When the car stopped, Beth stepped forward to greet her visitor.
Jennifer emerged from the car dressed in an olive green dress and expensive olive green shoes. Her long auburn hair was smooth and lustrous, her green eyes sparkling with excitement. Beth halted. She felt as if her heart stopped entirely for several seconds.
It was the red-haired girl from her painting. The likeness was uncanny.
Jennifer smiled. “Beth, I presume?”
Beth said nothing for a moment, while she tried to recover from the impact of seeing her painting practically come to life before her eyes. Finally, she walked forward, reached out her arms, and said, “Jennifer, it is so good to meet you.”
They hugged briefly, then Jennifer fumbled with her keys and pulled a black suitcase from the trunk.
“Let me take that,” Beth insisted and Jennifer followed her into the house. “I’ll just run this upstairs. Why don’t you have a seat at the kitchen table? I put out a few snacks. You must be starving.”
“Thank you.”
Beth put the suitcase in the studio. She stared at the painting, which she now realized was a portrait of Susan…Jennifer. She pulled it off the wall, turned it around, and tucked it among her art supplies on the opposite side of the room. Then she descended the stairs and fetched the cheese and fruit, along with butter and blueberry jam, from the refrigerator.
“Thank you for inviting me,” Jennifer said, radiating warmth.
“I am so happy you came,” Beth replied, trying not to gawk at the attractive woman she felt she already knew.
“I’m anxious to learn about my mother,” Jennifer said politely, as she selected several crackers and slices of cheese from the array of food laid out before her.
Beth had spent a considerable amount of time trying to decide what she should tell Jennifer and how she should relay the information. She concluded that it was time to stop trying to protect Jennifer. Her obsessive attempts to shelter her when she knew her as Susan had only led to unnecessary deception. The Susan of Beth’s thoughts was merely a baby. The Jennifer who sat before her was a woman over thirty-five years old. She had the right to know the truth. Plus, many elements of the truth would probably come as a relief. And since Beth was fairly certain that Jennifer’s parents did not know they were buying a baby out from under her godparents, Mr. and Mrs. Harrison would not be stained by the true story. It was time, Beth determined, for Jennifer to learn whatever she wished to know about her past.
“I have some information to share with you. But I also have several things to show you, and those things have a precious story to tell all of their own.” She raised her eyebrows playfully.
“Sounds intriguing.”
“First,” Beth said, becoming serious. “There is something I must tell you about your mother’s death.”
Jennifer nodded. “I’m ready.”
“She didn’t commit suicide.”
“She didn’t?”
“No, it was an accident. A car accident.”
Jennifer’s eyes darted around looking at nothing, seemingly lost in her thoughts.
“And the supposed grandmother who gave you away for adoption…”
“Yes?” Jennifer looked at Beth with a pained expression.
“She was not really your grandmother. She tricked your parents. She didn’t even know why your mother had gone missing.”
Jennifer set down her cracker and looked out the kitchen window.
“Your mother did not abandon you,” Beth added, longing to comfort her, this woman whose face hid upstairs amidst her art supplies, this woman who had inadvertently become a part of Beth’s life.
A tear rolled down Jennifer’s face. “Who was that woman? The one who said she was my grandmother?”
“She was Katherine’s…your mother’s, landlady. She assumed your mother had run away or committed suicide, or maybe her conscience found it convenient to believe those possibilities. Anyway, she gave you up for adoption without the permission of your godparents.”
“I had godparents?”
“Yes. Linda and Wyatt Benning. Your mother worked for Mr. Benning. He was a dentist. His wife…I guess she was like the mother Katherine never had.”
“She didn’t know her mother?”
“Her mother died when she was four and a half.”
“Oh,” Jennifer said sadly. She picked out a piece of watermelon and put it on her plate. “Why didn’t this landlady just contact my godparents? Surely it would have been easier. Why did she go to the trouble of arranging an adoption?”
