Willow studied her mother’s face and could see that she was being honest.
“Ok I believe you. It’s still a bit weird though, you just turning up like this.”
“I know, and I promise not to embarrass you like this too often. Do you want to come home with me for lunch?”
“Nah, Nick’s mum is making us a pizza. Can I stay for that?”
“Of course. That’s fine. Just stay safe ok, and if you can’t be bothered walking home call me and I’ll come and get you.”
“Are you sure everything’s ok? There’s nothing’s wrong with gran or granddad?”
Maggie bent down to Willow’s level and put her hands on her shoulders. She could tell that she’d freaked her daughter out and she wanted to reassure her. “No, they’re fine. Everything is fine, I promise.”
“Ok.” Willow kissed her mum quickly and then climbed back up onto the trampoline. Maggie watched her go, wishing as she often did that she could wrap her daughter in bubble wrap and keep her always by her side. She’d been fighting that urge since her daughter emerged into the world, eyes open and curious right from the first moment.
“I love you,” she called to Willow.
“I love you too mum.”
Maggie drove home feeling happier with the knowledge that her daughter was safe, but still with the nagging feeling that a storm was brewing.
Nick and Willow watched her drive away.
“Your mum is weird sometimes” Nick said.
Willow sighed. “Tell me about it.”
“Guess that’s where you get it from then huh?”
“Shut up!” Willow slapped his leg leaving a red hand print.
“Ow that hurt!”
“Serves you right.”
Things kind of returned to normal once she was back home, in that customers started to trickle in, her father managed not to start any more fires and enough of a breeze sprung up so that Dot was able to get some washing dry. She had returned from a catch up with friends to find her best frying pan in a blackened patch on the lawn but with no one confessing how it had got there. Both Ray and Maggie had clammed up and were claiming ignorance, but she knew the truth would come out eventually. It always did.
So Maggie had just started to relax and think that whatever had been bothering the world that morning had passed, when she looked out of the door of the shop and saw Geoffrey the policeman standing there watching her, his hat in his hands.
Her heart stopped beating in her chest and a hand flew to her mouth. Her first thought was for Willow, and thankfully Geoffrey could read that on her face because he opened the screen door and stepped inside quickly, his eyes anxious.
“It’s ok Maggie,” he said, “I’m not here about your daughter.”
“Oh thank god,” she whispered, her knees giving away so she slumped back against the counter.
“I’m sorry I frightened you like that,” he went on, “people always assume the worst when they see me. It’s an occupational hazard.”
Maggie recovered her voice. “So you’re not here with bad news?”
“Well now I didn’t say that, or if I did I didn’t mean it like that, I get my words muddled sometimes sorry, it’s always –”
She cut him off. “Geoffrey, why are you here?”
“Oh right. Is there somewhere we can talk?”
“Something wrong with right here?”
“Somewhere you can sit down I meant, might be better. Are your folks home?”
“Yes, they’re both here.”
“You might want them with you.”
“Geoffrey you’re scaring me.”
“I’m not meaning too, I’m sorry. Look,” he turned and closed the shop door behind him and turned the OPEN sign to CLOSED. “Let’s just go inside the house.”
Maggie could hardly walk, her ankles kept turning in and her bones felt like they had become disconnected from each other. She led the way into the lounge where Ray was snoring on the couch and poked him. He rolled over with a grunt but didn’t wake. Maggie poked him harder and this time he opened his eyes grumpily.
“What?” he complained. “What does a man have to do to get some peace around here?” Then he saw Geoffrey and his expression soured even more. “What are you doing here?” he struggled to sit up. “I haven’t been on the bike again, and if anyone says otherwise they’re lying.”
“Relax,” Geoffrey said, “I’m not here about your bike.”
Dot had been upstairs changing the sheets on the beds when she heard voices and came down to investigate.
“What’s going on?” she asked, coming into the lounge. “Oh hello Geoffrey.” She turned to Ray, “have you been out on that blasted bike again?”
