The Tears of Dark Water (58 page)

“All ready to greet the TSA,” he replied with a chuckle. “I’m going to miss this view.”

“You’ll have to come again then.”

He searched her eyes. “You mean that.”

She nodded. “It’s been good to have you.”

And it had, to her great surprise. When she picked him up at the airport, she had been prepared for an awkward visit. But he had fit right in, joining Quentin and Ariadne on the water, busying himself with house projects she didn’t want to do, cooking whenever she relinquished the kitchen, and leaving the past in the past. By the middle of the week she had realized that she was actually enjoying his company. Now that he was about to leave, she was sorry to see him go.

In time, Ariadne emerged from the guest suite and Quentin came downstairs, dressed in running clothes. “Can we take Dad’s car?” he asked. “We’re going to . . . Greenbury Point.”

Vanessa handed them plates of scrambled eggs. “That’s fine, so long as Ariadne drives. We’ll be gone when you get back.”

“I forgot,” Quentin said, looking at Ted. “You’re leaving today. Do you want us . . . to come with you to the airport?”

Ted shook his head. “I’ll see you again soon.”

After the young people scarfed down their food and wished Ted farewell, Vanessa grabbed her keys and purse out of the office nook and met her stepfather at the SUV. It took them ten minutes to reach the cemetery. They parked on the street and walked through the wrought-iron gate and across the meadow to Daniel’s grave.

The headstone lay beneath an oak tree in a burial plot that Daniel’s grandfather had reserved many years ago. Vanessa had chosen the inscription with help from Curtis and Yvonne: “
DANIEL EVERETT PARKER, BELOVED FATHER AND HUSBAND, MAN OF THE SEA AND FAITHFUL SON, IN SURE AND CERTAIN HOP OF THE RESURRECTION, NOVEMBER 1, 1968 – NOVEMBER 14, 2011
.”

“I would have come to the funeral,” Ted said, “but I didn’t think you wanted me to.”

“I’m sorry,” Vanessa replied. “It wasn’t right to keep you at a distance.” She took a breath. “Do you ever think about forgiveness?”

Ted grunted. “I’m old. I have more than my share of regrets.”

The breeze grazed her cheek like a feather. “Do you think it’s possible?” she asked, thinking about Daniel’s last letter and Father Minoli’s charge in the confessional.

He gave her a wizened look. “It doesn’t make the pain go away. But there is a certain consolation in it.” He asked the question she knew was coming: “Is this about your mother?”

She nodded slowly. “She left wounds in me that I don’t think will ever heal. I might have been strong if she’d given me a single piece of solid ground to stand on.”

Ted shook his head. “You’re stronger than you think. You didn’t start with much, but you’ve made a good life for yourself. You deserve it.”

Vanessa struggled to keep the tears at bay. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Ted knelt down and picked at a clump of grass. “There’s something you don’t know. I swore I’d never tell you, but she’s gone now and I think it will help. There’s a reason she always ran. I dragged it out of her one night when she was drunk and weepy and talking about divorcing me for the thousandth time. She never mentioned it again, but it made me understand.” He studied Vanessa through mercurial eyes. “What do you know about your grandparents?”

“Nothing at all,” Vanessa said.
I begged and pleaded, but she never budged.

“They lived in a coal town in rural Virginia,” he said. “Her father worked in the mines. He was a hard man and loved his liquor. Her mother died giving birth, and he never remarried. Trish had an older brother named Mick. Your grandfather used Mick like a punching bag. Sticks, brooms, belts—whatever he could find. He did it almost every day in a shed behind the house.”

Ted winced. “At night when Mick was asleep, he came to your mother’s bedroom and raped her. It started when she was eight and continued into high school. But she didn’t run, not until he invited a couple of his buddies to try her out, too. It was just after the Miss Virginia contest. They were all drunk out of their minds. They did it in the living room and left her bleeding on the floor. She ran away the next day.”

