Portion of the Sea (31 page)

“Save your words for a situation in which they might actually be helpful,” my mother broke in. “Our decision is made. You, your grandmother, and I are headed back to Kentucky where we can at least reunite with some family members, and, Stewart, you’re headed off to Key West, only long enough to make a fortune and bring it all home. That’s it, that’s all there is to discuss,” she said, waving her hands through the air at me as if I were a bug she was trying to shoo away.

“Kentucky?” Dumbfounded, I dared to ask, “But why? I don’t get it.”

“It’s home,” said Abigail. “There’s something normal about returning home. Now get into your room and get started with your packing. We’ll leave not tomorrow, but the morning after that, early.”

I ran into my room, not to cry, nor get packing, nor collapse onto my bed, but to open my journal and get writing, for I had to chronicle everything that happened. Doing so might put it all into perspective and help me make my decision. I could marry Jaden near the lighthouse tomorrow at dusk, then say farewell to my parents the next morning, or I could not show up at the lighthouse and leave with my family the next morning. It was that simple, I told myself. But If I chose to marry, I would most
certainly invite my family. It would be up to them whether to show or not.

When I finished writing, I started to pack. Regardless of what my decision would be, I’d have to pack. Packing would be simple. I was glad not to be rich or to have acquired and collected a bunch of material stuff without meaning that would only weigh me down. All my belongings would easily fit into three large bags.

Everyone had taken seats but me. I was still standing, my knees wobbling, and the lighthouse was standing too. “Ava, the ferry is ready to leave. What are you waiting for? Sit down,” Grandmalia said to me.

I smiled at her through my tears. I couldn’t possibly tell her that my private hopes that Jaden might still show were getting slighter by the moment. As I stared over at the lighthouse in the distance, I thought of him arriving there the evening before only to find the Junonia I had left him in the dirt. It pained me horribly to think of him digging into the mound and finding my journal, filled with pages of my love for him and descriptions of my mother’s situation. Surely, he would see how torn I had been, and that despite my decision to stay with my mother I loved him more than anything else. And maybe he would recognize that I made the wrong choice in not showing up to marry him and he would take off in search of me before it was too late, before this ferry pulled away.

“Ava, sit your buttocks down now,” Grandmalia insisted again. “What is your problem, girl?”

And just as I sat down I saw the other man in my life, my daddy, running along the dock, giving the “just one minute” signal to the boat captain. He hopped aboard and kissed Dahlia on the cheek and then walked over to me.

“Good-bye, coconut,” he said. “I’m just going long enough to make a fortune, and I’ll be home.”

I jumped up from my seat and threw my arms around his neck like the tangling roots of a banyan tree. “I wish I could come with you, instead,” I whispered in his ear. “I’ll bet I could roll cigars like any man.”

“I’m sure you can, but your mother needs you more,” he said. “I’ve promised your grandmother I’d send her cigars, and I’ll send a couple to you as well. Just don’t tell your mother.” He winked over at Dahlia, and
when the captain cleared his voice, he quickly said, “I’ll send you the finest, and I’ll send money, too.” Then he walked over to my mother and got down on his knees, and I couldn’t wait to hear what he had to say to her, but to my surprise, he didn’t have a chance to say anything because she reached out and grabbed him and pulled him close.

As I watched them embrace, I thought about the man that I loved and how I might never be able to put my arms around him again. It wasn’t fair to think that soon I’d be gone from the island like a living seashell yanked off the beach. It was as wrong as picking a sea oat and bothering a resting or a nesting bird and littering on the beach and there should be laws against these sorts of things, and of taking a girl away from the one place she wants to be, the place she belongs. Life was so brittle, I thought. It could be going along so beautifully and all of a sudden a branch breaks and everything you were sitting on collapses to the ground.

A moment later my father struggled out of her grip, stood up, and stepped onto the dock.

“Daddy,” I called out without emotion. “After being with all those Cubans and Spanish-speaking Negroes, what if we don’t understand you anymore when you come home?”

“That’s not how it works,” he reassured me from the edge of the dock. “Learning a new language doesn’t mean you forget your old one, baby. Don’t worry about a thing.”

“I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you, too! I love you all,” he said, waving, and then as he started to tear up, I saw him rub his eyes, then turn, and venture down the path. I could hardly think. My mind was dizzy with anger and love for him. I had turned down the man I loved so I wouldn’t abandon my parents, and now my daddy was selfishly off to Key West for a wild adventure of his own. As the boat pulled slowly away from the dock, I considered changing my mind. The boat was only a couple of inches from the dock, an easy hop. Find Jaden. Find Jaden. Find Jaden, my heart pounded out to me. The boat was about a foot from the dock, but I could jump. Jaden and I used to compete to see who could jump the farthest. And as the boat continued a few feet from the dock, I knew Jaden would be proud to see me
jump this far. “It’s still not too late,” I said, trying to motivate myself. “You might think it is, but you can still change your mind.”

“Ava,” my mother said. “You shouldn’t be standing so close to the edge. Sit down, young lady.”

I didn’t listen. I couldn’t. I was still watching to see if Jaden might come running down the path, at least to wave good-bye, or maybe swim out to meet me halfway in the water. The boat was several feet from the dock now, but I was a good swimmer, slow like a manatee, but steady. I could swim far, and distance, not speed, is what I would be facing now more than anything. Then again, the water was cold. Manatees hate cold water. So do I. The cold could kill me. And if my mama jumped in after me, it could kill her. I didn’t want that.

