A Seahorse in the Thames (14 page)

Oh, Jesus!
It feels just like a prayer when I whisper the name.
Keep her safe, keep her safe, keep her safe!

“Do you know where they are, I mean, where he is?” I say to Manuel, finding the words after seconds of numbing shock.

“No,” Manuel says, shaking his head. “I never met him. I heard some of the guys say he has family in Chicago.”

“We’ve got to talk to Frances,” I say to Priscilla and I turn to run back to the Center. Priscilla reaches down to Isabel and takes her hand. They turn to follow me.

“Thank you, Manuel,” Priscilla says over her shoulder.

I am barely able to string two intelligible words together when we get inside to Frances’ office. Priscilla does most of the talking. When I am sure Frances understands that we think Rebecca has run away with the Center’s gardener, I explode.

“How could you let this happen!” I yell.

Frances’ eyes grow wide, but she maintains control. “Alexa, the residents are on a first name basis with all of our hired staff, including the gardeners. I knew Rebecca and Cosmo were friends, but Cosmo was friends with all the residents. Do you hear me?
All
of the residents. I never would have expected that he… that Rebecca… that they… When the contractor called me Monday to say he was assigning a new gardener because Cosmo was moving away, it never
once
occurred to me that his leaving had anything to do with Rebecca’s disappearance!”

“I can’t believe this!” I exclaim. “How could you not see it?”

“How could
you
not?” Frances says back to me. “You were here every week! You spent most every Sunday with her. You probably spent more one-on-one time with her than anyone aside from Marietta!”

Her words cut me to the quick. I can think of nothing to say in response. Priscilla comes to the rescue.

“Frances, can you give us the name and number of the owner of the landscaping company so that we can talk with him?”

“Yes, of course,” Frances says, shaking off her anger. She pulls out a piece of paper from a memo pad and flips through her Rolodex. She writes the number down. “We can call him right now if you like.”

“That would be nice,” Priscilla says.

Frances pushes in the telephone number and I continue to stare in mute disbelief. Priscilla has Isabel in her lap. I look at Isabel’s face and I see that she is staring at me wide-eyed and holding onto Clement like he is a life preserver. I want to cry.

“Sorry, Isabel.” I say. “I lost my temper. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She nods at me.

“Yes, I need to speak Mr. Hooper, please.” Frances says into the phone. “Hi, Tony, it’s Frances Newkirk at The Falkman Center. Yes. I just need to know if you know how I can get in contact with Cosmo DiMarco, our last gardener. We think maybe one of our residents has, um, left town with him… No, I am not holding your company responsible in any way, Mr. Hooper. It appears our resident left willingly and deliberately. We would just like to see if we could contact him. The resident’s family is concerned. They just want to make sure she is all right… None at all? What about any family here in San Diego? Do you know where he lived?”

Frances waits for a second and then writes something down.

“Well, if you do happen to hear from him, would you please let us know? Or tell him we would like to speak with him? No, I don’t think he has broken any laws. At least none that involve the resident. Unless, of course he has harmed her in some way… No, I agree. Cosmo seemed like a wonderful person. I can’t picture him being unkind to anyone either. Yes. That would be very much appreciated. Thanks, Tony.”

Frances hangs up the phone.

“Cosmo left no forwarding address. The owner said Cosmo came three years ago from the Chicago area. He may still have family there. He did give me his address here in San Diego. If you want it, here it is.”

Frances extends her hand and I take the slip of paper.

“Do you happen to know where this address is?” Priscilla asks as she reaches for it.

“Well, I can run it through Mapquest quick and find out,” Frances says.

She retrieves the slip of paper and turns to a computer on a credenza. While she types in the street number I clear my throat.

“So, you really can’t picture this Cosmo being unkind to anyone?” I say to her.

“I really can’t,” Frances answers. “All the residents liked Cosmo. Every single one. He is very gentle, kind, helpful, polite. I honestly have never seen him say or do an unkind thing.”

