A Seahorse in the Thames (17 page)

I turn from the sink and look out the patio doors. Isabel and Laird are playing on Laird’s massive swing set. Priscilla and my father are still on the patio, standing a few feet away from each other. But I see them talking. I see my Dad shake his head. I see him lean against one of the posts that holds up the patio roof.

I can imagine their conversation.

All this time I thought you had told her.
Dad

What would have been the good of her knowing?
Priscilla

Does your mother know?

Do you really have to ask that? I kept your horrible secret just like you begged me to. But I am done keeping secrets for you. And from others. It isn’t fair to anyone, least of
all Rebecca.

Rebecca!

You’ve let everyone think the stress of her accident and the extent of her injuries is what led to the failure of your marriage. That’s a lie. And I won’t live with it anymore. Neither should you.

Are you actually suggesting I should tell your mother?

You should be asking yourself what you should be doing. You should be asking yourself what you are willing to live with.

They are silent now. I slide open the door and walk out to join them. I can’t look into the eyes of either one. I watch Laird and Isabel as they repeatedly go down Laird’s curving slide.

Up and down. Up and down. Up and down.

Finally Dad speaks. “I’m sorry, Alexa. I thought you knew.”

Words will not form in my mouth. I just nod.

Dad looks off toward his son and his granddaughter. Laird is pushing Isabel on one of the swings. “So is this what you wanted, Priscilla? To have it all out in the open? Because now it is.”

I think it is on the tip of his tongue to add, “I hope you are satisfied.” I am so glad he doesn’t.

“No, Dad. I didn’t want it to be all out in the open. If I had wanted that I would’ve told Alexa a long time ago. And Mom, too, for that matter. I want for you and I be honest with each other about what happened.”

Dad turns to her. “What do you want me to do, Priscilla?” He sounds tired. I feel like I’m invisible, as if my father and sister are having the conversation they should have had ages ago without me present.

“You lied to me about Lynne,” Priscilla says calmly. “For two-and-a-half years you lived a charade in front of me, buying my complicity with a promise I don’t think you really ever intended to keep. You told me your affair with Lynne was a momentary indiscretion. And I was naïve enough to believe you.”

“Priscilla, I—” but my sister continues.

“But month after month after month you were living two lives. The one you let me think you were living and the one you really were.”

Dad throws up his hands and paces a few steps. He probably has never used this lovely patio for confessions like this one. “Do you want me to tell you I am sorry? Is that what you want?”

“Believe me, Dad. The last thing I want is an apology if you don’t mean it. Let’s not trade one farce for another.”

“But I am sorry! I didn’t want any of this to happen!”

“Oh, please, Dad! This did not
happen
!” Priscilla raises her voice just a fraction. “You chose it! And then you let the world believe that the mighty hand of fate that crushed Rebecca crushed your marriage as well. You and I both know that’s not true. It’s time we both acknowledged that.”

They are both silent for a moment.

“So where does this leave us, Priscilla?” Dad says.

Priscilla regards him with a look that almost resembles pity. “It leaves us in the blistering light of truth, Dad. It’s where I want to be. It’s where I want to raise my daughter. And if you want to be a part of her life, you’re going to have to meet us there.”

The way she says this reminds me of that long ago day when we were at the restaurant and Priscilla was seconds away from fleeing the table. Dad had said, “If you choose not to have a relationship with me, then obviously you’re making a choice I’m going to have to learn to live with. Just like you’re going to have to learn to live with my choices.” Only this time Priscilla is laying down the challenge.

I find myself praying to a God I’m just beginning to know better, thanks to Stephen.
Don’t let him walk away like Priscilla did. Please, God. Don’t let him walk away.

I think maybe Dad also hears the echo from this aged conversation.

“Priscilla,” he says and at first he does not look at her. But then he raises his head, lifts his eyes to meet her eyes. “I really am very sorry for what I did to you. I have always been sorry. But I just didn’t think you would ever forgive me.”

For the first time Priscilla looks like she is close to tears. I can see her willing the tears to stay put. “You never asked.”

Dad closes his eyes and swallows. I know it is very hard for him to wrestle with his pride and come out on top.

“Please forgive me, Priscilla,” he says, his voice breaking when he says her name.

She swallows, too. They are so alike. “I am learning to,” she finally says.

A breeze stirs around us, picking up a stray napkin off the patio table. It takes flight and is whisked away to a bank of ice plant but no one chases after it. The air seems charged with the physical weight of their truce. No one says anything for several long minutes.

“She’s
a beautiful little girl,” Dad says many moments later, gazing at Isabel.

“Yes, she is,” Priscilla replies.

And we stand that way, watching the kids play in the last rays of sunshine, for a long time. Finally, Priscilla tells Dad that we need to get going. Dad asks when he will see her and Isabel again. Priscilla says perhaps she and Isabel will come out for a few days at Christmas. She doesn’t promise and he doesn’t insist.

