A Book of American Martyrs(199)

It wasn’t known what Jenna thought about this. Naomi had felt a small twinge of jealousy, that, for a while, Melissa was planning to live with their mother in Bennington; which meant that Jenna had invited her, and had made a place for her in her (new) life. But that had not happened.

That day they’d had lunch at the Light House Restaurant on the island, that was of particular interest to children. You could climb an outdoor stairway, and see a long distance over Lake Huron—(though you could not ever see the Canadian shore only just the Michigan shore on both sides). Daddy and Mommy had spoken sharply to each other as sometimes they did but Daddy and Mommy had laughed and whispered together, and had linked fingers in a playful manner. But Mommy had decided not to accompany them on the hike along the shore.

It was not easy walking in the coarse sand. The dunes were hard-packed and cold even in the sun. The beach had been littered with kelp, rotted pieces of wood, long-rotted little fish and bodies of birds you did not want to step on with your bare feet, that were scary to see, and emitted a sour smell. A blinding-bright day to be near the water, a cold day, and a windy day, so that the water was like something shaken, sharp as tinfoil.

He’d said it, then. Words they had not comprehended.

Promise me you will scatter my ashes here after I die.

They’d had no idea what he meant. Even Darren who was the oldest had no idea. And it was something of a joke—wasn’t it? Daddy had been smiling, his eyes wet with tears. But if you’d ask him why, why were his eyes wet, Daddy would say Because I am so happy. Because I love you kids, and I love your mother. That’s why.


IT WAS FOOLISH TO WAIT. Yet, in a kind of torpor they waited, drinking scalding-hot black and tasteless coffee from a vending machine in the motel lobby.

Neither wanted to think what was obvious—of course, their mother wasn’t coming. How naive, how foolish, to imagine that Jenna would join them in this task she had not wished to confront for eleven years.

Darren said: “Five more minutes. No more.”

So long they’d been waiting for Jenna, God-damned self-centered unreliable Jenna, Naomi had to use the bathroom in her motel room another time, and while she was in the room she made a call on her cell phone, and left a message; and when she returned to the deck she heard voices—and her heart leapt.

There stood a woman with feathery gray-white hair, embracing Darren. At first Naomi didn’t recognize her—“Jenna?”

“Naomi! Honey.”

No one, not even Madelena, called Naomi honey. Only her parents whom (almost) she’d come to think were both deceased.

“Oh honey! Hel-lo.”

They embraced. Jenna’s grasp was hard, fierce. Naomi was dazed with surprise, happiness and surprise, a kind of profound relief—Now I don’t have to hate my mother. Now, all that is over. She was feeling the thinness of her mother’s back, the lightness of her mother’s bones, through Jenna’s clothing. It seemed strange to her, Jenna was as tall as she, and not shorter, shrunken as Naomi had been imagining.

And her arms were strong, in this first, breathless embrace.

Jenna was swiping at her eyes with both hands. Her face was pale as alabaster that has been worn smooth. She did not look old, Naomi thought. This was a relief.

But her hair had faded and seemed dry, brittle. A curious sort of silvery-white, not distinctive and glamorous as Madelena’s hair, though attractive in its way, very light, feathery, brushed back behind her ears in no discernible style.

Clutching at Naomi’s hand, and at Darren’s hand, Jenna was murmuring how sorry she was to be late—“I’ve made you wait. I’ve made Gus wait.”

With an awkward sort of adolescent humor Darren said that Gus wouldn’t mind. Gus had been waiting long enough, a few minutes more wouldn’t matter.

Naomi laughed though she was feeling disoriented, giddy. How strange this was, and how wonderful—their mother had not abandoned them after all. And here—this handsome young man with the broad, warm smile—was her brother Darren, as well.

Another time she embraced them both. Her family!

In a hoarse voice Jenna was saying that she’d been afraid to call them, to explain why she was late. She’d thought that, if she’d said that she was lost somewhere between the airport and the lake, they would tell her not to bother to come—“You would tell me that you didn’t need me, you could do this alone.”

Her voice trembled. Her hands clutched at them to hold them fast.

“Mom, for Christ’s sake! What a silly thing to say.”

“Yes, Mom. Silly.”

Though exactly what they’d been thinking, just before Jenna had arrived.

Delightful, delicious and thrilling, to lightly scold their mother who smiled shyly at them, not certain how to respond.

“In any case, I think my cell phone is dead. I’d forgotten to turn it off for the plane flight, and the battery has run out.”

Together in Darren’s car they drove two miles to Wild Fowl State Park, and to the trailhead (which Naomi recalled as soon as she saw the green-painted paired outhouses). Jenna had not wanted to take time to check into the motel, unpack and hang up her clothing, she’d already made them wait—“There’s plenty of time for that afterward.”

Pausing then, for the word afterward had sounded strange to their ears for no reason they could have named.