by Misha Crews
Jenna and Christopher stopped in front of a particularly famous piece of art. She hunkered down, her cotton dress brushing the floor as she pointed up at the painting. “You see, Christopher?” she said. “This is abstract art. It’s not a picture of a thing or a person. It’s like…a picture of a feeling.”
He gazed solemnly at the seemingly-random brushstrokes, taking in the assortment of color and odd angles. “I like it,” decided the budding art critic. He pursed his lips. “But is it a finger-painting, or did he use a brush?”
“That is an excellent question.” Jenna’s heart leapt as she recognized the voice behind them.
“Uncle Adam!” Christopher exclaimed. “Did you come to play baseball?”
“Maybe later,” Adam replied. He turned to Jenna, a friendly smile on his face.
Jenna rose slowly. She was pleased to see him — absurdly pleased, actually. They hadn’t seen each other since meeting at Bill and Kitty’s house weeks before, and the last place she’d expected to encounter him was here, at the museum. It seemed to make the day even more special, and that worried her.
“Well, you two may think it looks like a finger painting, but I happen to like this picture.” She spoke briskly in an attempt to cover how hard her heart was beating. “It’s very — ”
“Sloppy?” Adam interjected.
“Forceful,” she declared.
“Forcefully sloppy,” he conceded engagingly. “Or maybe…sloppily forceful?”
Jenna laughed out loud, then clapped a hand over her mouth. Christopher looked up at her reproachfully. “Mommy. You said we couldn’t be noisy.”
“Sorry,” Jenna whispered. She wasn’t usually prone to quick laughter, but Adam seemed to have that effect. And that also worried her.
“Is Uncle Adam coming to the park with us?” Christopher’s eyes were wide and innocent.
“Oh, I don’t think so, sweetheart. Uncle Adam probably has to work this afternoon.”
“No,” Adam spoke up. “No, he doesn’t. I’m taking the afternoon off.”
“Oh.” Jenna paused. Of course, the polite thing to do was invite him to join them. She just wasn’t sure that it was a good idea.
But as usual, Christopher took the decision right out of her hands. “You can come to the park with us,” he told Adam self-assuredly. “We don’t have any baseball stuff with us, but Mommy says we’re going to have hot dogs.”
“It just so happens that hot dogs are my favorite food,” Adam told him. Then he looked at Jenna. “Is it all right if I tag along?”
“Sure.” Jenna spoke before she could stop herself. She bit her lip. Then, shaking off her worry, she looked down and smiled at her son. “Come on. I have one more painting to show you, and I hope that you like it as much as I do.”
The Phillips Collection had opened its doors to the public in 1921. Housed in a courtly red-brick mansion on a quiet, tree-lined street in DC, it was the country’s first museum of modern art. And in 1923, when the gallery purchased Renoir’s transcendent painting Luncheon of the Boating Party, it had given the nation’s capital a joyful masterpiece to call its own.
The painting hung in a special alcove on the second floor of the gallery. Jenna caught her breath as they came around the corner and saw it hanging on the wall. It was as enormous as she remembered, over five feet across, and full of life. Colors glowed like crystals, as brightly as if paint had touched canvas only moments ago. The faces smiled and chatted and contemplated the beauty of the day. Looking at that painting was like being transported to the French countryside in 1885. It evoked the scent of lush vegetation, the taste of wine, the music of companionable laughter.
Simply put, it was magic.
“Mommy,” Christopher breathed. “I want it.”
Jenna held his hand tightly. Me too, she thought.
* * *
It wasn’t until they were halfway to the park that she remembered to ask Adam why he was at the gallery today.
“Kitty told me you’d be there,” he said. “I sent her some flowers for her birthday, and she called to thank me. She mentioned that you and Christopher were going to be here, so I decided to take the afternoon off.” He looked at her. “I hope I didn’t intrude on your time together.”
“Not at all. Christopher was very pleased to see you. And so was I,” she added recklessly.