Lydia

“Don’t be a fool, Ava! Jump!” I said when I reached the end of her writing. “Jump, or you’ll regret it.”

I stood up and walked into the great room. Marlena was sitting on the sofa and there was a tray with teacups on the coffee table. I sat down and stared into the cups. “Looks like milk,” I said, unsure that it was anything I wanted to try. “What is it?”

“I told you, an old family recipe.”

I picked up a cup and tasted slowly. Warm milk. Honey. Butter … “Brandy too?” I asked. I didn’t need any answer. The brandy was quite strong. I took another taste, trying to piece it all together. “Did you say this was
your
family recipe?”

She was smiling and nodding and raising her own teacup to her lips, and then she slurped and gulped in the most unladylike manner.

“Has anyone ever told you,” I said, as I watched a little spill over the rim of her cup, “that you sip your drink exactly the way your grandmother Abigail once did?” Marlena laughed and put the cup down. “Have I got it right? Abigail was your grandmother?”

“Yes, and Ava my mother. I never got to meet my grandmother, yet I
do believe some ways of doing things are carried on through the generations, simple things most people probably don’t know about, but I do, thanks to Ava’s journal. I guess I do slurp and gulp like my grandmother once did.” She laughed some more. “And I did have my great-Grandmalia’s nose. Sometimes it makes me sad that I erased that part of her from my face, but, my God, Lydia, you should have seen my nose before.”

“Wait a minute,” I said. “Then you can tell me whether Ava makes it work with Jaden. You know the ending of this story. You
are
the ending.”

“No. I like to think of myself as the continuation.”

“Who’s your father? Is it Jaden?”

“There’s more to the story,” she said. “It gets complicated.”

“Tell me,” I insisted. “Did she jump from the boat and swim back? Did she marry him after all? Marlena, you can’t keep me waiting any longer. I’ve got to know.”

“When are you leaving, dear?”

“Tomorrow. I’m definitely leaving the island tomorrow. But I’m not sure yet where I’m leaving to. Chicago or Key West.”

“I don’t think you stand a chance at getting a job rolling cigars, dear.”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s not why I’d go to Key West,” I said with a laugh.

“Josh is there. I figure I could take a speedboat and get there right away.” I stopped and gave thought to what I was saying and thinking. “Am I crazy?” I asked. “I think maybe I am. Or maybe I’m confused. I’ve never loved a guy before. Can you tell me whether Ava jumped from that boat and how it all turned out?”

“Ava’s choices were Ava’s choices, and Lydia’s choices will be Lydia’s,” she said. “I don’t think Ava wrote about her life with the intention of telling anybody what to do. That’s not why women share their stories.”

“Can you at least tell me if she wrote more?”

“Of course she did. Ava’s life doesn’t end there. You’re looking at her daughter, you know. Why don’t you make up your mind, and then stop by in the morning, and I’ll give you the next set of pages.”

I felt like throwing my arms around her, for Marlena was more precious to me than ever. She was Ava’s daughter! “I’m glad there’s more to
read.”

“Ava loved to write. It’s hard to keep a girl from doing what she loves to do. Now drink up. It’s comforting, isn’t it? And there’s more, although I’m thinking of deleting brandy and returning it to the original recipe with the cinnamon. What do you think?”

“Keep the brandy,” I said with a grin.

XXIX

LYDIA

MARLENA WAS OUT FRONT
gardening when I stopped by the next morning. She put her hose down, walked over to the steps, and picked up a bag filled with cookies and biscotti and the next set of pages.

Neither of us said “hello” to one another, and I imagined it was because no one likes to say a simple hello when they’re about to say a big farewell. Besides, there was something weighing heavily on my mind.

“Why me?” I asked when she handed the goodies and pages to me. “Why did you tell me all that stuff on the beach that day? The day we made the snowwoman?”

“I said a lot of things that day. What exactly are you referring to?”

“The part about you believing in me.”

“Oh,” she said. “You remember my words well.”

“Of course. You were the only one who had ever said anything like that to me.”

“I said it because when I was a little girl, someone spoke similar words to me. And to this day, whenever I feel as if my dreams are starting to drown, I grab onto the words that woman spoke to me. She was just a stranger, but her words were powerful. When I saw you on the beach that
day, you were around the age I was when that woman approached me. I’ve always been grateful for the way she came up to me and told me I’d be significant one day, and I wanted to pass that on. When I saw you sitting there all alone writing, I couldn’t resist.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“You’re welcome, but enough with the sentimental stuff. Did I mention I got a call from my agent and she’s hooked me up with an independent film company over in London?”

“Marlena, that’s wonderful!”

“Yes, I’ll be playing supporting actress, and they start filming in three months.”

“In England?”

“Sure. Why not?”

I threw my arms around her, and she spun around like we had both been smoking something bad, or good maybe. “Congratulations,” I shouted. “I knew you’d do it.”

“I guess so. I wondered at times.”

Then, when we stopped spinning like tops and released our grips, but for our hands, I grew serious. “Do you still believe in me?” I asked. “Do you think I can do all that I want to do?”

“Of course I do, darling,” she said. “But that no longer matters. What matters is that you believe in yourself. A magical transformation occurs when someone tells you they believe in you. All of a sudden, you start believing in yourself. And soon, you start expecting and no longer need others believing in you because belief in yourself becomes enough.”