Ascension of Larks

by Rachel Linden

  Maggie winced, her hopes plummeting in disappointment. She should have known it was too good to be true. She must be losing her edge. She was too close to the subjects, and it had compromised her objectivity.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, her tone resigned. “I just thought—”

  “Ah, ah, I’m not quite finished,” Alistair said, interrupting her. She imagined him sitting back in his leather Eames chair in his office, finger raised as though lecturing a naughty child.

  “Now, the really mad thing is—and I’ve checked with a few others at the agency, just to see if we all agreed—the really mad thing is those little point-and-shoot photos are brilliant! You’ve done it, Magdalena. No glass walls this time. You are right in there with the blood and guts and viscera of this family. And that’s what makes it work.”

  “Because they’re my family,” Maggie murmured, her heart swelling like a helium balloon. Alistair wasn’t listening.

  “Now, of course, the series needs work. Some of the shots aren’t nearly strong enough, but honestly, Magdalena, I’ve never seen anything quite like it, not from you. They’re certainly not your most polished photos, but I’ve been following the Regent competition for years, and in my opinion, with this madcap little exhibition, you might just have an outside shot. You can at least hold your head up and not be ashamed to enter. And considering that a few hours ago we all thought you had bloody nothing, well, that’s pretty near miraculous.”

  Maggie disconnected the call and sat for a moment, stunned. She could still enter the Regent. She still had a chance to win. She spent the remainder of the shuttle ride and the ferry crossing to Friday Harbor in a euphoric daze. How was it possible? Just days ago she’d felt as though she’d lost everything in the world. And now she felt as though she’d been given it back again.

  When the taxi dropped her off at the house after dinnertime, she didn’t tell anyone about the call with Alistair. She would need Lena’s permission to use the photos for the competition, but at that moment there was only one person she wanted to share the good news with, someone who could understand. Maggie had not seen Daniel since the night of the beckoning ceremony. Lena’s awakening and recovery had occupied the last week completely. But she had been thinking of him.

  After checking on Lena and the children, who were all curled up together on the couch in the family room watching a Disney movie, Maggie invented an errand in Roche Harbor and borrowed the Volvo.

  “I’ll be back before dark,” Maggie told Ellen as she went out the door. She slid into the driver’s seat, feeling a thrill of anticipation at the thought of seeing Daniel.

  When she told him the good news, he didn’t react as she’d expected. He was sitting on the single bed, facing her as she sat in the one hard chair. He watched her, his expression oddly wistful. He looked disheveled, unshaven, his hair hanging around his face. Was he eating? He looked thinner, more depressed.

  “That’s great,” he said a little flatly. “You deserve the chance. You’re very talented.”

  Maggie shook her head. He was missing the point. “It’s not just about that,” she said, trying to put it into words. “A week ago I thought I’d lost everything. It felt like the end of the world. I thought my life was over.” She spread her hands in surprise. “But now look. Lena’s going to make a full recovery. I still have a shot at the Regent. And Marco, well, I lost Marco a long time ago. It just took me awhile to realize it. I think everything’s going to be okay.” She looked at Daniel, her eyes bright with the unexpected turn of events.

  Daniel nodded, staring at the floor. “I’m happy for you.”

  Maggie sat back, disappointed. “I thought you’d be encouraged.”

  Daniel looked up, meeting her eyes. “Why? What does it have to do with me?”

  Maggie hesitated, grasping for the right words. She thought of Griffin, sitting on the driftwood log spitting cherry pits into the surf, of what he’d said when she told him why she needed a miracle. “A friend told me once that no sacrifice goes unrewarded, that we have to keep doing the right thing, even though it isn’t easy. He said in the end all will be well. He told me not to lose hope. I didn’t believe him at the time.”

  “And do you now?” Daniel asked, his tone skeptical.

  “I think I’m starting to,” Maggie said slowly, thinking of the past week. She could not have imagined how things would take a turn for the better. Not everything, but it was a start.

