by Beth Merlin
When we finally pulled apart, he took me by the hands and let me out to the terrace. Over the next two hours we laughed, cried and caught up on one another’s lives. There were too many mistakes, too many misunderstandings to retrace them all, so we didn’t, we started again from a more honest place.
We were so absorbed, neither one of us heard Merritt walk into the apartment. She set her coffee cup and keys on the counter in foyer and called down the long hallway. “I was beginning to worry one of you killed the other one.”
I stood up to greet her. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting so long,”
“If it means you and Dad reconciled, then no need to apologize.”
I smiled. “We reconciled.”
A toothy grin erupted across Merritt’s face as she pulled me in for a hug.
My father reached into the glass vase on the coffee table and pulled out two yellow teacup roses.
“To new beginnings,” he said, giving the first rose to Merritt. Then, he turned to me and presented the second rose. “And to welcoming someone back.”
I leaned down and took a third rose from the vase and glanced over at a family photograph on the fireplace mantel. “And to wishing to be remembered,” I breathed.
Merritt picked up her keys, dangling them in the air. “We should go celebrate. How about seafood place up the street?”
My father took the rose from my hand and held it close to his heart. “I have a better idea.”
We cleared the dried flowers from the top of my mother’s tombstone and set down the yellow teacup roses in their place. It’d been four years since she died, and yet a whole lifetime since I stood in this exact spot. I ran my hand over her name, Anne Walker Kitt, the stone, cold and smooth under my fingertips.
“Do you come here a lot?” I asked them.
“Not enough,” Merritt said.
I turned to my dad. “Maybe too much,” he answered.
The grounds were beautiful, with rolling green hills, meandering streams and giant Sequoia trees. “I’ve been dreading this for so long, and now that I’m here I’m not sure why I had,” I said.
“It’s peaceful, right? I always forget how peaceful cemeteries are.” Merritt stretched her neck to the right. “Come on Dad, let’s take a walk and give Joanna a few minutes on her own,” she said taking his arm.
They set down a cobblestone path encircling the cemetery, leaving me alone at the gravestone. I thought back to the day of my mother’s funeral. The cemetery was packed with mourners and Sam pushed me through the crowd and up to the front so I could stand with Merritt and my father. Merritt gave the most touching tribute, and Sam spoke too.
After the casket was lowered into the ground and the funeral ended, I thought I’d be able to stay behind and say goodbye. But black cars arrived, and we were ushered away before I had the chance.
I reached into my pocket and unfolded the letter I’d been holding onto since I walked the jetty with Dr. P. The letter I was finally able to write after my breakthrough session but wasn’t ready to part with at the end of the Boot Camp. The letter that had been meant for Sam, but when I finally put pen to paper, I ended up writing to my mother. I glanced down at the black and white lines paper, my hands trembling and read the first two words aloud, Dear Mom…
I ran my hands down the marble stone and took a seat on a grassy mound beside the grave where I recited the whole letter to her, every uncomfortable, painful, heartbreaking word, tears spilling down my face and onto the pages as I read off my list of transgressions, regrets, fears and finally, boundless love.
And when I finished reading, I felt lighter. The grief remained, and I knew it may always, but now it was just a bit more spread out, the burden less concentrated. First, scattered across words, sentences, and paragraphs on pages and now out into the world, finally filling the empty space in my heart that was left when she died.
Merritt and Dad turned up the walking path meeting me at the gravestone. I stood up brushing dirt and grass off my knees.
“Ready to go, Jo?” Merritt asked.
I tucked the letter back into my pocket. “Ready.”
We drove back to Marina Del Rey and had dinner at that seafood restaurant on the water Merritt liked so much. When we were finished, I went up to the bar and asked if they had any empty wine bottles I could have. The bartender passed me an empty bottle of Pinot Noir along with its cork.
I stepped out onto the dock reached into my pocket and pulled out the letter. I rolled the paper into a thin scroll and popped it into the neck of the bottle using the cork to push the letter into the base. I brought the bottle up my lips and kissed it gently before heaving it out into the Pacific. And while it bobbed up and down in the wake of the waves, I recited the same words Dr. P shared with me in Topsail. “May my past and my pain be like a message in a bottle, pitched out to sea, to be carried by the winds and tides, washing up on a distant shore, never to return home again.”
Chapter Forty
I met Zosia and Emmy for drinks at the Polo Lounge in the Beverly Hills Hotel. With its candy-striped ceiling and peachy pink and dark green booths, the Polo Lounge was a favorite among celebrities and the Hollywood elite. The two of them were already at a table in the back when I arrived. The maître’d picked up a cocktail menu from the hostess desk and escorted me to where they were waiting.
Zosia jumped up and out of her seat first. “Jo, darling, how are you?” she said kissing me on both cheeks.
Emmy followed suit and grabbed me for a big bear hug.
“If I knew I was going to get this kind of a greeting I would’ve come out to LA even sooner,” I joked.
Zosia patted the bench beside her. “Come, sit. Emmy has big news.”