Beth cringed. She didn’t want to say it, but she promised herself she would be honest, no more cover-ups. “Money.”
Jennifer turned her lips in toward her mouth and sighed through her nose. She tapped her finger on the table nervously.
“I’m sure your parents thought they were paying for adoption and funeral expenses.”
Jennifer winced. “Or they wanted me so badly they willed themselves to believe that.”
Beth shrugged. “Perhaps. But that is in the past.”
“They are wonderful people, and they love me very much.”
“I don’t doubt that for a minute. Maybe it was just meant to be.”
Jennifer tossed her a goofy grin. “I’m not sure I believe in all that hocus pocus, but I’ve had a very good life.”
Beth wanted to say you would be surprised by what you might believe if you had been through the summer I’ve been through, but she decided to let it go.
Jennifer picked up the watermelon and continued to eat. “Are my godparents still around?”
“Yes, they live in Bangor. I have their number and they would be overwhelmed with joy if you called or visited them.” Beth imagined the happiness Linda would experience when she heard from her long lost goddaughter. In all her haste and excitement, Beth had forgotten to tell them about Jennifer. Let her call them directly, she thought. It will be the most cherished phone call Linda will ever receive.
Jennifer beamed. “I will.” She selected a bunch of grapes. “Do you know my father?”
“He left your mother when she was pregnant. I have not been able to track him down.”
Jennifer nodded thoughtfully. “Do I have any other relatives I don’t know about?”
Beth took a deep breath. “One. Your maternal grandfather.”
“He’s still alive?”
“Your mother was eighteen when you were born.”
“Right. Why didn’t he try to find me? Did that landlady tell him I was dead or something?”
“He didn’t know about you. Your mother and he were not speaking.”
“Oh.”
“But she was going to patch things up. She tried to see him on the day of the accident,” Beth explained hastily.
“How sad.” Jennifer frowned.
“He lives here in Virginia Point.”
“He does?” she asked, suddenly excited.
“Yes, but I must warn you, he is rather reclusive. He didn’t really want to accept your mother’s death at first. I don’t know how he’ll respond to you.”
“Does he know you found me? Does he even know I exist?”
“He does not know about my search, no. He learned of you only recently. Your mother attempted to write to him, beautiful letters. She really longed to see him again and to become a family, the three of you. But he only got those letters a month ago. I found them at the landlady’s house and gave them to him after the funeral.”
“Do you think he wants to meet me?”
“I honestly don’t know. And I was afraid to ask him. But he’s been calmer lately. I think he really needed to accept and grieve your mother’s death before he could move on. He thought she had run away and just refused to see him all these years.”
“How awful. I can’t imagine.”
Beth looked out the window, sorting through her ideas. She imagined the striking, auburn-haired woman extending a hand to the emotionally injured old man. “But I think meeting you m
ight do him a world of good.”
“I’m a big girl. If he doesn’t want to see me, I won’t take that personally. I grew up with a delightful Pa Pa. He passed away. But I had all the grandfatherly love a girl could ask for.”
“It’s settled then. I’ll introduce you.”
“Now?”
“Oh,” Beth said slowly. “No. I have something else planned for you this afternoon.” She grinned. “Finish up your lunch. It’s an adventure.”
Jennifer took a few quick bites, emptied her glass of water, and stood up. “I’m ready.”
In Jennifer’s smile, Beth saw an enthusiasm for life she had always associated with the author of the diary. It was the mischievousness that she had captured in the painting. Beth looked at the stunning woman dressed in a classy olive green suit that set off her hair and made her eyes sparkle. Then Beth crinkled her brow pensively.
“Do you have any jeans?”
Jennifer laughed. “Where did you put my suitcase?”
Jennifer changed into a pair of faded jeans and new running shoes, and she joined an anxious Beth waiting in the living room. The auburn-haired lady stopped when she saw the photo of herself and her mother on the mantel.
“Is this me?” she asked.
“Yes. And that is Katherine, your mother.”
