Wynn in the Willows (7 page)

Wynn looked around at the island plant life she had started to collect and chart. As soon as it was photographed, pressed and logged, it would join the rest of her research on the first floor of the garage. With a deadline looming, she really needed to stay here and work, but Jackie sounded pathetic. “Want me to come? I'm not Roxie, but I might be able to offer…”

“Wonderful! Just hurry!” Jackie called.

“OK, just give me a minute to throw on some clothes. I'm coming.” Wynn pulled on her blue jeans and a sleeveless white cotton top. After brushing her teeth, she put blush on her suntanned cheeks, and then added a touch of gloss to her lips. Her hair was gathered into an unforgiving ponytail. Before rushing down the steps, she caught sight of the container that had slipped from bed. She needed to tuck it away someplace, but where?

Jackie called again.

“I'm coming!” Wynn hid the container behind the pots and pans in the bottom cupboard. She hurried down the steps and slammed the door. “OK. Ready!”

“That was fast. It took you less than five minutes. It takes me at least an hour to get ready.”

“Yea, but you look so much better than I do,” Wynn said getting into her vehicle. “Come on. I'll drive. What street am I looking for?”

“Main Street.” Jackie wore black slacks with a silk top.

“Why are we going to see your accountant? Will the office be open?”

“Yes, I was told to come in before business hours.”

“Have you heard anything more from...?”

“Boone's body snatcher? No. I'm not sure the island police are doing much about it, either. As much as I hate to admit it, Marilyn might be right about them.” Jackie pulled down the visor to check herself in the mirror, but there wasn't one. She scowled and shoved it back up.

“Are you doing all right?” Wynn asked as the Jeep slid nose first into a parking spot.

“I'm about to find out. Come in with me?” Jackie nodded towards the door that read Peter Shamus, C.P.A.

“Ah, I can give moral support from out here, but what goes on in there is really your private business.”

“I suppose you're right.” Jackie disappeared inside the office.

Wynn's stomach growled. She contemplated going into the diner across the street for scrambled eggs and toast, but decided to wait. She leaned back, looking up.

The ceiling of the Jeep had a small brown stain on it. Wynn touched the spot. It left a gooey residue on her fingertips. She detected an oil like odor. Maybe the mechanic had gotten something on the inside of the car while he was checking it out. Had someone been in her Jeep? If so, why?

She pressed the button on the glove compartment and pushed through the contents, hoping to find a napkin. There were fistfuls of old papers and receipts, some dating back years. Deciding a ten-year-old dry cleaners receipt was of no value, Wynn wiped her fingers. The compartment wouldn't close. Wynn looked around for a bag. Not finding anything, she noticed a bakery next door to the C.P.A's. She returned to the car with two empty plastic bags, and a jelly donut.

She took everything out; went through every receipt, every scrap of paper, reading notations jotted on the back of napkins. In one bag, she put things Roxie might need or want, like car insurance and recent receipts. In the other bag went papers of no use anymore. The compartment was finally organized with only car maintenance information.

Wynn tried closing it again, but something jammed. She pulled and the compartment door came off. The edge of a paper stuck in the plastic molding. She yanked it out. She turned the yellowed envelope over. There was no name or address on the front. No stamp or markings. Intrigued, she pulled out the letter.

 

My darling,

I tried to talk to you, in person, but you would have none of it. I don't blame you. Not after your sister's news. Loving you has become impossible. I betrayed you. Both of you. One by secrecy, the other by love. You've heard my surprising news. I'm going to be a dad. Imagine—me a dad. There's no role I would rather have. Our relationship has to stop. It's not right that I should love you this much when these feelings should belong to someone else.

Forgive me, Steve.

 

Paralyzed, she could only stare down at the note.

“Steve?”

Her heart tumbled in her chest. Her dad's name. She laid her head against the steering wheel and inadvertently beeped the horn.

An elderly lady walking in front of the car jumped and dropped her sack.

“Sorry!” Wynn waved apologetically.

There was no date. Was this Steve her dad? Had there been a love triangle between her dad, her mom, and her aunt? Was she holding the root of the reason she and her mom left the island? Steve was a common name.

