I didn’t have time to explain to Will what was going on. I rushed into the walkthrough, making out a couple of shadowy lumps bunched against the closed concession stand. “Lucy? Lucy, it’s me, Gabby! And a friend.”
The smaller lump moved and a dog’s snout poked out of a cocoon of ragged towels, whining. “Dandy, it’s just me . . . good boy . . . good dog. Lucy, are you okay?”
The other lump moved, and as my eyes adjusted to the dim interior, Lucy’s wrinkled face appeared from a similar cocoon. “That you, Fuzz Top? Heh heh, see there, Dandy? What’d I tell ya. Told ya somebody would come sooner or later . . . oof. Gimme a hand here, will ya?”
“Will! Can you help Lucy stand up? Calm down, Dandy. Easy boy . . .” Dandy was whining constantly and trying to lick my hand. I unwrapped the towels and other rags and realized the dog was soaking wet and shivering. Beside me, Will was undertaking a similar operation, untangling the old lady from layers constructed of blankets and odd pieces of clothing and then helping her to her feet.
“Lucy! Why is Dandy so wet? Are you soaked too?” I used one
of the damp, ragged towels to rub the dog all over, realizing I was getting myself muddy and wet in the process.
“Nah, I’m okay. But he chased a seagull into the lake as we was headin’ for the beach house, got hisself all wet. Glad ya came, though—I twisted this bum ankle again tryin’ to stop him. Maybe ya can take us back to the shelter to get dry.” She squinted at the young man who was trying to help her into a one-legged stand. “Who’d ya say this here kid is?”
Will finally recovered his voice. “My name’s Will. I’m a friend of the Fairbanks. Your name’s Lucy? Can you walk, Lucy? It’s a ways to the car.”
“Well, I can if ya give me a hand. Stupid ankle . . . was doin’ fine till ever’thing got all wet an’ slippery—hey! Can’t leave my cart. Need all them towels an’ stuff too.”
The light outside was fading fast. Rolling my eyes in frustration, I gathered up the damp, muddy towels, blankets, and odd bits of clothing and stuffed them into the wire cart. Everything in there was going to need a thorough washing back at Manna House. At least the heavy rain had stopped. We inched our way out of the beach house walkthrough—Lucy leaning heavily on Will and half hopping on her one good foot, me pulling her rickety cart and holding Dandy’s leash—and made our way across the soggy beach to the jogging path, heading for the pedestrian tunnel and my car on the other side.
It took us a good forty-five minutes just to get back to the car, and another fifteen to drive to Manna House and get Lucy up the steps and inside. The office and reception desk were closed, but Sarge was on duty and said Lucy’s bed hadn’t been reassigned. She’d make sure the old lady got into something dry and had supper, which was being served up that night by the Silver Sneakers, a group of charming retirees from the Jewish Center.
“She should get that ankle elevated and maybe packed in ice again,” I told Sarge on the side. “And tell Lucy I’m taking Dandy home with me to get a bath. I’ll bring him back tomorrow. Just gonna get this stuff ”—I jerked a thumb at Lucy’s wire cart—“into the washing machine first.”
As soon as Sarge disappeared into the service elevator with Lucy, I called P.J. on his new cell phone, told him I’d be late and could he get something to eat for himself and Paul? “Yes, you can order a pizza . . . yes, I’ll pay you back. Be sure to tip the delivery guy. And tell Paul . . . uh, tell Paul that Lucy and Dandy came back to the shelter and they’re fine, okay?” I rolled my eyes at Will as I flipped my cell closed. “One of these days I need to teach those boys how to cook!”
I realized the sandy-haired young man had said very little since we’d found Lucy and Dandy, though he’d been very helpful getting her back to the car and into the shelter. Now, kneeling beside Dandy, where he’d busied himself rubbing the dog dry, he looked up at me. “Uh, Mrs. Fairbanks, can we talk? You know, about . . .” He jerked his head toward the doorway where Sarge and Lucy had disappeared.
“Sure. I want to talk to you too. Just let me get these things started in the wash—you mind helping me get this cart downstairs?”
We stuffed everything washable in Lucy’s cart into the two washing machines in the small laundry room on the lower level. Ten minutes later we were back in Shepherd’s Fold, which we now had to ourselves since everyone had gone to supper. Dandy was still shivering, so Will actually sat on the floor and let Dandy curl up close to him, head in his lap.
“Mrs. Fairbanks, that banana cake you made last weekend— that was for Miss Lucy’s birthday?”
I nodded. “November third. Born in 1926. Turned eighty last week.”
“And that prayer she was saying out in the beach house . . .”
I nodded again. “She told me her mother said that prayer every time they moved into ‘new digs,’ as she called them, which was sometimes every few months. A migrant family, following the crops.”
Will stared at me. “And her name, Lucy . . .”
“Real name Lucinda. Lucinda Tucker. Does that last name ring a bell with you?”
He practically gasped. “That’s the family name! I used it in my Internet searches. And Nana has a couple of brothers, my great-uncles. Their last name is Tucker.” He looked at me in wonder. “So this Lucy . . . Lucinda . . . you think—?”
“I think she could well be your grandmother’s missing sister. Maybe she changed her name from Cindy to Lucy . . . Lucinda could be either.”
Will wagged his head slowly. “Unbelievable! To think she’s been here all this time.” He stroked Dandy’s still matted and muddied fur for several long moments. Then he looked up at me again. “Does she know? Have you said anything?”
“Nope. Didn’t even suspect it until you said that thing about the banana cake last weekend. I asked Josh to find out a little bit more about your missing great-aunt when you two had coffee together the other day, but he wasn’t a very good sleuth. Except you did tell him your Great-Aunt Cindy had a November birthday. So then I started adding all the bits together. Wanted to tell you—and then Lucy up and did a disappearing act yesterday! I thought I’d lost my chance. So when you showed up today . . .” I shrugged.
“I’ve got to tell my grandmother!” Will scrambled to his feet, startling Dandy. “What do you think, Mrs. Fairbanks? What should we do? How should we get them together? Do you think Lucy would go with me to meet my grandmother?”
I shook my head. “Not likely. Besides, she’s had a setback with that ankle of hers.” I thought a moment. “Do you think your grandmother would come here? I could talk to Lucy first, kind of prepare her.”
“Tomorrow? Could we do this tomorrow?” