After the guardianship question was resolved, Ellen had decided against having Ernie come out to the island. She and Maggie determined that if Lena was not awake in the next few weeks, Ellen would fly home to Minnesota for a visit, and they would reassess the situation after that. Neither of them liked to think too far ahead. A future without Lena was a frightening prospect, but the reality was that Ellen could not stay on the island forever and that Maggie was, at least until Lena awoke, responsible for the children.
It had taken almost two hours to leave the house. Maggie had loaded up the kids, her camera, the picnic basket Ellen packed with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, apples, and marshmallow treats, and Sammy with his leash and doggie bowl for water. She’d looked at the rental car, stuffed to the gills with kids, dog, and supplies, and sighed ruefully. Gone were the days of slipping through crowds in solitary, compact precision. There was nothing small or simple about life with children, she was quickly discovering.
They’d arrived at the park at low tide. For most of the morning they explored the tide pools at the base of the craggy black cliffs, the kids scrambling down to the water’s edge to find treasures in each new crevice and eddy. Sammy followed at their heels while Maggie lagged a little behind, photographing their joy and excitement. Even Jonah seemed to be enjoying himself, smiling when a crab, threatened by Luca’s stick, brandished his claw, grabbed the end of the stick, and wouldn’t let go.
Eventually the children tired of the exploration and settled on a rock promontory jutting out into the water, hungry and ready for lunch. Maggie retrieved the picnic basket and doled out the sandwiches, boxes of organic grape juice, and apples. Sammy flopped down beside Maggie, tail wagging, his long tongue lolling out of his mouth. She gave him a couple of dog treats Ellen had stashed in with their lunch, and he happily crunched them, licking the crumbs off the rock.
The day was cool and sunny, with a breeze off the ocean. Maggie sat on a flat rock and munched her crisp apple, enjoying the moment of peace. No one else ventured down onto the rocks. Above them the cliff path was littered with little clumps of people, tourists and islanders alike. Some snapped photos in front of the picturesque white-and-red lighthouse on the point to the north, while others sat at picnic tables, watching for the resident pods of orca whales that often visited to feast on salmon in the deep kelp beds near the shore.
Two kayakers maneuvered their kayaks around the lighthouse and silently glided by a few minutes later, waving at the children as they passed. The sea was calm, lapping gently against the black rocks speckled with barnacles and algae. With low tide came the smell of rotting kelp baking in the sun. A harbor seal popped its head from the water, looked around for a moment, and glided back under the surface. Taking the opportunity of a few minutes of calm, Maggie set aside her apple core and assumed the Lotus pose, centering herself, breathing slowly and relaxing. For now, for this moment, she felt peaceful. She closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her eyelids.
“Hey, look!” Luca cried excitedly. Maggie blinked, following the direction of his finger. A black fin broke the surface of the water a hundred yards out. They waited, and a few seconds later the creature appeared again. This time it arced from the water, and they could see more of it.
“Is that an orca?” Maggie got to her feet, shading her eyes with her hand, trying to see better. It had the same black-and-white coloring, but the fin was short. The creature was far smaller than the orcas that frequented these waters. It was bigger than a human, certainly, but would be dwarfed by the huge orcas.
“No, it’s just a Dall’s porpoise,” Jonah corrected her, shrugging. “We see them all the time. That one looks like a boy porpoise. Boys are bigger and thicker.” He looked bored and took a bite of his sandwich.
“Look, it’s coming to see us,” Gabby called excitedly.
The porpoise was rapidly closing the distance between them. It seemed headed straight for the rocks where they stood. Luca and Gabby scrambled to their feet, watching as the porpoise dove out away from the rocks and then doubled back again. He was fast and agile, cutting a swath through the water like a speedboat.
“He’s saying hello.” Gabby giggled, waving at the creature. It doubled back again, swimming closer to them. Maggie had never seen anything like the creature’s behavior. It was common to see whales and seals and porpoises in the waters around the island, but she’d never seen one come so close. Sammy, on high alert, ran to the edge of the rocks, barking and growling.
