Summer at Willow Lake (38 page)

For no reason she could fathom, Olivia felt a wave of melancholy. Maybe it was the thought of Jenny, this nice, unassuming girl, growing up without a father and then losing her grandfather at such a young age. No wonder she was working to preserve old family memories and recipes.

Olivia watched her father’s face, and she realized there was another reason she felt so unsettled. He had always wanted to be a writer, too, but had chosen a career in law because it was a more practical, stable profession, the sort of thing that was expected of a Bellamy. Now that she knew the real reason he’d married her mother, she understood why he had left his dream behind. And—all right, this was horrible—she felt a subtle sting of resentment, that Jenny unknowingly shared this commonality with their father.

They went to a screened-in porch that was favored by a light breeze, and sat in wicker chairs around a low table. Olivia’s father took a nervous sip of tea and set down his glass. “Thanks,” he said. “I apologize for seeming so mysterious when I asked to pay you a visit. I just didn’t know how to broach the subject. There’s no easy way to say this, Miss Majesky. Jenny.”

Something in his tone must have tipped her off, because she gripped the arms of her chair and gave him her full attention, her head tilted to one side. By now, she had to know perfectly well this meeting had nothing to do with a wedding cake. “Yes?”

“I have no idea how much you know about this situation,” he continued. “I understand your mother, Mariska, has been away.”

Jenny nodded, a frown appearing on her brow. “Since I was about four years old. I barely remember her.”

Oh, God, thought Olivia. “And she’s never been in touch? Never called or written you a letter?”

Jenny shook her head, her eyes immeasurably dark and sad. “I assume there’s a point to these questions.”

“I used to know her,” he said. “Mariska and I were…She was my girlfriend the summer of 1977. Did your grandmother ever tell you that?”

A single bead of sweat trickled down Jenny’s temple. The sadness left her eyes as they narrowed in suspicion. “No. Should she have?”

“I can’t answer that.” He clenched and un-clenched his hands, and he was sweating, too. Olivia couldn’t take her eyes off their faces.

“I…some things have come to light, lately,” Philip continued, “and I—well, I was wondering if anyone’s ever spoken to you about your father. Your biological father.”

The breeze stopped. At least, to Olivia, that was how it felt. Everything stood still—the wind, time, the beating of their hearts. Jenny seemed frozen rather than flustered. Her face turned visibly paler while the suspicion never quite left her eyes. And though she was a stranger, Olivia was seized by an urge to touch Jenny, to take her hand or perhaps pat her on the shoulder.
I have a sister,
Olivia thought.
I have a sister.

Philip said, “I’m sorry to show up like this, out of the blue, and say these things. I didn’t see any other way to introduce myself.”

Jenny set down her glass of tea. She studied Philip, and seemed to be taking inventory, seeking all the ways they resembled each other. “Are you telling me you’re…” The words trickled away, as though Jenny couldn’t bring herself to utter them. “This is absurd. I have no idea why you’re telling me this.”

Philip handed her the photograph of himself and Mariska. “This was recently found among my old camp things. It was taken at the end of summer 1977. That whole summer, we were as happy as it’s possible to be, or so I believed. I loved your mother very much, and planned to marry her.”

Jenny studied the picture, and a look of raw pain shadowed her face. Olivia suspected she’d swiftly done the math in her head. “You didn’t, though,” she pointed out. “You didn’t marry her.”

“No. Just after Labor Day weekend, Mariska broke off with me. Said she wanted to see the world, go find a life for herself—alone. I tried to talk her out of it, but I never saw her again, never spoke to her. I wrote dozens of letters, and they all came back marked Return To Sender. Her mother—your grandmother—told me not to call anymore, so I came here by train.” He paused, his eyes clouded with distant memories. “She was gone. Someone at the jewelry shop where she worked told me she’d left town. Off to see the world, something like that.” He steepled his fingers together and looked at Jenny, but she didn’t look at him. “That was when I gave up on Mariska. I figured she meant what she said when she broke up with me, so I finally accepted it. Then that winter, I married Olivia’s mother, Pamela Lightsey.” Mercifully, he didn’t go into detail about the circumstances of the engagement and hasty wedding. “Pamela and I have been divorced for seventeen years, and I never remarried.”

