“Once again, Karl contacted his friends in high places to take care of the paperwork. And I soon discovered, embellishing a story with additional details, no matter how far-fetched they may seem, actually made it more convincing. People love stories, the more fantastic the better. They want to believe. No one bothers to check and see if they’re true. Almost no one,” she said, shifting her eyes toward Hal.
“As time went on, I started adding more details to the story, telling people that I had chosen accomplished artists as sperm donors. Not because I was ever planning to write a book, just because it made the tale more interesting. You see, Avery?” She smiled wanly. “Some of your talent comes from my side of the family.
“When Karl’s youngest child finally left home, I realized he was never going to marry me. But he promised always to take care of us, said he’d made provisions in his will. When he died, a year after Avery was born, I discovered that had been a lie too.
“His attorney gave me a check for forty thousand dollars but, in order to cash it, I had to sign papers swearing I would never reveal your paternity to anyone or make any claim against his estate. Otherwise, we’d get nothing. What could I do? I couldn’t afford to hire a lawyer and if I tried to sue, I would be up against those powerful friends who had eliminated my identity once before. I took the money. It bought me some time.
“I met a reporter for the LA Times who was writing an article about families who had babies conceived through in vitro. The part about us was only a few paragraphs in a much larger article. Next thing I knew, a literary agent called and asked if I might be interested in writing a book. She said publishers might be willing to pay a lot for a book like that, six figures at least. The forty thousand was nearly gone. I had no education, no job experience, and three daughters to feed and clothe. I said yes.
“And so,” she said, and let out a sigh, “now you know who you are. And who I am—a liar. Of course, if I knew then what I know now, I would have done many things differently. Many, many things. But life isn’t like that. We make the choices we make, at the time we make them, and we have to live with them—and suffer the consequences. Which I am prepared to do,” she said, sitting down at last, looking more resolute than ever, but suddenly smaller and older.
“Like Walt, I’m sure you have a lot of questions. If so, ask them now because I’m sure that after tonight, you’ll never want to see me again.”
Chapter 45
Avery and Joanie did have questions, quite a few of them, but Meg just sat there, holding Asher’s hand, feeling . . . she had to think about it for a while before coming up with the word. She felt whole.
Everything lost had been recovered and made whole, her memories, her family, her joy, her love of art, of herself, of her daughter, of the man she would have married all over again.
And she would marry him again, in a week’s time. Not because she couldn’t remember what the first time had been like—it had all come back to her now—but because she wanted to celebrate and reaffirm the goodness of their life together. Also because Joanie had gone to so much trouble to make the dress. And bake the cake. And do the flowers.
But that was good. It was all good.
She smiled, so content and quiet that finally her mother looked at her and said, “Meg, isn’t there anything that you want to ask me? You’re the only one who doesn’t seem all that shocked by any of this.”
“I’m not,” Meg said. “I knew about it before.”
The others, all except Asher, looked at her with surprise and disbelief.
“Well, not the details, but the broad principles,” she clarified. “The fact that my sisters and I have the same father. Trust me, it was shocking at the time. So shocking, and infuriating, that I drove my car into a concrete wall. In retrospect, it seems like an overreaction.”
“What?” Joanie’s mouth fell open. “How could you have known that?”
“Oh, I not only knew that,” Meg said casually, enjoying the stir she was making, “I also knew that Asher was Walt’s father. But for a while, I didn’t know that I knew. The memories seeped out of the crack in my skull. But now they’re back. All of them.”
She tilted her head back against Asher’s shoulder so she could see his face. He kissed her lightly on the forehead.
“You’re saying you knew even before the accident?” Avery asked.
“Uh-huh. I started to suspect that Walt was Asher’s son a long time before that, almost three years ago, when he had his first big growth spurt. In the course of a few months, he went from stubby and scrawny to big and burly. Walt, you just got so huge!” she exclaimed. “You’re a mountain of a man, just like your father.”
Walt grinned. “We stood back to back at the encampment; I’m a half an inch taller than he is.”
“See? How many guys in Seattle are six foot six and have shoulders like a redwood beam? There were other things I noticed too. You have Asher’s walk, his temperament—easygoing, always happy. And you’re studious like he is too. You love reading, working with your hands, doing things the old-fashioned way.” She tilted her head so she could see Asher again. “Does anybody on earth have a bigger collection of hand planes than you?” she asked him.
“It’s much more satisfying to plane and smooth wood by hand,” Asher said. “And you get a better result. Totally worth the effort.”
“Again,” Meg said, spreading her hands, “my point is made for me. So I had suspected for a while. But the older Walt got, the more certain I became. Asher and Walt just look so much alike.”
“And that’s why you were so depressed,” Joanie said, making a statement rather than asking a question. “Because you thought that I . . . that we . . .”