“No, I haven’t,” Ray protested under her glare.
“It’s ok Dot,” Geoffrey backed him up, “I’m not here about that. Not this time anyway.”
“Then what?” Dot looked at Maggie and saw that her daughter’s face had turned as pale as the faded curtains behind her. ‘Oh my god is Willow ok?”
“She’s fine mum.”
“Oh thank god,” Dot clutched at her chest and sank onto the couch beside Ray. She had in that moment of fear appeared twenty years older and as frail as a baby bird. “Then what is it?”
“I don’t know mum, I’m waiting for Geoffrey to hurry up and tell us.”
Three expectant faces turned to him and he farted nervously under the pressure. Dot and Maggie pretended out of politeness that they hadn’t heard but Ray openly smirked.
Geoffrey cleared his throat. “I’m not sure if you’ve already heard - you know what this town is like for gossip, spreads like damn wildfire. I swear this one time, everyone knew that Bruce Jameson had assaulted his wife before he’d even laid a finger on her. And there was that time in the middle of the night when you would assume of course that everyone is fast asleep but I swear, it was all over town before I’d even had my breakfast that –”
“Geoffrey,”
“What? Oh, sorry.” He farted again and coughed to cover it up.
“Earlier in the week a hunter stumbled across a body at the base of an old waterfall,” he told them. “We’re still waiting on official identification using dental records, but the belongings found with the body suggest it’s that of your husband Maggie.”
“My husband?” she was confused. It was so long since anyone had used the word in context to her that she was unaccustomed to hearing it.
“You mean Jon?” Ray asked.
“Yes,” Geoffrey nodded. “Jon Tanner.”
Maggie leant back into the couch, speechless.
“I don’t understand,” Dot frowned, “you mean he’s been in this area the whole time?”
“Oh I wasn’t clear, sorry. It was pretty obvious that the body had been there for a long time. Some letters and a newspaper in a bag he had on him date back to December 2007.”
Maggie gasped.
“Oh my god,” Dot put a hand over her mouth. “That means -”
“What?” Ray asked, looking from face to face quizzically.
“He’s been dead this whole time,” Maggie finished the sentence for her mother.
“Oh.”
“I’m sorry to bring you the sad news Maggie,” Geoffrey said. “It’s the only part of this job I really dislike.”
“No it’s ok Geoffrey, thank you for letting us know. So what happens now?”
“We should have the official identification through tomorrow, after that the coroner will release the body to you I guess, as next of kin. I can give you the number of the local funeral home, they’re pretty good at pulling together services at the last minute. I assume you want to organise it Maggie,” he asked delicately, “if not the state will take care of it.”
“Of course we’ll organise it,” Ray snapped. “He’s Willow’s father for god sake.”
“Dad,” Maggie placed a hand on his arm. “He’s only doing his job.” She turned to Geoffrey, “Yes, of course we’ll organise everything.�
�
“Thanks Maggie,” he smiled gratefully. “Are there any family I need to notify or will you take care of that?”
Maggie closed her eyes. Her mind was a whirl of thoughts and she was fighting the urge to get up and run from the room to somewhere quiet so she could sort her thoughts out. “No,” she finally answered. “I don’t think so. His mother died when he was only small and his dad remarried and left town when he was in high school. Last I heard he had moved to Australia for a new life, but that was a long time ago. Leave it with me; I’ll see what I can find out.”
“Ok, I appreciate that Maggie.” Geoffrey put his hat back on his head and pushed it down. “I’ll be in touch tomorrow. In the meantime you let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”
Maggie nodded but her mind had already started to wander. It felt unreal, like she was having an out of body experience, watching while this happenned to someone else. Dot walked Geoffrey to the door but just as he stepped over the doorstep to leave Maggie stood and hurried over to him.
“Wait,” she called. He turned back.
“Yes?”
