Chapter 15
The following morning I’d hardly opened my eyes when Bert barked next door. The usual annoyance didn’t faze me at all. The shock of learning Jonathan may have something to do with Silvy’s death had numbed me. I covered Annie’s shoulders with the coverlet and headed to the bathroom, hoping a hot shower would clear the fuzz from my head.
I still wore the white silk blouse and black skirt I’d worn to dinner. Rachel’s butterfly hung from my neck. When I looked into the mirror, I saw the face of a woman who’d cried herself to sleep, and then I remembered. Fresh tears filled my eyes, stinging them.
I stripped my clothes off, dropped them to the floor, turned on the shower, and watched my saddened face disappear as the mirror fogged with steam. That’s what it had felt like to learn the man I loved was connected to the people who killed Silvy. It felt like I just disappeared in a haze.
The warm water ran down my body, soothing away the tension in my neck that had been there since I stood from the table and watched Jonathan wilt as my angry brother accused his family of an unspeakable crime. The crime was too great for forgiveness, Rich had said. Then he put me in his car and drove away; Annie followed close behind in her car.
On the way home, Rich filled me in on the connection between Jonathan and Sullivan’s Plastics. Jonathan’s mother was a Sullivan. Her brother, Victor, and his sons now ran the factory. The records still showed Claire Sullivan Parker and her beneficiaries as partners in the business. Whoever ran Silvy down, did it, in part, for Jonathan’s benefit.
I knew in my heart he had nothing to do with the business, that it just happened to be part of his family heritage, but Rich wouldn’t hear any of it. All he saw was the fact that the Sullivans were responsible for the murder, and Jonathan was a Sullivan. With that reality, all the dreams I’d formed about a life with Jonathan slipped away into the darkness. I’d lost him again.
Annie knelt over my toilet retching when I turned off the water. I stepped around her, dripping, handing her the damp washcloth from the shower as I passed. She patted my leg in sympathy, though she was the one in a bad way at the moment. Tears came to me again as I dried off and donned my robe.
She wiped her mouth and flushed the toilet, struggling to stand. Bending over the sink to swish mouthwash around, she spat, then asked, “Becka, are you all right?”
“No,” my voice broke. “No, I’m not.”
She held me in one of her famous Annie hugs, smoothing the wet hair down my back and apologizing to me for something that was not her fault. “Everything will be all right, Becka. Richie will calm down, and Jonathan will explain. Everything will be all right.” Her voice was like an angel. There was no sarcasm and no jokes—just concern and softness.
“Annie, don’t fill her mind with that shit.” Rich stood bare-chested outside the bathroom door, the harsh look of wicked reality covering his unshaven, scarred face. “What they did isn’t all right. They ran our mother down like a dog in the street. For what? So they can keep making money.”
“Rich, stop it!” Annie backed him away with her tone. “She doesn’t need this right now.”
“Stop it, both of you.” I removed myself from the two of them, heading to the kitchen to make the strongest pot of coffee possible. I needed caffeine and air and time to think about all of this. Just as I poured the water in the reserve tank, the phone rang, and I knew, without a doubt, who it was.
Rich ran past me and picked up the receiver before I could reach it, listening first then hanging up.
I wanted to scream, but I knew better. This was Rich protecting me. This was Rich taking over. This was Rich when he was completely uncommunicative. I just needed calmness and time to think. I needed Silvy. I needed Jonathan.
“Listen,” I said, “I really need some time by myself. I need to think about things. I want you two to stay here and let me go to the cabin alone.”
“Becka,” Rich started to interrupt, but I wouldn’t let him.
“Please Rich, I’m about to burst. I just need serenity for a while. I’m going to Grandpa Jack’s. Alone!” I hugged him and held him to me. His breathing was erratic which told me he had to clench every part of his body to allow me this freedom from his protection. “Don’t worry,” I whispered, “Jonathan doesn’t know where the cabin is.”
He was shaking his head when I let go of him and headed to my bedroom to round up the few things I’d need in the mountains. Annie helped me, silently, looking up at me every once in a while, trying to gauge my level of sanity.
“Annie, will you talk to Candy for me? Tell her I’ll call her as soon as I can.”
“I will.”
“Thank you.”
“Are you sure you won’t let me come with you?” She touched my hand, her fingers cold and clammy from the nausea.
“Stay here and take care of yourself and my brother. He needs you more than I do right now.”
“I’m not so sure about that, Becka.”
I took her hand in mine, “I am. He’s in trouble with this one. I can’t help him because I’m too close to all of it. I love them both too much.”
She nodded her head with her eyes holding mine. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid. I promise.”
“Thanks. And I promise I’ll call if I need you. Deal?”
“Deal.”
I stuffed hiking boots, socks, underwear, jeans, two pairs of shorts, two sweatshirts and three tanks into my duffle bag and headed up to Grandpa Jack’s cabin in Silvy and Dad’s old 4x4 Toyota Land Cruiser. I stuck my hand out the window and waved as I watched Annie and Rich grow smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror. It was then that I really let go of the tears that I’d held back all morning.
The rumble of the cruiser rocked me gently along the narrowed mountain roads heading to my grandpa’s cabin. Scents of pine and wet dirt filtered through the open back windows, blowing away all sense of what I’d left behind.
After a good three hours, I spotted the chimney of Grandpa Jack’s stone fireplace through the swaying treetops of rain-cleansed cedars. The wild, overgrown foliage lining the gravel drive bloomed with wild flowers.
When I shut the engine off and stepped out in front of the aging wood deck, I noticed only the silence and the freshness of the air. Overhead a mother hawk swooped in close as if to see who dared come so near her nest, perched at the top of a dead oak tree less than fifty feet away. She screeched loudly when I waved my hands in the air and then landed above her nest, flapping her wings protectively. She reminded me of Rich.
The key was hidden inside the tiny door of Grandpa’s favorite birdhouse hanging in the nearby manzanita tree. That tree, I noticed, had grown enough to cause the chain holding the birdhouse to tighten around the fragile copper-colored bark. I made a mental note to add a few lengths, so it wouldn’t cut into the limb.
To my surprise, the inside was oddly free of dust and almost sterile with its cleanliness. Barbara and Mel, no doubt, had busied themselves while they were here. The magnificent view of Thornberry Mountain through the picture windows of the great room, welcomed me home. The view of the Sierra Mountain Range, with a tiny layer of snow still tipping the summit, took my breath away.
My room was the furthest down the hall with the best view from the balcony. Grandpa Jack let me have that one because I was the only one of his entire family who found true serenity in these mountains. The rest of them were ocean people. I wouldn’t trade this for all the oceans in the world. In her will, Silvy left this house to me because it was my grandfather’s solemn wish for this to eventually be my home. I kicked myself for not being here more often.
I unpacked the few things I’d brought and placed them carefully into the same antique dresser my grandmother had used as a young girl. When Grandma died, Grandpa moved all of his most prized possessions to the cabin where he lived out his final years. I felt blessed when I found this beautiful Louie XV dresser in my room. I’d forever remember the smile he gave me when I ran and jumped into his arms in thanks. Another precious memory.
I built a fire in the wood stove to cut the chill, unloaded the groceries I’d picked up at Murphy’s Food and Fishing, made myself a hot cup of tea the old-fashioned way by boiling the water in a cast-iron tea kettle over the open fire, and then sat down in Grandpa’s huge leather recliner to just breathe. At last, I was alone with my thoughts. It’d been a very long time since I was truly by myself. Too bad I couldn’t stop missing Jonathan.
~ ~ ~
When I saw his smiling face in the distance, I ran toward him, but then he disappeared. I chased him. I ran and ran until I couldn’t breathe. When I gasped for air and fell to the ground, I jolted awake from the dream. I’d fallen so quickly and deeply asleep, I’d spilled the warm tea down the side of Grandpa’s chair and over the sleeve of my sweatshirt.