Her parent's marriage was thirteen months before she was born. Could they have adjusted the year so Wynn wouldn't know they had to get married? Maybe he had written notes to her aunt. If she could find a sample…guilt flooded her at the thought of snooping through Roxie's correspondence.

Guilt. Perhaps that was what her college money and this vehicle was really all about. Roxie's gift of generosity was about culpability; recompense. It wasn't about reconnecting and love as she hoped. Tears pooled in Wynn's eyes.

The passenger door opened and Jackie got back into the Jeep. “My life is over!” she wailed.

Wynn clutched the note, blinking tears, trying to recover.

“Didn't you hear me? I said, ‘My life is over.' Say something comforting. Quote a scripture.”

Wynn struggled to answer unemotionally. She was certain if there was a God, he wasn't a God of convenience, but one of commitment. Reciting a Bible verse wasn't about to happen.

“You look positively ill.” Jackie said, tears in her eyes and her voice.

“I'm OK really. Just ate a donut.”

“Carbs and sugar. Transfats.”

“Right. It isn't setting so well. Tell me what happened, if you don't mind sharing.”

“It seems Boone's business is bankrupt.” Jackie set her jaw. “I'm going to have to find a job. Can you believe it?”

“Things could be worse.”

“I don't know how.” Jackie sniffled.

“Work can be quite self-fulfilling and rewarding.” Wynn slid the letter into her purse.

Jackie was too upset to notice. “That's easy for you to say. You have an education. Me, I just have a pretty face, oh all right, a beautiful face, but it's not getting any younger.”

“What about Boone's insurance money?”

“Boone's body hasn't been found. And someone masquerading as me made the identification. It reeks of fraud to the insurance company.”

“I'm sorry, but if the coroner verified Boone's death that should be enough for the insurance company.”

“There'll be an investigation.”

“I know you're going through a rough time. I hate speculating, but do you have any idea who has Boone's body?”

“That's the three million-dollar-question, which happens to be the amount of Boone's insurance policy. If I could only find that stupid ruby ring, I'd gladly trade it.” She paused. “That sounded harsh. I'd give anything to have Boone back again, safe and sound. I've only loved him. I still cannot believe he's gone. I wake up at night expecting him to be beside me in bed. Other times I think I hear his voice calling my name. You probably think I'm crazy. Maybe I am.”

“Shouldn't you be praying, or something?” Wynn drew a calming breath.

“I have been praying, it's what keeps me sane. God is there for me, but I don't see how He's going to help me out of this mess.”

“I'm the last one who knows about faith, but if you don't see how God can help you, then what good is He?” Wynn murmured. If faith was a gift from God, then she wanted that present. But she had to be sure.

“You don't believe in the existence of God?”

“I believe in what I can touch, smell, and dig out of the earth and water.”

“Oh Wynn, you do miss so much. Even if God doesn't help me, or never answers yes to a prayer of mine, He has already done everything for me.”

Wynn started to ask what she meant, but Jackie's cell rang.

“It's Roxie.” Jackie told Wynn. “Hello…where were you?…I'm with Wynn now. She came with me to my accountant's…OK, I'll ask.” Jackie turned. “Roxie wants us to meet somewhere for breakfast.”

“Sure, where?”

“We're both game, how about The Cafe? See you soon.” Jackie hung up. “OK, Wynn turn right here and it's just up a block on the right.”

Wynn parked under the dappled shadow of an oak. The note in her purse kept her on edge. She had so many questions to ask. And she was fairly sure Roxie would side-step each one. Both she and Jackie needed answers about their loved ones.

With Roxie out of her cottage, this was the perfect opportunity to snoop for a note or a card. Guilt overcame her, but the need to know ate at her heart.

“I need to get going.” Wynn glanced around anxiously.

“Oh?” Jackie looked puzzled.

“A deadline looms. I need more samples of the island's rare plant life.” It wasn't a lie.

“What about breakfast?”

