Island Girl (41 page)

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Authors: Lynda Simmons

BOOK: Island Girl
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Jocelyn said, “I think I’m going to puke.”
Mark turned back to her. “Will it help if I admit that you’re right? I should have told you before we came here, but everything happened so fast I didn’t get the chance.”
“Exactly my point,” Jocelyn said. “Everything’s been done so fast. The decision to come here, changing everything at your office, and now this. I’ve never understood the rush. It’s like you’re in a race or something.”
“We are,” my mom said.
“Because we’re not getting any younger,” Mark added. “And yes, this marriage probably seems like a sudden decision, but believe me, it’s been years in the making.”
Jocelyn closed her eyes. “Just tell me you weren’t screwing around with her when my mother was alive.”
More faces at the windows, more shadows by the doors.
“Absolutely not,” Mark said at the same time my mom said, “Never.” She looked out at the street and raised her voice. “Did everybody get that? I was not sleeping with Mark while he was married. Benny, you might want to write it down in case you forget later.”
“I have a perfect memory,” he called. “And congratulations to you both.”
I had to laugh as the shadows disappeared and faces ducked out of sight. Too bad Liz wasn’t here. She would have loved this.
Jocelyn went back to her bike. Stood with it half inside the yard and half out, her eyes moving back and forth between Ruby and Mark. Like she couldn’t decide what to do and didn’t know what to think anymore. I understood how she felt. I’ve always been the last to know what was going on in my own life, but it still hurts every time I find out someone has kept something from me for my own good or because it’s too complicated for poor Grace to understand. Like why my clients had been canceled, and how much Mary Anne wasn’t telling me, and why my mother thought it was okay to look through my computer whenever she felt like it.
If it was hard for someone like me to be left out, I could only imagine how much harder it was for someone like Jocelyn, someone who had never been last. But she was better at making decisions than I was ever going to be because a second later she said, “I’m going out,” then she pushed her bike all the way through the gate and let it close behind her.
“Jocelyn, for what it’s worth,” my mom called to her. “I’d like you and Grace to be my bridesmaids. You can pick your own dress. Whatever color, whatever style. I won’t say no.”
Jocelyn looked back and smiled a little. “Wanna bet?” she said, and started walking her bike toward the tennis courts.
My mom turned to Mark. “Aren’t you going to say something to her?”
“Dinner’s at six,” he called.
“I meant aren’t you going to stop her?”
“Why would I? She was given the news of the wedding a little more abruptly than I’d planned. She needs time to absorb it, think it through.”
“But you don’t even know where she’s going.”
“I don’t have to know every move she makes. I trust her.”
My mom shook her head. “You always were naïve where kids are concerned.”
“Ruby, this one is
my
daughter. Don’t forget that.”
“I’m sure I won’t.” She gave me a tight smile. “Can you put the kettle on, please?”
“I have to talk to Jocelyn,” I said and ran to the gate.
She was two doors down, still walking her bike. “Jocelyn wait,” I called. “I’ll come with you.”
She shot a quick glance over her shoulder, but kept on going. Not riding, just walking. Fast enough to let me know she wasn’t going to wait. Slow enough that I could catch up easily.
“Grace, what are you doing?” my mom asked.
“I’m going out too.” I dashed up the stairs and into the house, grabbed a copy of the movie
Family Man
from the shelf in my room, and went back outside. Tossed the movie into the basket on my bike, and ran with it to the gate. Jocelyn was almost out of sight.
“Grace, sit down right now,” my mom said.
“She can’t,” Mary Anne said. “She’s going out. Now leave the girl alone and come inside. We have a lot of planning to do.” She rose and pointed at Mark. “You too. Inside.”
My mom grimaced as she got to her feet and tiptoed behind Mary Anne to the door.
“I have always loved weddings,” Mary Anne was saying. “The flowers, the dresses.” She frowned as my mother hobbled up the stairs beside her. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, what on earth have you done to yourself now?”
Jocelyn was still walking her bike when I finally caught up to her. “What do you want?” she asked.
I got off and walked mine too. “Just to tell you I’m sorry you had to find out everything this way.”
“Me too.”
“But the good news is that when they get married, we’ll be sisters.”
“Have I mentioned how much I like being an only child?”
I laughed, but she didn’t laugh with me, and we walked on in silence. Past the cutoff to the tennis courts to the path that leads to the ferry dock. People were already starting to gather and more were coming along the road and across the field. Jocelyn shoved her bike into the rack and went to stand by the railing, away from the crowd, her face turned toward the city. On the other side of the bay, the
Ongiara
was leaving the dock, making its way back to the Island.
“Are you very mad?” I asked. She nodded and I said, “I can understand that. But I hope you don’t do anything to make Mark change his mind, because that would be the meanest thing you could do to him.”
“Stopping him from marrying someone he hasn’t seen in years would be mean?” She gave a short laugh. “I don’t know, Grace, sounds to me like it might be the kindest thing anyone could do for him right now.”
“You think that way because you only know Mark as your dad
now
. You didn’t know him back then. You didn’t know how happy we were.” I walked back to my bike and took the movie out of the basket. Popped the case and lifted up the cassette. Underneath was an envelope with three photographs inside. “Take a look at these.”
The one on top was a man holding a chubby blond baby up over his head. Both laughing, looking into each other’s eyes. Behind them to the right, a woman watching, her eyes soft, her mouth relaxed, smiling. Beside her, another little girl with her skirt raised up over her head. On the back:
Our family, 1981.
