Wish I Might (8 page)

When I seek out my mother the next morning, Darryl, who’s managing the front desk today, says she’s over at Bramble United Community with a couple from upstate New York who are having their reception here on Saturday.

“After that, she’s off-Cape for the afternoon,” Darryl says. “Meeting with a bride-to-be in Boston, I think. She did say she’d be back in time for dinner.”

Dinner, that reminds me. I need to find Sam and make sure it’s okay that I invited Mum’s nephew, Rob, for dinner.

Sam is filling bird feeders out by the Labyrinth. The Labyrinth is a walking circle Sam designed when he first took over the estate. You enter between two spruce shrubs and follow a narrow path bordered by perennial flowers and bushes, walking in toward the center, then back out toward the border, circling in and away, in and away, until you reach the stone bench in the middle. If you stay on the path, you can’t get lost. A good metaphor for life, I think.

Sam’s flowers are full-bloom beautiful in every color of the rainbow: red, yellow, pink, blue, purple, orange, and white. The smell of lavender is everywhere. A fat blue jay lands in one of the birdbaths, splashing water everywhere.

I tell Sam about Rob.

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Sam says. “Of course he’s welcome. Good timing, too. Rosie’s handling the kitchen tonight. It’s my night off. Your mother and I were looking forward to having dinner with you. We’ve all been so busy this summer, we haven’t had much time to really talk.”

“Talk about what?” I ask.

“Nothing special,” Sam says.

When he turns back to pour seeds in another feeder, I see him smile.

“What, Dad? Tell me.”

Sam laughs. “Later, Willa. Nothing that can’t wait.”

After my shift in the kitchen, I head up to my room to check my messages.

None from JFK, but there’s this chatty little voice mail from a girl named “Lorna” who wants to know, “What’s Joey’s favorite kind of birthday cake?”

What?

She’s throwing him a surprise party for his birthday Friday night at the country club their grandparents all belong to. “We all love him. He’s such a sweetie.”

What!
My jealousy hits the high jump.
I love him.
He’s
my
sweetie.

Lorna says Joey mentioned me “once or twice” and she got my number from his cell phone.

He only mentioned me
once or twice
? What’s she doing with his cell phone? I start to text her back, angry and annoyed, then Reason throws a roadblock.

Reason: Maybe she’s just trying to be nice, Willa.

Willa: Let her be nice to someone else’s boyfriend.

Reason: Maybe she’s ugly with green teeth and horrendous breath and …

Willa: She’s probably gorgeous.

Reason: It is JFK’s birthday and he is far away from home and probably bored to death hanging out with his grandparents.

Willa: Nothing wrong with boring. Boring’s good. We’ll have fun when he gets back to Bramble. I’ll throw him a surprise party—

Reason:
Willa.

Willa: What?

Reason: You’re being selfish. It’s his birthday.

Willa: Oh, all right, all right. You win. Again.

I text back Lorna Doone. “Hi, Lorna, that’s nice of you to throw a party for Joseph. He likes chocolate cake with chocolate frosting. His favorite ice cream is mint chocolate chip.” I resist saying “Tell him his girlfriend says hello.”

After lunch I head into town to buy a birthday card for JFK. I stop by the new dollar store and purchase four clear plastic containers with yellow tops. They look like oversize mayonnaise jars to me, gallon-size, but the sticker says they are for “sun tea.” They’ll do just fine.

At home, I get the sharpest knife I can find in the kitchen and I cut holes, jaggedly but they’ll do, into the center of each lid. I get a fat black marker and write
CHANGE FOR GOOD
on each jug.

I put mine on my dresser, next to the photo of Billy Havisham.

All those years I looked at this picture wondering about the man who was my father. Often having nightmares about how awful it must have been to have crashed and drowned all alone in the ocean like that.

“If you’re alive, where have you been? Why didn’t you ever come to meet me? Why haven’t you told Mother? What kind of man are you, anyway?”

I put the photo in my dresser drawer and slam it shut. I don’t want to see those eyes.
Sparkling like the sea on a sunny summer day.

I smile at the
CHANGE FOR GOOD
jug. I like that name. Maybe I can start a trend here. I empty out my jacket pockets, fish around my dresser, desk, backpack, purses. The pennies, nickels, dimes, and quarters make a satisfying clinking sound as I drop them in. It will take a long time to fill, but I’ve made a start on my next way to serve. I can’t wait to tell Mum.

Sam smiles when I offer him his
CHANGE FOR GOOD
jug.

“Great idea, Willa,” he says. “Simple and easy to use. I like it. Thanks. What will we use the money for?”

“I think each person should decide that for him- or herself,” I say. “There are so many organizations,
important causes. I think we should each use what we collect toward something we believe in.”

Sam smiles. “I’m proud of you, Willa. Always finding a way to pay your community rent.”

Community rent
is a phrase Sam uses to suggest that each person in society has an obligation to give back in some way. Whether it’s to your local or national or global community … it doesn’t matter, just as long as you pay your rent—your fair share of time, talent, or resources.