“The jelly donut is still hurting my stomach. You can go on in and get a table for Roxie. Do you mind? Give her my apologies and tell her I'll see her later. I'm sure she'll understand.”

“She will understand, and so do I.” Jackie leaned over and gave Wynn a hug. “Thanks again for coming with me. I'll pick up my car at your place after lunch.”

“See you then.”

 

 

 

 

10

 

Wynn decided to go the long way around the island to avoid a run in with her aunt. She drove on the coastal road without noticing the water.

She shot right past the Tree House and through the winding road between the trees. Seconds later, she pulled to a stop at the rear of Roxie's cottage. She had at least thirty minutes, but she'd look for twenty minutes.

Riddled with guilt for snooping, but driven by that lifelong desire to find the truth, Wynn reached for the doorknob. She went into the hallway. Each piece of furniture was in its place. An afghan had been folded over the back of the sofa. The wooden floors were freshly swept. Wynn became acutely aware of the ticking of the wall clock.

Where should she look? Where would Roxie keep information about the past?

There were bookshelves that lined one wall floor to ceiling. Family photo albums were on one shelf.

Wynn paged through, checking the clock every couple of minutes. There were pages and pages of Wynn, first as a baby, and then as a little girl. Most of them were of her in a crib or high chair; others were taken with her parents. The photographs were something Roxie would let her see.

Wynn had to find what Roxie didn't want her to see.

The antique pencil desk caught her attention. Wynn opened the top drawer. Pens were lined up side-by-side. Envelopes were stacked on top of stationary. A checkbook lay parallel to the monthly budget along with house bills. Stamps, tape measure, paper clips.

Wynn went upstairs and pushed open Roxie's bedroom door. She wiped clammy hands on her jeans, and stepped into the room of pink painted walls. The neatly made bed looked perfect; the table had a lamp and a Bible was centered on the shelf beneath it. The tidy dresser held a comb and brush set, and a silver framed picture of Roxie and Ruth as teens. The smell of furniture polish was strong.

Across the room there was a picture of Jesus holding a lamb. A heavy burden of guilt crept over Wynn, but if she knew the truth, then she could finally be close to her mother's sister and perhaps even forgive her mother. Maybe then, there would be closure and she'd be able to find peace.

Wynn opened the closet door. It was like the rest of the house, fanatically in order. Roxie's clothes were sorted by color. Wynn took down shoeboxes and old hat boxes from the shelves, but found nothing in them other than sensible shoes and silly hats.

She moved to the tallboy dresser. Perfectly centered on the top was a small cherry wooden music box. She lifted the hinged lid expecting to hear the delicate tinkling sounds of its song, but it was silent. Wynn began to wind it up when she heard a noise. She set the box down and went to investigate. A bird on the windowsill was flapping its wings against the windowpane.

She returned to the tallboy and pulled out the top drawer. It held socks and cotton underwear; the next two drawers were filled with cotton nightgowns. The next drawer contained jeans folded in half. It was the bottom drawer that yielded secrets. A metal box was at the very back. It was unlocked. Of course. The woman lived alone. There was no one to keep out of it until today.

Wynn sat cross-legged on the floor. Guilt flooded her heart. She looked at the picture of Jesus and cringed. But how else would she find what she sought? How else could she reconnect with her mother, if everyone kept secrets?

She opened the box and found old silver dollars. Next was a five by seven faded picture of her mother and dad sitting together on a couch, holding a baby. Roxie was in it too, looming over them all. Wynn flipped the picture over and read the names written in ink; Ruth, Steve, Roxie, Baby Wynn. It even had the date. Nothing in the box had her dad's handwriting.

Roxie had changed. The color of her hair had deepened and her face was filled with laugh lines. Only her eyes remained the same. Wynn wondered how her mother looked today. Perhaps a bit like Roxie. Was her need to find the truth partially rooted in reconnecting with her mom through her aunt?

“There is a little piece of me that is lost. A bit of my spirit anchored itself to the past. I have to come to my own rescue and find out what happened,” she whispered.

The island was a keeper of secrets; it also kept hers. Wynn held onto a germ of hope that she'd be able to untangle them.