They never even had a chance, Olivia realized. As a child, she’d searched endlessly and fruitlessly for the reason her parents had split up, never knowing that the reason existed long before she was born.

Jenny said nothing. She held the photograph, absently skimming her thumb over the image of her mother.

“When I came to the bakery that day,” Olivia told Jenny, “I noticed that you have the same picture hanging on the wall, but it’s been cropped.”

“Probably by my grandmother.”

Olivia realized, with a jolt, that Jenny’s mother had been pregnant when the snapshot was taken. Jenny kept staring at the picture. Absently, her hand stole up and she fingered the silver pendant on her necklace.

“I also noticed that pendant you’re wearing,” Olivia added. “Remember, I asked you about it?”

Jenny nodded. “It was my mother’s. My grandparents gave it to me for my sixteenth birthday.”

Philip took out its mate and put it on the table. “It’s from a pair of cuff links I owned. I gave one to Mariska and kept the other.”

A soft gasp escaped from Jenny. Throughout the whole conversation, her reactions had been measured and controlled, but now she seemed to be on the verge of losing it. Her fingers trembled as she picked up the cuff link. “I never knew if there was a story behind this, or behind anything my mother left me. But are you sure this is not some huge coincidence, or—”

“I’m almost positive,” he told her. “Of course, we can do a blood test if you choose, but I’m sure it would only confirm what we’ve found out. I took the liberty of hiring a private investigator to verify dates and certain other details.”

Jenny swallowed hard. Her dark eyes held a hunted look. “A private investigator? But that’s so…It’s intrusive.”

“You’re right, but I didn’t know what else to do. Mr. Rasmussen—he does a lot of work for my law firm—only searched public records. I’m sorry, Jenny. I didn’t want to approach you, only to find it’s a huge mistake. I didn’t want to upset you for no reason. God. For all I knew, you believed someone else was your father.”

With excruciating care, she set down the cuff link. “I used to ask all the time, but my grandparents swore she never told them. The father’s name is blank on my birth certificate.” A terrible hope lit her face when she finally looked at him. “So did he—your investigator—did he find out anything about my mother?”

Yes, thought Olivia. Like why she ditched her daughter.

Philip took out a printed copy of an e-mail message. “Probably nothing you haven’t already heard. In late 1977, Mariska Majesky left Avalon. She obtained a passport, traveled frequently, though she had no visible means of support. While in Boca Raton in March 1978, she had a baby, naming her Jennifer Anastasia. In 1982, she and her daughter returned to Avalon to stay with her parents. Mariska continued to travel frequently, though she never took her daughter with her.” He checked the printed page. “In 1983, Mariska left Avalon. This time, she never came back, and there are no further records of her. Her passport expired in 1988 and was never renewed.” He set down the report and looked at Jenny, studying her face with an intense curiosity. “If you want, I can have Rasmussen keep looking.”

“No, thank you,” she said softly, and studied the brief report.

Everyone was so quiet and still that Olivia could hear the ice melting and shifting in the now-forgotten glasses. Finally, Jenny cleared her throat and regarded Philip and then Olivia with cautious curiosity. “I don’t know what to say.”

“None of us does,” Olivia said. “I’m glad we found you and that you were willing to hear us out. I hope after the shock of this wears off, you’ll be glad, too.”

“You don’t have to say anything or feel a certain way,” Philip said.

“Good, because I have no idea what I’m feeling.”

She was feeling something, though. Olivia could see that. Her eyes, those soft honest eyes Olivia had liked immediately, now sparkled with unshed tears.

“Well, I’m happy to meet you,” Olivia whispered. “I always wanted a sister.” Feeling a bit overwhelmed, she found herself studying Jenny’s face again. Were their noses similar? Did they look anything alike? Olivia couldn’t tell. “I hope we’ll have plenty of time to, uh, catch up,” she added. “That is, if you want to.”

“Um, sure.” Jenny blinked as though waking from a dream. “I never thought I’d meet you,” she said to Philip. “I never thought I’d learn who you were.”

Philip touched her hand. “I’m so sorry.”

Olivia’s heart sank. She could scarcely imagine what Jenny must be going through, or what an incredible cruelty it must feel like, growing up abandoned by her mother, having never known her father.

Jenny looked down at their hands. “After a lifetime of being in the dark about this, I appreciate the honesty. I always wondered who you were,” she said. “What you were like, if I’d ever meet you.”