It was a beautiful late-spring afternoon. Azalea bushes bloomed in tiny front yards, and the sidewalks were full of people. Christopher skipped between Adam and Jenna, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for the three of them to be together.
They walked up Massachusetts Avenue toward Dupont Circle, passing venerable buildings of sparkling silver granite. After securing their lunch from a sidewalk vendor, they crossed the busy boulevard, which swept around Dupont Circle like a moat. At the center of the circle was a giant marble fountain carved with Grecian figures. Jenna, Adam, and Christopher sat at the fountain’s edge, eating hot dogs and drinking soda pop as they chatted idly, in fits and starts. On one side of the park, old men were playing chess at a cluster of stone tables under the trees.
Jenna closed her eyes and lifted her face to the sun, feeling as if the heat shining down was warming her from within. She heard Adam chuckle, and she opened her eyes to find him watching as Christopher chased pigeons with great delight.
“I wish I could be made so happy by a hot dog and some pigeons,” he said.
“I don’t even remember the last time I felt that happy.” Jenna spoke without thinking. “I think maybe when Lucien and I were in Cuba. He’d been posted there, and I — “ She stopped.
Adam turned and looked at her with interest. “Go on.”
“I was going to the English school in Havana. The headmistress was a real proponent of fresh air and exercise — she used to take us on trips to the mountains, and we’d go on long hikes. I remember that on one of those trips, we hiked to the peak of a lower mountain, and I could see straight out to the ocean. I stood there, with my arms out, and the wind blowing through my hair, and I felt…happy. Joyful.”
“Free,” Adam supplied.
“Exactly. Happy and free. I’ve never felt that way before. Or since, for that matter.”
Jenna looked up to find Adam watching her intently, and she felt the prickles of a deep blush forming in her cheeks. What was wrong with her? She wasn’t the type to spill out memories of personal moments like that.
“Your face is red,” Adam told her.
Nice of you to point it out. Aloud, she simply said, “The sun is rather strong today, isn’t it?”
“Then let’s go sit in the shade.” Without waiting for her consent, he grabbed her hand and stood up, pulling her to one of the wooden benches that ringed the park.
“Where’s Christopher?” Jenna asked. “I don’t see him.”
“He’s fine. He’s over there.” Adam gestured, and Jenna saw her son playing under an old tree, walking along the roots that jutted up from the dirt, his arms held out like a tightrope walker. “He’s having a grand old time.”
“Yes. He’s really enjoying himself today.”
“Are you?” Adam asked her.
She smiled slowly and nodded. “Yes. Yes, I am.”
He took her hand. “I’m glad.”
They sat in companionable silence, and then he surprised her by saying, “I guess I owe you another apology for the way things went the last time we saw each other.”
She squeezed his hand. “It’s too nice a day to hash all that up. Let’s just say all apologies are unnecessary, and move on.”
Adam took a breath. “I want to ask you an impertinent question.”
A pale gray cloud moved over the sun, and Jenna shivered. She withdrew her hand from Adam’s and crossed her arms over her chest. “All right,” she said.
“Do you ever feel guilty? You know, about us, about that night? I’m not asking if you regret it,” he added hurriedly. “I’m sure you don’t, because regardless of anything else, it gave
us Christopher.”
Us. The word was not lost on Jenna.
“What I’m asking,” Adam continued, “is if you ever feel guilt over what happened.”
When Jenna didn’t respond, he went on. “Because I just want you to know that I don’t think you should. I don’t think either of us should. We were both grieving, and overwrought, and — ”
“No,” Jenna said abruptly. “No, I’ve never felt guilty, and I’ll show you why.”
And before she knew what she was doing, she opened her purse and pulled out a picture. The picture. The photo of Bud, the woman, and the baby.
Adam took it slowly, searching Jenna’s face with his eyes before looking down at the photograph. His voice was quiet as he asked, “Where did you get this?”
