Firefly Beach (31 page)

“Oh, no…I…uh…” She looked over her shoulder, pulled her hair back quickly, and continued to stammer. “It’s just that I have…”

Rod noticed Jennifer standing near the shore. He wore a puzzled expression as his eyes darted back and forth between the two women. “What is it? Is something wrong?”

“No, sir,” Beth said, clearing her throat and trying to sound more confident. “I have someone I’d like you to meet.”

“Well, then, bring her on. Is she afraid of the water?” Rod seemed mildly amused.

“No, I…uh…” Beth was about to say, “She’s afraid of you,” but she stopped herself just in time. “Jennifer,” Beth called. “Could you join us?”

Jennifer walked slowly down the pier, minding her step. She caught her heel in a gap between two boards. Bending down to carefully remove her shoes, she glanced up, smiling awkwardly.

Rod relaxed his posture and began to chuckle. Beth was stunned. She had never heard the man laugh. He had a deep throated, warm laugh that filled the harbor with the sounds of Christmas. Beth shrugged at Jennifer. Rod climbed down from the deck of
The Bottomless Blue
and alighted on the dock. He turned to face the approaching auburn-haired woman.

“Mr. Thompson. I would like to introduce you to Jennifer Harrison…” Beth began.

Jennifer stepped forward holding out her hand. Rod met it with a firm shake.

“…formerly Susan Thompson.”

Rod appeared both confused and intrigued as he processed the information. He narrowed his eyes and studied Jennifer. Beth imagined the thoughts swirling in his brain.
Does she look like Katherine? Could it be?
He bit his lip and gazed into the young woman’s face. Then his eyes began to water.

Beth suddenly felt uncomfortable, an intruder at a private reunion. She excused herself. “I’ll leave you two to catch up,” she said, but she was hesitant to leave.

“Susie,” Rod whispered.

“Grandpa?” Jennifer said, shrugging her shoulders and wearing a silly, girl-like grin.

They gave one another a hearty embrace.

“She wanted me to meet you.” Rod’s voice trembled.

“I know.”

“It took a long time.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry…for giving up on your mother when she still believed in me.”

Jennifer turned her lips inward and tried to smile through the gathering tears. “She loved you.”

“I should have been less obsessive and controlling and…”

Jennifer placed her fingers over his lips and said with conviction, “She
loved
you.”

They embraced again.

“I’ll just be going now,” Beth said casually, a figure already unacknowledged in their presence. She started to back away.

“Do you like sailing?” Rod asked Jennifer enthusiastically.

“I’ve never been sailing.”

“Come on then.” Rod climbed onto the boat and reached his hand over the side to help her up.

Jennifer looked down at her pantyhose. She glanced up, noticing that Beth was still on the dock. She lifted her shoulder and hand in dismay and pointed to the hose.

Beth rolled her eyes and sighed. “Turn around for a moment, please, Mr. Thompson.” She urged Jennifer to hurry up with the business of removing her pantyhose. Jennifer balled them up, grinned in embarrassment, and handed them off to her new friend. Beth shook her head and laughed. “Get going,” she said, shooing Jennifer toward the boat.

Rod leaned over the boat and helped her on board. She struggled a little before finally landing, upright, on the deck. She dusted off her skirt and Rod took her hand in his.

“Jennifer, let me introduce you to
The Bottomless Blue.
”

Chapter 30

Share My Secret

Beth took a nap on her couch in the late afternoon. She was thoroughly, emotionally exhausted. Her obsession over the whereabouts of Katherine, and then Susan, had finally come to an end. She felt complete, yet slightly melancholy. The mysterious author of the diary and her missing child had been her companions. For nearly two months, she lived and breathed them – through the diary, through the painting, and through her travels from Virginia Point to Bangor and all the stops along the way.

The trip had not been merely geographical. Beth had embarked on a spiritual journey as well. She had traveled along pathways in her brain which had long ago been deemed unfit for passage. Challenging her rational, set-in-stone beliefs, she found herself asking more questions than there were answers to be understood. She was a different woman than the thirty-nine-year-old who had set out in a slate blue Honda from Albuquerque, having grown in ways she never would have imagined.