Emmy swatted her menu towards Zosia’s head. “Z, you promised you’d let me be the one to tell her.”
“I’ve been waiting for you to say something.”
“You didn’t even give me half a chance, Joanna just got here.”
“Oh, what different does it make, who tells her? What’s important is the news. Guess what? Emmy’s engaged,” she screeched.
Emmy folded her arms over her chest. “You’re ridiculous. I can’t even believe you just did that.”
Zosia threw her hands up. “Did what? Go ahead, show her the ring.”
Zosia pulled Emmy’s left hand out from under her arm and placed it on the table to reveal a gorgeous five carat cushion cut diamond on a platinum band.
“Oh my god Emmy, I’m so thrilled for you. When did it happen? How did it happen?”
“Two days ago, we went on a hike with the kids up to the Griffith Observatory and he dropped down on one knee. He did it right there in front of the kids and the other hikers on the trail. It wasn’t over the top or Hollywood. It was simple and genuine. It was perfect.”
I pulled her hand closer to me. “And look at this ring. Wowzah.”
“That may be the one place he went over the top, but I’m totally okay with it.”
“Of course, she is,” Zosia said.
“Have you started talking about the wedding yet or is it too soon?” I asked.
“We talked about it a little. We both want something small and intimate. We’re thinking maybe Cabo or Maui? Just some close friends and family. Truthfully, I don’t really care what we do.”
I put my hand over hers. “I’m so happy for you.”
Zosia clinked her glass with a fork. “Ladies, I have some news of my own. Richard called a few days ago. It’s the first time we haven’t spoken through our attorneys in I don’t even know how long. He wants to come to an agreement on the divorce settlement. He’s tired of the intense media coverage and finally offered a settlement number we both can live with.”
“What are you going to do?” Emmy asked.
“I’m going to take it. I’m ready for all this to be behind me and besides I have some business ideas of my own. He’s not the only mogul in the Barry family, you know?”
“Oh, I don’t doubt it for a seco
nd,” I said.
Emmy laughed. “What about you, Jo? What’s going on with you?”
“Well, considering I’m jobless and homeless, I’ve never been happier.”
“You know you’re welcome to stay with me. I have at least a dozen empty bedrooms,” Zosia offered.
“Or me. We have a guest house that’s all yours if you want it,” Emmy said.
I was thoroughly moved by their abundant generosity. “You guys are incredible friends, but I’ve been thinking about going back to Topsail.”
“Topsail? Why?” Zosia asked.
“The local theater is holding auditions for a production of Twelfth Night. Viola was that one role that got away. It feels like a cosmic coincidence that’s the show being put on.”
“So, you would audition for the show and then what, live on Topsail?”
“Just for rehearsals and the run of the production, and that’s assuming I even get cast in the show. Am I crazy for wanting to do this?
Emmy narrowed her eyes. “Does this have anything to do with Todd Aldrich? Maybe more than one thing is drawing you back to the island?”
“Todd? No. Whatever we may have had ended when I left Retreat House. We both agreed it was for the best.”
“He agreed too?” Zosia asked.
“He tried to convince me to stay, but I just didn’t see the point. He’s the guy I met at a breakup Boot Camp? We’re a forgone conclusion, aren’t we?”
“There are no rules with this Jo, I mean look at me and Matt. I came to the Boot Camp to get over him and here we are engaged. All I’m saying is don’t push happiness away with two hands simply because you’re having a hard time believing a rebound could be a real love.”
“She’s right,” Zosia said.
“At this point, I’m not even sure if he’d want anything to do with me.”
“I saw the way he was looking at you when you were kneading dough. He’ll want to see you. You can count on that.” Emmy added.
After dinner I went back to Merritt’s house and logged onto the computer and the Topsail Little Theater website. I searched for the Twelfth Night audition link and clicked it open. I scrolled down to the role of Viola, closed my eyes, and before I could second guess the decision typed in my name and hit submit.
Chapter Forty-One
The frazzled stage manager hurried past me with his clipboard. “Joanna Kitt,” he called down the line of people auditioning.
I shot my hand up. “Here, I’m right here.”
“What are you reading for us today?”
“Juliet’s monologue from Act Three Scene One of Romeo and Juliet.”
He jotted my answer down on his clipboard and told me I was up next before continuing down the line.
I opened up the play and ran my finger down to the highlighted passage. I closed my eyes and recited the monologue start to finish in my head one last time before I heard my name being called from inside the theater. I set the book down on the ground, took a deep breath and stepped out onto the stage.
Gerald Mason the Artistic Director for the Topsail Little Theater was sitting in the first row with a small team.
“Joanna,” he called up to the stage. “I could hardly believe it when I saw your name on the audition sheet, but I’m very glad you’re here.”
“Like you said, it’s never too late, right?”
“Never.” He pushed his glasses down to the bridge of his nose. “I see you’re auditioning for Viola, what did you prepare for us?”
“I’ll be performing Juliet’s monologue from Act Three, Scene One of Romeo and Juliet.”