At the door, Dad and Priscilla share an awkward hug. Isabel plants a kiss on his cheek that brings a fresh round of tears to his eyes. When he turns to me, he can barely look at me.

“Alexa,” he begins, but I touch his shoulder as if to ward off what he wants to say.

“We’ll talk about it another time.” I need time to think. To digest. It is enough for me at this moment to know that he and Priscilla are no longer at war.

We say our goodbyes and get into my car. Isabel holds up Clement at the open car window, nodding his head in farewell to Dad and Laird as they stand at the threshold. Clement’s sequined body shimmers under the streetlight above us as we drive away.

I
sabel chatters away for the first twenty minutes of our drive home. She finally nods off when we reach the open landscape of Camp Pendleton, a long stretch of government land that separates Los Angeles from San Diego. Priscilla and I are finally free to speak to each other about our evening with Dad.

“Look, Lex,” she says when she is sure Isabel is asleep. “I’d really hoped to speak to Dad alone about all this. I never meant for you to find out that Dad had been having an affair with Lynne long before Rebecca’s accident. This was something Dad and I had to clear up between us. I had to, if I was going to share Isabel with him.”

“How did you find out, Priscilla?” Perhaps it’s only out of morbid curiosity that I ask. But she answers me anyway.

“I found them together. At our house. Rebecca had just gone back to college after Christmas break. Grandma Ardell was still alive and Mom had gone up to move her into that assisted care facility in Glendale. You were at play practice and I was supposed to be at a basketball game but I came early because I had cramps.”

She pauses for a moment and I say nothing. I’m almost afraid to hear what she will say next, even though my mind is already playing it out.

“Dad had her upstairs in his bedroom, Lex. That’s how I found out. When they came into the kitchen after… afterward, I was just sitting there at the table, trying to pretend like I didn’t know what was going on.

“He was of course surprised to see me. He knew I had a basketball game. He’d even told me that morning he couldn’t come because of work. Then he wanted to know how long I had been home—for obvious reasons. I’d told him ‘a little while,’ which made him even more nervous. He fumbled to explain the woman who was standing next to him, looking as guilty as he did. He said Lynne was a co-worker and they were working on big project. He had forgotten something at home. Then she had said something like, ‘Well, I guess I’d better get back to the office.’

“When she left I started to cry. Dad tried to pretend he didn’t know what had made me so upset. I really didn’t know if he thought I was just plain stupid or that twelve-year-olds don’t have a grasp on reality. I finally told him to stop it. That I knew he hadn’t been in his and mom’s bedroom—and yes, I said mom’s bedroom—working on a project for work.

“He finally admitted that he had a horrible lapse in judgment, just that one time, and that seeing my hurt face had convinced him he had made a terrible mistake. He told me he didn’t want to hurt Mom or Rebecca or you, that it was bad enough that he hurt me, so he was never going to do anything like that again. He begged me to keep what I had seen and heard a secret, so that we could save the family.

“And I agreed to it. Five months later Rebecca was in the accident but I still believed he was keeping his promise. I had to believe it. Even while Mom and Dad fought and bickered over whether or not to have a phone in the house I believed he was keeping his promise. When he moved out, my little wall of denial finally began to crumble. And then when he told us he was marrying Lynne, I realized how foolish I had been. My anger for my own shortcomings was matched only by my fury at how deceptive he had been. It had all been a lie.”

Priscilla stops for a moment. I wonder if she has ever told anyone what she is telling me right now. I ache for her; that she had to bear so much and she never told a soul.

“I didn’t want you to know, Alexa,” she continues. “I didn’t want you feel what I was feeling. But year after year, everyone kept looking at the accident and thinking that’s what shattered our parents’ marriage. You believed it. Even Mom believed it. But I knew better and it nearly drove me crazy. That’s why I moved to England. I had to get away from it, Lex.

“And for a long time I
was
able to escape it. I was able to completely distance myself from what happened here. I missed you, and Mom and Rebecca, too, but the peace I felt for the first time since I was twelve was too good. I wasn’t about to let it go. Then I had Isabel. For the first two years, I was just so enamored of her and there was nothing else I wanted except to be her mother and share her with no one. But Lex, it started to wear on me, my self-imposed exile. One day when I was coming home from work, a bus and a taxi almost got into an accident. I was one of several pedestrians in a crosswalk. We almost got hit. It suddenly occurred to me that I’m not going to live forever. I could die any moment and who would take care of my Isabel?

“That feeling just wouldn’t go away. It weighed on me for months. I knew I needed to come back home and make amends. Not so much for me, but for Isabel’s sake. Because if anything should ever happen to me, I want you to take her, Alexa.”

I don’t want to consider the idea that Priscilla could die, even though I know that is a reality for all of us. But I know I would take Isabel in a heartbeat if anything happened to my sister.