The fire melted down to mere embers, and the full moon shone bright in the star-filled sky. It was cold, dark and eerily quiet on the mountain at night. The call of a coyote sounded from somewhere below in the canyon, echoing loudly through the valley and over the mountain top.
When I switched on the reading lamp next to the chair, I could have sworn I saw the scurry of a mouse, but I didn’t want to think about it. Instead, I put more wood on the fire and stirred the embers. I changed into my pajamas and proceeded to make myself a ham and cheese sandwich with an ice-cold Mountain Dew to wash it down.
Thoughts of Jonathan and Silvy and Rich swirled around in my head. The look on Jonathan’s face told me he was angry and shocked, determined somehow to prove his innocence. I’d never seen my brother so hurt and upset in his life. He seemed disappointed at having misjudged Jonathan’s character. I think he was wrong on that account. I couldn’t believe I’d fallen for a man who held such dark secrets. I said a silent prayer, asking Silvy and all others who had a say in my happiness, to please, make this one thing go my way.
Nine o’clock on the mountain was like midnight anywhere else. Everything and everyone for miles around had closed in for the night when I curled up on the sofa and had my dinner. Nothing tasted better than ham, cheddar cheese, and mayonnaise on white bread, served with a handful of crispy, kettle style potato chips. Funny how junk food is the only thing I want when I’m depressed.
~ ~ ~
The next morning, I awoke feeling more alone than before I’d found Jonathan. How does the old story go? You don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone. It was something like that. The serenity of my surroundings was the only thing that brought my mind away and my butt out of bed. Tiny icicles hung from the roof line around the balcony, telling me it had rained overnight. Puffs of smoke still filled the sky from the embers in the wood stove, and the air smelled clean and wholesome—the kind of clean you can’t get in the city.
Within minutes, I’d laced up my hiking clothes, made myself a cup of Irish Cream, and walked out onto the back deck to take in the glory of Thornberry Mountain. If it weren’t for my obligations, I’d never leave this place. Life is just simpler here.
I looked the house over carefully, making sure there was nothing that needed tending before I started my hike to Walker’s Summit. Every window held tight, and every wall seemed as solid as the day my grandfather built the place. The fine walnut cabinetry and wood floors still shone as though they’d just been varnished. Grandpa Jack was a particular man. It showed in every detail.
After my second cup of coffee and a small, semi-healthy breakfast of fruit and granola, I filled my backpack with hiking tools, gloves, water, and trail mix, and then headed to the workroom where I kept my insulated hiking vest. It was colder up here than I’d anticipated, and no doubt it would be even colder at the summit.
The door was locked when I turned the knob to the workroom. “Hmm, that’s weird,” I mumbled, searching around the doorframe and in the bushes for a good place to hide a key. Sure enough, a fake rock exactly like the one Silvy had lay beneath the flowering Mexican sage.
I was transported back in time when I stepped inside. Everything about the space was the same as when Grandpa Jack worked for hours and hours building his birdhouses. Saws and wood shavings were everywhere, and a fancy router was hooked to a cutting table at the far end next to the big picture window he looked out as he worked.
The bench I used to stand on as a little girl was still next to the hand carving set hanging by metal hooks on the wall. I would perch there for hours, watching Grandpa Jack create beautiful, ornate birdhouses from a blueprint in his mind. My favorite, of course, was the one with all the butterflies carved on the sides. He’d painted it with marine varnish so it would always hold its luster. Even now I could see my birdhouse hanging from the live oak tree outside the window, a Robin’s nest poking out the entrance.
On the far wall, along several wooden spikes, hung a half dozen coats and vests that each of us kept here for the changing seasons. My vest hung third from the left.
