I really wanted Joey to stay, but I knew he had to ride home with Keri Ann since it was pitch o’clock at night.
I needed to go see about the package Woody had mentioned anyway. I wondered if Mom had ordered something for me. We’d been talking about maybe getting one of those small laptops I could take to class. I’d left for work before she got up this morning, and I’d barely been home.
Woody was wiping down the bar when I got back.
“Thank you for a lovely evening, Woody,” I told him.
“It’s been a pleasure watching you grow up, girl. Happy to do it. So you like the car?”
I smiled at him and clapped my hands together. “Absolutely, fantastic. It’s amazing, thank you for being part of that too.”
“You’ve got some great friends.” He leaned down and pulled a box wrapped in brown paper out with both hands. “Almost forgot,” he said. “This came for you from New York.”
My heart thumped heavily, swimming with equal parts anticipation and dread.
I took the box and read the sender’s address. It was the same one I used to send mail to my dad. Oh, thank God! If he was sending me a birthday gift then he was okay. Relief made me lightheaded, and I took the box to one of the tables and sat down. Ripping the paper off revealed a regular packing box with a letter taped to the front. A photo dropped out the envelope as soon as I opened it. It was me as a small chubby girl wearing a pink frilly swimsuit, a snorkel perched on my head, and wearing my pink glitter cowgirl boots. I gave a startled laugh.
Damn, I was a cute little girl. I set it aside and opened the letter.
Dear Jessica ~
You don’t know me, but I used to work for the magazine that commissioned your father’s work. Your father and I were friends for a long time, and as you know, for years he used this address for correspondence. I’m so very sorry for your loss. It was a terrible blow to hear that the world had lost such a special soul. Your father was an amazing and talented man, and an even better friend.
I stopped reading. I must have made some sound because Woody was in front of me. Crouching in front of me.
“You okay?” I saw his mouth form the words. But he spoke them from very far away.
“Jazz,” he said again.
I was shaking. No, he was shaking me. He was holding my shoulder.
“Jazz, are you okay?”
No. No, I was not okay.
Woody took the letter from my hands and read the words. His brow furrowed and then he brought a fist up to his mouth. His grey rheumy eyes filled with water.
He looked up at me. This dear, dear man who’d watched me grow up. Who was there for me when my mom wasn’t. When my dad wasn’t. I reached out and laid my hand on his. “It’s okay, Woody.”
“I’d never have given this to you if I’d known.”
“I know,” I said. “Can you read it to me. I only got about half way.”
“Are you sure?”
I nodded.
Woody pulled up a chair next to me and sat.
“...and an even better friend.” He picked up where I’d stopped. “I have informed your father’s lawyer of the news I received from the magazine. I’m sure they’ve been in touch. I believe they will want to do their own investigation and get confirmation and reports etc. before dispersing his estate, but in the meantime I thought you’d want to have this, his most beloved Leica camera. It was his first professional camera. Still works like a beauty, but he preferred to take equipment he didn’t mind losing or damaging. I am enclosing the last letter you wrote him unopened and this picture of you. You look like you have his fire.”
Woody smiled lightly at that. “Ain’t that the truth.”
I swallowed. “Go on.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” Woody read on. “I only have this address for you. If you are ever in New York, please look me up. I’d love to meet the daughter of such a talented man. David Fraser had a gypsy soul and a free bird’s heart. A bird who liked to fly too close to the sun. He will be sorely missed. Warmest regards and deepest sympathies, Albert Hoffman.”
He folded the letter. I gripped my hands together, squeezing hard. Then I squeezed my eyes shut as hard as I could. Then my teeth. As if I could keep the shock and grief contained.
Woody laid his hands over mine. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
I opened my eyes. “It’s fine, Woody. I didn’t even fucking know him. So is it really a loss?”
He pursed his lips. “You’re hurting.”
“Actually, I’m not. Not at all. I feel quite … pain-free. I grew up just fine without him. What did he really contribute in the whole grand scheme of things, you know?”
My heart thumped erratically. It pounded in my ears and beat in my throat. I needed to be alone.
I stood up, accidentally dropping the letter and picture. I picked them up clumsily, stuffing them in the envelope.
Woody stared nervously at me.
“I’m fine, Woody. Seriously. It was just unexpected. Of course I’m sad. But I’m fine. I’m gonna go put this in the apartment.”
I gave him a hug. “Thank you.”
“You sure you’re okay?”