Firefly Beach (29 page)

Beth turned away from Abigail and asked Mary, “Do you have a cot? A rollaway bed?”

“Why, yes, I have two.”

“Jennifer. Susan’s new name,” she explained. “Jennifer will be coming on Sunday. I don’t want to ask her to sleep on the couch.”

Mary put her hands on her hips. “She ought to stay
here,
Beth. We’re the people who run an inn, remember?”

Beth blushed. “I know, Mary. I’m not trying to insult you. It’s just that…” She didn’t know how to explain it. She had breathed Katherine, and then Susan, night and day from the moment she found the diary, perhaps from the moment she met the firefly. Beth wanted Jennifer near. She didn’t really want to share her. “It’s just that she wants to stay in her mother’s old home,” she said finally.

“I’ll ask Lou if he can bring one around in the truck,” Mary grumbled.

“Thank you, thank you.” Beth hugged Mary, and then she quickly headed for the door. “I have a lot to do. I must get busy.”

“You and Jennifer visit us, all right?” Abigail called after her.

“Of course,” Beth answered as she ran down the stairs and up the block.

* * * *

“Someone had a few too many cups of coffee this morning,” Mary said as she watched Beth go.

“Don’t be jealous, Mary.”

“Who’s jealous?”

“You are. Beth has her finger on the pulse of all kinds of going-ons you knew nothing about.”

“So?”

Abigail lightly touched her daughter’s cheek.

Mary sighed, rolled her eyes, and capitulated. “I suppose you’re right. I am a little jealous. She sure has stirred things up this summer. My, oh my.”

“Indeed she has.”

“But I’ve got to hand it to her,” Mary said wistfully as she watched Beth disappear at the end of the block.

“Yes?”

“She’s good for us.”

“I wholeheartedly agree.”

* * * *

Later that evening, Beth tried to calm her racing mind by sipping a glass of wine and looking out over the bay at twilight. She sat on a thick blanket near the edge of the cliff in the clearing. Around 9:15 p.m., the firefly joined her. It seemed to float down from nowhere.

Beth, having finally conquered her mania, smiled softly. “I found her, Katherine,” she whispered. “I found Susie.”

The firefly made slow, gentle circles around Beth.

“Can you believe I found her?”

The calm, rhythmic movement continued.

“Her name is Jennifer now.”

Beth sat quietly for several minutes while the firefly drifted leisurely. She enjoyed the sound of crickets chirping in the woods, the light of the full moon shining low on the horizon, and the smell of the moist air. She felt peaceful.

“Are you going to visit?” Beth asked.

The firefly continued to glide softly. Then it came to rest, floating a few inches away from Beth’s face.

“Thank you for this adventure, this journey,” Beth said. “I’m not sure when I’ve felt this
alive.
”

The firefly, being neither alive nor dead, had no visible response to that comment.

“I mean, don’t take that personally,” she said awkwardly. “Oh, you know what I mean…at least I hope you do.”

Beth sat with the firefly until the wine made her sleepy. “I have a lot of work to do in the morning.” She walked back to the house. “She’s coming to visit. Susan. I mean Jennifer. Here…me…us.”

The firefly drifted away as Beth slipped inside and locked the door.

Chapter 28

Discovery

Beth spent an inordinate amount of energy preparing for Sunday. She vacuumed the studio, put away the easels, and pushed as many things to one side as was practical, without making the room look cluttered. She set up the rollaway bed in one corner of the studio, dressing it in clean, light blue sheets and a blue, floral comforter. Then she selected her most comfortable pillow and placed it lovingly in the bed.

She tucked the copies of Katherine’s letters in the back of the diary. Then she went into town and purchased a new cashbox from the hardware store. It would not fit the Tupperware, but she was able to wrap the diary in plastic and nestle it in the box. She secured the box with the little gold lock and put the key around her neck for safekeeping. Then she wrapped the cash box in several plastic garbage bags and placed the bundle by the door.

On Sunday morning, she set the table with an array of snacks – bread, crackers, and store-bought cookies. After arranging the non-perishables, she washed grapes, cut watermelon, and sliced cheese, placing those items in the refrigerator.