“Look, it’s hurt.” Gabby pointed. When the porpoise surfaced again, even closer this time, Maggie caught a glimpse of its left side above its flipper, the shining black flesh crossed with a thick white scar, probably the result of a long-ago run-in with a boat propeller.
Luca tentatively called to it. “Hi, porpoise. Want an apple?” He tossed his apple core into the water.
“They don’t eat apples, just fish and stuff like that,” Jonah said scornfully. With a sigh, he got to his feet and joined them. He crossed his arms, but his eyes never left the porpoise as it veered back and forth around their pile of rocks, the fan of its tail making a V of white in the dark-blue water.
“That’s funny.” Gabby laughed as the creature dove and then arced out of the water again and again. “I think he likes us.”
Maggie joined the children, and together they watched the porpoise’s antics. Maggie was puzzled by its proximity. Was there something wrong with the animal?
“Aunt Maggie.” Jonah turned to her, his voice low. His eyes were solemn. “Do you think it’s the sign?”
Maggie looked at him blankly for a moment, trying to follow his train of thought. “The sign?”
“You know,” he prompted, keeping his voice down and his eye on the porpoise. “From the ceremony.”
“The beckoning ceremony,” Maggie said, understanding dawning. “The sign that your dad has found his way home?”
He shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.” He scuffed at the rock with the toe of his tennis shoe.
Maggie was at a loss for how to answer. “I don’t know. What do you think?” she asked finally.
He shrugged again. He squinted at the creature as though trying to determine its motives. It played in the water for a few more minutes, then suddenly leapt high from the surf, its body sleek and shining as spray flew from its path. Then it dove down below the surface and cut a straight path out to sea. It did not return. They watched it until it was just a speck against the horizon.
“It’s probably just a stupid idea,” Jonah said.
Gabby bounded over to them, grinning widely. “He wanted to be friends,” she cried excitedly.
“It sure looked like that, didn’t it, sweetheart?” Maggie ruffled Gabby’s curls. “Everybody ready to pack up? Or do we have room for marshmallow treats first?”
“Marshmallow treats,” a chorus of voices affirmed. She doled out the sticky bars. Sammy patrolled along the water’s edge, on guard for any more wildlife.
The children sat down again on the rocks, devouring their treats, the porpoise seemingly forgotten, but Maggie kept glancing out to sea. The conversation with Jonah had made her oddly uneasy. The notion was ludicrous. There was no rational way to explain how a burnt feather and some perfume had summoned a sea creature from the ocean. But she thought of the early occupants of San Juan Island, those hardy Germans who had traveled so far from their homeland. She thought of them gathering in houses with smoking fires, rain drizzling outside as they waited patiently for a sign, any sign, that those they loved could now rest in peace. She thought of the skylarks they’d brought to the island, birds whose special purpose was to help travelers find their way home.
Maybe it wasn’t so ludicrous after all, just unexplainable. She glanced up. Jonah sat with his marshmallow treat half eaten in his hand, staring out to sea with an unreadable expression. She followed his gaze but saw nothing. The surface of the water was empty now. What had been there was gone.
Sunday afternoon Maggie was help
ing the kids construct a fort in the side yard when Ellen delivered the news. She appeared at the entrance to the fortification, a hodgepodge composed of blankets, lawn chairs, and an old pup tent, looking for Maggie.
“Maggie?”
Hearing her name, Maggie scrambled to the front of the fort, poking her head out in time to see Ellen being challenged by the fort guard, Luca, and his trusty guard dog, played by Sammy wearing an old bandanna tied around his neck.
“Do you know the secret password?” Luca asked Ellen, barring entrance to the fort. Ellen put her hand on her chest. She was out of breath. It looked like she’d run from the house.
“Please?” she said, peering around Luca to try to spot Maggie.
“Nope.” Luca shook his head. As if by magic, Gabby appeared, taking Ellen’s hand. “It’s kangaroo,” she confided.
“Kangaroo. Now let me through,” Ellen said firmly.
Jonah poked his head out of the other side of the tent, eyeing Gabby with disgust. “You can’t go giving the password to everybody,” he admonished her. “That’s why we have a password, to keep people out.”