Vanessa closed her eyes and listened to the birds chirping in the oak tree. She heard the cars passing on the street, the sound of people talking not far away, but she was somewhere else—in the hospital room in New York where her mother died. Trish was gaunt and frail, her body ravaged by the cancer and the chemotherapy that hadn’t stopped it from spreading from her breast to her lymph nodes and bone marrow. She reached out and took Vanessa’s hand.

“I’ve had a good ride,” Trish said. “I’m ready to go.”

“Please don’t,” Vanessa replied, squeezing her hand. “We need you.”

“No, you don’t. You don’t need anybody but yourself.”

Those were her mother’s last words to her—neither a benediction nor an apology, just the same harsh counsel she had drummed into Vanessa all her life. Now, after years of incomprehension, Vanessa finally understood.
You told me what you told yourself. You taught me how to survive.

Vanessa put a hand on Ted’s shoulder. “Thank you for telling me,” she said, and then looked at Daniel’s headstone. “Will you give me a minute? There’s something I need to do.”

“I’ll meet you back at the car,” he said and walked away.

Vanessa knelt before the headstone and traced the lines of Daniel’s name. “That explains a lot, doesn’t it?” she said in a quiet voice. “The way I was with you. Why I pushed you away even when I needed your support. I really did buy a ticket to Cape Town, you know. I wanted what you wanted—a second chance to make this work. But I didn’t get it.”

She looked up at the sky and watched a cloud float by. “I need to ask you something. We never talked about death. We should have, but we didn’t, so I don’t know your answer. I met someone. You know him. He tried to save your life. I like him a lot. I don’t know where it’s going, but I’d like to see. Can I have your blessing?”

She opened her heart and waited, ignoring the barbs from her rational brain about how foolish it was to imagine that he might respond. Seconds passed in silence, and then a turtledove landed on the grass in front of her, cooing softly and looking at her. Vanessa scanned the cemetery for a sign of its companion, but she didn’t see it. The dove walked toward her and cooed again, then took off in a flutter of wings and landed on a bench. Suddenly, a second dove swooped down and came to rest on the bench. The birds sat there for a while, making pleasant sounds. Then they chased each other into the sky. Vanessa didn’t know why, but she walked toward the bench. When she was ten feet away, she saw the words inscribed upon the stone and knew the answer to her question.

And he that sat upon the throne said, “Behold, I make all things new.
”

Ismail

Norfolk, Virginia

June 1, 2012

In the heart of downtown Norfolk, on the banks of the Elizabeth River, there is a park with circular lawns and a brick promenade with benches facing the water. Ismail sat on one of these benches with Megan, as two marshals hovered nearby to make sure he didn’t run. He was wearing a polo shirt, jeans, and Adidas sneakers—all furnished by Megan for the occasion. His arms and legs were unbound. The afternoon sun was on his face. The sea air was in his lungs. It was as close to freedom as he would ever get again. But his chains didn’t matter. His sister was free.

Megan had passed on the news of Yasmin’s arrival in Dadaab as soon as she learned of it. He remembered the exact moment Longfellow had knocked on his cell door and told him he had a phone call. It was just before lunch, and he was in the midst of the final repetition of the
Dhuhr
prayers.

“It’s your lawyer,” the jailer had said. “If you want to talk, you need to come now.”

Ismail had gone with him, of course, shuffling down the stairs and casting a glance at the inmate taking a shower in the open on the far side of the block. The ritual of public bathing was an indignity that still troubled him after six months in confinement. The jailers accommodated his religion in many ways, but when it came to security, they made no exceptions.

“Megan?” he said, picking up the phone. “What’s going on?”

“She made it, Ismail,” Megan replied without preamble. “She’s with your mother now. She was in bad shape when they found her. They had to send the Kenyan military out to get her. But she crossed the border. That was enough for them to act.”

More information had trickled in over the next two weeks—word that Yasmin had recovered from her dehydration; that UNHCR had flown her to Nairobi with Khadija to meet with officials at the U.S. Embassy; that the immigration paperwork had been processed and their travel arranged; that they had boarded a flight to Washington, D.C.; that Paul Derrick had greeted them on arrival and driven them to the Marriott hotel in Norfolk; and that Bob had pulled strings with the U.S. Attorney to allow him a one-hour meeting at a place of his choosing. Megan had suggested Town Point Park.