She stopped in front of him and bit her lower lip. She wasn’t sure how to ask the question she needed to ask.
“Maggie?”
“Was it quick? I mean, can they tell whether he suffered or not?” she choked off a sob with the last words and Dot put a hand out to steady her.
Geoffrey shook his head. “He didn’t suffer Maggie.”
“But how can you tell? If he’s been just, lying there for so long?”
Geoffrey looked at Dot who nodded, “If you know something that can ease the worry then say it,” she told him.
“From the looks of it he broke his neck pretty bad when he fell. He would have died instantly.”
“Oh thank god,” Maggie squeezed her eyes shut. Then she opened them again, “That’s not what I mean,” she said, “I was, you know –”
“We understand,” Ray came to join them at the door. He put his arms around his daughter and placed his stubbly cheek against her head. She relaxed into him, wondering when the last time was that she had been hugged like this by her father. He felt and smelt so familiar, like an old jersey you can’t bear to part with.
“Mum? Willow’s voice startled them all. She had come up on the porch so quietly they hadn’t heard her. “Mum what’s wrong? Why is Geoffrey here?”
‘I’ll leave you guys to digest the news,” Geoffrey said again, “but please call me if there is anything I can do.”
“Thank you,” Maggie nodded. She reached an arm out for Willow who curled into her side.
“Mum?”
Maggie took a deep breath. “We need to talk.”
Chapter nineteen
Hours later, when Willow was tucked up in bed and asleep, Maggie poured herself a large glass of red wine and wandered barefoot out onto the porch. She sat on the step and took a large gulp, swirling the wine around her mouth as its slightly acidic taste set her taste buds on edge. She swallowed it and let out a breath. The sky was clear and massive, endlessly stretching above her, the Milky Way a playful streak through the centre.
Where to even begin to process what she had learnt the last few hours?
Busy making sure Willow was ok, lying in bed beside her and stroking her hair while doing her best to answer the questions Willow had, she hadn’t yet had time to process her own feelings. Listening to her daughter snuffle softly as she gave in to sleep had been heartbreaking. Her daughter might only have vague memories of her father and might have believed all this time that she didn’t miss him, but it was an entirely different matter to find out that he had died. The only slightly good thing to come out of any of it had been the realisation that Jon hadn’t abandoned Willow after all. That part had never made any sense.
Maggie had no words to describe the relief she felt, knowing that Jon hadn’t left his little girl by choice, that he would have been here in her life all these years if he hadn’t met the fate he had. It was like years of bitterness and anger had just peeled away like the bitter layers of an onion, leaving only the sweet centre to remain.
She felt carefree and light, like she could dance across the grass and into the sky, tip toe from star to star and be back again by morning.
Did she feel guilt for feeling such relief when the cause of that relief was so tragic? Yes, but only a smidgeon. Because she also felt varying degrees of grief, and sadness for a life cut so short. For a father deprived of his daughter, and a daughter deprived of her father. Therein lay the most heartbreak for Maggie.
As for herself, who knew whether her marriage would have survived all these years? If she was honest, she doubted it. They were young with no idea how to fight fair or how to compromise. They embarked into marriage with only romantic ideals in mind, no inkling of the hard work that would be needed to sustain it. She was sad for Jon, sad that his life ended so horribly and all alone. She had loved him terribly once, had felt him to be everything to her, but that love was long since extinguished.
If he had to have died, at least he had died in the place that he loved, they could be grateful for that.
The service was held three days before Christmas. In the morning the sky was pale grey and a fine drizzle gave the land some much needed nourishment. At noon, as if a switch had been flicked, the sky turned blue and the sun appeared high above them.
Jon hadn’t been a particularly religious man so they held the service by the lake, under the shadows of the hills he considered home. Maggie had managed to track down Jon’s father, retired and living in a hostel and barely able to walk as the result of a stroke, so he could not attend. He sent a card that Ray read out, it was neither emotional nor overly personal, merely words as if from a friend.
