West Wind (3 page)

"D?" Don Windham? Was she planning to leave
him? Had she already left him and he wanted her back?

She picked up another letter, this one a
brief note from Don Windham.

"Rose, Delivered the boat. It handled well,
even in Force 8 winds off Bar Harbor. Be home soon. Love, Don."

Sabrina glanced at the postmark on the
envelope: September 21, 1975. She picked up the first letter and
held one in each hand, comparing the handwriting. They were
different. Even the paper and the envelopes were different,
although that wouldn't make much difference.

The style of writing and the context were
different. One was passionate and pleading, the other,
matter-of-fact and upbeat. Two men: A lover and a husband, and she
lost both sometime in 1975, because Sabrina knew that Rose moved to
Eaton, alone, in 1976. Norman, enrolled in a prep school in
Virginia, seldom came home.

She opened several more letters, three from
the mysterious "D" and two from Don Windham, dating from 1974 to
1975. They were similar. Again, "D" wrote short love letters
begging her to meet him, while Don Windham wrote of various
business contacts he made while traveling throughout New England,
boat orders, and sea conditions.

Sabrina didn't bother reading any of the
other, older letters. Instead, she picked up the latest journal and
tabbed through the pages to the final entry.

"December 10, 1975. Christmas shopping today.
I'm in New York at the Plaza, loving every moment. Macy's is
fantastic and I had the best time at FAO Schwarz. I picked up a
Pong game for Norman, some kind of video game that connects to the
television. Now that he's fifteen, he doesn't want to play with his
action figures anymore. I also found a pretty cashmere sweater for
Margaret. Don wouldn't come. Said he had work to do and couldn't
afford the time. He infuriates me. He certainly can afford the
time; he just will not do it. He refuses to use any of daddy's
money, as usual. Obstinate man. We could be living in a beautiful
home instead of a hovel. I'm so tired of doing without, when we
have my inheritance just sitting in the bank. He won't let me
invest a dime in the business, saying its 'the man's job to take
care of the family.' At least he couldn't stop me from sending
Norman to school. It felt so good to spend money today without Don
asking to see my checkbook. I'm glad he didn't come with me. I'm
going to take a long bubble bath, and I've ordered champagne and
dinner for two. I damn well intend to enjoy my last night in New
York. D will be here soon. I'm sure he'll appreciate my shopping
today."

Sabrina flipped through the journal, checking
entries for the initial "D," and finding it on nearly every
page.

"Grandmother Rose! I can't believe what I'm
reading," she said, biting her lip.

Sabrina picked up the scrapbook and slowly
turned the pages filled with newspaper clippings, postcards, locks
of hair, and photographs. This book, too, stopped in 1975.

It's as if she died, too
, Sabrina
thought as she found a folded newspaper clipping shoved between the
last two pages, unlike others that were carefully taped or anchored
with black corners. She read the headlines and gasped.

"Boat Builder, Partner Killed in Midnight
Blaze, Factory Destroyed in Three-Alarm Fire."

There was no date at the top of the clipping.
She read the rest of the article.

"
NEWPORT
– Boat builder Donald N.
Windham, 45, and his partner, Derek F. West, 44, died Friday in a
midnight blaze that destroyed the Zephyrus Boatyard and injured one
person, Rose Windham, 35.

Three fire companies and the local police
responded to the tragedy, which is still being investigated. Fire
Chief Flip Jenkins reported that the inferno started in an office,
perhaps by a faulty kerosene stove, and spread throughout the shop
quickly. Fifty-gallon barrels of resin and stacks of plywood, used
in the manufacturing of fiberglass boats, were "like jet fuel on
the fire. The Jakes (fire fighters) couldn't get close enough to
put it out," Jenkins said.

Fire fighters were forced to battle not only
searing flames and choking black smoke but also a lack of water.
Jenkins said that there were no fire hydrants nearby, and the
plant's water supply was inadequate for fighting such a massive
fire. The roof and all but one wall of the two-story metal building
collapsed, forcing firefighters to flee the structure.

Rose Windham was treated for smoke inhalation
and second-degree burns at the scene. Police responding to the fire
said she will be questioned later and that, at this point, she is
the only eye-witness to the tragedy."