She prints out a map and hands it to Priscilla.

I rise from my chair.” Thank you, Frances,” I murmur. “And I’m sorry about my little outburst. I just wasn’t prepared to deal with this. I shouldn’t have blamed you. I am really sorry.”

She smiles at me.” Please don’t worry about that, Alexa. I know how much you love your sister. I wish all our residents had family who cared for them the way you do.”

Priscilla, Isabel and I walk out of the Center and head to my car. I carry with me Mindy’s wedding announcement and Rebecca’s baby book. I feel like I have been run over by a truck.

“Want me to drive?” Priscilla says.

The minute she says this, I picture my sister—who has been driving on British roads the last seven years—careening into oncoming traffic and I turn in utter amazement to chastise her for suggesting something so ridiculous.

She winks at me. She is joking.

The grin that spreads across my face, as tiny as it is, feels pretty good.

“I
can’t believe she did this,” I say to Priscilla as I back out of a parking space in the Falkman Center lot.

“It’s not the end of the world, Lex,” Priscilla says, ever the rational one.

“It’s crazy!”

“Lexie, if she ran off with a man, it is highly probable she did it because she’s in love. Don’t pretend you don’t know what that is like. We both know you do.”

I feel my face color as I wait at the lot entrance for the traffic clear. “But if he is such a nice guy, such a polite, kind gardener-of-the-year, why did he sneak off with her like this?” I pull out and head toward the address Frances gave us.
Nice guys don’t run off with vulnerable women!

“You are assuming sneaking off was his idea, Lexie,” Priscilla says casually. “How do you know it wasn’t Rebecca’s idea to run away in secret? How do you know he didn’t try to talk her out of it, but she insisted? Do you honestly think she has forgotten what happened the last time she fell in love with someone? Turn right here.”

“Tim wasn’t… Tim couldn’t… That situation was hopeless.”

“Well, maybe it was but it broke her heart just the same.”

I sigh as we head into a busy intersection. “I just wish she would’ve told me.”

“I think Rebecca thought you probably wouldn’t have taken her seriously if she told you or anyone else she was in love with the Falkman Center’s gardener. More than likely Cosmo would’ve lost his job. She wouldn’t have been able to see him anymore. And she figured none of her adult caregivers would be happy for her. Not Frances. Not Mom. And apparently not even you. Next left.”

“Don’t you want to know that she’s okay?”

“Of course I do. But if she’s happy I don’t wish for a moment she was back at the Center with no one but Marietta to share her life with. I think you’re hoping you can bring her back.”

“I just want to make sure she’s okay,” I mumble.

“As do I. I think we’re lost.”

We are entering an upper class neighborhood above Mission Valley where manicured lawns, million dollar homes and luxury cars dot the streets. It doesn’t seem like the kind of neighborhood where a gardener named Cosmo would live.

“This can’t be right,” I say, agreeing with her.

Priscilla consults the map. “We’ve made all the right turns. Maybe he gave his employer a bogus address.”

“That just makes me feel all warm and snuggly inside.” I feel renewed anger welling inside me.

“If this address is correct, it should be that brick house right there,” Priscilla says. The house she is pointing to is a huge brick home with four white columns supporting an enormous roofed porch. Black shutters line every window. Massive oak trees shade the perfectly trimmed lawn.

“I have to go potty,” Isabel says from the back.

I had nearly forgotten about her.

“Hold tight, love,” Priscilla says. “I don’t think we will be long here.”

We stare at the house for another long minute and then I press my foot on the accelerator and turn into the curved driveway.” I have to ask.”

I leave the car running and head for the porch. The doorbell chimes inside as I press the button. A moment later the door opens and silver-haired woman stands before me.

“Yes?” she says sweetly.

“Hi. I think I might be lost. I am looking for the home of a man named Cosmo DiMarco. I don’t suppose this is it?”