  “Daniel, this isn’t just about me,” Maggie insisted. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. We all have a choice. When the hard things happen in life, we can choose to curl up and die, or we can choose to do the best we can, take the next step forward, and hope for the best. Do you see what I’m saying?” She leaned forward, trying to press her meaning home to him with every word, trying to show him that in the midst of his own struggle he still could choose. “Daniel, maybe it’s not too late. Maybe you can still set things right.” She stared at him, willing him to grasp her meaning.

  “I can’t fix what I’ve done,” he said, sounding final. He didn’t look at her.

  “Have you tried?” she asked in exasperation, glancing around the sparsely furnished room. “You’re an amazingly talented poet, but you don’t even own a pen. I know you grieve for Kate and Eli every day, but have you tried to make things better? Have you even called them?”

  Daniel didn’t respond. Maggie leaned forward, on impulse laying her hand on his knee. She could feel the muscles of his thigh tense under her fingers in surprise. “Don’t give up,” she urged, trying to get him to understand, to see there might be hope in even the darkest hour. “You have to at least try.”

  Daniel’s head snapped up at her words, his eyes fierce. Snatching her hand away, Maggie shrank back in the chair, startled by his sudden anger. He jumped to his feet, moving away from her, putting distance between them. He stood at the window, staring out at the sea. His voice was harsh when he spoke.

  “You think buying a pen will make up for all the mistakes I’ve made? You come in here with your good news and your little morality tale. What do you want me to do, run back to New York and see if I can put all the pieces back together?” He whirled on her, his expression dark. “Well, I can’t. Maybe you forgot the details. There was a divorce and a little boy locked away inside himself and too much alcohol and a lot of pain. I ran away from all of it, Maggie. I didn’t make the right decisions, any of them. And then, after I’d run as far as I could, I tried to kill myself, and another man died instead because of me.” He stared at her for a long moment, eyes burning. “That’s why my story will never turn out like yours, Maggie. Because even when things were darkest, even when it cost you everything, you chose to do the right thing. I didn’t, not once.”

  When he spoke again his voice was heavy with self-loathing. “I tried to run away from everything, even my own life, and now I’m paying the price. All I’ve done in the past year is screw up everything I’ve touched. It’s too late for me.” He dropped his head, his dark hair falling in a curtain around his face, all the fight going out of him in an instant.

  “Marco’s drowning was an accident,” Maggie said, wincing at the trite sound of her words, knowing as she spoke that he would not listen. She didn’t know how to make him see what she could see, the possibility of a better ending for him.

  “It was my fault,” Daniel said, his tone low and determined. “It’s all my fault, every single mistake that hurt Katherine and Eli and Marco, especially Marco. I was trying to end my own life, and I cost another man his life instead. I can’t forgive myself for that.” He looked up at Maggie helplessly. “Do you know what it’s like to watch a man drown?” he asked.

  Maggie stared at him for a long moment. “Yes,” she replied simply, with a mixture of pity and regret. “I’m watching one right now.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  LIFE QUICKLY SETTLED INTO A COMFORTABLE routine. Lena was recovering rapidly but was still weak and sometimes forgot the most basic thing
s—how to operate the hair dryer, the name of a classical piece on the radio. She spent most of each day on the deck in a cushioned, reclining Adirondack lounge chair, an afghan over her legs to ward off the chill from the water.

  Gabby and Luca bounded about like puppies, giddy with the joy of having their mother back. Even Jonah began to emerge from his shell. He smiled more often and even entered into conversations voluntarily at times. The children spent hours at one of the island parks or on their own rocky beach with either Maggie or Ellen, racing home to proudly show Lena their treasures—a colored stone, an empty snail shell, bits of dried kelp, or a lozenge of sea glass. Once Jonah found an abandoned skylark’s nest, the little woven basket empty. He brought back the nest and shyly presented it to Lena, who kept it on the side table by her chair on the deck. The nest reminded Maggie of Daniel. She had not heard from him or seen him since leaving the cabin after their last conversation. She ran her fingers lightly over the rim of the nest, recalling what he told her about skylarks and trying not to think about their last, disastrous encounter.