“I wasn’t depressed about that, Joanie. I could do the math; I knew that whatever might have happened between you and Asher occurred before he met me. What upset me was that you didn’t tell me about it. It made me feel like you didn’t trust me. Also, I hated the idea that you might have sacrificed your own happiness for mine. For all I knew, it was a case of unrequited love and you stepped aside, never even mentioned that you were pregnant, because you didn’t want to get in our way. I mean, you never married, and never showed any interest in getting married.”
“Is that why you were always trying to sign me up for those online dating sites?” Joanie asked. “Listen, the reason I didn’t want to get married was because all the guys I met were jerks. I don’t have anything against marriage in principle,” she said, her eyes shifting quickly toward Hal.
“And, as far as Asher and unrequited love . . . He’s not really my type,” she said, glancing toward Hal once again. “No offense, Asher.”
“None taken.”
“Still,” Meg said, “suspecting is one thing and knowing is another. I didn’t want to say anything until I was certain and the only way I could be certain was to get a DNA test. Don’t you remember?” she prodded Joanie. “A couple of months before the accident we were all having dinner and I talked everybody into spitting into those little vials you get from the genealogy Web sites. I said it would be fun, especially to know about the ethnic background of our three different fathers. I made everybody do it because I thought it would look too suspicious if I only wanted to test Asher and Walt.”
“But Walt wasn’t even there,” Joanie countered. “How could you know his paternity if he didn’t take the test?”
“I got his sample later. I told him I was working on a family tree project, a Christmas present for you and Avery.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Joanie asked, giving her son an exasperated look.
“She said it was a secret,” Walt said defensively. “I didn’t think it was that big a deal. You three are always coming up with some weird project or other. I quit asking questions a long time ago.” Walt looked to Asher for support. “Better to just go along with what they want, right?”
“Son, I predict you will have a long and happy marriage.”
Asher and Walt bumped fists. Meg
shot them both a look and went on with her story.
“Anyway, the results came in on the day of the accident and confirmed my suspicions: Asher was Walt’s father. I’d been expecting it, but it was still a lot to wrap my brain around. When I scrolled down, read the rest of the report, and realized that the three of us all had the same father, I thought my head would explode. It felt like my entire life was a lie.
“Then you called me in the car,” she said, addressing Minerva, “pushing for the three of us to make a documentary perpetuating that lie, and that’s basically what happened. My head did explode.
“I do have one question. Actually, I have two—why were you so dead set on doing the documentary anyway? After everything that had happened, why not let it rest?”
“Maybe I should have,” Minerva conceded. “But from my vantage point it looked like the three of you were wasting your lives and talents—you weren’t painting, Joanie wasn’t playing, and Avery wasn’t really doing anything. I thought that doing the documentary might reignite the creative spark. I told you that I wanted the three of you to live remarkable, interesting, meaningful lives. My mistake was in not realizing that you’re already doing that.” Minerva’s gaze moved from left to right, resting briefly upon each of her daughters in turn. “I am so enormously proud of you.”
Until that moment, Meg hadn’t realized how she’d longed to hear her mother say those words. Catching sight of her sisters’ faces, she understood that they’d longed for the same thing.
“You said that after tonight you were sure we’d never want to see you again. Why do you think that?” Meg asked.
Minerva let out a derisive little laugh. “Be serious. Now that you know the truth about what I did, you’ll be glad to see the back of me. I’m moving into a motel first thing in the morning. But don’t worry about me. I found a job. A small cruise ship company needed waitstaff and stewards for the summer season. I’ll sail from Seattle to Juneau and back every two weeks until September. I’ve always wanted to see Alaska. Who knows? I might meet a rich, music-loving widower who’s in the market for a second or third wife. It could happen,” she said with a smile.
“Mom, if that’s what you want, then I’m happy for you,” Avery said. “But you don’t need to move into a motel. I don’t see any reason why you should leave. Do you?” she asked, addressing the rest of the family.
One by one, they all confirmed their desire for Minerva’s continued presence among them, until it came down to Joanie, who looked straight at her mother.
“I could really use your help with the wedding. There’s still much to do before next week. Please, Mom. I’d like you to stay.”
“And the formal is the next day,” Trina added. “You’ve got to stay for that too. You don’t want to miss seeing Walt in a tuxedo. Biggest penguin on the face of the planet,” she said, tossing a teasing glance to her brother, who responded with an oh-very-funny sort of expression.
Minerva shook her head. “I’m supposed to fly to Alaska and meet the ship on Tuesday. I’m so sorry. I’ll hate to miss all that.”
“I could take some videos,” Hal offered.
Joanie looked at him. “You’re not going back to California right away?”
“Seattle has grown on me. I’m thinking about moving up here permanently.”
“Oh.”
Asher glanced at Meg, his eyes asking if she’d seen the look that passed between Hal and her big sister. Meg just smiled.
“Mom, are you sure they won’t let you join the crew in Seattle?” she asked. “It’s only a few days later, isn’t it?”
“I’m not sure. But I guess I could ask. If you really want me to.”
“I do. We all do. And when the sailing season ends, if you want to, you can come back here and move into the tiny house. I don’t need it anymore.”