“I hope I don’t disappoint you.”

Finally, one single tear escaped, slipping down Jenny’s cheek. She wiped it away with the back of her hand. Olivia couldn’t tell if Jenny was elated or sad or simply overwhelmed. Olivia herself was a wreck. She was thrilled to have discovered her half sister, but at the same time, she felt unexpectedly defensive. Sure, she wanted her father to get to know Jenny, but…Olivia, you petty wretch, she told herself. Don’t you dare start with the sibling rivalry.

“This is going to take some time,” she said to Jenny. “I hope you’re willing to spend some time with…Dad and me.”

“I suppose so, yes.”

“Are you free for dinner tonight?” Dad asked.

Jenny looked taken aback. Then she nodded. “It will have to be after nine. My grandmother goes to bed early.”

“Works for me,” he said. “Olivia?”

Share and share alike, Olivia thought. She put on a bright smile and said, “The two of you should go. Maybe I’ll join you another time.”

“Olivia—”

“It’s fine, Dad. Really. In fact, I know a really great place. The Apple Tree Inn, out on Route 47.” She turned to Jenny, smiling brightly. “Have you been there?”

“Only once,” Jenny confessed. “It’s sort of a…special-occasion place for us locals.”

“Well, if this isn’t a special occasion,” Dad said, “I don’t know what is.”

Twenty-Nine

T
here were few things, Olivia reflected, that were quite so relaxing as paddling a kayak on a placid lake, especially in the midst of a heat wave. She went out at sundown, dipping her paddle beneath the glassy surface of the motionless water, watching it stir outward. It was hard to believe that soon she would be leaving this place. Summer had sped by so swiftly, each day busy and rich and filled with purpose. Finally, as an adult, Olivia understood why her grandparents loved Camp Kioga so much.

With a troubling sense of surprise, she realized she would miss this place, the placid water and fresh green smells, the sound of the wind in the trees and birdsong every morning. But the crush and hurry of the city awaited. Clients were calling. Each time she checked her messages or e-mail, there they were, asking when she’d be back, needing her to help them out with their property, their plans, their lives. Needing Transformations. That was Olivia—the fluffer. She could sweep through someone’s house and within minutes, make it nicer, brighter, more appealing.

It wasn’t such a tricky thing to do for other people. As for herself….

Among today’s messages, there was even one from Rand. He called to say he was thinking about her, which was probably code for saying he needed to get laid. Rand Whitney. God, had he really been the repository of all her hopes and dreams just a few months before? It seemed like a lifetime ago. She’d been so naive. Her mother’s daughter, really. Believing that if your life looked perfect—the husband, the home, the friends, the kids—then surely it must be perfect. And of course, Olivia had built her entire career on that principle. She ought to know better. She ought to know that you could take anything from a crappy downtown walk-up to a run-down rustic summer camp and make it look like the sort of place people would want to be. But dig a little beneath the surface, and the lie was exposed.

The sunset paddle wasn’t as relaxing as she’d hoped. She was consumed by thoughts of Jenny Majesky. A few months ago, she didn’t even know Jenny existed. Now, suddenly, she had a sister. All it took was one small act, like a stone dropped into still water, to see its significance radiating outward in all directions. Lives were affected, futures, plans by a decision made that long-ago summer. It was impossible to see where the ripples would end.

Though all of this had started before Olivia was born, she still had a role to play—daughter, supporter, friend. Sister.

I have a sister. The knowledge sang inside her, a mingling of elation and fear and trepidation.

She paddled along the edge of the lake, where willows and maples reached down to dip their branches in the water, and families of wood duck glided amid the cattails. From the perspective of the water, Kioga looked exactly the way it should at twilight, with a few lights glowing in the windows of the main lodge and outbuildings, and a cookfire flickering in the river-rock barbecue pit on the shore. Uncle Greg was fixing hamburgers and hot dogs tonight because those were Max’s favorites. The little boy had discovered that one of the very few perks of divorce was that people tried to indulge the kids. Olivia hoped they wouldn’t fall into a pattern of
over
indulging, something her own family had done. It was hard, watching her cousins struggle through the same issues she had faced as a child, and bittersweet, watching her uncle become a better dad and a better person—at the cost of his marriage.