The Summer of Good Intentions (36 page)

“And, he did one thing for me that I'll never forget. I want to share it with you today because I think it speaks to the nature of our friendship and to Arthur's character. When I was sick as a dog after chemo, Arthur said he wanted to surprise me with something when I was feeling up to it. A week later, when I was a little better, there was a knock at my door. It was Arthur. He told me to go sit on the couch, that he had a surprise for me.” Jay stopped again and scanned the crowd, seeming to conjure the day once more in his mind.

“And into my living room marches a fellow carrying a violin. And another guy carrying a violin. Then
another
man with a huge cello. And one more fellow with an instrument I didn't recognize at the time, but it was a viola. Can you imagine? They go and set up in my living room without saying a word, as if they did this all the time. And the next thing I know Arthur sits down next to me with a shit-eating grin.” He paused, “Sorry, Pastor. And Arthur says to me, ‘If you aren't well enough to go out and listen to some music, I thought we could bring it to you.' ”

Jess felt goose bumps run along her arms. She'd never heard this story.

“And so there we sat, on a late summer's day, listening to these gifted musicians play the most enchanting music I've ever heard.” He gestured to the trumpeter. “I was reminded of that today. Arthur had hired my own private string quartet. We listened to them play Chopin, Bach, a little Beethoven. It was the most divine present a person could ask for. I'll never forget it. I think it sums up Arthur, my friend, your friend, in a heartbeat.”

He folded up his paper and said, barely audible, “My, how I'm going to miss that man.” And with that he hung his head and walked back to his seat.

Tears streamed down Jess's face. She glanced over at her sisters, who dabbed at their eyes. Gloria cried quietly next to her, and Jess laid a hand on her mother's arm. “Are you okay?” she whispered.

Gloria shook her head. “No, not really.”

At last, Reverend Holmes stood and spoke. “Thank you, Jay, for that beautiful memory. I think I can say it spoke to all of us. I can see why it stays with you.”

There was more music followed by a reading and then a Maya Angelou poem. As the minister finished the poem, a cloud passed across the sun and then disappeared just as suddenly as it had appeared. Jess shuddered. It was as if Arthur were signaling that he was here, watching them. After a final benediction, the minister invited the group to join them in the blessing of the ashes before casting them out to sea.

He carried the tall vase to an area set off to one side, an enclosure protected from the wind by a scattering of pine trees. The family trailed after him, then the guests. Jess watched while Reverend Holmes blessed the urn and then tapped out a small amount of ashes into Gloria's hands. She closed her eyes, as if in silent prayer. Then, she took a deep breath and shouted, “Rest in peace, Arthur Herington!” tossing the ashes into the wind, where the gray dust sparkled in the light before spiraling away. Next it was Maggie's turn. She kissed her cupped hands. “Bye, Daddy,” she whispered, “Be good up there,” and threw her handful skyward.

When the minister poured the ashes into Jess's hands, she was surprised by the texture, how grainy the ashes felt. She could still see bits of smooth bone in the dust. Her stomach knotted. She was holding her father in her hands. Did she have a piece of his heart, she wondered, in this mix of bone and dust? Or was it something less grand, like a toe or an elbow bone? The only way she could get through the moment, she knew, was to focus on his heart.
Yes, there must be a piece of his heart in here somewhere.
And with that silent thought and a prayer that he watch over them, she tossed his dust out to sea. Then she stepped back and waited as Virgie, between jagged cries, managed to send her handful of Arthur sailing. Jess watched the ashes catch and dip on the wind.

It was then that she felt the sobs rush up her body. And it was Jay who stretched an arm around her, leading her away from the cerulean sea, her father's final resting place.

After the ceremony, they headed back to the hotel for a farewell dinner. Jay and the Stonehills joined them. Virgie and Jess excused themselves to check their makeup in the ladies' room. Virgie was worried that mascara was running down her face in long black streaks, but in fact, her face appeared raw and tender with hardly a stitch of makeup on it. Well, she thought, she'd more or less washed it with her tears at the memorial service.

She reapplied mascara and dabbed her forehead with powder. “That went as well as could be expected,” she said, pursing her lips together and reapplying lip gloss.

“I agree.” Jess brushed her hair. “Jay's speech pretty much undid me, though.”

“Me, too. I never even knew he had cancer, did you?”

Jess shook her head. “That's quite a secret to keep. And the story about Dad and the string quartet? That was amazing.”

“I know. Goose bumps.” She snapped her purse shut and offered her sister a small smile. “Ready to go back?” Jess nodded.

At the table, Gloria was thanking Jay for his kind words. “Arthur would have loved what you said.” She spoke softly. “You captured him beautifully.” Virgie slipped in next to Jackson and felt him reaching for her hand under the table. She took it, squeezed it.

“How are you doing?” he whispered.

“Okay.” She felt a wash of relief that Jackson was finally here, sitting beside her. When he'd first pulled up to the house, she'd worried that seeing him might be awkward, her diagnosis standing between them like a cement wall. But as soon as he got out of the car and she glimpsed his shock of dark, wavy hair and his smile (
that smile! 
), any second thoughts melted away. She raced to him and jumped into his arms, practically knocking him over. He hugged her, hard, then buried his head in her hair, saying, “God, I've missed you. I didn't know I could miss someone so much.”

“I know,” Virgie said. “It's so good to see you. Thanks for coming. So much has happened these last few weeks, I don't even know where to begin.”