Jennifer looked longingly at the photo. “May I keep this?”
“Oh…uh…sure, of course,” Beth answered reluctantly. “It’s only a photocopy. Your grandfather has the original.” She secretly hoped that Jennifer would choose not to take it. But Jennifer began to open the clips on the back of the frame. “Keep the frame.”
“Are you sure?”
“I insist.”
“Thanks. Let me just put it with my things.” She ran upstairs.
Beth touched the place where the photo had stood. She became aware of how empty her life had become over the decade that preceded her move to Maine. So much so that she had cherished a photo of two people she did not know. She wondered what she might put in its place, perhaps photos from her old albums – her father, her mother in her later years – or other memories she could frame and enjoy. The passion of the Thompson girls had awakened something inside of her, something she did not wish to return to slumber.
“I’m ready,” Jennifer called as she popped her head into the living room.
“Let’s go.”
Beth grabbed her backpack, which contained a blanket, a bottle of water, and a couple of snacks. She threw it over her shoulder and led Jennifer out the door and into the forest.
“It is magical here,” Jennifer said.
“Oh, the magic has hardly begun,” Beth replied with a playful tone in her voice.
Jennifer laughed and shook her head.
They walked gently through the forest, barely uttering a word. Leaves and sticks crackled beneath their feet. Beth led Jennifer to the cliff that overlooked her mother’s secret beach. “Get down like this,” she instructed, “and scoot to the edge.”
Jennifer did as instructed. “Wow!” she exclaimed when she saw the beach. “Amazing.”
“Now follow me,” Beth said, turning around and shuffling backwards until she found the first foothold. “You may want to watch me first before you try it.”
Jennifer bit her lip. “I’m a little afraid of heights.”
“You and me both. But, believe me, it’s worth it.”
Jennifer watched Beth and then cautiously made the trip on her own. It took nearly twenty minutes, but she made it down. She clutched her hands to her chest and breathed in the fresh air. “Absolutely breathtaking.”
Beth laid out the blanket near the edge of the rocks, hoping the incoming tide would not reach it. She placed the bottle of water and the snacks on one corner. Then she glanced inconspicuously at the handkerchief to confirm that it was still visible.
“Well, you’re on your own.”
“What?” Jennifer replied, bewildered.
“Oh, I almost forgot.” Beth removed the key and chain from her neck and put it over Jennifer’s head. “Welcome to your past.”
Jennifer continued to stare at her with a puzzled expression. “I don’t understand, I—”
“You think you can find the way back?”
“I…uh, I guess so.”
“Okay then, have a nice afternoon.” Beth grinned as she scaled the cliff.
* * * *
Jennifer shook her head and looked around. Then she noticed the little red flag waving, as if extending an invitation. She glanced down at the key around her neck. “Let’s see what’s up there.”
* * * *
Beth was making a mandarin salad with chicken when she heard the door open and close quietly. She saw Jennifer take off the backpack and lay it on the floor. Jennifer retrieved the diary, clutched it to her chest, and walked toward the kitchen. As the young woman approached Beth, her makeup gone and her eyes slightly red, she smiled. “Thank you.”
“I believe it is exactly what your mother would have wanted.”
“Yes. It was fun and sad and moving all at the same time. I’ll remember this day for as long as I live.”
“I’m glad it meant so much to you. I had hoped it would.”
Jennifer pointed nervously toward the door. “I wasn’t able to fit the lockbox in the backpack, with the blanket and all, but I packed up all the wrappings so they wouldn’t litter the beach.”
“No problem. We’ll get it later. Why don’t you come wash up and join me for dinner.”