“You know I would,” I whisper.

“I just want her to feel connected to all of you. Just in case. Besides, you are all her family. Dad is her grandfather. The only grandfather she will ever know. I want her to know him. But he and I had to take care of this unfinished business. We simply had to, Lex. And I’m sorry you had to hear it. I was hoping he and I would’ve been able to work it out without you knowing.”

I’m touched by Priscilla’s compassion for me. For the first time I think maybe in her mind running off to Europe was as much for my protection as it was for hers. If she had stayed, she likely would have blurted out the ugly truth at some point and she very much did not want that to happen. She wanted the truth to be exposed by the one who created the lie: Dad. And she knew that would probably never happen.

“It’s okay, Priscilla. I understand now why you did what you did. I really do.”

We are silent for a few minutes.

“What do you think happened between them?” I ask. “If it wasn’t Rebecca’s accident that came between Dad and Mom, what was it? Was it losing Julian?”

Priscilla considers this for a few seconds. “I don’t think they had that great of a marriage to begin with. I don’t think it was this precious, beautiful thing that cracked when Julian died and then split in two when Rebecca was nearly killed. I think their relationship was already starting to crumble before Julian was born. We’ve always assumed it was those two tragedies that sunk their marriage. But my guess is, if Julian had lived and Rebecca hadn’t been in the accident, their marriage wouldn’t have lasted. They are both far too selfish.”

“That’s strange to think about. How different it might have been for us if Julian had lived and Rebecca hadn’t been in the accident.”

“Lex, if Julian had lived, I doubt you and I would exist!”

We share a quiet laugh. Then I ask her what has been niggling at the back of mind for the last few hours. “What are we going to do about James Leahy?”

Priscilla sighs. “I don’t know. I don’t know if Mindy even knows what she’s talking about. We don’t know for sure that he died. I don’t trust her.”

“I don’t either but why would she lie about this? And why would Gavin have given in to her demands for more money if it wasn’t true?”

“I don’t know, Alexa. I don’t know anything for sure.”

When we get back to the triplex it is nearly ten o’clock. Isabel awakens in a grumpy mood and Priscilla tells her a warm bath will help her relax and fall back asleep. They head down the hall and I take my cordless phone out onto my back patio. Stephen had told me to call when I got back from San Juan Capistrano if it wasn’t too late.

Well, it’s not too late.

He answers on the third ring by saying my name. One of the many advantages of Caller ID.

“How was your day?” he asks.

I hardly know where to begin, so much has happened today. “Can I hear about your day first? Mine is going to take awhile. Did you see the oncologist?”

“Yeah,” Stephen replies. “He’s a nice guy. Honest. Didn’t try to sugar coat anything. He wants to get started right away.”

“How soon?”

“Monday. I’ll go in every day for five weeks. Then we’ll do an MRI and see we’ve got.”

“Every day for five weeks? Wow.”

“It could be longer. But Dr. Fridley told me there is every reason to think we can beat it.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Although no guarantees.”

Stephen kind of laughs. It’s a nice laugh, void of all sarcasm. “You know there are no guarantees.”

“But glimmers of hope,” I say, a little nervously.

“Oh, yes. Always those.”

“If I can help you out, will you call me?”

“I will try to allow you to help me.” I sense he is not used to being laid up. Nor is he comfortable with being the recipient of help. “Now tell me about your day.”

“Where should I start?”

“At the beginning,” Stephen says cheerfully.

It takes me fifteen minutes to describe my morning; how Priscilla and I learned the identity of Cosmo, about our conversation with Thelma and the fact that Rebecca is very likely now someone’s wife. It takes another ten to detail our meeting with Mindy and how it was that Rebecca came to be in possession of the check.

“Wow,” Stephen says when I pause to catch my breath. “So what you are going to do? Do you think Gavin McNeil really killed the guy?”

“I don’t know. But I can’t pretend I don’t know that perhaps he did.”

“Are you going to the go to the police? I think maybe you should.”

This same thought has been nagging me for hours and I tell him this. I also tell him I’m not sure Mindy can be trusted.

“You don’t have to determine if Mindy’s telling the truth, though. The police can do that. You’re not responsible for knowing if she’s telling the truth or not.”

“I know, but this involves Rebecca, too. She didn’t think I would find out about any of this. She just wanted me to throw the check away. If the police are involved, it will bring Rebecca into it.”

“But she’s already into it if it’s true.”

He’s right but I’m unwilling to go to the police first if I don’t have to. I would much rather Gavin turn himself in if, in fact, he killed James Leahy.

“I think I want to have a conversation with Gavin first. I know it might sound crazy, but I don’t think he’s a murderer. He may have killed James but I don’t think he planned to. I think it was an accident. I think he should be the one to go to the police.”