“You found the right place,” the woman says.

“I did?” I know my eyes have widened to a ridiculous size. “Is he here?”

“No, I am afraid he just moved from here this past weekend. He was our gardener. He lived in a cottage around back, so yes, this technically was his address.”

“Did he leave a forwarding address? Or do you know if there is any way I can get a hold of him?”

“Is something wrong?” the woman says, concern etched in her face.

“I don’t know. Maybe. I think maybe you could help me though.”

“Well, I can certainly try. Would you like to come in?” She opens the door wide for me.

“Would you mind if my sister and my niece came inside as well? They are waiting in the car.”

“Of course,” she says.

I motion for Priscilla and Isabel to come join me. I see Priscilla reach over to turn the car off. Within seconds they are at the door.

“My name is Alexa Poole and this is my sister, Priscilla, and her daughter Isabel,” I say to the woman.

“And I am Thelma Murdock. Won’t you please come in?”

“Mummy, I have to go potty!” Isabel says again. She is holding Clement by his tail. His pointy nose is nearly dragging on the ground.

Thelma Murdock laughs. “Second door on the left,” she says as we follow her into her marble-tiled entryway.

“Thank you very much,” Priscilla says, taking Isabel’s hand.

“Why don’t we sit in here?” Thelma says, motioning me to a room just off the front door. It’s a living room of some kind, perhaps not Thelma Murdock’s formal living room, but it is nonetheless elegantly furnished. The sofas and chairs are upholstered in a dusty yellow. Oriental carpets cover the floors. Books in recessed shelves line the walls. Fresh flowers in lead crystal vases are everywhere.

“Please,” she says offering me the sofa. She takes the chair across from it. “Now how can I help you?”

“Ms. Murdock,” I begin.

“Please call me Thelma.”

“Thank you. Um, Thelma, Priscilla and I have an older sister named Rebecca who lives at the Falkman Center near Balboa Park.”

“Oh yes. I know that place. It is one of our favorite charities. Lovely place. Cosmo worked there.”

“Yes. Yes he did.”

Priscilla and Isabel come into the room and Priscilla sits on the couch next to me, pulling Isabel onto her lap.

“Thelma, we think, that is, Priscilla and I think Rebecca and Cosmo became friends at the Center. Good friends. Rebecca ran away last Friday. And we think she ran away with Cosmo.”

“Oh! Oh my!” Thelma says, and she stiffens in her chair. “Are you sure?”

“Well, pretty sure. That’s why we came looking for his house. We are looking for him. We just want to make sure Rebecca is all right.”

“Oh, dear,” Thelma says, shaking her head. “I had no idea that he… Oh dear!”

“Thelma do you know where Cosmo is? Did he tell you where he was going?”

Thelma shakes her head. “No, no. He just came to Peter and me on Friday—Peter is my husband—and said he was getting married and moving away.”

“Married!!” Priscilla and I both echo this word. She whispers it and I nearly shriek it.

“Yes! That’s what he said. He said he was getting married and moving away. He didn’t say where. We were very happy for him and told him he could certainly bring his new bride here, that we would remodel the cottage if it didn’t seem big enough for two, but he said they were going to be leaving the area. Cosmo was a very good gardener and handyman. We hated to see him go.”

“Is… is that all he said?” Priscilla says. As usual, I am shocked speechless.

“I am afraid so. He seemed genuinely sad to be leaving us, but he was also extremely happy. I have never seen Cosmo so happy.”

“Did he say anything about the woman he was marrying?” Priscilla continues.

“Well, Peter and I asked about her, and he just said she was an angel sent by God, beautiful and kind. We asked if we could help him with the wedding. We even told him he could have the ceremony here at the house. But Cosmo said they wanted to be married right away. They were going to go to Las Vegas and get married the next day.”

I close my eyes as this new bit of information assaults me.

Rebecca. Married.

“Peter and I didn’t know the woman was a resident at the Center,” Thelma says, almost apologetically.