She became very anxious when she glanced at the calendar on the kitchen wall. August 13. “Oh my God. The thirteenth is not a lucky day for this family. What if…”

She did not want to finish her own sentence. She prayed that Jennifer would have a safe drive, and she tried to read a book to take her mind off of the pending visit. Jennifer said she would arrive a little after noon. At 10:30 a.m., Beth took the wrapped diary and a red handkerchief down to the secret beach. She hid the diary and marked the fissure by securing the handkerchief under the cashbox. A small flag of red was visible outside of the hole.

“That may be a little obvious, but it is not like I didn’t have any help finding it myself.”

She returned to the house and tried to get lost in her book, but all she could hear was the clock ticking. As it approached one o’clock, Beth began to really worry, and she paced the living room anxiously. Then she heard the sound of car tires rolling over gravel. She ran to the door. A silver Lexus pulled up the drive. It had New Hampshire plates. Beth could hardly contain her excitement, but she tried to appear normal as she stood on the front porch, waiting.

When the car stopped, Beth stepped forward to greet her visitor.

Jennifer emerged from the car dressed in an olive green dress and expensive olive green shoes. Her long auburn hair was smooth and lustrous, her green eyes sparkling with excitement. Beth halted. She felt as if her heart stopped entirely for several seconds.

It was the red-haired girl from her painting
.
The likeness was uncanny.

Jennifer smiled. “Beth, I presume?”

Beth said nothing for a moment, while she tried to recover from the impact of seeing her painting practically come to life before her eyes. Finally, she walked forward, reached out her arms, and said, “Jennifer, it is so good to meet you.”

They hugged briefly, then Jennifer fumbled with her keys and pulled a black suitcase from the trunk.

“Let me take that,” Beth insisted and Jennifer followed her into the house. “I’ll just run this upstairs. Why don’t you have a seat at the kitchen table? I put out a few snacks. You must be starving.”

“Thank you.”

Beth put the suitcase in the studio. She stared at the painting, which she now realized was a portrait of Susan…Jennifer. She pulled it off the wall, turned it around, and tucked it among her art supplies on the opposite side of the room. Then she descended the stairs and fetched the cheese and fruit, along with butter and blueberry jam, from the refrigerator.

“Thank you for inviting me,” Jennifer said, radiating warmth.

“I am so happy you came,” Beth replied, trying not to gawk at the attractive woman she felt she already knew.

“I’m anxious to learn about my mother,” Jennifer said politely, as she selected several crackers and slices of cheese from the array of food laid out before her.

Beth had spent a considerable amount of time trying to decide what she should tell Jennifer and how she should relay the information. She concluded that it was time to stop trying to protect Jennifer. Her obsessive attempts to shelter her when she knew her as
Susan
had only led to unnecessary deception. The Susan of Beth’s thoughts was merely a baby. The Jennifer who sat before her was a woman over thirty-five years old. She had the right to know the truth. Plus, many elements of the truth would probably come as a relief. And since Beth was fairly certain that Jennifer’s parents did not know they were buying a baby out from under her godparents, Mr. and Mrs. Harrison would not be stained by the true story. It was time, Beth determined, for Jennifer to learn whatever she wished to know about her past.

“I have some information to share with you. But I also have several things to show you, and those things have a precious story to tell all of their own.” She raised her eyebrows playfully.

“Sounds intriguing.”

“First,” Beth said, becoming serious. “There is something I must tell you about your mother’s death.”

Jennifer nodded. “I’m ready.”

“She didn’t commit suicide.”

“She didn’t?”

“No, it was an accident. A car accident.”

Jennifer’s eyes darted around looking at nothing, seemingly lost in her thoughts.

“And the supposed grandmother who gave you away for adoption…”

“Yes?” Jennifer looked at Beth with a pained expression.

“She was not really your grandmother. She tricked your parents. She didn’t even know why your mother had gone missing.”

Jennifer set down her cracker and looked out the kitchen window.

“Your mother did not abandon you,” Beth added, longing to comfort her, this woman whose face hid upstairs amidst her art supplies, this woman who had inadvertently become a part of Beth’s life.

A tear rolled down Jennifer’s face. “Who was that woman? The one who said she was my grandmother?”

