MARCH 1996
37.
Morehead City, North Carolina
Jade
Sitting in a rental car in front of the Sanitary Fish Market Restaurant, she took off the giant sunglasses she’d bought for this trip. She was afraid she was on a very big, very expensive, wild-goose chase. She’d sat there for nearly three hours and now daylight was fading and it would be even harder to see people going into the building.
Putting the car in drive, she moved it a bit closer to the entrance so she could see more clearly in the dimming light. It had been a beautiful day, and with so many families on spring break, the restaurant appeared to be filling up. She’d counted on that. She’d counted on being able to blend into the crowd, but it was beginning to seem as though it didn’t matter.
Grady had wanted her to work this week, but she told him she was going up to Portland to see Celia. The truth was, Celia’s break fell at a different time from hers. Even Celia didn’t know where she was right now. No one did, and that thought put a lump in her throat. No matter how many people care about you, she thought, if you can’t be open with them about who you truly are, you are still alone.
She’d tried to sleep in the car the night before after flying into Raleigh, but it had been too cold and she couldn’t quiet her brain. She kept thinking about the drive here to Morehead City, the small North Carolina town that was home to the Sanitary Fish Market her father had made the mistake of mentioning in his letter. She’d worried about getting lost and all the other things that could go wrong. Riley could wake up with the sniffles. The weather could keep them home. By the time morning came and she actually started the drive, she was wiped out.
She’d waited until she was nearly to Morehead City before putting on the oversized sunglasses and Halloweenish black wig she’d bought, worried that her dyed hair wouldn’t be nearly enough of a disguise. Then she found the restaurant, parked the car, and waited. Now it seemed the whole trip had been for nothing.
Then, in the spotlights from the restaurant, she saw a man and woman and fair-haired boy walking up the sidewalk toward the entrance. A girl ran ahead of them and Jade leaned forward, holding her breath. Despite knowing full well that Riley was now eight, she’d been looking for a small child.
“Oh, my God,” she whispered. Her breath left a smudge of fog against the car window, and she quickly erased it with her fingers so nothing was in the way of her view.
Her mother’s dark hair was short now, tucked behind her ears. She walked next to Jade’s father, but they weren’t holding hands as they used to and there was a good six inches of air between them. My fault, Jade thought. Her father hadn’t said as much in his letter, but between every line about her family falling apart, she’d felt the blame.
In the light from the restaurant, her father looked completely gray. That was a shock. But he smiled as he called out something that made Riley turn around and wave to him.
Danny and Riley … she wouldn’t have recognized them. Danny was tall and gangly, his hair absolutely white, the same color hers would be if she didn’t dye it. He walked a little hunched over, like he’d grown tall too quickly and was uncomfortable with his height.
Then there was Riley. Oh, my God, Riley! Jade wished for more daylight so she could see her clearly, but she could tell that the little two-year-old was gone and in her place was a slender, pretty child with dark wavy hair. Riley ran back to her parents and took her father’s hand, swinging it, giving a playful hop every few steps. Jade swallowed hard. She’d done the right thing, all those years ago. The right thing.
She waited for them to walk into the restaurant and then gave them a few extra minutes to be seated. Putting on her dark glasses and adjusting her wig, she took a deep breath and got out of the car.
The restaurant was set up with rows of long picnic-type tables and it was crowded, for which she was relieved. She was seated about four tables from her family, where she had a perfect view of Riley and her father, but her mother and Danny had their backs to her. She sat across from an elderly couple and was glad they seemed to have no interest in talking to her. Her glasses were so dark she could barely see the menu and she worried she stood out. She was probably the only person in the restaurant who was eating alone, and she was certainly the only person wearing a cheap wig and sunglasses, yet no one seemed to notice her.
She ordered stuffed flounder, but she couldn’t eat. All she could do was stare. Riley had changed so much. She grinned up at the waitress and seemed to be ordering from her own menu like a grown-up. She’d forgotten everything about that blood-soaked day six and a half years ago, Jade was certain of it. That was just what she’d hoped for—Riley’s memory wiped clean. What she saw four tables away from her was a family that had moved on without her. She was still there somewhere—in her father’s careful hiding of the truth. In the pain in her mother’s heart. In Danny’s acting out, and maybe in old family pictures Riley might stumble across one day. But she’d been moved aside to make way for their future. It was what she’d wanted, yet the pain of witnessing it was nearly too much.
When the tears started behind her glasses, she laid a twenty-dollar bill next to her plate and stood up, ignoring the surprised look of the elderly couple across from her. She walked quickly out of the restaurant and back to the rental car. Sitting there, she let herself sob as the evening turned to night. It felt good in a way, letting out the tears she’d held in for so long. When she finally stopped crying, she dried her damp face with a tissue and started the car. Then she drove away from Morehead City, leaving the past behind for good.
38.
Riley
As soon as I’d signed the gift deed in Suzanne’s office late Friday afternoon, I headed for the RV park. Tom and Verniece had already signed the simple form—I’d intentionally waited until they’d left Suzanne’s office before going in, not wanting to see them any more than was absolutely necessary. I asked Suzanne for a copy of the form bearing both our signatures so I could show it to Tom and Verniece in case they doubted my word.
They were waiting for me inside the trailer. We sat down at the built-in table, the two of them on one side, me on the other. “Here’s a copy of the signed form.” I placed it between us on the table. “Everything’s set and Suzanne will record the deed on Monday. Now you tell me where my sister is,” I said to Tom, acting as if I were the one with the power in this small, hot space when I knew that was not the case. My body seemed to know it as well, because I heard the tremor in my voice.
Tom and Verniece looked greedily at the form, but Verniece suddenly shook her head. “We should wait till the deed’s recorded,” she said, her voice sharp. It was the same voice I’d overheard the day I’d left the phone in their RV. She seemed to catch herself, as if remembering she was supposed to have a sweet and loving persona with me. “I mean,” she said, “wouldn’t that make the most sense?”
“She’s right,” Tom said to me. “That’s how we do it. After that lawyer lets us know it’s been recorded, you come back here and I’ll tell you everything.”
“No.” I folded my hands on the table. “You tell me now. I’m not waiting all weekend to find out what you know. I’m giving you a huge chunk of my net worth.” The words slipped out of my mouth. I wasn’t even sure what net worth meant, but I hoped I sounded like I’d thought everything over very carefully and knew what I was doing.
“You don’t understand what I’ll be giving up,” Tom said. “I’m putting myself at risk by telling you anything. And one thing you better know is that I’ll deny it all if you so much as whisper a lick of it to anyone in authority. Or to your brother.”
“Hush now, Tom.” Verniece put her hand on his arm. “Let’s keep this civil. I think you should go ahead and tell her what she needs to know. She’s trustworthy.” She reached across the table to squeeze my hands where they were folded together. “Aren’t you, love?”
I didn’t answer. I let my eyes burn into Tom’s, and I could see the moment he decided to back down.
He got to his feet. Walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out a beer. “I owed your father,” he said, popping the top on the beer with a church key. He turned to face us, leaning back against the counter as he raised the bottle to his lips. “Verniece knows all this, so don’t worry about that,” he said. “I got involved with a female prisoner I was transporting when I was with the Marshals Service. Stupid move. Frank was my boss and he found out. He should have canned me, but instead he covered for me. Gave me a second chance.” He looked down at his beer. “But,” he said, “I ended up paying for that second chance about ten times over.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.