“But that’s your studio. And I . . .”
“I can paint inside the house.”
She smiled and Asher squeezed his arm closer around her shoulders.
Minerva’s face was solemn. “Are you sure?”
“We’re sure,” Asher said, answering for everyone. “It’s good to have you here, Minerva. Good to have the family together again.”
* * *
The party was over. Asher, Meg, and Trina went home. Minerva went back to Avery’s house, and Walt went upstairs to work on his homework. When Avery went into the kitchen to wash the dishes, Hal offered to help Joanie clear the table.
“Were you serious?” Joanie asked, stacking plates. “I mean about moving to Seattle.”
“One hundred percent.”
“But what about your business? Are you really just going to walk away?”
“At this point,” he said, gathering up the silverware, “there’s not all that much left to walk away from. I got enough to pay my debts and give Lynn a reasonable severance with a little bit left for me to move, find an apartment, and make a fresh start. Sure, I could keep the company going for another few months, but I’d just be running out the clock.”
“But what will you do?”
“In Seattle? I’m not one hundred percent sure yet. Might look for a job. Might start another business. One thing I know for sure,” he said as he dumped a fistful of forks onto the top plate in Joanie’s stack, “is that I’m going to spend a lot of time aggressively pursuing you and trying to convince you that there is at least one guy in the world who isn’t a jerk.
“In pursuit of this goal, and you,” he said, moving closer, his voice low, confident, and measured, “there is almost nothing I’m not prepared to do—take you dancing, weed your garden, charm your family, be a second dad to your son, cook for you. You didn’t know that I make a grilled teriyaki steak so good it’ll bring you to tears, did you?”
Joanie, already close to tears, shook her head.
“I’ll even take up reenacting, dress up as a Union general and grow a mustache to go with it. And if that doesn’t work—you never did give me a chance to tell you about the Euler line. It’s pretty impressive. Bottom line is, I’m willing to do whatever it takes to win you, Joanie. I won’t give up until I do.”
“Hal, stop. After tonight, knowing how I lied to everybody . . . How can you say that?”
Her eyes brimmed over. He took another step and wrapped her in his arms.
“Because I love you. Since the first day I saw you, I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about you. And after hearing your story, I finally understand why. Every single thing you did, you did out of love. As far as I’m concerned, that only proves what I thought all along—that you’re perfect, Joanie. Or damn close to it.”
“But, Hal. You don’t realize all the—”
“Okay, you’re not quite perfect,” he said with a laugh, pulling her closer. “You’ve got only one flaw. You talk too much,” he said, and then he kissed her.
* * *
A few minutes later, Avery, in search of the dirty plates, opened the door of the dining room and saw Joanie and Hal once again entwined in a passionate embrace.
She quietly closed the door, snapped off the lights in the kitchen, and left through the back door. The dishes could wait until morning.
Chapter 46
As it turned out, apart from it involving the original bride and groom, almost nothing about the reenactment of Meg and Asher’s wedding resembled the original ceremony.
Gone was the Bo-Peep wedding gown, replaced by a simple knee-length white sheath dress with a bit of beading around the neckline. Instead of the borrowed suit that had made him look so uncomfortable in the original wedding pictures, Asher wore stone-colored khakis and a white button-down shirt, both crisply pressed. Walt, in his role as best man, wore the same color pants as his dad, but with a lavender shirt that matched the dress worn by maid of honor, Trina.
The lavender accents were a last-minute change suggested by Minerva who, after a teary call to the human resources department about not wanting to miss her daughter’s wedding, neglecting to mention that the c
eremony was a reenactment, got permission to embark in Seattle, a week later than originally planned. Minerva took charge of all the flowers and managed to get a very good deal on late-season lilacs, creating bouquets, boutonnieres, and table decorations herself. She also got Asher to quickly knock together a latticed archway, which she decorated with masses of purple and white lilacs and green vines. It made a lovely backdrop for the ceremony and for the pictures afterward.
Joanie was more than happy to turn the flowers over to her mother and Avery so she could spend some time at her new piano, practicing the processional, the “Air” movement from Handel’s Water Music. It wasn’t a terribly difficult piece, but she wanted it to be perfect, so she memorized the score.
That turned out to be a good thing because as soon as the radiantly beautiful Meg began walking down the aisle toward her beloved Asher, Joanie’s eyes swam with happy tears and she couldn’t see the sheet music. She recovered in time to play the exit music, an upbeat modern piece called “Deep Blue,” then gave her sister and brother-in-law a congratulatory kiss before scurrying off to the kitchen.
Hal wasn’t kidding about how good his teriyaki steak was. People devoured every mouthful, along with the maple and mustard glazed salmon he cooked on the grill. Avery and Adam took charge of the bar. Allison insisted on helping Joanie and Minerva serve the side dishes they’d made the previous day—green, potato, vegetable, noodle, and fruit salads—along with an assortment of homemade rolls. Allison supplied a bowl of her infamous lime Jell-O salad as well.
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