Ascension of Larks

by Rachel Linden

  Maggie pulled the Volvo onto the shoulder of the road in front of Daniel’s cabin in a spray of gravel, the brown envelope with the check inside clutched in one hand. She’d been having an imaginary conversation with him all the way to the cabin.

  “This is insane,” she muttered, waving the check in the air. “You can’t just give someone ninety thousand dollars. What are you thinking?”

  She was both immensely pleased and very irritated with him, and she could not even say why. Maggie slammed the car door and picked her way toward the cabin. It was silent, curtains drawn, door closed. She knocked. No answer. She glanced around. No figure on the rock outcropping. No sign of life at all. She knocked again.

  “Daniel?”

  Silence. Fighting a twinge of unease, she turned the handle, hoping against hope that he had not done something rash. What if he had left the check as penance and then paddled out into the Strait, determined this time to finish what he’d started? She shoved hard against the door, suddenly afraid of what she might find.

  He was gone. The bed was made. His coffeepot and single plate were stacked on the stove. But he was gone. He’d taken his carving tools and the row of little animals that usually lined the window. With a sinking feeling in her stomach, Maggie surveyed the room. All his personal effects and his rucksack were gone too.

  On the table by the window lay a single sheet of lined paper, ragged along one edge where it had been torn from a notebook. On one corner of the paper sat a delicate carved bird, its wings outstretched. She picked it up. A skylark. She rubbed her finger over its smooth head, somehow knowing the little bird was meant for her before she even saw her name. She looked down and read the few scrawled lines.

  Maggie,

  You are finding your way home.

  I have not yet found mine.

  As you can see, I bought a pen.

  —Daniel

  “He’s not coming back,” she whispered. To her surprise she felt tears spring to her eyes. She sat down in the lone chair, clutching the little bird and the brown envelope, overcome with an unexpected hollow sense of loss.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  THE NEXT MORNING MAGGIE CONFESSED EVERYTHING to Lena. She told Lena about George’s phone call and the loan that needed to be paid in full or they would lose the island house. She told Lena about the Regent, about her unexpected opportunity for entry, and what winning would mean for Maggie’s future and the Firellis’ finances. She had already purchased a plane ticket back to Chicago, with Ellen’s assurance she would stay as long as Lena needed her. The flight left in six days. And finally she laid the check in Lena’s lap and told her about Daniel, about his role in Marco’s death, about the guilt he wore like a hair shirt, and about his unexpected act of generosity.

  Lena listened wordlessly as Maggie poured out the entire tale. When Maggie finally ground to a halt, Lena still said nothing. She sat in her deck chair, looking out at the water, roiling silver beneath a bright, cloud-riddled sky.

  “My goodness,” she said finally, drawing a deep breath. “That is extraordinary.” The check from Daniel lay in her lap, the quantity of zeroes, Maggie knew, both unnerving and reassuring. “Of course you can use the photos of us in the competition,” Lena said at last. “What a wonderful opportunity, Maggie. And it’s selfless of you to want to help us this way. Thank you.” She looked down at the check from Daniel. “I’m not even sure what to say about this. What do you think I should do?”

  Maggie considered. “What do you want to do?”

  Lena thought for a long moment. “I don’t know,” she answered, looking surprised. “I think I need a little time to figure that out.”

  The next couple of days passed swiftly. Maggie readied herself to return to Chicago, taking more photos to round out her entry, preparing to return to her old life. She had wanted to leave for so long, but now that she was free to do so, she found herself oddly reluctant to go.

  Alistair was calling her daily, giving her little pep talks and reminding her to hurry home. He was almost jovial, a strange and vaguely disturbing mood compared to his usual droll irony. She had managed to talk him into allowing her to stay almost an extra week by pointing out that she needed additional shots for her Regent submission. He had readily agreed, but warned her not to tarry too long. They had work to do on her submission as soon as she returned to Chicago.

  A few days before Maggie was to leave, Lena broached the topic of the future.