Ellen glanced at the children, who were arguing over who would guard the gate next. “Kids, there’re lemonade and fresh oatmeal cookies on the back deck,” she called. As if by magic, all bickering ceased immediately as the children abandoned their posts in favor of snacks.
“Maggie?” Ellen called again as Maggie struggled out of the fort and stood, brushing grass from her clothes. “What is it?” Maggie asked, sobering at the look on Ellen’s face.
Ellen glanced toward the deck, but the children were well out of earshot.
“The hospital called,” Ellen said, taking a deep breath. “Lena’s awake.”
Lena’s eyelids fluttered, and Maggie leaned forward in the hard hospital chair, heart in her throat. This was it. What if Lena opened her eyes and didn’t recognize her? What if she’d suffered brain damage? Would she have to learn to walk and talk again, relearn the names of her children, rediscover that her husband was dead? It was a terrible thought. What if Lena didn’t remember Marco’s accident?
Maggie had caught the next flight to Bellingham as soon as Ellen delivered the news. She and Ellen had agreed to say nothing to the children until they knew more about Lena’s condition.
Maggie carefully took Lena’s hand, eyes fixed on her face. For a few long minutes nothing happened. Lena lay as still as stone. And then, very gently, Maggie felt Lena’s fingers curl around her own and squeeze for a second. She stared at their joined hands, at those long, pale pianist’s fingers curved over her own slender brown ones. When Maggie looked up, Lena’s eyes were open; Lena was looking at her.
“Hey,” Maggie said softly. Lena smiled, closed her eyes, and slipped back into sleep. Maggie waited a few moments, then went into the hall to call Ellen with the little bit of news. She peeked back into the room. Still sleeping. She checked in with the nurse on duty, listened to the report that said nothing more than what she already knew. Lena was awake. No details on her condition. They were waiting for some test results, and Dr. Yamamoto would be by to talk with her later. Maggie grabbed a cup of terrible coffee and a newspaper, and went back to Lena’s room to settle in for the long haul.
She was antsy, unable to concentrate on anything for more than a few minutes. She got up and sat back down, trying to read the world news, then got up again and paced the hall. The wait was excruciating. Two hours later Lena woke again. Maggie was sitting in the chair, staring out the window, the newspaper open in her lap.
“Maggie?” Lena croaked, bringing Maggie out of her reverie with a start. She turned to find Lena’s eyes on her, clear and calm.
She knows my name, Maggie thought, reassured by that one word.
Lena tried to clear her throat and winced. “Thirsty,” she said hoarsely.
Maggie called the nurse, who gave Lena a few chips of ice. “I’ll let Dr. Yamamoto know Mrs. Firelli is awake,” the nurse said, keeping her voice low and darting a look at Lena. “Try not to excite or agitate her.” And then she whisked from the room. Maggie sank back in the chair by Lena’s bed. Lena’s mouth turned down in frustration as she clumsily tried to scoop an ice chip from the little bowl on her tray. “My fingers don’t work,” she complained. “What happened?”
“Here, let me help you.” Maggie scooped up a few chips, and Lena opened her mouth obediently, like a baby bird. “You had a car accident,” Maggie said, choosing her words carefully. “And you hit your head. You’ve been unconscious for a while.”
Lena stared at her, digesting the information. “How long?”
“About three weeks. A little more.” Those weeks had felt like a lifetime.
Lena gasped as though suddenly recollecting something and struggled to raise herself up on her elbows. “Where are my children?” She looked around the room, panicked.
“They’re fine. They’re fine,” Maggie assured her hastily, putting her hand on Lena’s shoulder, trying to calm her. The bones beneath her fingers were slight and sharp. Lena had lost weight. “They’re with Ellen right now, using all the patio furniture to build a fort in the yard.”
“They’re okay? Are you sure?” Lena looked worried.
“They’re just fine,” Maggie assured her again. “They weren’t in the car with you. They were at home watching Mary Poppins with me.”
Lena frowned, her forehead creased in concentration. “So . . . what happened?”
“You crashed the Volvo and hit your head. You’re at St. Joseph’s in Bellingham.”