  Maggie still had not told Lena about the call from George or about the Regent and her imminent return to Chicago. She’d wheedled another week from Alistair, who was far more amiable now that Maggie had such a good start on a promising entry. Every day Maggie found a reason to wait to tell Lena. Lena was still so weak, Maggie reasoned. It wasn’t fair to burden her just yet. Maggie knew she would have to speak to her soon. The deadline for both the loan and the Regent entry loomed larger every day, but still she procrastinated, not wanting to shatter the peace and joy of Lena’s return. Instead, she savored each day, the hours slipping by soft and sweet, knowing they wouldn’t last.

  Lena and Maggie didn’t speak again about Marco and Lena’s intended separation. What Lena had confided to Maggie at the hospital had fundamentally changed the shape of Maggie’s world. It had toppled Marco from the golden pillar she had put him on. She’d held on to an illusion for so long that it was a strange sensation to see clearly now. She found her senses sharper, brighter, more in tune with the world around her. She noticed things she wouldn’t have before. The way Lena would absently touch the empty place where her wedding band had been, then draw her hand back quickly as though the skin burned her fingers. How in quiet moments her gaze would drift out to the Strait, and for a brief second her face would be etched with a mixture of sadness and regret, and her mouth would soften with a bittersweet memory.

  Griffin visited more frequently now, dropping by almost daily. Maggie noticed a delicate flush in Lena’s cheeks when he was near. She saw how Griffin leaned forward beside Lena’s deck chair, elbows on his knees, playing with the kids or drinking coffee with Ellen, but always tilted a little bit toward Lena, the very polarity of his body drawn to her.

  Maggie watched their growing intimacy with a mix of bittersweet feelings. Lena was her best friend, and Maggie wanted her to be happy, but so much had changed so quickly. It was hard to imagine Lena with anyone other than Marco, but Maggie understood now that though Marco and Lena had shared a life together and born three wonderful children, in the end it had not been enough. The parts of Marco’s soul no one could touch had been the hollow spaces of longing and ambition, of solitude and desire, the places that spoke most loudly, beckoned with an irresistible siren song that drowned out the face of his wife, the voices of his children. He’d been no monster, but neither had he been the paragon she’d always imagined him to be. He’d been a brilliant and conflicted and ultimately selfish soul, torn by what he wanted and could never quite attain—peace, triumph, a rest from the fire in his belly that drove him to succeed.

  He and Maggie had shared a bond, one she had clung to for far too long and believed to be stronger than anything else, even his love for Lena. She could not say whether that was true, but true or not, it no longer mattered. What mattered now was what Marco left behind—a handful of brilliant structures, his mark on the world, and a beautiful wife and family. They were his legacy too. In the end he thought he didn’t want them, but whether or not he realized it, they were his greatest contribution to the world.

  Maggie watched as Griffin performed a silly magic trick for Gabby, whistling a tune as he pulled a quarter from behind her ear. Gabby giggled, and Lena laughed as well, her face serene as she turned to Griffin.

  Enjoy this while you can, Maggie thought, taking a mental snapshot of the scene, knowing she’d be leaving soon. This cannot last. It made her feel wistful and a little sad, watching them. How many evenings had she sat with Lena and Marco in this very place, watching the light fade over the water and simply enjoying being together? Too many to remember. So many she couldn’t single one out from all the others. What had they done the last night they’d been together? Eaten Lena’s blackberry cobbler or sipped hot cocoa? Played Texas Hold’em or listened to music on the radio while they watched the stars wink to life in the night sky? Whatever they had done, it must have been easy and comfortable. She knew they had enjoyed those long, last golden moments, oblivious to the fact that they had run out of time.

  Maggie swallowed hard against the tiny flutter of panic deep in her stomach when she thought of the future. It seemed almost inevitable that they would lose the yellow house; even if she won the Regent, the cash prize would come too late for the ninety-thousand-dollar loan payment due soon. The thought brought such a sense of loss. Maggie wasn’t ready to say good-bye to the place that had been her refuge and security. If they lost the island house, where would she find a home? Was there room for Maggie in Lena and the children’s New York life? What if Lena married again? Would there still be a place for an old friend like Maggie, such a vivid reminder of a past that had offered such sorrow?