Maggie stood and read a brief eulogy. It was sketchy on details from his early life, as he had always spoken of it as if it were not much to speak of. Instead she embellished the happy years, the way he cried when his daughter entered the world, and how, in the very early years at least, he was there every night to bathe her, read her a story and rock her to sleep. It had been their time, his and Willow’s, and no one but them would ever be privy to the loving words he had whispered as he kissed her and nuzzled her little face. Willow might not remember the exact words, but she had a fuzzy recollection of a voice in her ear and lips on her cheek, and she had the closure now of knowing where her father was and why he wasn’t with her. And that was the most important thing.
The small group of attendees sang Amazing Grace, and their voices glided over the water and bounced off the hills, as if a choir of one hundred were there and not just a few.
Afterwards, people were invited back to the house for refreshments. Harper and Wade headed back to the house to sort things out there so Maggie, Willow, Dot and Ray could attend a private cremation ceremony for Jon. They watched as the coffin was lowered into the floor and the minister read out the committal words. Maggie shed some tears finally, her first since the news had been delivered. Before the coffin was lowered she stepped up to place a flower on it, and she whispered an apology for all the ill thoughts she had harboured towards him for all these years.
Willow kissed the top of the coffin and placed an envelope amongst the flowers to be cremated with him. It was a letter she had stayed up late the night before to write, and its contents would stay between the two of them for always.
Maggie was proud of her daughter and the way she had handled everything. If she had been in any doubt that her daughter was no longer a child those doubts were long gone.
Outside the crematorium, the four of them huddled into a hug.
“It was a lovely service,” Dot said.
“It was,” Ray agreed.
“He would have been happy with that.”
“He would.”
“Thanks guys,” Maggie said. “And thanks for all your help. I couldn’t have pulled it together last minute without you.”
“Of course darling, it’s what we’re here fo
r.”
“You ok kid?” Ray asked Willow, reaching out to ruffle her hair.
“Get off,” she ducked. Then when she was out of arms reach she stopped and nodded. “I’m ok. Are you ok mum?”
Maggie smiled at her. “I’m fine sweetheart.”
They linked arms and walked back to the car slowly, each processing the last few days. Nothing really had changed, at least not in their day to day lives. It was still just the four of them, their little square family as Ray called them.
But also, everything had changed. They had knowledge now. They knew where he’d gone and why he hadn’t come back. And they knew that he would never be coming back. The memories they had of him were all they would ever have, so they needed to polish them up, scrub off the tarnish that had accumulated and display them in a new light. He wasn’t a father who abandoned his wife and child; he was the victim of a tragic accident that had taken him away from them.
And that made all the difference in the world.
Chapter twenty
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
Maggie froze and closed her eyes. She had been sliding sandwiches from one plate to another in the kitchen when the voice spoke beside her ear and its tones reached in and plucked her heart like the strings on a harp so that it vibrated in her chest. She waited for it to be still again before she opened her eyes and turned, her voice emerging calmly.
“Thank you.”
She hadn’t realised he was at the service until she’d stood and turned to read her speech, then she’d spied him, his tall hulk in the back row of white deck chairs, his eyes on her and her only. She’d faltered briefly, and the only way she’d got through the speech was to ignore him and pretend he wasn’t there.
“How are you going?” he asked.
“I’m fine.”
“And Willow? How is she coping?”
“She’s ok, she’s handling it better than I would have expected. I guess not seeing him in so long means it hasn’t affected her as much as it could have. She’s sad, but she’s coping.”
“That’s great. I’m glad to hear it.” He smiled genuinely when he said it and Maggie pondered on how familiar that smile seemed to her already, and how much she’d missed it lately. It was the kind of smile you’d do anything to see. The sort that if you woke up next to it, it would put you in a brilliant mood for the rest of the day.
A Roast on Sunday Page 15