“I’ll put this on my dresser and start filling it tonight,” Sam says.

“Can you take Mom’s jug, too?” I say.

“Maybe you’d like to give it to her yourself,” Sam says. He winks at me. “Explain your good idea.”

“Oh, sure,” I say, smiling. Sam is always finding little ways to get my mother and me to spend more time together, to talk more. My mother and I don’t have the best history of getting along, but lately we’re starting to connect more.

After lunch I fill out JFK’s birthday card and put it in the mailbox. Upstairs on my bed I choose a new skinny-punch.
Tuck Everlasting
by Natalie Babbitt. The opening line is gorgeous:

I stop and picture me and JFK at the Barnstable Fair, holding hands in our seat on the Ferris wheel, paused up at twelve midnight, me begging him not to rock the carriage, him teasing me like he will, our feet dangling free in the summer night air. I look down at all the lights below us and then he kisses me.

I pull out my bag of candy from my nightstand, open a taffy, peppermint, pop it in, and continue reading. The story is about a girl named Winnie who meets a family who has found the secret to eternal life. I underline sections I want to remember and I mark up the margins with “wow” and “beautiful” and “love that.” On page eighty-six, the character Miles says:
“Someday … I’ll find a way to do something important.”

Next to his words I write “me, too, I hope!”

It’s a lovely summer evening. Rosie has set an extraspecial pretty table for me and Mother and Sam and Rob out by the Labyrinth. To please my mother,
I’ve dressed up a bit, a yellow skirt and a white cotton eyelet blouse.

Rosie has prepared an entrée of pasta with grilled chicken, broccoli, tomatoes, and feta cheese, seasoned with Kalamata olives. A fresh green salad dotted with cranberries. Warm baguettes with butter. Peach cobbler for desert.

Rob is right on time, dressed in a white collared polo shirt and long, tan pants. So handsome. He hands Sam a bottle of wine and gives my mother a box of candy with the familiar gold
SWEET BRAMBLE BOOKS
label.

“Oh, how thoughtful of you, Rob,” Mother says. “Thank you.”

Rob smiles. “I didn’t know your mother owned the candy store. You probably have more candy than you need.”

“Never enough candy,” I say, and we all laugh.

“Let’s sit,” Sam says. He passes the salad bowl to Rob.

“We were so delighted you could join us for dinner,” Mom says.

“Thank you,” Rob says. He takes a bite of salad. “Delicious.”

“You’re on break from Boston College, Willa tells us,” Sam says. “What are you majoring in?”

“I haven’t declared yet,” Rob says, “but I’m leaning toward history and political science. I was president of my class this year. I’m not sure yet, but I may want to run for public office someday.”

“That’s wonderful,” Sam says.

“How are you finding our small town?” Mother asks.

“Great,” Rob says. “Everyone is so friendly. I was glad to run into Willa last night at the beach.” He turns to me.

“Willa, your friends Tina and Ruby are a riot. And your brother—” Time stops.

My mother coughs. She takes a drink of water. “What did you say? Willa’s
brother
?”

“Yes,” Rob says. “His name is Will, right? I was surprised Aunt Sully hadn’t mentioned him. Good guy. I thought maybe he’d be here tonight.”

I’m underwater, underwater, ears plugging, I can’t breathe.

“What are you talking about?” Mother demands. “Willa doesn’t have a brother. She’s an only child.”

“Stella,” Sam says. He puts his hand on Mother’s arm. “It’s okay. Surely there’s some mistake.”

“I know,” I blurt out. “You must be talking
about my friend Jessie. He’s always joking around like that, saying he’s my brother because we look so much alike.” I turn my face away from Mom and Sam, using eye language with Rob to say, “Please just go along with me.”

Rob gets my message. “Oh, sorry,” he says. “My mistake. I knew Aunt Sully would have mentioned a brother. She’s always talking about your family and how much she misses all of you.”

“How is Mum?” Sam asks, nicely diverting the conversation.
Thank you, Sam.
“Tell us all the news.”

There’s an icy aura about my mother. She takes a disinterested bite of her dinner. She looks worlds away in thought. I can almost see the questions circling around like a labyrinth in her brain.

After dessert, I walk Rob out to the front gate to try to explain to him what’s going on. He says to let him know if there’s any way he can be of help.

“I’ll be working on South Cape Beach all the rest of the week,” he says. “Come by anytime if you need me.”

In bed, I toss and turn, falling in and out of sleep. I’m riding on a Ferris wheel, all alone, circling round and round…. The wheel breaks away from the axis and now I’m spinning out over the ocean, higher, higher up and then
whoosh,
I’m headed down. Down,
down, down. Oh, my gosh, I’m going to drown!
Wake up, Willa, wake up.
I bolt upright in bed, sweating, shaking. What do I do now?

I get out of bed. I find the slip of paper with Will Havisham’s number on it and call him. When he answers, I tell him to meet me on the beach tomorrow morning at eight and to bring money and his leads about our birthfather and his driver’s license so we can rent a car.