  “I’ve been thinking,” she said, shifting in the Adirondack chair and tucking her feet under a thin crocheted throw. The day was cloudy, the sun peeping fitfully through the gray. It was chilly in the shadow of the deck. Maggie laid the book she’d been reading in her lap.

  “About what?”

  “What comes next for us.” Lena picked at a loose stitch on the throw, tucking it under another to cover the flaw. She glanced over to the side yard where the children were playing Wild Wild West. Gabby and Luca wore bandannas over their faces and were pretending to be outlaws. Jonah was the deputy and carried a shiny silver cap gun in a fake leather holster. They were holed up in their respective forts, preparing for a showdown.

  “I’m going to cash the check from Daniel Wolfe and pay off the loan. And then I’ve decided we’re going to stay on the island.” Lena looked up at Maggie, her expression frank. “I can’t go back to New York. Not now, not alone. It was never my life. I can’t face the house in Brooklyn and the friends there, everything that was Marco’s world. My life was always here. I’m going to try to keep the house and enroll the kids in school in Friday Harbor. We’ll stay through the next school year at least.”

  She looked down at her hands. “Colleagues of Marco’s who were based in Dubai are moving to New York next month. They’re interested in buying our house there. I spoke with George yesterday. If I use Daniel’s money and combine it with the equity we have in the New York house, I’ll be able to pay off most of the debts. The rest we can handle a little at a time. And I will pay you back for the money you lent us when we first discovered this whole mess. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that.”

  Maggie shook her head. “Forget it. Consider it unpaid rent for all the summers I’ve been coming here and freeloading.”

  Lena made a sound of protest, but Maggie waved her objection away. She looked down at the book in her lap, surprised by the feeling of relief that swept over her. Lena was keeping the house and staying on the island. Maggie would still have a home to come back to.

  “Can you afford to do this?” she asked. “What will you live on?”

  Lena brushed the question aside with a wave of her long, pale fingers. “I’ve been thinking about that. Marco had some retirement money in an account through his old firm. I’d forgotten about that until George reminded me. It’s not a lot, but we’ll cash that out. My parents want to help us out as well, as much as they can, anyway. If we’re careful and frugal, I think we could have enough to live on for a couple of years. It isn’t a perfect solution, but it should give me enough time to figure out our next steps.”

  “If you need anything . . .” Maggie didn’t look at her, just left the offer open. She fully intended to make a generous contribution to Lena’s finances if she won the Regent. Even if she didn’t, she could still help ease the financial strain a bit. Her income was generous for a single woman with few financial obligations.

  “I know.” Lena leaned over impulsively and rested her hand on Maggie’s, squeezing gently. “I’ve never doubted that.”

  Maggie didn’t answer, just let Lena hold her hand. The fear that had been constricting her heart for so many weeks loosened a little. She took a deep breath, then another. She had a fleeting impression that everything was somehow being set right, though she couldn’t say how.

  “And what about you?” Lena asked. “Are you excited to be heading back to Chicago?”

  Maggie nodded. “If you and Ellen can manage, I’d like to work for a couple of months and then come back in the fall. I thin
k I can get away then for a few weeks. After I turn in my submission for the Regent.” Maggie glanced quickly at Lena, as though assessing her strength.

  “Of course we can manage.” Lena brushed off her concern. “Ernie’s flying in next week, and he and Ellen are going to stay for at least a month. They’ll be a big help.” Lena squeezed her hand and let go. “We’ll miss you. I know you need to get back to work, but come back when you can, and don’t worry about us. We have a community here now. If we needed anything, Griffin would be here in a few minutes.” She flushed a little. “He’s a great support.”

  Maggie did not pursue the subject of Griffin, though she was tempted to probe a little. She sensed it was an area too new and tender to bring up just yet. Best to leave it for now so it could take shape quietly, away from the spotlight.

  “I’m glad,” she said simply, letting the matter drop.

  Lena nodded. “I am too.”

  Maggie picked up her book again but didn’t start reading. She watched the children playing in the yard. Jonah discharged his cap gun and Luca fell to the ground dramatically, arms and legs splayed out.