Sabrina stared, open-mouthed, at the
newspaper article. She assumed that Don Windham had died of natural
causes. No one volunteered details and she never asked about her
family's history.

Her hands shook and she wanted to call her
father, but he and Marta were already in Tibet, wandering about on
the backs of ponies. How much does he know? He must know all,
Sabrina reasoned. But why hadn't he ever told her?

* * *

That evening, Sabrina sat quietly at her
grandmother's bedside. Together, they watched the news and then the
cable's travel channel with Rose hoping for a glimpse of her famous
son. His and Marta's documentaries were popular reruns.

Sabina adjusted the bed at a slight incline,
enabling Rose to view the large, flat-panel television the
contractors installed on the dining room wall. Sabrina wondered how
long the 150-year-old plaster walls would support the heavy
screen.

The nurse placed a nightstand with a portable
telephone and a pitcher of violet-scented water next to the
hospital bed, and plumped satin cushions behind Rose's back.
Morphine and glucose water dripped steadily into the back of the
old woman's blue-veined hand.

A hairdresser came by after lunch and washed
and styled Rose's hair. Wearing a frilly ivory nightgown, her
silver hair combed into its smooth chignon, she appeared to be on
the mend.

"Grandmother," Sabrina cleared her throat.
"May I speak to you about something personal?"

Rose flinched, then closed her eyes. "Of
course you can."

"Do you miss my grandfather? Do you miss Don
Windham?"

Rose's breast heaved slightly, a deep sigh
from a small, shrunken woman.

"Every day."

"Did you love him?"

"Of course I did. I love Norman and you, too.
Is that what you want to know?"

"No, Grandmother. I know you love me,"
Sabrina said, reaching out and stroking Rose's quilted leg. "I know
you love Daddy, too. It's just that you never talk about my
grandfather, and I'd like to know about him. I'd like to know what
your life was like when you were a young woman."

"I see." Rose paused, licking her thin, pale
lips. "Well, I'm not sure where to begin. It's been so long
ago."

"Why don't you tell me how you met?"

"Please, would you hand me a glass of
water?"

Sabrina complied, and Rose sipped
thoughtfully.

"Well, I was very young, barely seventeen
when I first saw Don. He was a ten years older than me, and working
at a boatyard in Rhode Island. That's where he was born. That's
where we lived when Norman was born."

Sabrina nodded, but said nothing.

"We lived in New York and spent summers on
Long Island, in the Hamptons. Oh, not the fancy side of the
Hamptons. We had a cottage in West Egg like in the 'Great Gatsby.'
Oh, I loved that novel."

Sabrina waited. Rose closed her eyes as if
seeing her childhood home again.

"Daddy ordered a new, beautiful sailboat and
a handsome young skipper delivered it from a boatyard in Rhode
Island. Daddy asked me to handle the jib, and the three of us
sailed all afternoon. Don Windham was so serious and capable. I
still remember how his hair curled and whipped in the breeze. He
was supposed to return to Rhode Island by ferry, but we kept him on
the water so long, that he missed the last one. Daddy invited him
to dinner and to stay the night. He slept on the boat."

Rose sipped her water.

"That night, I went to him and we talked for
hours under the stars. We sat in the cockpit until dawn. When he
kissed me goodbye, I knew I had to have him.

"Of course, Daddy was not happy about that.
He had other plans for me. He wanted me to marry the son of his
banker. A moron. I told him I wanted to marry Don. We wrote to each
other. He would come to New York on the train and I'd meet him at a
hotel. This went on for about a year, then Don said I needed to
make a choice. Either I stand up to Daddy and marry him, or
else."

"Or else, what?" Sabrina asked when Rose
paused.

"I didn't want to know what else," she said.
"I was eighteen and could legally marry, so we went to the justice
of the peace that afternoon. We told Mother, and she called Daddy.
He never forgave me, and he refused to come home as long as Don was
there."

"What did you do?"

"I packed a couple of suitcases and caught
the train to Rhode Island with Don. We lived in a small cottage by
the bay while he worked at one boatyard after another until he was
able to open his own. I didn't see Daddy for two years, not until
after Norman was born.

