Where the Crawdads Sing(64)

He smiled, the scar going crooked, and replied, “Kya, I hoped you’d be here.” They stared, each searching for the other in older eyes. Jodie couldn’t know he had been with her all these years, that scores of times he had shown her the way through the marsh, taught her over and over about herons and fireflies. More than anyone else, she had wanted to see Jodie or Ma again. Her heart had erased the scar and all the pain in that package. No wonder her mind buried the scene; no wonder Ma had left. Hit by a poker across the chest. Kya saw those rubbed-out stains on the flowered sundress as blood again.

He wanted to hug her, fold her into his arms, but as he moved toward her, she hung her head low to the side in profound shyness and backed up. So he simply stepped onto the porch.

“Come in,” she said, and led him into the small living room chock-full with her specimens.

“Oh,” he said. “Yes, then. I saw your book, Kya. I didn’t know for sure if it was you, but yes, now I can see it was. It’s amazing.” He walked around looking at her collections, also examining the room with its new furniture, glancing down the halls to the bedrooms. Not wanting to snoop, but taking it all in.

“Do you want coffee, tea?” She didn’t know if he’d come for a visit or to stay. What did he want after all these years?

“Coffee would be great. Thank you.”

In the kitchen, he recognized the old woodstove next to the new gas range and refrigerator. He ran his hand over the old kitchen table, which she had kept as it was. With all its peeling-paint history. She poured the coffee in mugs, and they sat.

“You’re a soldier, then.”

“Two tours in ’Nam. I’m staying in the army for a few more months. They’ve been good to me. Paid for my college degree—mechanical engineering, Georgia Tech. Least I can do is stay in a while.”

Georgia wasn’t all that far away—he could have visited sooner. But he was here now.

“You all left,” she said. “Pa stayed a while after you, but then he went, too. I don’t know where, don’t know if he’s alive or not.”

“You’ve been here by yourself since then?”

“Yes.”

“Kya, I shouldn’t have left you with that monster. I’ve ached, felt terrible about it for years. I was a coward, a stupid coward. These damned medals don’t mean a thing.” He swiped at his chest. “I left you, a little girl, alone to survive in a swamp with a madman. I don’t expect you to forgive me, ever.”

“Jodie, it’s okay. You were just a kid yourself. What could you do?”

“I could’ve come back when I was older. At first it was day-to-day survival on the back streets of Atlanta.” He sneered. “I left here with seventy-five cents in my pocket. Stole it from the money Pa left in the kitchen; took it knowing it would leave you short. I scraped by on odd jobs till the army took me in. After training, it was straight to war. When I got home, so much time had passed, I figured you were long gone, run away yourself. That’s the reason I didn’t write; I think I signed up to go back as a kind of self-punishment. What I deserved for leaving you. Then after I graduated from Tech, a couple of months ago, I saw your book in a shop. Catherine Danielle Clark. My heart just broke and leapt for joy all at once. I had to find you—figured I’d start here and track you down.”

“Well, here we are then.” She smiled for the first time. His eyes were the same as they had been. Faces change with life’s toll, but eyes remain a window to what was, and she could see him there. “Jodie, I’m so sorry you worried about leaving me. Not once did I blame you. We were the victims, not the guilty.”

He smiled. “Thank you, Kya.” Tears welled, and they both looked away.

She hesitated, then said, “This may be hard to believe, but for a while Pa was good to me. He drank less, taught me to fish, and we went out in the boat a lot, all over the marsh. But then, of course, he went back to drinking and left me to fend for myself.”

Jodie nodded. “Yeah, I saw that side of him a few times, but he always went back to the bottle. He told me once it had something to do with the war. I’ve been to war myself and seen things that could drive a man to drink. But he shouldn’t have taken it out on his wife, his own kids.”

“What about Ma, the others?” she asked. “Did you ever hear from them, know where they went?”

“I don’t know a thing about Murph, Mandy, or Missy. I wouldn’t know them if I passed them in the street. By now I ’spose they’ve scattered with the wind. But Ma, well, Kya, that’s another reason I wanted to find you. There is some news of her.”

“Some news? What? Tell me.” Chills flowed from Kya’s arms to her fingertips.

“Kya, it’s not good. I only found out last week. Ma died two years ago.”

She bent at the waist, holding her face in her hands. Soft groans came from her throat. Jodie tried to hold her, but she moved away from him.

Jodie continued. “Ma had a sister, Rosemary, who tried to track us down through the Red Cross when Ma died, but they couldn’t find us. Then a couple of months ago they found me through the army and put me in touch with Rosemary.”

In hoarse tones Kya mumbled, “Ma was alive until two years ago. I’ve been waiting all these years for her to walk down the lane.” She stood and held on to the sink. “Why didn’t she come back? Why didn’t somebody tell me where she was? And now it’s too late.”