The Undertaker's Daughter (Ilka #1)(55)

“Unfortunately we won’t have time before you go home,” Leslie said. Amber still hadn’t said a word.

“Thank you for stopping by,” Mary Ann repeated. “It was interesting to meet you.”

Ilka started for the car again. She felt their eyes on her back, and she turned around again. “You’re very welcome to stop by the funeral home,” she said, staring directly at Amber. “There might be some of your father’s things you’d like to have.”

None of them reacted to her invitation, and she decided to give up, yet she took a few steps back toward them. “By the way, are there any plans for when my father’s urn is to be interred?” This time she looked at Mary Ann, who simply shook her head and answered, “No.”

Ilka nodded quickly and walked back to the car. For a moment, she stared out the windshield; then she pulled herself together and started the car.

Twilight seemed to have fallen during her short visit with her father’s new family. Shadows had lengthened; the evening sunlight hung low over the treetops. Ilka turned on the windshield wipers when it began sprinkling. She drove slowly to the end of the street and was about to turn, when a gray squirrel darted over a low wooden fence. Over by the gate, a woman whacked a doormat against the fence; then she tossed it down by the front door, walked inside, and shut the door. Neighbors, people who had known her father, Ilka thought. It was hard for her to imagine the man she had known and missed all these years, living his life here. In a residential district, so dull that it reminded her of a stage set, and with a family as stiff as starch. So different from her own mother.

They hadn’t given her one single opening. Not one sign of any interest in getting to know her. Obviously, they wanted nothing to do with her.

Ilka tried to put herself in their shoes. The sisters had just lost their father, a man who had been with them all their lives, and of course they were mourning him. She could see that. And maybe they hadn’t known about her, either. But their total lack of interest in digging just a bit deeper into his past surprised her. And admittedly she had hoped his new family could help shed some light on what had happened back then. Why he had chosen to settle down in Racine. She had so many questions.

Ilka made a U-turn, and when she drove by their house again, the porch was empty and the front door shut. Maybe they preferred to look on his life as having begun with them.

“Have a great life, assholes,” she said. She noticed her hands gripping the wheel, so hard that her knuckles hurt.

I was the first, she thought. As if that were a victory in and of itself, being the first child he had created. On the other hand, she was the one he had left. And the one he had cut off all contact with.

Ilka drove blindly now, noticing nothing. The monotone voice of the GPS guided her as she relived the loneliness and abandonment she’d felt for long periods of her childhood after he left.

She noticed a gas station up ahead, and on impulse she signaled to turn in. A moment later she was facing a freckled guy with wild red hair and a cap with the bill turned backward. Cash or credit card? “Cash,” she said. “And a pack of Marlboro’s.”

She tossed the sack filled with bottles on the front seat, pulled out her phone, and checked the address.





25



Ilka parked her father’s car and walked down to the house. At first, she thought Artie wasn’t home. She walked up the stone sidewalk and called out several times, but no one answered. The lake was over to her right; she could sense it. A pleasing smell of freshwater and earth.

She laid the sack of beer and root beer down on a table carved out of a tree stump; then she went up and knocked on the front door. After waiting several moments, she knocked again and called out his name. Finally, she walked around to the side of the house facing the lake. It looked a lot nicer than what she had expected, with an outdoor kitchen against the wall, a large stove with a log still glowing. To top it off, he had the largest gas grill Ilka had ever seen. And the wooden sculptures, some abstract, others animals, meticulously carved so even the slightest details were visible. Impressive! She walked over and admired the works.

“Sorry.” Artie appeared around the corner, out of breath. “Must have left my phone in the car. You been calling a long time?”

He wore a heavy sweater, and the tails of his Hawaiian shirt hung down in front. Judging from his rubber boots, he’d been down at the lake. He carried a rolled-up fishing net under his arm, with a bag over his shoulder. He threw everything on the ground beside the end of the house.

“Where are we going?” He walked over and unlocked his door. Then he noticed the beer Ilka had laid on the table. “What’s going on? Are we celebrating something?”

She shook her head and explained that she’d just visited Mary Ann and her daughters.

“Say no more!” He lifted his palm up; then he fished a cigarette out of his shirt pocket underneath the sweater. “They weren’t all that friendly, am I right?”

She nodded. That was one way to put it.

“I guess I’ve already explained they’re not really interested in the business. Truth is, I don’t think I ever saw the girls with their dad at work. Mary Ann was there a few times, but only to pick him up when they were going somewhere. That was before the accident, of course; she doesn’t drive anymore. But the girls. I always got the feeling they were ashamed of what Paul did for a living. It wasn’t dignified enough for them.”