The first rule of auditioning was never to sing or read a monologue for the part you’re auditioning for unless specifically asked to. Directors usually have very specific ideas about how they want lines performed and if you don’t live up to those expectations the first time around, you may never be given another chance.
“The stage is yours when you’re ready,” Gerald said.
I took a few steps into the center spotlight, adrenaline coursing through my body. It’d been eight years since I last stepped foot on a stage, but like well-formed muscle memory, I jumped right back in. When I finished the scene, I looked up and saw Gerald conferring with his team.
“Thanks Joanna, nice job.” he said. “If you could grab the Twelfth Night sides from the stage manager, work on those, and then we’ll call you back out here in a bit to perform them.”
I nodded and exited stage right. Being asked to read scenes from the actual show was a very good sign, but I didn’t want to get too excited, at least not yet. The stage manager handed me the Viola packet of sides and suggested I go outside to read through them.
I sat down on one of the benches in the amphitheater and skimmed through the scenes, some of the lines from my Williamstown audition even coming back to me. I turned the pages to Act Five and recited some of the dialogue out loud.
“After him I love. More than I love these eyes, more than my life, More, by all mores, than e'er I shall love wife. If I do feign, you witness above. Punish my life for tainting of my love!” I shouted into the treetops.
“That’s a little harsh, isn’t it?” a voice said from behind me.
I spun around to find Todd standing beside the Canterbury Theater sign. I had no idea how long he’d been watching me.
I set down the script. “How’d you know I’d be here?”
He took a few tenuous steps forward. “I had to promise I wouldn’t tell you.”
“Then you have told me. What did Zosia say to you exactly?”
“That you were coming back to Topsail to audition for Twelfth Night, and if I knew what was good for me, I’d be here waiting for you.”
I shook my head disapprovingly. “Only she would do that.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back?”
“If I don’t get the part, I may not be in town for very long. Besides, I haven’t heard from you since I left the island. I figured you moved on.”
“You made it clear you didn’t want to take things any further, and I tried to respect your wishes. I’ll be honest though, it hasn’t been easy to stay away.”
“For me either.”
“Is that really true?” he asked.
The stage manager stepped outside and called my name.
I picked the script up off the ground and hugged it close to my body. “I should head back. The auditions are still going on inside.”
“When they’re over, come to the Retreat House. I’ll wait for you by the surf shed.”
“I don’t know how long this going to take.”
“It doesn’t matter, take your time. I’ll be there.”
I nodded.
“Hey Joanna, break a leg. Or, in our case, maybe it’s more apropos to say, break an ankle,” he said, with a sweet grin.
I made my way over the sand dunes and spotted Todd adding twigs and branches to a small bonfire he’d built on the beach.
“I’m sorry I’m so late,” I said.
“If it means you got the part, it’d be well worth the wait.”
A large smile erupted across my face. “I got the part.”
Todd threw the branches down onto the sand and ran towards me. He picked me up off the ground and spun me around. “I knew it,” he said setting me back down.
“I can’t believe it. I start rehearsals on Monday.”
“So, does that mean you’re staying in Topsail?”
“It’s a two-week rehearsal and then a three-week run, so I’ll be here for at least the next month or so.”
“This news calls for some champagne.” He walked back over to a large cooler and pulled out a bottle. “I hope you’re okay if I pop the top, no machete this time. Less impressive but it’ll get the job done.” He yanked off the cork, the champagne bubbling over the sides of the bottle and into the two glasses he had handed me.
“Todd, do you remember when you told me the first and most important rule of cooking is cleaning up befor
e moving on?”
He nodded and set the bottle down on the cooler.
“Well, I had an awful lot to clean up in my life, more than I ever let on.”
He caressed the side of my face. “We both did. Jo, I don’t want to rush things. We have a month to really get to know each other and see where this goes. I want to give it a real shot, I hope you do too? Please say you do.”
I reached out and held his face in my hands and stared into those same light blue-grey eyes that reminded me so much of the Atlantic Ocean when I first arrived in Topsail. I pressed my lips to his and gave him my answer.
Epilogue
One Year Later
“Are you sure this is the right spot?” I asked, passing Todd a shovel.
“This morning I was surfing the beach break thinking about the clue you found last year at the Boot Camp, that Tennyson poem, Crossing the Bar. You guys thought the treasure had to be hidden somewhere in the Sunset Sandbar Restaurant, right?”
“It was the best idea we came up with.”
“Well, what if the treasure isn’t hidden in the Sunset Sandbar Restaurant? What if the treasure is buried in the actual sandbar?” he said pointing to the large area of beach rising above the ocean’s surface.
I scanned down the long stretch. “But it could be anywhere along the sand? How would we possibly know where to dig?”
“The last stanza of the poem says, ‘For tho from out our bourne of time and place, the flood may bear me far, I hope to see my Pilot face-to-face when I have crost the bar.’ Now, if I were going to cross a sandbar, I’d do it at the highest point, which is right over there,” Todd said pointing to the center of the mound.
“So, you’re saying we should dig the hole in that spot?”
Todd shrugged his shoulders. “Can’t hurt, right?”