Beth stirred when the doorbell rang at 6:09 p.m. Rubbing her head groggily, she looked at the clock and was shocked to see that she had slept for almost three hours. The bell rang again and she stood up and walked clumsily toward the door. She opened it slowly. Standing on the porch, looking at his feet and seeming to mumble to himself, was Kenny McLeary.

“Kenny?”

Kenny looked up, embarrassed. “Hi, Beth.”

“Come in,” she said, gesturing toward the living room.

Kenny crossed the room and sat on her couch.

“Would you like something to drink?”

“Oh, no thanks,” Kenny replied.

“What can I do for you?” Beth asked as she sat next to him on the couch.

“Uh,” Kenny began, hesitantly. “I made something for you.”

“For me?”

“Yes.” He pulled a small box out of his pocket. “It’s kind of been in my head ever since the day we discovered the car wreck. I just get these things stuck in my brain and they have to find a way out. I know that sounds ridiculous, but—”

“I completely understand,” Beth said, smiling.

Kenny shyly returned her smile. He opened the box. Inside was a brooch shaped like a bottom-heavy figure eight lying on its side. No, it was more like a lopsided infinity symbol. Made in white gold with three small sapphires on the top of the large loop, it was simple, yet lovely. Kenny clutched the package awkwardly. Beth gently retrieved the box from his hand and removed the pin. She cradled it.

“It’s beautiful,” she said softly.

“Thanks.” He looked down at his feet and fidgeted a little.

Beth pinned it on her t-shirt. “It deserves something a little more formal—”

“It’s perfect,” Kenny interrupted.

Beth glowed. “Thank you.” She tried to catch his eyes so her words would reach him.

“It was a good thing you did,” Kenny said quietly.

“Pardon?”

“It was a good thing you did, bringing those folks together.”

“Oh, it was an obsession really, a—”

“A
good
thing.”

Beth recalled what Abigail had said about Kenny and his family, and she nodded, accepting his heartfelt compliment. “Thank you.”

They were silent for a moment. Eventually Beth stood up and said, “I’m going to make some coffee. Would you like some?”

“Sure.”

Beth returned seven minutes later carrying a tray laden with two mugs of coffee, a creamer, her antique sugar bowl, and a few cookies.

Kenny raised his eyebrows.

“Mary taught me this,” she said, giggling, as she arranged the items on her coffee table. “It’s a little something called hospitality.”

Kenny laughed, relaxing for the first time since he arrived.

“You have to pat yourself on the back, too,” Beth reminded him. “If it were not for your assistance – finding the wreck, locating Greg Sharpe, giving the bastard a piece of your mind – I wouldn’t have gotten past Bangor.”

Kenny capitulated. “I’ll take a smidgen of the credit.”

“More than a smidgen.” Beth’s face grew serious. “I needed you. I did not have the courage to traverse the forest on my own. The secrets would still lay undiscovered had you not helped me that day. Jennifer would have continued to assume that her mother committed suicide, Katherine would never have received a proper burial, and Rod Thompson would have gone to his grave believing that his daughter had run away and discarded him forever.”

Kenny pursed his lips and seemed to drift away, lost in his thoughts. He gazed out the window, past the cliff, and toward the islands on the distant horizon. Then he smiled warmly.

“Okay?” Beth said, wondering what was brewing inside of his head. “You’re an accomplice in this thing. So if all hell breaks loose, we’re both to blame.”

“All right, I give in.” He paused for a moment and an impish expression crossed his face. “So are we going to look for the father next?”

Beth glared at him. “No,” she said, in a low, slow tone. “That is Jennifer’s problem. I’m retired now.”

Kenny laughed.

They talked for about an hour. Beth recounted details relating to her phone call with Greg Sharpe and her visit with Jennifer Harrison. Kenny shared stories about his journey to Virginia Point and about starting a business as a jeweler.

The sun began to set. Beth stood up and crossed to the window in anticipation of the silvery glow of twilight. Then a wild-eyed look came across her face. She turned to Kenny and grinned.

“Care to do some climbing, Kenny?”

“Uh, sure. Now?”

“You bet.”

Beth crossed to the entryway and picked up the backpack, which lay where Jennifer had discarded it the afternoon before. She rummaged through it, removing garbage bags and other trash. She refilled the water bottle, grabbed a second water bottle from the fridge, and packed them next to the blanket.