  Maggie could not imagine a future without Lena and the children in it. They were her family, her home. She had been willing to give up everything for them, and she would again if she needed to. But so much seemed uncertain now. She had no idea what would happen next. It was out of her control. Maggie tried not to dwell on thoughts of the future. Her mother had always told her worrying was like trying to run a race while sitting in a chair. It was useless. But she felt the cold little fingers of worry creeping up her spine at the most unexpected moments.

  When the box came, they were not expecting it. Lena was upstairs napping. The kids were with Griffin at a children’s day camp at Blessed Redeemer in Friday Harbor, and Ellen was up to her elbows in bread dough. When the doorbell rang, Maggie answered it. The postman handed her a square Priority Mail Express cardboard box. It was surprisingly heavy.

  “Package for Lena Firelli. Sign here, please.” Maggie signed for the package and carried it into the kitchen, setting it on the counter without paying much attention to it. She’d give it to Lena when she woke from her nap.

  Ellen paused from her kneading and cocked her head. “What’s that?”

  Maggie shrugged. “The postman said it’s for Lena.”

  “Oh, I bet it’s that Pyrex mixing bowl I asked Ernie to send to me, but he probably addressed it to Lena instead of me. I had an extra one in a nice blue color and I thought I’d give it to Lena as a get-well present.” Ellen nodded to the package. “Go ahead and open it. I want to wrap it up nice and give it to her.”

  Armed with a pair of scissors, Maggie had the package open in a matter of seconds. She pulled out the bubble wrap, then lifted a silver jar with a lid.

  “It’s not a mixing bowl,” she said slowly.

  Ellen put her hands on her hips and surveyed the jar, puzzled. “Well now, what do you think it is?”

  Maggie lifted the lid and stared at the contents for a moment. The jar was filled with a fine, gritty, gray dust. Ashes.

  She checked the outside of the box, immediately spotting what she had missed before—the black sticker to the side of the address slip that stated “Cremated Remains” in bold white letters. The return address label was for a crematorium on the mainland.

  She looked up at Ellen, eyes widening in sudden comprehension. “I
t’s Marco.”

  “Auntie Maggie, Auntie Maggie, there’s a letter on the altar and it’s for you,” Gabby shouted, barreling onto the deck where Maggie and Lena were sitting, enjoying the late-afternoon sunshine. Luca and Jonah followed close at her heels.

  “It’s got your name on it,” Luca told her breathlessly, skidding to a halt by her chair and holding out a brown envelope.

  Maggie reached for it. Made from a brown paper grocery bag, the envelope felt light, almost empty. She immediately knew who it was from.

  “What is it?” Luca asked. The children ringed her, avid with curiosity.

  “I’m not going to open it right now,” Maggie said, stalling. She had no idea what was in the envelope and wanted to be alone when she opened it. “Maybe later.”

  They protested loudly but she wouldn’t budge. At last they gave up and filed off the deck, grumbling.

  Lena eyed the envelope. “How mysterious. I wonder what it is.”

  Maggie shrugged. Lena didn’t know anything about Daniel, and Maggie intended to keep it that way. She told herself she was protecting Lena, that finding out about Daniel might be upsetting because of the part he played in Marco’s death. This was partly Maggie’s motivation, but the other part was something she didn’t examine closely. She wanted to keep Daniel hidden until she figured out what her feelings were about him. He was a puzzle she wanted to decode privately.

  A few minutes later she excused herself from the deck and slipped upstairs to her bedroom, shutting the door behind her and locking it. She slid her finger under the flap of the envelope. A single thin slip of paper was inside. She pulled it out and froze in astonishment. It was a check made out to Lena Firelli for ninety thousand dollars. And it was signed by Daniel C. Wolfe.