Jenna stared at the photo in his hands, astonished at what she’d just done. She’d shown the photo to Adam. It was out now, out in the open. There was no going back.
“I found it on the morning Bud died.” She allowed herself a bitter smile as she explained how she’d discovered it in his drawer. “I was going to ask him about it when he came home, but he never did.”
He was silent for a long moment. “And you’ve kept this photo ever since?”
She fiddled with the skirt of her dress, folding the soft cotton fabric between her fingers. “I couldn’t bring myself to throw it away. I’ve been carrying it in my pocketbook for five years. Every day I’ve thought about burning it, but every day I’ve found a reason not to do it.”
“Do Bill and Kitty know about this?”
Her head snapped up and she stared at him. “No, of course not. I’d die before I’d show that picture to them. I don’t ever want them to know that Bud was…unfaithful.” Her lips trembled as she spoke the last word.
“Unfaithful?” Adam looked at her as if she were crazy. “Bud was never unfaithful to you a day in his life. He loved you, more than anything or anyone. Is that what you think this means?”
“What else?” Jenna reached out and pointed to the faces on the photograph. “That’s Bud’s mistress, and that’s their baby.” She gave an ungraceful shrug, intended to show how little the idea upset her.
Adam reached out and grabbed her arm, shaking it for emphasis. “Listen to me.” He took a breath. “This is a photo of Denny’s girlfriend. And the baby? It’s Denny’s child.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“WHAT?” JENNA SNATCHED THE PHOTO BACK from him, looking it over with new eyes. She heard a rushing in her ears, like the sound of water coursing swiftly against dry rock.
Adam continued, “The woman’s name is Maya Sinclair. She and Denny were going to be married after he got back from Mexico. He’d wanted to marry her for over a year, but well — she’s not white, and he was afraid to tell Bill and Kitty about her. They’re good people, of course, but Denny said that you never can tell how folks will react. He didn’t even know Maya was pregnant when he went to Mexico. The baby was born six months after Denny died.”
Jenna let Adam’s words wash over her like waves in the ocean. At first she wasn’t sure that she understood what he was telling her. But then slowly, the facts began to penetrate. The woman wasn’t Bud’s mistress. Bud hadn’t been unfaithful. Denny had a child that Bill and Kitty didn’t know about.
Bill and Kitty had a grandchild — a real, actual, flesh-and-blood grandchild.
And for five years, Jenna had been blaming her husband for a sin he had never committed.
Anger seized her, cold and biting. It was anger at her own self. For doubting Bud, for accusing him in her mind, for rejecting him in her heart.
She took her rage and turned it outward, aiming at the only available target. “Adam, you knew about this? How could you not tell me?”
Adam had been watching her closely with concern, but he clearly hadn’t been expecting the reaction she gave him. He threw up his hands. “Why would I tell you? What good would it have done?”
“What good?” She couldn’t believe her ears. “For five years I’ve been thinking that my husband was cheating on me!”
“But I didn’t know that! For crying out loud, I had no idea you had this photo.”
“I had a right to know!”
“Fine. But I didn’t have a right to tell you.” He looked away, and Jenna could see his jaw muscles working. “Most of this happened after I joined the Navy. I only met Maya once, when I was home on leave. That’s when I took that picture of her and Bud.”
That made her pause. “You took this?”
“Yes.”
“And did you hold the little boy?”
“I guess I probably did.”
Jenna looked at the faces again — smiling, happy. Even the baby was grinning. A feeling had begun to grow inside her, something damp and unpleasant. She clamped down on it and concentrated on the questions she needed to ask. There were a lot of them. “Why didn’t Bud tell me about this?”
“I have no idea. If I had to guess, I’d say he didn’t want to make things more complicated for anyone.”
It sounded like the truth, but Jenna found she didn’t really care one way or the other. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from that little boy. Denny’s child, she thought with wonder. Bud’s nephew. My nephew. “What’s the baby’s name?”
“Joseph Thomas.”
Jenna mouthed the name to herself. “I have to find them,” she said abruptly.