Rebecca is married. That’s why she took her birth certificate. She’s not coming back to the Falkman Center. She’s not coming back at all.

“Cosmo is a very good man,” Thelma says now. “He will be a good husband. I am sure he would give his life to protect the woman he loves. I’m sure of it.”

“Can you tell us anything more about him?” Priscilla says. “Where he is from? How old he is? Anything?”

“Well, he’s Italian. I think he was born in Italy. His English is very good, but it is not his first language. I think he is forty-six, maybe forty-seven. He sends money to his mother every month and he goes to church every Sunday. I think he has some cousins in Chicago. He had some family here, too, but they moved away the same year he came. He’s been with us almost three years. He worked part time for us and part time for the Falkman Center. He was married once a long time ago, but his wife got sick and died. That’s about all I know.”

I finally find my voice. “Is… would there be any point in looking in the cottage for the address of his family in Chicago?”

“Our housekeeper has already cleaned out the cottage, I’m afraid. But he had left none of his personal belongings.”

Priscilla starts to get up and I numbly follow. “Thank you so much. You’ve been very helpful,” Priscilla says, taking Isabel’s hand.

“Just one moment,” Thelma says, and she gets up from her chair and walks over to a large, Queen Anne-legged escritoire at the back of the room. She opens a compartment and takes something out. She walks back to us with a 4x6 photograph in her hand.

“You can have this. It’s a double,” she says, extending the photo toward me. “This was taken last Christmas.”

I look at the photo. I see a mustached man of average build with black hair turning silver at the temples, olive skin and a wide smile. He is standing next to a roundish woman who is also smiling broadly.

“That’s Cosmo,” she says, pointing to the man. “And the woman is our housekeeper.”

I stare into the eyes of the man named Cosmo, the man who is most probably now married to Rebecca. His eyes look kind, his smile, genuine. He does not look like a serial killer or a wife-beater or a raving lunatic. He looks like a nice man.

“So, you hated to see him go,” I say, kind of tenderly.

“Yes, we did,” Thelma says, touching my arm.

“Thanks for the picture.”

“You’re welcome.”

We head back into the late morning sunshine, wiser. Thelma watches from her lovely porch as we drive away.

Many minutes pass before Priscilla and I speak. She comes up with something first.

“Lex, just let her go. I’m sure she will not just drop off the face of the planet. When she is ready, she will let us know where she is.”

I’m not so easily swayed.

“All we know is what we
think
happened. We don’t know for sure they went through with it. What if Rebecca chickened out and is sitting in Las Vegas by herself wishing one of us would come and get her.”

“Come on, Lex, you know you don’t believe that.”

“I don’t know what I believe. I just know I am not going to
just let her go
; like, just forget about her. That is not something I am good at doing.”

I don’t mean for it to sound like a chastisement for how easily Priscilla largely ignored her family for the last seven years. But I think it comes across that way. Maybe deep down, I did want it to sound like one.

We ride back to Mission Beach in silence.

We stop at a pizza place on the way back and bring home a pepperoni and black olive pizza for lunch and take it out on my patio to eat it. Rafael is visiting Serafina and Jorge and he is playing with a remote control car on Serafina’s side of the patio. As soon as Isabel eats a slice she runs off to watch him.

“So when do we tell Mom and Dad?” I ask.

Priscilla takes a long drink of her Diet Coke with lime. “I don’t see much point in waiting to tell them. May as well tell Dad tonight. Mom will be ticked that he found out first, but she told us not to call her and I don’t feel like driving over to the island this afternoon, do you?”

“Not especially.”

“Well, then. We’ll just tell Mom tomorrow when you take Isabel and I over.”

“Yeah. Okay.” But I am wondering how Mom will react. How this might affect her. It surprises me how powerfully it is affecting me. I am frowning, deep in thought and Priscilla notices.

“What is it, Lex?”

