Pacific Avenue (28 page)

The plane circled above Lake Pontchartrain. From my window
seat, I looked out over the lights along the river and across the bridge,
marking my path home. I’d never flown into New Orleans before, and I would have
taken a Greyhound this time, but Lacey had insisted on buying me this ticket. I
loved coming back like a princess on a flying carpet. It made me feel how much
had changed.

When I’d called and told Richard what I’d decided, he
said he didn’t think it would be long before he was released. But he wouldn’t
go right back to Gretna. He was going to Texas first, to spend some time with
his parents.

“Your
parents
?”
I’d nearly dropped the phone. “How did you make up with
them
?”

“I let Sam tell them the whole story. It was my dad who
got the lawyer.”

“Are they going to be weird about us, the way my
parents were?”

There was a pause at the other end of the line. “Does that
mean you’re coming back to me?”

I thought it did, but I wasn’t sure. I was coming into
New Orleans as I’d come into San Pedro, not knowing the future—but I wasn’t
afraid of it anymore. And I wasn’t in a hurry about it either—not to marry,
certainly not to have another child. Maybe someday. Maybe with Richard. I
didn’t know, and didn’t need to know.

Maybe one day I’d even be friends with Mom again. Maybe
she’d change her mind about things. Remembering Dad, she might learn from who
he’d been. I wanted to be ready if she did.

The dark lake below us was crossed by the Causeway’s
twin lines of light. Over in Gretna, the Motley family would all be asleep. But
I imagined them the way I knew them best.
Eddie at his stand, with the smell
of fall tomatoes filling a hot afternoon. Francine in the kitchen, cooking some
wonderful Creole dish, shallots and shrimp on the cutting board beside her. Dom
and Joss admiring their phoenix kite, longing to be old enough to fly it by
themselves. Sam and Sharon walking hand in hand in the Quarter.

I even saw Dad and Jamie as I’d imagined them the day
Richard and I walked in our glitter-spangled clothes.
Dad, younger than when
I saw him last, Jamie older, maybe about nine. Dad, holding Jamie’s hand, bends
down to listen to what she’s saying.

I almost waved too, sitting there on the plane.
Xin
chào, Dad. Xin chào, Jamie. And tam biêt.

Anne L. Watson
, a retired historic preservation architecture
consultant, is the author of several novels, plus books on such diverse
subjects as soapmaking and baking with cookie molds. Anne has lived at various
times in New Orleans, Baton Rouge, and San Pedro, California, the settings of
Pacific
Avenue.
She currently lives in Friday Harbor, Washington, in the San
Juan Islands, with her husband and fellow author, Aaron Shepard. Please visit
her at