kissed me back and leaned back to look
at me.
“What is it? You’re
knitting your eyebrows together like something’s wrong,” he said.
I laughed. “Are my
feelings and thoughts that obvious? It’s nothing really. I just had a really
weird conversation with Macy’s mom and I can’t for the life of me figure out
what her problem is.”
“Macy’s mom?” Dex
asked, “I didn’t think the two of you were particularly close.”
“We aren’t,” I
answered. “That’s what’s so weird about it. We ran into each other this afternoon
in Mable’s, and she bought me a coffee, claiming she wanted to ask me about
Macy and William. But when we sat down, she started asking me about me, and my
childhood, and whether I had any family, and where I was from.”
“Really?” Dex asked.
“Really,” I said,
as I walked over to the kitchen table and sat down.
“What else did she
say?”
“Oh, I don’t
know,” I answered, trying to remember. “She asked about whether I had any
family anywhere, and why I came to Cannon Beach.” I paused, trying to remember
all the details, “And then, when I asked her what she was getting at, and
basically what her problem was, she asked me again if I had any connection to
Cannon Beach whatsoever. And when I pressed her on it, she just got up and
walked away. Like I said, the whole conversation was weird.” I looked up at
Dex. He stood there, looking out my window, frowning.
“What? Now you
look like she did when we were talking. Is there something that I don’t know?”
I asked, standing up and walking over to him.
Dex turned back to
me and gave me a smile. “No, my lovely Jo. There’s nothing you don’t know. I’m
sure Macy’s mom has some innocent explanation for her behavior. Maybe she just
had a bad yoga session. Who knows.” Dex took my hands and pulled me to him. “Now,
let’s stop talking about Macy’s mom and do something much, much more
enjoyable.” He kissed me deeply on the lips and I soon forgot all about Diane
and her unexplained questions.
After spending an extremely enjoyable late afternoon
in bed, Dex and I drove over to his place and made dinner. We piled our plates
high with spinach salad, garlic bread, and chicken marsala, and walked outside
to the deck to enjoy the sunset over the ocean. Dex opened a bottle of wine,
poured us each a glass, and sat down.
I looked over at him and smiled. Everything seemed so
easy and normal with Dex, like we had known each other for years, not just met
a few short weeks ago.