“She was Katherine’s…your mother’s, landlady. She assumed your mother had run away or committed suicide, or maybe her conscience found it convenient to believe those possibilities. Anyway, she gave you up for adoption without the permission of your godparents.”

“I had godparents?”

“Yes. Linda and Wyatt Benning. Your mother worked for Mr. Benning. He was a dentist. His wife…I guess she was like the mother Katherine never had.”

“She didn’t know her mother?”

“Her mother died when she was four and a half.”

“Oh,” Jennifer said sadly. She picked out a piece of watermelon and put it on her plate. “Why didn’t this landlady just contact my godparents? Surely it would have been easier. Why did she go to the trouble of arranging an adoption?”

Beth cringed. She didn’t want to say it, but she promised herself she would be honest, no more cover-ups. “Money.”

Jennifer turned her lips in toward her mouth and sighed through her nose. She tapped her finger on the table nervously.

“I’m sure your parents thought they were paying for adoption and funeral expenses.”

Jennifer winced. “Or they wanted me so badly they willed themselves to believe that.”

Beth shrugged. “Perhaps. But that is in the past.”

“They are wonderful people, and they love me very much.”

“I don’t doubt that for a minute. Maybe it was just meant to be.”

Jennifer tossed her a goofy grin. “I’m not sure I believe in all that hocus pocus, but I’ve had a very good life.”

Beth wanted to say
you would be surprised by what you might believe if you had been through the summer I’ve been through,
but she decided to let it go.

Jennifer picked up the watermelon and continued to eat. “Are my godparents still around?”

“Yes, they live in Bangor. I have their number and they would be overwhelmed with joy if you called or visited them.” Beth imagined the happiness Linda would experience when she heard from her long lost goddaughter. In all her haste and excitement, Beth had forgotten to tell them about Jennifer.
Let her call them directly,
she thought.
It will be the most cherished phone call Linda will ever receive.

Jennifer beamed. “I will.” She selected a bunch of grapes. “Do you know my father?”

“He left your mother when she was pregnant. I have not been able to track him down.”

Jennifer nodded thoughtfully. “Do I have any other relatives I don’t know about?”

Beth took a deep breath. “One. Your maternal grandfather.”

“He’s still alive?”

“Your mother was eighteen when you were born.”

“Right. Why didn’t he try to find me? Did that landlady tell him I was dead or something?”

“He didn’t know about you. Your mother and he were not speaking.”

“Oh.”

“But she was going to patch things up. She tried to see him on the day of the accident,” Beth explained hastily.

“How sad.” Jennifer frowned.

“He lives here in Virginia Point.”

“He does?” she asked, suddenly excited.

“Yes, but I must warn you, he is rather reclusive. He didn’t really want to accept your mother’s death at first. I don’t know how he’ll respond to you.”

“Does he know you found me? Does he even know I exist?”

“He does not know about my search, no. He learned of you only recently. Your mother attempted to write to him, beautiful letters. She really longed to see him again and to become a family, the three of you. But he only got those letters a month ago. I found them at the landlady’s house and gave them to him after the funeral.”

“Do you think he wants to meet me?”

“I honestly don’t know. And I was afraid to ask him. But he’s been calmer lately. I think he really needed to accept and grieve your mother’s death before he could move on. He thought she had run away and just refused to see him all these years.”

“How awful. I can’t imagine.”

Beth looked out the window, sorting through her ideas. She imagined the striking, auburn-haired woman extending a hand to the emotionally injured old man. “But I think meeting you might do him a world of good.”

“I’m a big girl. If he doesn’t want to see me, I won’t take that personally. I grew up with a delightful Pa Pa. He passed away. But I had all the grandfatherly love a girl could ask for.”

“It’s settled then. I’ll introduce you.”

“Now?”

“Oh,” Beth said slowly. “No. I have something else planned for you this afternoon.” She grinned. “Finish up your lunch. It’s an adventure.”

Jennifer took a few quick bites, emptied her glass of water, and stood up. “I’m ready.”

In Jennifer’s smile, Beth saw an enthusiasm for life she had always associated with the author of the diary. It was the mischievousness that she had captured in the painting. Beth looked at the stunning woman dressed in a classy olive green suit that set off her hair and made her eyes sparkle. Then Beth crinkled her brow pensively.