  “Maggie,” Lena said after a moment. “Thank you, for everything. I know it wasn’t easy, and I know you made difficult sacrifices for us. I just want you to know how much it means to me.”

  “You would do the same for me,” Maggie responded. “You always have. When my mom died, you were the one who got me through.” She glanced up at Lena, meeting her calm, blue gaze squarely. “I was tempted to leave,” she admitted. “I didn’t know if I could really do what I had to after your accident. But I learned something through all this. Remember what you said to me the night of your piano audition, the one you botched on purpose? We were having an argument about having a purpose in life. I think I accused you of having no ambition.”

  Maggie dropped her gaze, a little embarrassed by the memory. “And you told me that maybe one day I’d want something more than I wanted to be famous. That someday something else might seem more important. And to be honest, I thought you were crazy. I couldn’t imagine wanting anything more than I wanted to succeed.” She shook her head and fell silent for a moment.

  “And now?” Lena prompted.

  Maggie looked up at Lena, then glanced out at the yard, watching the children. “And now I understand,” she said finally. “I love my job. And I dream about winning the Regent. But it isn’t worth it if I don’t have a home and family to come back to. My life can’t be just about what I do, as much as I love it. I need something more. I want something more.”

  Lena smiled, her eyes shining with those words. “I’m so glad,” she said.

  Maggie nodded, staring out across the bluff to the water beyond, glinting like quicksilver in the afternoon light. “When my mom was dying, I asked her if she was sad about going so soon, if she felt like she’d accomplished all she wanted to do. And I remember what she told me.” Maggie paused, her mouth turning up at the corners as she recalled her mother’s words.

  Ana had been bald as an egg, sitting cross-legged on a hospital bed when Maggie asked her the question. She hadn’t hesitated for a second in her response. “She said we just get this one brief life. We don’t know how long it will last. And the most important thing we can do is to use what we have in our hands to care for the people we’ve been given to love. She said she had done two good things in her life. She’d loved me the best she possibly could, and she’d tried to make the world a better place because she’d been in it. She said in the end, that’s all that matters.” Maggie closed her eyes against a sudden prickle of tears.

  Lena reached over and took Maggie’s hand, her fingers cool and smooth. “She was right,” she said simply. They sat together in silence. Maggie was wrapped in memories, thinking of the life she’d lived, of Marco and the long years she had shared with Lena in friendship.

  After a few moments of silence, Lena broached another topic.

  “I’d like to have the memorial service before you leave.”

  “If you feel ready,” Maggie said. The silver urn had been carefully stored on a top shelf in the kitchen, set beside the good lace tablecloth and a tarnished silver tea service.

  “I don’t know if anyone is ever ready for a good-bye like this,” Lena answered, “but I want us to be together when we say it.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  ON A BRIGHT AND CLOUDLESS MORNING, THEY gathered to bid farewell to Marco Firelli. Lena wore her pale-blue suit and high heels and carried the urn filled with Marco’s ashes. Ellen, clad in a white-and-navy-blue floral-print skirt and blazer, had dressed and combed the children into order. The boys, hair parted on the side and slicked down with water, were subdued in their dark suits and shiny shoes. Gabby had picked a handful of wildflowers, which she clutched tightly in her fist.

  Maggie, at a loss for appropriate clothes, had donned the simple black travel dress she carried with her everywhere. It was perfect for the unexpected art gallery opening or evening out, and also, apparently now, for funerals. Griffin roared up to the house on his motorcycle, a black cassock tucked up around his waist, wearing a white collar, looking solemn. He dismounted, rearranged his clothes, then ruffled Gabby’s curls and patted each boy manfully on the back.

  “Are you ready?” Griffin asked, offering Lena his arm. She nodded, tight-lipped, taking his arm with one hand, her other holding the urn tucked firmly against her chest. They headed around the back of the house to the nearby bluff Lena had chosen for the memorial service. Maggie walked beside the children, holding Gabby’s hand. In her other hand Gabby clutched her bouquet, picked “for Daddy’s going-away party.” That was how Lena had explained it to them, as a celebration of their daddy and a chance to say good-bye to him.