Lena processed the information for a long moment, then nodded and sank back into her pillow. She closed her eyes again. Maggie carefully set the bowl on the bed tray, thinking Lena had fallen back to sleep. Suddenly Lena’s eyes flew open. She grabbed Maggie’s wrist in a surprisingly firm hold. “I want to see them,” she demanded. “I want to see my children.”
“Of course.” Maggie gently extricated herself and tucked Lena’s hand back under the blanket. “But first we have to talk to your doctor. I promise I’ll bring them as soon as he gives the okay.”
“Are you sure they’re all right?” Lena asked again, an edge of panic in her voice.
“They’re fine. Absolutely fine. They miss you, but we’ve taken good care of them. Here, look. This is what we did yesterday.” Maggie quickly grabbed her camera from her bag and flipped through a few photos of the children at the beach.
Lena studied the screen intently, then nodded, satisfied, and closed her eyes. A moment later she had drifted back to sleep. Maggie rubbed her wrist, feeling the imprint of those strong fingers. Lena had not asked about Marco. How much did she remember?
Chapter Twenty-Three
THE REUNION THE NEXT MORNING WAS A JOYOUS one. Ellen packed the kids into the rental car and took the ferry to the mainland, arriving at the hospital before lunch. The children bunched together in the doorway, hanging back, a little shy. Lena sat up eagerly when she heard her children’s voices.
“It’s okay,” Maggie encouraged them. “Your mom’s awake, see?”
When Gabby saw her mother, she clambered onto Lena’s bed and wrapped her arms around her neck. Luca and Jonah held back, their faces suffused with a heartbreaking mixture of fear and hope.
“Come here, come here, my boys.” Lena motioned them to her side. “Jonah, Luca, come here.” Hearing their names, the boys’ faces brightened and they eagerly crowded around the bed. Lena gathered the boys close with one arm while she cradled Gabby with the other.
“Your brain waked up,” Gabby murmured, touching her mother’s forehead. “It waked up for real, right? It’s not gonna go back to sleep?”
Lena pressed her closer and stroked her hair. “No, my brain isn’t going to go back to sleep. It just had to rest for a while, but it’s fine now. Everything’s going to be okay.”
Maggie saw Jonah’s shoulders slump with relief. What a weight he had been carrying. It wasn’t gone, but it had eased markedly when his mother called his name.
Ellen moved to the side of the bed and embraced Lena, pressing her niece against her chest.
“It’s good to have you back, dear,” she said, her voice suddenly clogged with emotion. Stoic Ellen, who had held them all together with her practical, competent care and homemade baked goods, looked vastly relieved to see Lena awake and coherent. She wiped her eyes hastily and stepped back.
“I expect you might be hungry,” she said. “I brought real food, not that swill they give you in hospitals.” She sniffed contemptuously at the congealing bowl of oatmeal lying on the bedside tray. It looked as though Lena had barely touched it.
From a paper grocery bag, Ellen pulled three Tupperware containers and began laying out their contents on the tray. Fresh fruit salad with red raspberries and blueberries, a pecan streusel coffee cake, and a little tub of whipped cream. “We need to fatten you up. You’re all skin and bones,” Ellen clucked, eyeing the knobs of Lena’s wrists, the delicate wings of her collarbone as they rose above the neck of her thin hospital gown.
Maggie watched the family with a profound sense of relief. It was going to be all right. She could sense it. Lena and the kids still had each other, though the grim fact of Marco’s death lurked in the corners of the room, a dark absence, a space hollowed out by loss. That wouldn’t change. She had a feeling they would sense that hollowed space for the rest of their lives. For the moment, however, all their other troubles paled in the light of Lena’s recovery.
Pulling her camera from her bag, Maggie stepped back and focused, taking a few shots of the reunion. Ellen was selecting tasty bits from the containers of food and popping them into Lena’s mouth. Lena laughed as a forkful of berries and whipped cream collided with her nose. Gabby snuggled against her mother’s chest, her little face serene with satisfaction. Luca was sneaking bits of streusel cake when Ellen’s back was turned, and Jonah looked out the window, his young profile both heavy and relieved.
Ascension of Larks Page 24