I took it down and gave it a good hard shake, hoping to dislodge any multi-legged friends. The first shake produced nothing except for a hard thump on my right shin, causing words to fly out of my mouth that were not at all ladylike. I noticed then the Velcro pocket was stiff with the outline of a small, flat rectangular box, the shape and feel much like an audio cassette case.
I continued to rub the rising bruise on my shin as I flipped open the case and pulled out an unmarked tape wrapped in a separate note written in Silvy’s hand. My breath caught as I followed the words. I reached for the wall phone, dialed the number and waited impatiently for him to answer.
“You’re not gonna believe what I found.”
~ ~ ~
The sound of tires tearing up the gravel driveway told me Rich had made the three-hour trip in a little over two. My eyes puffed almost shut from crying as I read Silvy’s folded note to her “beautiful children” over for the hundredth time. I could almost see her face saying the words that she’d written one week before her death.
Beautiful Children,
If you have gotten this far in your search for answers, you have nearly reached the end of this daunting journey. I know it is either you, Becka, or you, Rich, who have found this last bit because no other would have the deep desire to see this thing full through to the end.
First of all, according to my prediction, Becka Marie will have realized her cosmic connection to Jonathan Parker. I’m sure it has been a trying time, but I believe it has been worth the torment.
I’m sure also my darling Rich has, much to his dismay, uncovered the fact that Jonathan’s mother was a Sullivan. I’ve known this fact from nearly the beginning of my crusade to close Sullivan’s Plastics. Yet from all my research, I’ve found no evidence of wrongdoing on the part of Nathan Parker, his deceased wife Claire, or their children, Jonathan or Vanessa. The children especially should remain blameless due to the fact that they neither knew of the toxic emissions from the factory, nor did they ever benefit from its holdings. The Nathan Parker family forfeited all proceeds earned from the factory to Claire’s brother, Victor Sullivan, and his beneficiaries. Nathan Parker wanted nothing to do with the factory. He’s a rich man who didn’t need, nor want the wealth of his wife.
That said, I’m hoping my children have stuck together throughout this ordeal. That, above all, is my solemn wish. Be strong for one another and be careful.
If I feel danger is following me, I will leave my precious wedding ring in a conspicuous place for you to find. If it is found, it means I was too close to my answers—answers I derived in part from the comments I heard on one of your grandfather Jack’s tape recordings. As I’m sure you remember, your grandfather was a forgetful man. Many years ago, he began recording important conversations to preserve them and to protect his interests. I found a box filled with such audio tapes in the back of his closet a few months back.
This tape is a copy of one that was made between your grandfather and his longtime friend, Grant Sullivan, the very Sullivan whom Jack helped many years ago. As you will learn by listening to their conversation, Grant as much as admitted he knew his factory was emitting something dangerous to its workers and was overcome with guilt and remorse for having allowed it to continue for the sake of his greed.
Mr. Sullivan was obviously an ill man at the time of this recording. From his words, it appeared he was trying to make reparations with those he had wronged in his life. Grandpa Jack passed away only days after he placed this tape in the box. Grant Sullivan died a few months later of cancer.
This evidence should be enough to persuade the Sullivans to close their doors without having to drag you and the victims through a long, terrible trial. If it is not enough, Rich will know exactly how to use it to accomplish that same goal.
The last bit of information I must impart is that it was I, Becka, who played those songs into your answering machine, hoping to nudge your subconscious toward the universal clarity you were so close to finding. In case something happens to me, I’ve asked Candy to periodically leave this musical reminder, until you finally remember its significance. I wanted you to know, from me, so you wouldn’t wonder who’d done this thing.
If my death is of the kind of mystery that is never to be solved, please do not dedicate your life to the pursuit of so-called justice. Death to me is not an ending, but it’s another beginning with your father. I do not want you wasting valuable time and life source with vengeful hearts. The spiritual world will deal with those who have wronged me in the most proper of ways, I assure you. Go forth and be happy.