The second, a strip of three shots. Same man, same woman, same little girls, older now—six and eleven. The four of them squeezed into a photo booth, flashing peace signs, sticking out their tongues, each trying to outdo the other to make the strangest face—all of them laughing so hard it hurt when they left the booth. On the back:
Our family, Disney World, 1986.
The third, same couple, a rare shot of them dancing. Her head on his shoulder, his head resting on hers. Arms around each other. Eyes closed, no idea a picture was being taken. On the back:
Mom and Dad, 1987.
That was me, pipe dreaming.
These were the only pictures I’d managed to save once he was gone and my mother was crying and wiping the slate clean. Liz had hidden six inside a book, Richard Scarry’s
Best Mother Goose Ever,
and stuck another three to the bottom of a drawer. I always hoped my mom had a couple of her own hidden somewhere. Secrets she didn’t admit to anyone, not even herself.
Jocelyn went through the shots one by one, taking her time, seeing her father as a much younger man, living a life she hadn’t been part of, a life where he had obviously been happy, in a world that had never been the same without him. After the third time through, she stacked the photographs together, leaving the one of my mom and Mark dancing on top. “How old were you when he left?”
“Twelve. Just like you.”
“He was like your dad, and he just up and left?”
“He didn’t leave. My mom kicked him out.”
“Why?”
I sighed and waited for the captain of the
Ongiara
to stop blowing the horn. “She said it was
irreconcilable differences
and
incompatible parenting styles.
Liz said she was just jealous. Afraid we were starting to love him more than her.”
“Were you?”
“Liz, probably yes. Me, no. I loved them both the same. I still do.”
She handed them back to me. Stood with her hands on the railing as the
Ongiara
slowed and prepared to dock. It was hard to say what she was seeing. The city, the water, maybe something else completely.
“I wish we’d never come here,” she said at last. “I wish we’d stayed home, and I’d never met any of you.”
“I’m glad I met you.”
She gave me a small half smile. “You would be.”
The ferry bumped the dock. The deckhands prepared to lower the ramp. The crowd on the dock moved to the sides, making space for the passengers waiting to leave the
Ongiara.
“Jocelyn, I didn’t know your mom, but I’m sure your family was happy, and I’m sure you have pictures you love as much as I love these. And I guarantee that if you make up your mind to stop them from getting married, you’ll win because you’re his daughter and he loves you. But he’s been alone for a long time now, hasn’t he?”
“Six years. Almost seven.”
“My mom’s been on her own for a lot more than that. She’s seen other men during that time of course, a lot of them if you want the truth, but there was never anything serious after Mark left. Certainly no one she would have married. And even though I live with her, I know she gets lonely.”
Jocelyn bent her head, kicked at a stone on at the ground. “My dad’s never seen anyone seriously since my mom died. He goes out with his friends all the time, but not with women much. The last time I can think of was almost a year ago. That wasn’t even a date really. She was just some woman he met at AA. They had lunch a couple of times but then she started drinking again, so he didn’t see her anymore. Since then, nothing.” She sighed and stared out over the water again. “That’s kind of sad, isn’t it?”
“I worry about that for myself sometimes. That I’ll end up here, alone. Just another crazy old Donaldson woman ranting at the tourists.”
She turned suddenly and took my arm. “We need to get off this Island and go into the city. Do something totally nuts, something you can’t do here, like go to a movie.”
The ramp came down. Passengers started to flow out onto the dock.
“Come on.” She tugged on my arm. “Let’s get on the ferry. Let’s go have some fun.”
I held back. “Your dad said we should be home at six.”
“You’ve got a phone. We’ll call them from the other side.” She tugged again. “Come on, Grace. We’ll be fine.”
People still flowed off the ferry. “I don’t have any money.”
“I do.” She pulled a flat leather wallet from her back pocket. “Twenty bucks and a debit card. What more do we need?”
“Jocelyn?” We turned. Kylie smiled as she and Brianne rode toward us. “You okay?” she asked when they stopped.
Jocelyn let go of my arm. “Yeah, I’m good. I’m sorry I didn’t come to the tennis court.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Brianne said. “We told everyone about the bird. Some guy who’s dating your neighbor Carol won two hundred dollars.”
“But we didn’t say anything about your mom and dad,” Kylie added “We figured they could tell whoever they want.”
“Jocelyn?” another voice called. “Oh my God! It’s Jocelyn!”
Her friend Courtney stood on the ramp of the
Ongiara
, smiling and waving while Alex, Josh, and Sean urged her to keep moving forward. “I’ve been calling you all day!” she shouted as they walked. When they hit the dock, she edged through the crowd, sidestepping strollers and bicycles, then broke free and ran toward us.
“Where were you?” she asked as she hugged Jocelyn. “I was starting to get worried.”
“I forgot to recharge my phone.” That was a lie. She’d turned it off, but who was I to tell?
“Airhead,” Courtney said, and smiled at me. “Hi, Grace.” She turned to Kiley and Brianne. “Hi, I’m Courtney.”
The girls introduced themselves while the rest of Jocelyn’s friends joined us.
“Hey, Goth girl,” Josh said, but I didn’t know why because Jocelyn didn’t look Goth at all anymore. She just looked like herself.
“We’re heading over to the beach,” he said. “Gonna light a little fire, smoke a little—”
“You go ahead,” Jocelyn said. “I don’t feel like it.”
“Why not?” Courtney asked. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Jocelyn said. “I just want to go into the city tonight.”
“Then we’ll go with you.” Courtney gestured to her friends. “Back on the ferry, everybody. Jocelyn needs to go into the city.”
“Hold on,” Josh said. “We’ve got plans here.” He looped an arm around Jocelyn’s shoulder. “What’s the problem, Goth girl?”
“Stop calling me that.” She pushed his arm off. “There’s no problem, okay? I just don’t want to stay here.”

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