The Duet (22 page)

I sat on the edge of the jetty, enjoying the feel of the salty spray as it sprinkled my face. It was almost fall and it would be too cold to come all the way out here in another few weeks. But I would anyway. It was the only place I could think.

I had been pretty successful blocking my mind of Jay; most days, anyway. But this time of year my brain seemed consumed by him. Maybe tomorrow when he called I would actually answer. Maybe it was time. It had been a while since he’d sent one of his random letters; I had a box of them, unopened, in my closet. Maybe I should read them, too. Or maybe not.

I knew I was being stubborn. He had attempted to reach out to me by writing, and he did call once a year. But I was still angry. I knew he could write beautiful words – that had never been a problem for him. I wanted him to speak to me in person. I would even accept a rambling voice mail message – that’s why I waited for one each year – but not the letters. If he couldn’t communicate by talking, then nothing had changed. And I wasn’t willing to put my heart on the line a second time. If I answered the phone tomorrow, I would just have to be prepared for disappointment, that’s all. But maybe it would offer me some closure if I heard whatever he had to say. I would simply tell him that no further contact was necessary, and we could both move on without this imaginary tether we still seemed to hang on to.

He never needed to know about the real flesh and blood connection we shared.

33

Jay rang the doorbell a third time, then double checked the address on his phone, even though he knew it by heart. No one was home. He was relieved and deflated at the same time. He should have just waited until tomorrow; stuck to his original plan. But he’d been able to get an earlier flight, and now he had a whole empty night ahead of him to wallow in a hotel room and replay one of the many speeches he had prepared to deliver when he saw Izzy.

He stepped off the porch and stood on the walkway admiring the cute little Victorian. It was not the kind of house he would think of Izzy living in, but in some strange way, it suited her. He wondered, not for the first time, what her life was like now. Was she married? Did she live here with her husband, maybe a kid or two? Was she happy?

He had known that he was taking a risk coming all the way out here, showing up on her doorstep unannounced. What had seemed like a good idea when Trisha convinced him to come along, now seemed foolish.

But after two years of therapy, and a recent long overdue visit to the O’Donnell’s – which was both terrifying and therapeutic - he had felt like he was ready to take a risk of this magnitude.

There were a million ways this visit could go south. He had no reason to believe Izzy would even speak to him, let alone forgive him; she had ignored every letter he’d sent her and every phone call after all. He’d messed up royally – that, he knew – and this was his one and only chance to make it right.

The sun was just starting to set, and it was still warm out – September’s last nod to summer - so he decided to walk on the beach a while. He certainly was in no rush to start his long night staring at the walls anyway. He glanced at his empty rental car and looked down the street. There was a small coffee shop less than a block away. He would run in there first, then hit the beach.

The shop was called Whole Latte Love Cafe, and was warm and inviting, not corporate-feeling like the chain coffee houses – but genuine. It felt like a comfortable place to spend a few hours. There were at least a half a dozen cozy sitting areas, each set up like a mini living room with cushy, broken-in chairs or sofas, coffee tables strewn with reading materials, and worn, faded area rugs scattered around the scarred pine floor. Bookshelves lined every available wall, candles and table lamps were lit and sporadically placed, giving the place a warm glow, breaking through the gloom of the fading daylight. Music played softly in the background, but it was something contemporary and upbeat, not generic elevator fare. There was a poster on the door advertising open mic night. If he was bored later, maybe he’d come back. It seemed like a place Izzy might spend some time.

There was one couple cuddled on one of the couches, and a woman pecking away at a laptop at one of the corner tables, but no one else was in sight. He stepped up to the counter, and was suddenly eye to eye with a child who he was pretty sure wasn’t old enough to be a barista.

“Hi! Welcome to Whole Latte Love. I can only make a regular drink, if you want something fancy, you have to wait five minutes for Miranda to come back.”

“Okay,” Jay said, amused. “Well, I’m a little impatient, so I think I’ll just have a cup of your house blend, if that’s okay.”

She hopped down off the stool and marched over to a fancy-looking brewer, held a cup underneath and pushed a button. The smell of strong dark coffee, with a hint of coconut, filled his nostrils and his mouth watered.

“This is a Jamaican blend that Izzy picked out. We switch every week. Do you need me to leave room for cream?”

“No, I take it black. Hey, did you just say Izzy? Does she work here?”

The child eyed him warily, “Yes. Who are you?”

Jay sat down at the counter and took a sip from the cup that had just been set down in front of him. It was amazing. Izzy always did know good coffee. “I’m an old friend of Izzy, from California.”

“Her friend from California died. That’s why she gets sad sometimes. Miranda told me all about it.”

Jay didn’t have too much experience talking to young kids, but he was pretty sure he could shoot straight with this one. She’d probably detect any bullshit he tried to give her anyway. “Yes, that’s true. Her friend did die. Cooper was my friend, too, and it was very sad.”

She appeared to be processing the information, then she slid the stool over to where he was sitting and stood on it so she was eye level with him again. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Jay, what’s yours.”

“Sydney.”

Jay reached out his hand and gave her a serious nod as they shook. “It’s very nice to meet you Sydney.”

“That coffee is on the house. Miranda says I can give stuff away once in a while to new people. Plus, I don’t know how to make change real good.”

“Well, thank you very much.” He took another sip, deliberately and slowly, trying not to appear over eager. “So, Sydney, when does Izzy work next? I’d love to stop in and say hi, while I’m here in town.”

A door slammed shut, somewhere in the back of the shop and Sydney turned. “Izzy! Come out here. Your friend is here.”