* * * *
The waning moon did not rise until nearly 10:00 p.m., but the two women sat on lawn chairs in the backyard, sipping wine, as the gibbous orb rose and drifted across the sky. They shared stories – their successes as well as their heartaches. Beth told Jennifer about many of the things she had discovered and investigated since she had moved to Maine. She left out the firefly and touched only briefly on the dreams. She was not sure how the rational young woman would react to such implausible tales. Beth decided it would make more sense to discuss the ghostly encounter when the firefly made an official appearance. Therefore, instead, she focused on the details of finding the diary, meeting Rod Thompson, and hunting down Katherine’s acquaintances. Jennifer seemed to drink up every word as if they were drops of water in the desert.
Jennifer had enjoyed a peaceful childhood in upstate New York. She went to private schools, and she graduated from Columbia with an MBA. She was currently the CFO for a small textiles company in Manchester, New Hampshire.
As the ladies chatted in the moonlight, the firefly sneaked up behind them. Beth saw it from the corner of her eye. She waited for Jennifer’s reaction. Jennifer was talking about her boyfriend, soon to be – she hoped – her fiancé. The firefly flew in graceful circles around the two women, but Jennifer continued to tell her story as if nothing unordinary was occurring.
She doesn’t see you, Beth realized. Why doesn’t she see you?
Beth’s mind drifted away. She tried to focus on Jennifer’s intriguing account, but she was distracted by the firefly who had, by then, come to a complete halt inches from Jennifer’s nose. Jennifer stopped talking suddenly and sighed.
“Anyway, blah, blah, blah. I hope I’m not boring you.”
“Oh…uh, not at all.”
“It is so beautiful here. It is amazing. Isn’t it amazing?” Jennifer gazed out toward the bay. She seemed to look right through the firefly.
“I am still in awe,” Beth replied absentmindedly, her eyes darting between the firefly and Jennifer.
The firefly hovered. Jennifer said nothing.
She can’t see you.
Then, as if it understood, the firefly drifted away, pausing now and again. Beth bit her lip and tried not to cry.
“Are you all right?”
“Yeah.” Beth forced a weak smile. “It’s just been an intense day.”
Jennifer sighed. “Yes, it has. But it’s been perfect. Thank you, Beth. I don’t know how to thank you.”
The
firefly drifted into the forest and slipped out of view.
“Uh…it has been my pleasure, really.”
They gathered the wine glasses and retreated to the house.
* * * *
Five minutes after they had said good night, Jennifer appeared in Beth’s bedroom doorway holding up her portrait.
“What is this?” Jennifer asked sharply.
Beth almost laughed. The two of them, lady and painting, side by side, looking almost like twins. “That’s kind of hard to explain.”
Jennifer walked into the room and propped the painting against Beth’s dresser. “I’m listening,” she said with a slight edge in her voice.
“Ever since the diary, I envisioned that girl. You, I guess. So I painted her.”
“You envisioned this?” Jennifer said, gesturing to the painting.
“Yes. I don’t know how else to explain it. I saw it here.” She pointed to her head. “And I put it there.” She indicated the painting.
“You are a strange woman, Beth LaMonte.”
“Tell me about it.”
The tension broke when Jennifer started laughing. Beth joined her. Jennifer looked back at the painting and shuddered. “Can we keep it in here tonight? It kind of gives me the creeps.”
“Absolutely,” Beth said, still laughing.
“Don’t you think it is weird?”
Weird doesn’t even begin to cover it.
“Kind of psychic or something,” Jennifer said, tapping her finger on her chin.
“I guess so.”
“It is as if you and I and my mother, we’re all connected somehow – through the diary, or through this place.” She walked over to the window and looked into the woodland toward the secret beach. She stared out into the night for several minutes. “I was conceived there.”
“What?”
Beth was lost in her own thoughts. Should she tell Jennifer about the firefly? Should she explain her theory that it is really the ghost of Katherine? It sounded ridiculous even as she considered it. What good would it do to try and convince a no-nonsense woman like Jennifer to believe in something that only Beth could see? She risked losing Jennifer’s trust. Nothing would be gained from it. And Jennifer, who had experienced an eventful day discovering her past, would only find it confusing and disturbing. Beth decided to leave it alone.
Firefly Beach Page 23