Love you both with all my heart and soul, Silvy
When Rich walked in the door I handed Silvy’s letter and Grandpa Jack’s recording to him, and then I went into the kitchen to splash cold water on my face. I could barely breathe from crying for so many hours. My eyes hurt from the rubbing.
I rinsed a hand towel in the ice-cold water coming up from the mountain well. I bent over the counter and held the cloth to my face, breathing deeply and letting go. Silvy wanted us to carry on, and for the first time, I was ready to let her rest without vengeance in my heart. I thanked her and God that Jonathan had nothing to do with her death and the horrible things the Sullivans had knowingly done to their workers.
Rich came around the counter and sat in front of me on our grandfather’s favorite twisted hickory stool. “Becka,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”
“No.” I held up my hand without taking the cloth from my face. “Let’s just finish this thing and let it go. I want to move on, Rich. I want to get back to the café and to my own life.”
“Jonathan,” he started to speak of him, then stopped, gulping back his words.
“What?” I moved the cloth to see the humbled look of someone who had made a huge mistake.
“Nathan Parker called me on my cell on the way up here. He told me that Jonathan spent the entire night working on this thing.” He fumbled Silvy’s letter in his hands, folding and refolding it with nervous fingers.
“Rich, what thing are you talking about?”
“Nathan told me that Jonathan paid a visit to his Uncle Victor’s home last night and evidently had a talk with him and his sons. He didn’t tell me what tactics Jonathan used, but somehow he convinced them to agree to sell him the factory to him.”
“How did he do that?” I asked, curiously.
“Well, I’ve seen him in action. He’s very persuasive when he needs to be.” He answered with a wicked smile.
“That doesn’t make up for what they did to our mother,” I looked down to hold my tears.
Rich moved in closer. “No, it doesn’t, but he’s shutting the factory down until they can make it safe for the employees. Silvy would like that.”
I looked up now and saw my brother had more to tell.
“Besides,” he continued, “he was smart enough to wear a wire.”
I dropped the wet cloth to the counter and reached across to quiet his hands. “You mean Jonathan got them to admit to killing Silvy?” My voice raised two octaves.
“Let’s just say he encouraged them to divulge who had.”
“Who was it?” Fresh tears of relief blurred my vision.
“Some guy they paid. Pretty well known.”
“Oh my God, Rich, does this mean-”
“It means they’ll be needing a good lawyer. Thanks to Jonathan.” A weak smile came over my brother’s sweet, injured face. “It’s over.” Tears came to his eyes as he blew out a breath. He squeezed my hands between his. “I need to call downtown and see where things stand. Then I need to get my ass down this mountain and apologize to Jonathan.”
I slid my hands from his, feeling the puffiness in my cheeks as I smiled. “I’ll take care of apologizing to Jonathan for you. Will you drive me down?”
“Get your stuff, and we’re outta here.”
~ ~ ~
The drive back to the city was not fast enough for me, even though Rich made better time coming off the mountain than he had coming up. I rolled down the window, letting the breeze wash over me, humming along with the Billie Holiday CD Rich was playing in my honor. It was nearly closing time when we pulled in front of The Health Nut. Paulo was standing in the doorway waiting for his box.
“Paulo.” I held out my arms, waiting for his embrace, both of us happy to see one another. “I’ve missed you.” I kissed his dark curls and then took him by the hand back toward the door. Parker’s Bookstore stood noticeably dark, making my heart sink.
“Becka, oh my God!” Annie and Candy stood behind the counter, one wiping the afternoon mess away, the other carrying an overstuffed box of offerings out to Paulo.
Annie dropped the rag and came around the counter to give me a hug. “I told you everything would be all right, didn’t I?” She pulled back and looked at me for a moment, pushing the hair that I no longer clipped on top of my head away from my face. “Your hair looks beautiful down. You should wear it like this all the time.”
She moved away to settle under Rich’s arm. He’d called her and filled her in on our drive down. They looked at one another, his hand familiarly on her stomach, quietly asking how she was feeling.