  Just at the edge of the Firellis’ yard, the whole party came to a halt. Maggie glanced up, a jolt of shock running through her from head to toe when she saw the man ahead of them in the path.

  Daniel Wolfe stood in front of Lena. Dressed in a simple black suit, he was clean-shaven and his hair had been cut. He looked like the photos Maggie had seen of him from his New York days, a little older perhaps, still with a hint of sadness around his eyes, but strikingly handsome. He was carrying a bouquet of white flowers—a mix of roses and daisies. His gaze strayed for one second to Maggie, his eyes locking with hers, but then he turned to Lena, proffering the bouquet. Maggie thought her heart might fly out of her throat. She couldn’t breathe.

  “Mrs. Firelli, I’m Daniel Wolfe. I’m responsible for the accident that claimed your husband’s life.” He spoke directly to Lena, his attention unwavering, though Maggie could see his hands trembling. How bold he was to do this, but how difficult it must be. It seemed almost foolish for him to have come. Had he known they would be saying good-bye to Marco today?

  “I know who you are,” Lena said evenly. The color had drained from her cheeks. She looked like an alabaster statue, graceful and remote. Griffin moved a little closer to Lena, a protective gesture.

  Daniel nodded once, then pressed on. “Father Griffin told me you were having a memorial for your husband today. I don’t want to intrude, but I came to say how sorry I am—”

  Lena held up her hand. She was wearing short white gloves, just like the day Maggie had met her so many years ago at Rhys.

  “Apologies may be necessary, Mr. Wolfe. And if you feel you owe me one, I will hear it. But please know I hold no blame toward you in my heart. It was an accident, a tragic accident. I know that. I hope you know that.” She spoke calmly, with not even a tremor in her voice. “And while we certainly regret the outcome, we can’t change what happened. There is no blame in this, except perhaps that we cannot see the future and we cannot turn back time.” She smiled a little sadly. Maggie stared at her, in awe of Lena’s grace and absolution.

  Lena continued speaking. “You have a good heart, Mr. Wolfe, and I am grateful for your generosity. We are going to say our good-byes to my husband now. Would you join us?” She reached out and took the flowers fr
om his hand. “I think Marco would have liked that.”

  Daniel nodded wordlessly, then fell in step beside Ellen, who turned and gave him a look of newfound respect.

  Together they finished the short ascent to the bluff. They walked slowly, their shoes kicking up little puffs of dust on the path. Maggie kept her eyes glued to the lean, sober figure in front of her, dark head bent slightly, walking purposefully behind Lena. Something had changed. She could see it in the set of his shoulders. He looked like a man set free. But why? Had he seen Eli, begun writing poetry again, been reconciled to his wife? This was the thought that had been eating at her since his disappearance. What if he went back to his old life in New York and she never saw him again? Or if the next time she saw him it was in the pages of a newspaper, accepting an award, handsome in his tuxedo, his arm around his once-again wife?

  With brutal honesty Maggie acknowledged she was not ready to say good-bye to Daniel Wolfe. Quite the opposite, in fact. It surprised her how glad she was to see him, how her heart rose at the sight of his face.

  They stopped in a grassy open place on the high bluff overlooking the water. A light breeze lifted the hem of Griffin’s cassock and tousled the boys’ slicked-down hair, bringing with it the briny sweet smell of the sea. The sun was ripe and warm, the sky a vivid blue where it touched the darker horizon of the water. Maggie took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of rotting kelp and dusty black rocks, the spice of dry evergreen needles warmed in the sun. It smelled like home. She swallowed hard once, then again, trying to dislodge the tight knot in her throat, composed of equal parts grief and hope. They formed a semicircle facing the water. Maggie held Gabby’s little hand, a trifle moist in the heat. Daniel moved to stand on Maggie’s other side, and she glanced sideways at him. He was looking at her intently. It made her nervous.