“I just can’t get over the fact that Rebecca is married. I mean, more than likely married.”

“Why not? None of her disabilities prevent her from being married. She just can’t be the one to balance the checkbook, or make the Thanksgiving turkey or drive the kids to soccer.”

“But Priscilla, I just can’t imagine her in bed with a man!”

“Well, you’re not supposed to!”

“Priscilla, what if she had no idea what she was getting into? What if when she ran off with Cosmo, she was figuring it would be like running away with Marietta?”

“Lex, Rebecca didn’t write me very often, but when she did, she never gave me any indication that she was clueless as to the way of men with women. I know she often responds and reasons like a child, but that doesn’t
make
her one.”

“I just hope he, that Cosmo, is gentle with her. Patient. I hope he knows the kind of person he married.”

Priscilla takes another long drink and then says, “He sounds like a great guy. Lexie. A perfect gentleman. I am practically jealous.”

We are silent for a few minutes.

“Priscilla, what happened between you and Isabel’s father? Can I ask?”

She offers a weak smile. “You just did.”

“Well, will you tell me?”

Priscilla pauses for a moment. “His name is Bernard Rousseau. I meet him four years ago at a trade show in Paris. He is Parisian and quite the first date. Spoiled me rotten the three days I was there. I didn’t sleep with him then, by the way.”

She takes a drink and then continues. “He came to London often and we would get together whenever he did. After five months, he was practically at my place every weekend. I
was
sleeping with him by then. In fact, it wasn’t long after that that I found out I was pregnant. I didn’t mean for it to happen and he certainly didn’t. He was quite put out, mad actually. It was this reaction to something he was equally at fault for that clued me in as to what he was really like as a person. I lashed out by telling him I wasn’t even sure if he was the father. And you know what? He visibly relaxed before my eyes. He didn’t care a whit that that would mean I had been sleeping around on him. And it took me a few seconds to realize that he didn’t care because
he
was sleeping with other people.”

She stops for a second and I can see that thinking about this still pains Priscilla. She takes a sip of her Coke and then continues.

“So I told him to leave my flat and my life and I would not trouble him again. I told him the child was indeed his, that I had been with no one but him, but that I was ending our relationship and he would not have a need nor was he invited to have anything to do with the child’s life. He left. And I have not seen or heard from him since.”

“I am sorry, Priscilla.”

She shakes her head. “I’m not. He was a jerk. I was a fool to let him woo me. Isabel is mine alone. She has my last name not his. She knows she has a daddy in France but she also knows he doesn’t want to be a daddy because no one ever showed him how to be one. She pities him actually.”

We both watch Isabel chasing after Rafael’s car as a few moments of silence fills the air between us.

“Think you’ll ever find love that really lasts?” I say.

“I am counting on it,” she says with ease. “But no imitations the next time around. It’s the real thing or nothing.”

“Yes, the real thing,” I say, musing. Stephen is on my mind, of course. “How will you know when it’s real?”

“I will know,” she says confidently. “I knew all along Bernard wasn’t my soul mate. I just let myself get carried away by his good looks and temporary affections. And it wasn’t the first time. So I know what the fake stuff feels like. The real thing will be completely opposite.”

Serafina comes out onto the porch and tells us she and Rafael have a date with the beach and would we like to come? A few hours lazing on the warm sand will help us prepare for the evening ahead with Dad, Priscilla and both know this. We accept.

Minutes late
r, Priscilla and Isabel have changed into swimsuits and Rafael is at my front door with a wagon full of plastic sand castle-building equipment. I have changed into my suit as well but there is something I want to do before I lose myself to the caress of the sand.

“Go on ahead,” I tell Priscilla as Isabel dashes out to see what Rafael has in his wagon. “I just want to make a quick call.”

“Oh?” Priscilla says, inviting me to confess my plan.

“I want to see if I can find Mindy. If I can’t locate her within a few minutes, I’ll be right out.”