“You know,” I said, interrupting the private moment going on between Rich and the mother-to-be. “I can’t stand it anymore. Is this baby Richie’s or not?”
They smiled at each other, then Annie spoke. “We’ve decided this baby is Richie’s no matter who got me pregnant.” She bent in to accept a kiss on her forehead from my proud brother, and I understood.
“Do Barbara and Mel know?” I asked.
“Yep,” came Mel’s gruff voice as he and Barbara walked in through the kitchen with a basket full of Muffin-Stuff muffins.
“And we couldn’t be happier,” Barbara finished her husband’s sentence, kissing Rich on the cheek and hugging her daughter. I just smiled at Rich and the whole family thing going on around him. He and Annie glowed.
“Well, this calls for a celebration,” Candy said, setting Paulo’s box down and inviting him to join in. “Fresh squeezed cranberry and orange juice cocktails all around.” She swished through the swinging doors and returned with a tray of chilled glasses and a large pitcher of juice to go with the muffins that Mel and Barbara had brought out earlier.
We all lined up at the counter and toasted my beautiful niece or nephew, congratulating Rich and Annie on their upcoming addition. “To Silvy and Tom’s first grandchild,” Mel cheered with his glass held high. Barbara shed a single tear as she saluted.
After celebrating for a few long minutes, Rich leaned in and told Paulo he’d be dropping by his house later with a little surprise, and then he winked at me. I winked back, thanking Silvy silently for making it possible to help Paulo and his mother.
“Becka,” Annie said to catch my attention. “There’s someone here to see you.” She motioned toward the door.
Jonathan stood watching me, his eyes dark from no sleep, his beard that sexy shade of two days’ shadow, and his face full of hope and sorrow. All the noise of those around me echoed off the butterfly wall and out, without my ever hearing a sound. I was in a tunnel, heading toward a destiny nothing on earth could keep me from.
“Hi,” I whispered, falling into his watery blue eyes and touching his cheek with my trembling hand.
“Becka, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” My finger pressed against his lips to silence his words, telling him with my touch that I believed in his innocence.
“Silvy was so right about you. She said you were something special the first time she laid eyes on you,” I said, wishing my mother was here to witness the splendor of this magical moment.
For the first time, I drew Jonathan into my eyes instead of the other way around. I held him there until I was sure he truly understood that I was never going to let him go.
“Becka, I have something for you,” he said as he handed me a brown paper wrapped package. “I was going to give it to you last night, but-” He stopped when I touched the hand that held the gift, sending a sweet shock of cosmically connected energy into his soul.
“What is this?” I looked at him for a moment longer, curious.
He smiled and rubbed his thumb along my jawline. “You’ll see. Open it.”
Slowly I removed the wrapping, careful not to tear it. Inside was a first edition signed copy of Soul of the Moon by Rachel Stewart. The inscription read,
Love and forgive with every fiber of your being for your soul will live on. Always - Rachel Stewart.
My own words spoke out to me from beyond. “Oh my God, how did you find this?” I asked, clutching the precious gift to my chest. I was so touched by the gesture that tears welled in my eyes.
He just smiled that sexy, knowing smile and took my hand. “The author and I were very close,” he said, leading me out the door.
I held his hand as he silently guided me along Thornwall, down the familiar walk from The Health Nut toward my apartment two blocks away. The joggers greeted us on the sidewalk as they passed. A little old man with a pink leashed Miniature Pinscher crossed the street, whispering sweet nothings to get the skittish, little animal to obey. Lily sat alone on her porch, just as she did every day.
“Lily, I’d like you to meet someone very special to me. This is Jonathan.” I moved in closer, encouraging him to wave with me.
“It’s nice to meet you, Lily,” he said to her, looking from her to me for some understanding.
For the first time ever, Lily looked my way and waved back. We’d both found something that struck our fancy.