“And if he doesn’t want to do that?”

I swallow my apprehension. “Then I will.”

“I don’t know if that’s a great idea. This isn’t your problem.”

“I want to try it this way first. For Rebecca’s sake.”

“If you find him and arrange to meet him, I’m coming with you.”

I can’t stop the spreading smile on my face. “I would like that.”

“So you’ll call me if you set a meeting up?”

“I will. I promise.”

“So your visit with your Dad went well?” he asks.

Oh. That.

By the time
that
part of my day is recounted it is after eleven and Priscilla and Isabel have long since closed the bedroom door and turned out the light.

Stephen listens to most of my story in silence. Every now and then the silence is broken by a word or two of voiced compassion. When I am done, Stephen doesn’t speak right away.

“Stephen?” I wonder if my phone has lost its connection.

“I am here.”

“The more I think about what Priscilla had to deal with, especially at such a young age, the angrier I get.”

“I can understand that, but I don’t recommend you let anger have is way.”

His words sound strangely disciplinary. I’m a little surprised. If I have a right to any response to this, it is anger. “You don’t expect me to pretend that I am happy about all this, do you?”

“Not at all. It’s just if your father really is sorry and if he really has asked for forgiveness then the only response that will bring you any comfort is the one where you give him what he asks for.”

“Which is what?” I say, a little confused, a little annoyed.

“Your forgiveness.”

Those two words stun me into momentary wordlessness. To be truthful, I would very much like to be irritated with my dad for a little while. Maybe a long while. “But he doesn’t really deserve my forgiveness.”

“No one who needs forgiveness usually does.”

Again, he has said something that is altogether profound and yet madly frustrating. I feel as though I’m being poked with a sharp stick. I don’t like it, yet I don’t want to swat it away. The fact is, as soon as he says this, it rings true in my ears
.
I can be mad at my dad for as long as I want but it won’t make me feel any better about what happened. Not one bit.

“You’re not mad at me, are you?” he asks.

I smile in spite of feeling severely poked. “No. You make too much sense,” I say.
And I like you too much.

“Good.” I sense the relief in his voice.

“It’s late and I have talked your ear off.”

“So you are taking Priscilla and Isabel over to your mom’s tomorrow?” he says, ignoring my comment.

“Yes.”

“And what are you doing afterward?”

I’ve no idea. “Nothing, I guess.”

“Want to get together?”

It has been a long time since someone has said to me, “Want to get together?” and I have thought to myself,
This sounds like a date
.

“Okay.”

“What time?”

This sounds very much like a date. “How about I call you when I get back from Coronado?”

“In the afternoon sometime?”

“I think so.”

“Okay. It’s a date.”

There you go. I’m right.

Priscilla, Isabel and I sleep in late the next morning. We walk down to a bagel place a little after ten and take our coffee—cranberry juice for Isabel—and bagels to the grassy area by Belmont Park. A white-railed, wooden roller coaster—the seaside park’s historic landmark—is quiet and serene in the lingering morning mist, but its many arches and plunges suggests its not always this way.

I’m reluctant to let the day really begin. I’m anxious to Stephen later, but I don’t really want to relinquish Priscilla and Isabel. Priscilla doesn’t seem to be in too much of a hurry either. When we are done eating, we walk slowly back to my place. Priscilla heads into the bedroom to finish packing her and Isabel’s things and I take our empty coffee cups to the kitchen to throw them away. As I do, I notice my answering machine is blinking. Two messages.

I press the button to hear them. The first is Mom. She has had my cell phone for five days and this is perhaps only the second time she has used it. She wants to know when we are coming. I can’t say as I blame her. She specifically says, though,
not
to call her back. She just wants us to know she is ready and that she wants to take us all to lunch. The second message is from Alicia, a co-worker. She just called to say she and the others in OT have missed me and that everyone is looking forward to seeing me on Monday.

I kind of forgot life would be returning to normal in a couple of days.

Normal.

Now there’s a word that really doesn’t mean anything, does it?

“So now we’re going to Grandma’s house?” Isabel is saying as she and Priscilla come into the living room from the back of the house.

“Oui, cherie. Ne pas oublier votre couverture
,” Priscilla answers. And while I have no idea what she has said, Isabel turns and runs back to my bedroom. She returns a moment later with her yellow blanket. Clement is safely tucked in her other arm.

“So you are ready?” I ask.

“I think so,” Priscilla answers, winking at me.

We leave.

Priscilla and I decide to tell Mom about Rebecca’s supposed marriage right when we arrive since Isabel will be distracted by the Margot’s and Humphrey’s spirited antics—a dog duet that takes place whenever more than one person shows up at Mom’s.

We are standing in her kitchen when we tell her. Isabel is in the living room with the pugs, laughing at their acrobatics and tossing rubber chew toys in the air to the dogs’ utter delight.