He heard the warble of her mobile phone. “It’s Paul,” she told him and then listened for a moment. “We’re on a bench north of the theater . . . See you soon.” She put the phone away and met Ismail’s eyes. “They’re in the cab.”

Ismail allowed himself to smile. He looked toward Waterside Drive and waited pensively as taxi after taxi passed without stopping. Finally, one pulled to the curb. He tried to remain impassive, to restrain the storm of his emotions, but when his mother and sister stepped out of the vehicle, he was undone. He stood up without thought, his eyes moistening with the first tears he had shed since Yusuf died.
Waxay halkan!
he exulted.
They’re here!

They walked toward him slowly at first, their
abaya
s billowing in the wind. Suddenly, Yasmin lengthened her stride and Khadija followed suit. Ismail’s feet moved instinctively. The marshals barked at him to stop, but he ignored them. When he saw his sister’s face, then his mother’s, the tears flowed with abandon. He ran toward them and embraced them with all his might. He heard himself babbling in Somali, speaking words that made no sense yet somehow made perfect sense to him.

When at last he calmed down, he led them back to the bench. He saw Paul and Megan standing nearby, giving them space. He sat down and they sat with him, Yasmin beside him and Khadija next to her. He looked into their eyes for long seconds without speaking. They were beautiful, so beautiful.

He touched Yasmin’s cheek. “Is it really you?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“They told me you barely survived.”

She smiled gently. “They came for me. And
Hooyo
was waiting.”

Khadija gave him a look of deep distress. “I don’t understand, Ismail. I know what your lawyer told me. I know the accusations against you. But they bought us tickets. They gave us green cards. They told us they are going to give us money. What is happening?”

He took his mother’s hand. “There are things I can’t tell you. I need you to accept that. I gave them something they wanted, and they are repaying me by helping you.”

“What have you done, Madaxa?” Yasmin asked anxiously. “They say you are a pirate. They say you shot people on a boat.”

He felt the shame at the core of his soul.
It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. It was supposed to be clean
. “I spilled innocent blood,” he said. “It is right that I am being punished.”

“But why?” Yasmin cried softly.

He wanted to say:
Everything I did, I did for you.
But he knew he couldn’t. He would bear the burden alone. “It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you are here.”

“It
does
matter, Ismail,” Khadija rejoined. “Nothing matters more.”

He looked at his hands, leveled by the censure in her eyes. “If I told you my reasons, it would bring you no solace. I ask only for your mercy.”

Khadija’s eyes remained troubled. “It is not I who must forgive. It is God.”

Ismail nodded softly. “I have not given up hope.” Suddenly, he shook off the guilt and focused on the present. “There are some things we must discuss. I do not want you to come to the trial. I have a good lawyer. Justice will be served,
inshallah
. When it is over, I will ask the court to put me in a prison close to you. You will be able to visit me. It will be hard, but you will endure. Also, when you receive the money from the government, please invest it wisely. Buy a house near Uncle Farah. Send Yasmin to college. Get your nursing license. Do not send it all back to Somalia. You will need it.”

Khadija gave him the grace of a smile. “You are just like your father was, always giving orders.”

“Will you do it?” he insisted.

“
Ha
,” she replied. “I will do it.”

He saw Megan pointing at her watch. “I need to go now, but I will see you again soon.”

“When?” Yasmin asked.

“I don’t know. But I need you to trust me. Do you trust me, Qosol?”

She squeezed his hand. “I trust you.”

He stood and embraced them, then handed them over to Paul and watched them walk away. They were creatures from an alien world. They would no more understand America than America would understand them. But they would learn to make a life on these shores. They would find friends and contribute to the community in keeping with their duties and the goodness in their hearts. And perhaps someday when Yasmin’s children were grown, they would follow in Adan’s footsteps and return to Somalia to bring their country back to life.