“What? Why?”
“I have to make sure they’re all right. Bud would want me to.”
Adam shook his head. “I’m not sure if that’s such a good idea, Jen.”
“Well I’m not really interested in your opinion.” Her voice was cold. “Do you know where they are?”
“I probably have the address of her mother’s house somewhere. It’s old, though, and I’m not sure if Maya would still be living there.”
“At least it’s a place to start.” Jenna looked at her watch. “It’s getting late. I’d better get Christopher home.”
Adam reached out and put a finger under her chin. Very slowly, he turned her to face him. “Are you all right?”
The tenderness in his voice made her tremble. Warmth rushed through her, bringing the hot threat of tears. Suddenly she was able to identify the emotion she had experienced when looking at the photo: loneliness.
Denny, Bud, Adam, and herself — Jenna had always thought of the four of them as a unit, a family. But they had shut her out. They had withheld that she had a nephew, that she’d almost had a sister-in-law. And apparently, none of them had thought there was anything wrong with that. Jenna swallowed. “Do you happen to remember where I was when this photo was taken?”
He dropped his hand from her face. “It was a long time ago, but I think maybe you were shopping, or something like that.”
She held the photograph up for him to see. “On the day that you were holding this baby — my nephew — in your arms, I was shopping. And you’re asking me if I’m all right?”
“I take it the answer to that question is ‘no.’” He looked at her coldly, as if he didn’t understand her at all.
Of course, how could he? She didn’t understand herself, or anything that was going on. Cracks were appearing in the crystal ball that she called her life, and it was all she could do right now to hold it together. She stood up.
“Jen, wait.” Adam jumped to his feet. “Don’t go away mad. I’m sorry. I know this has been a lot to take in, and I know you’re upset, but — ”
“But you don’t know why,” she said miserably, finishing his thought for him. “And I have no idea how to explain it to you.”
Jenna turned and called to Christopher that it was time to go. He trotted toward her willingly, with the tired but happy pace of a child who has had a very satisfying day.
Adam looked around wildly, as if he were searching for something, anything, which could make her stop and listen. He must have found it, because he leaned forward and spoke intently. “Jenna, do you see that fountain over there? It has three f
igures carved on it. Do you know what they represent?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. “The Sea, the Stars, and the Wind.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”
“There was a time when I thought that those three things were enough to make me happy. Because you were Bud’s girl then, Jenna, and there was no way I could have you.”
“Oh, and now that Bud’s dead, you’re ready to claim what you’ve always wanted?” Her voice was thick with contempt. “And I should just forget everything that’s happened? Everything that you’ve kept from me?”
Adam stood still, frustration radiating off him. “I can only apologize so many times.”
“I told you before, I don’t want apologies,” she snapped. She lowered her voice as her son approached. “Or your declarations of love and longing.”
“Then what do you want?”
Jenna grabbed Christopher’s hand. She had to make a concerted effort not to grip his little fingers too tightly. “I want my family,” she said. Her eyes fell to her son, and her free hand stole to her pocketbook, where the photograph was once again safely stored. “Whatever’s left of it.”
She turned and started away.
“Bye, Uncle Adam!” Christopher called, trotting agreeably by her side.
Jenna stopped and looked back over her shoulder, at the tall man who stood alone on the path. Pain squeezed her heart, and her eyes filled with tears. “And I’ll always be Bud’s girl, Adam. Always.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
LATER, JENNA REGRETTED WALKING AWAY SO quickly. It soon occurred to her that Adam was the only person who could tell her where Maya Sinclair had lived. But after dismissing him so thoroughly at the park, she couldn’t possibly go back to him and ask for his help.
But as it turned out, she didn’t have to ask.
Jenna sat in her car and looked up at the house where Maya Sinclair had once lived. This neighborhood was an older one, probably built around the same time as Arlington Forest. It was quiet, with wide streets and tall trees. It looked as though it would be a good place for her nephew to grow up.