“Let’s go,” she called to her new friend, a brazen look of mischief in her eyes. She led Kenny into the forest and north toward the secret beach. At one point she broke out into a run, dodging trees. Kenny tried to keep up with her, but he tripped over a large, fallen branch. Beth looked back periodically to make sure he was in sight. When she reached the cliff, she was laughing, out of breath, but feeling younger than she had in five years.

Beth dropped to the ground and scooted over the ledge. When she alighted on the beach she glanced up and saw Kenny’s face peering over the rim. “Did you see the steps?”

“I think so.”

“Then come on.”

“It’s amazing. I’m honored you chose to share it with me.”

“Are you coming?”

“Yup.”

By the time he descended, Beth was sitting on the blanket and gazing over the water, as the pink and orange clouds faded to shades of twilight silver.

Kenny settled down next to her. “This is pretty cool.”

“Isn’t it?”

“How did you find it?”

Beth looked at him for a moment. “I told you. The firefly,” she finally answered.

“Oh.”

Beth knew there was a hint of doubt in that
oh,
but she tried to shrug it off.
What do you expect people to think?
she asked herself.

As if on cue the firefly appeared. It began to trace a sideways figure eight in front of the two of them. It seemed to be drawing the pattern of Beth’s new brooch. Beth could not determine if the firefly’s actions were in mockery or celebration. She decided to presume the latter. Had she been expecting Kenny to jump up and shout, “Oh my God, it’s the firefly!” she would have been disappointed, but she had learned that lesson with Jennifer. She assumed that the firefly was her apparition – no one else could truly see it.

At that moment, Kenny waved his hand in front of his face as if clearing a spider’s web. He removed his glasses and rubbed them with the corner of his shirt.

“Do you see something?” Beth asked hopefully.

“No. Well…just for a moment the air seemed to blur, almost shift, like I was looking through the water or something. I must need new glasses,” he finally concluded.

“I guess so,” Beth replied, trying to hide a satisfied smile. She remained quiet, staring at the islands in the distance. Then she touched the back of Kenny’s hand tentatively; unsure if the gesture would be welcome. To Beth’s delight, he turned his palm upward and grasped her hand in his.

That was the last evening Beth ever saw the firefly. After dancing in the pattern of an infinity symbol for several minutes and troubling Kenny regarding his eyesight, the firefly drifted slowly out over the bay. It floated farther than Beth had ever seen it go from the water’s edge. Beth watched it become smaller and smaller…until it faded away altogether.

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank, in order of appearance, the individuals who offered advice and encouragement from the birth of
Firefly Beach
to the date of publication.

First, a special thank you to my husband, Emo. Without his financial and emotional support, I would not have had the resources to pursue this incredible dream. I am also lucky to have two beautiful daughters who cheered me on and helped with the household chores.

Thank you to the proprietors of the bed and breakfast in Searsport, Maine, The Wildflower Inn. Not only did Cathy Keating and Deb Bush arrange cozy accommodations and delicious breakfasts, they patiently perused a very raw draft of
Firefly Beach
and gave me crucial feedback.

I am thrilled to acknowledge three invaluable women,
Firefly Beach
’s first true fans – Caroline Penaloza, Joy Brooks, and MaryLynn Lorentzen. Honestly, if it were not for these ladies, I believe I would have shelved the manuscript years ago. Their enthusiasm kept the story alive.

Artist Amy Feiman created a gorgeous painting, which has hung on my wall as an inspiration since 2008. Now her beautiful painting has become the cover for this second edition of
Firefly Beach
.

Several beta readers assisted in tedious, much appreciated proofreading – Rose Pressey, April Ross Plumber, and Patty Dutton.

I am particularly grateful that I met Rose Pressey. Her passion is contagious. If not for Rose I would never have found Lyrical Press, the original publisher of
Firefly Beach
. I am also indebted to Emma Porter, former editor-in-chief at Lyrical Press, for taking the time to read
Firefly Beach
and believing in its potential. A heartfelt thank you to Renee and Frank Rocco, founders of Lyrical Press, for investing time, money, and faith in me and
Firefly Beach
. Thank you also to editor Sandy Light for her insightful comments.