"Then, when Norman was five, my father died
and I received my inheritance. We were suddenly rich. But Don
wouldn't take any of the money. He wouldn't use it to build the
business. You see, my father said terrible things to me after the
wedding. He broke my heart and Don never forgave him.

"I forgave him. I would take baby Norman home
to New York and visit my parents. We would go shopping or skating
in the winter, and in the summer, we sailed around Long Island and
played on the beach. It was almost like being a girl again, this
time with Norman as a little playmate. But Don was never with
us."

"How sad."

"I thought so, at first. Then I became angry.
Don was stubborn and proud, even after my father died. He resented
the man when he was alive, and more so when he was dead. He once
told me he wished that I'd never inherited the money, that it only
cursed our family."

"How did it curse the family?"

Rose glanced at Sabrina, then frowned. "What?
Oh, I'm sorry, dear. I've been rambling. I'm very tired now. Would
you turn out the light?"

Rose's recollections had been clear and she
seemed eager to share. Sabrina speculated about the abrupt
dismissal, but didn't want to upset her.

"Sure, Grandmother." Sabrina reached for the
lamp and tugged on the cord. She picked up the remote control and
placed it on Rose's lap. "Here; just in case you want to watch TV
for awhile. Goodnight," she said, and kissed her grandmother's
cheek.

Rose placed a trembling hand on Sabrina's
face. "Goodnight." She closed her eyes.

* * *

Two days passed and Sabrina wanted to speak
with Rose again. She read all of the letters, read the journals,
and finished the scrapbook. She had a suspicion that the mysterious
"D" was Derek West, but she wanted Rose to confirm it.

More than that, for the first time in her
life she felt a family connection, a legacy. During the night, as
she turned past events over in her head, a plan evolved. Excited,
she wanted Rose to approve of her idea.

She couldn't wait to get started, but she
dreaded telling Rose that she pried into her personal letters.

Hoping that breakfast would pave the way, she
carried a tray with two cups of coffee and toasted, buttered
English muffins into the dining room.

"Good morning, Grandmother," she said,
smiling. She placed the tray on the nightstand and picked up her
coffee mug. "Mmmmm, this smells good."

Rose picked up her dainty, rose-embellished
coffee cup. She sipped, then placed it back on the tray. "Thank
you, dear. Muffins? You have more faith in my teeth than I do." She
tore off a corner and popped it in her mouth.

"I want to talk to you about something.
Something I think is important."

"What is it, dear?" Rose asked.

"First, I have something to confess, and
second, I have a plan I'd like to discuss. I've done something
inexcusable, and you need to know. You also need to understand that
I'm not sorry for what I've done; I'm only sorry that it may hurt
you."

"Oh my goodness, what have you done?" Rose,
thoroughly alarmed now, struggled to sit up.

Sabrina placed a restraining hand on her tiny
shoulder. "No; don't get up. I found your journals and your
letters. I've read them."

Rose collapsed into the soft pillows, her
eyes confused. "My letters?"

Sabrina nodded.

Rose's mouthed twisted, her eyes darted back
and forth, then rested on Sabrina. "You mean you've only now found
them? You never were a nosy child, were you?"

It was Sabrina's turn to gawk. "You mean, you
don't mind?"

Rose laughed gently. "I'm on my deathbed.
Well, it could be my deathbed. My secrets have haunted me all my
life. Do you think I want to take them to my grave?"

"Tell me about my grandfather. Then tell me
about the fire. Tell me about Derek West and his family. Why did
you move here to Eaton?"

Rose sighed deeply. "Well, that's going to
take awhile. I told you about my father, and how Don stubbornly
refused to speak with him. This went on for many years, and after
my father died, Don still refused to acknowledge or visit my
mother.

"I was lonely and angry and wanted to punish
him. Derek and Don were childhood friends, closer than brothers
were. I wanted to hurt Don, so I came between them. It was …." Rose
paused and wiped a tear. "It was a tragic decision. I killed the
man I loved, and I killed his best friend. I can never forgive
myself for that."