Izzy’s head was ducked low as she came through the door, concentrating on tying on a bright colored apron. “Sydney Delaney! How many times do I have to tell you that it’s disrespectful to…”

Her head came up and she froze, at the exact same moment that realization kicked in and all of the color drained from Jay’s face. He looked at Sydney, then back at Izzy – who looked like she might possibly collapse – and then back at Sydney again. He didn’t know how he had missed it. Sydney was the spitting image of her mother. They looked exactly alike except for one small feature; instead of lavender, Sydney’s eyes were a sparkling emerald green. The exact same shade as his own.

34

Oh God, oh God, oh God. This cannot be happening right now.
I stood in the doorway, holding on to the frame, because I was sure my legs would not hold me up for too much longer. Why was he here? This was so bad. I never wanted him to find out like this. It was cruel and selfish of me to keep it from him at all, but for him to be blindsided… If he didn’t hate me before, surely he would now.

I tried to drink him in, while simultaneously reminding myself to breathe. He looked different than I remembered. Not a lot different, but enough to feel unfamiliar. His hair was shorter, his face more lined, and he wasn’t as thin. Lean, but muscular. The way he was looking at me was terrifying. Those deep green eyes filled with resentment. Aimed at me.

“Jay,” I managed to croak out. He held up a hand as if to balance himself or just give himself a minute, then lowered his head and took a deep breath. “Jay, I…”

“How could you?” He asked in a voice so low I could barely hear him. He lifted his eyes to mine, and I just froze. There was no excuse. I had none.

He waited for me to say something, although nothing I said mattered. I could feel Sydney’s questioning eyes on me, and the enormity of this entire situation hit me as I clutched the wall tighter, waiting for the lightheadedness to drag me under. What would I tell my daughter? Our daughter. She might hate me as much as Jay did. Then what? I couldn’t survive that.

“Sydney!” I said with a little more force than I had intended. I breathed in once through my nose, and said more calmly, “would you please go find your grandmother?”

She looked at Jay, started to say something, then thought better of it, and ran past me out the back door.

Jay watched her leave with a look of such awe and tenderness, that I nearly let myself believe everything would be okay. But then he turned to me, and his face morphed into such utter disdain, I flinched.

“There you are! Can you believe there’s not a single place in this town to buy a decent pair of sneakers?” My head snapped toward the door and I stared, my mouth hanging open. “Izzy! Oh my God! Do you work here?”

“Trisha?”

She ran around the counter and hugged me. We had never been close enough for a hug, and I hadn’t seen or spoken to Trisha in seven years. Between seeing her, and Jay’s angry eyes still on me, I was starting to feel like I’d crossed over into another dimension. My head was light and my limbs felt heavy.

“When Jay told me you lived out here, I was just so excited! It’s been, like, forever.”

I politely extracted myself from Trisha’s eager embrace, and backed up another step for good measure. “Yes. Yes, it has been a while.”

I tried not to look at Jay, but my eyes had a mind all their own. God, I wished I knew what was going through his head right now. I mean, I sort of knew; he was pissed – really, really pissed. And he was hurt, and he felt betrayed. On second thought, I decided, maybe I didn’t want to read his mind right this minute.

Trisha chatted on, but she didn’t miss the tension between Jay and I. Since the Trisha I remembered was nosy and rude, I was surprised she didn’t call attention to it. Instead she pretended like this was a planned, happy reunion between three old friends.

“Listen, Izzy. I wish we could stay right now, but Jay and I haven’t even checked in to the hotel, and I have got to get out of these shoes! Let’s catch up later, right Jay?” I didn’t miss how she touched his arm with familiarity. I felt myself wince as it occurred to me for the first time that the two of them were here… together.

Jay gave a quick nod in my general direction, then put his hand on Trisha’s back. Without another word, he turned and steered her out, leaving his half-empty cup mocking me on the counter.

I was still standing in the same spot when I heard Miranda and Sydney come back. “And he said his name was Jay, and that he was Mama’s friend, and then Mama walked in and she looked all weird, and Jay looked like he was really mad, maybe at me, I don’t know, and then Mama told me to come get you, so that’s what I did.”

“Okay, sweetheart. You did great.” Miranda took one look at me and crouched down to speak to Sydney eye to eye. “Listen. I’m gonna call Uncle Fred to come and take you out for a nice cheeseburger over at Al’s, okay?”

“But Miranda! You promised to show me the grinding!”

“I know I did sweetheart, and I will. Just not tonight. Hey, listen. Maybe if you ask Uncle Fred real nice, he’ll take you for an ice cream after dinner. How does that sound?”

“I’m not allowed to have ice cream on a school night.”

“Oh, posh. I think we can make an exception once in a while, don’t you?”

Sydney thought it over for a minute. “Can I have sprinkles?”

“Of course!”

Sydney skipped back to the break room while Miranda called Uncle Fred. I busied myself with meaningless tasks behind the counter while I waited. There were no customers at the moment, but any time now, the bell over the door would begin chiming as an endless stream of regulars who preferred caffeine over alcohol for their happy hour fix, would pile in. I wished they’d hurry up, because I was pretty sure I’d prefer the late afternoon rush over what awaited me from Miranda if we remained alone.

Sure enough, immediately after Uncle Fred left with a very excited Sydney, Miranda appeared in the doorway, hands on her hips.

“You should have told him, Izzy.”

“I know.” I began wiping the counter with fierce determination.

“I told you to call him right away. Years ago. You took the choice away from him.”

“I know.”

“He may never forgive you for this, and for him to find out…”

I spun around. “I said I know, Miranda! Please, just shut up okay? Please!”

Miranda didn’t even flinch. Instead, she leaned in close until we were practically nose to nose. “I will forgive you for being ugly to me, because I know that you’re upset. But, Izzy, this was a huge mistake you made, and now you have to figure out how to make things right.”

I threw the rag under the counter, and rubbed my temples. “But how? How can I fix this?”