“Shh.” He held his fingertips to her lips. “You don't have to. You've filled me in on the big stuff.” And then she led him back to the house, to her sisters and Gloria, who'd been standing just beyond the front door, she was quite sure, spying on them. Maggie, then Jess, said hello, and Virgie could tell by the way they leaned forward, lingered in a handshake, that they liked him. Even Gloria acted sweetly surprised and pulled Jackson into an embrace. “You're even more handsome than Virgie gives you credit for.”

“Go,” her sisters ordered. “Go lie in the hammock or something and catch up. We'll finish cleaning up.” And so, Virgie offered him a drink from the cooler and led him by the hand out to the back deck, where the ocean breeze felt good on her sticky skin.

“Man, this place is gorgeous,” Jackson said. It was the first time that week that Virgie had given a moment's thought to the house's charms. She'd been so focused on the mess, the squalor, the sadness of what they'd discovered inside that she'd almost forgotten the beauty that the place once held. She tried to see it through Jackson's eyes now. He was right. The house had been lovely, could still be lovely.

“It's funny. I'd kind of forgotten, given everything we found inside.”

He folded his arms around her while they looked out on the water, dragonflies darting above the sand like tiny sparks of light.

“My dad used to love to take walks along here. And when we were girls, we'd have races on the beach. Jess always had to win, of course—you know, middle sister complex. But sometimes they'd let me win.”

“I thought Jess and Maggie were twins,” Jackson said, surprised.

“They are. But Maggie was born first, so she always lorded it over the rest of us.” Virgie laughed. “In a good way, of course.”

“Sounds like my big brother, Adam.” It occurred to Virgie that while she was aware that Jackson had brothers, she knew nothing about them.

“I know nothing about your family, while you know so much about mine,” she said now, almost apologetically.

He laughed. “Don't worry, there's not much that's interesting to know. Both my brothers are successful businessmen. I'm the big disappointment in the family, at least according to my dad.”

“But how is that possible?” Virgie exclaimed. “You're a nurse, helping people every day.”

“Exactly. A nurse, but not a doctor.”

“Well, I think you're perfect,” she said, turning in his arms to kiss him.

“Careful. You don't want to inflate my ego even more.”

She realized, as they sat at the table now, that she wanted to know every little thing about this man. Not just the mole that hovered above his right elbow, or the exact shade of blue of his eyes, but the big stuff. What his parents were like, what his best memories of growing up were. They'd talked so much in the first month of their relationship, and yet there was still so much to discover. The thought of it gave her a small thrill. She leaned back as the waiter set down her plate of roast beef, mashed potatoes with gravy, and carrots. Comfort food. Virgie glanced around the table and thought how proud Arthur would be to have all these people, so dear to him, gathered in one place to celebrate his life. Had he been given the chance to write the ending to his own story, would he have written something similar to this? she wondered. She hoped so. But at the thought of her dad sitting there with them all, telling jokes, her eyes swelled again with tears.
Damn it, Daddy,
she thought.
You should be here. At your own funeral
.

She picked at her roast beef, her appetite suddenly gone. Jackson reached over and gently rubbed her back.

“Hey, can I get you anything?” he asked. “Maybe some ginger ale?” She loved that he could intuit her moods, understand when she needed a soft touch, reassurance. She shook her head, then caught Maggie watching them, a smile playing across her lips. Virgie recognized that look: it was her sister's “approving” smile.

Mrs. Stonehill was placing another drink order. “Would you like your Chardonnay oaked or unoaked?” asked the waiter.

“Most definitely
un
oaked, my dear boy,” she said. “I prefer oak in my floors, not in my drink.”

“Good enough,” replied the waiter and turned on his heel. Jackson shot Virgie a puzzled look, but she just laughed. It was better that her boyfriend learn sooner than later the quirks of her family and friends. And she realized with a start that it was the first time she'd actually called him her
boyfriend,
if only in her mind. The talk circled on with memories of her dad.

When it was time for dessert, the decision was unanimous: bananas Foster, Arthur's favorite. The waiter placed a platter on the table—the bananas arranged like daisy petals dripping in brown sugar and rum—and set it ablaze with a huge whooshing sound.

“Arthur always said he wanted to go out with a blast,” Jay joked, and they laughed.

Eventually, their table was the last one still seated. They exchanged reluctant good-byes with Jay and the Stonehills, who were staying at a hotel further down the street. Virgie and Jackson headed back to their own room. The emotional and physical drain of the last few days was settling in, and she leaned against Jackson as they walked. Back in the room, she pulled off her heels, changed into her pajamas, and brushed her teeth and scrubbed her face before crawling into bed.

“Come here,” Jackson said, gathering her in his arms and stroking her hair. The local news played on the television—some story about a missing dog—but Virgie wasn't listening.

“It's so nice to hold you again,” he said.

“It's nice to be held.” The scent of Jackson's soap drifted over to her, fresh, comforting, familiar.

He kissed the top of her head. “I missed you so much.”

“You already said that,” she teased.

“No, like
insanely
missed you,” he clarified.

“Oh, well, in that case, I apologize. I only sanely missed you.”

“Such a wiseass,” he said and kissed her again. She looked up at him and felt the butterflies. It had been one of the strangest, most exhausting weeks of her life. But also, quite possibly, one of the best. Because here was the man she thought she might very well love, holding her and telling her how much he'd missed her. If she told him she loved him, would she risk everything? She was afraid. Afraid that he might not feel the same way. She needed her own place to land, her own island. Was Jackson it? He took her chin in his hand and grazed his lips against hers.

“I love you, Virginia Herington,” he whispered. And there it was. Virgie felt her heart jump. There was so much more they needed to discuss. Was he really okay with her diagnosis? What if they got married? What if they had kids? Would he worry they'd be carriers? And the other big question that had been tumbling around in her head all week: she didn't know if she wanted to go back to Seattle.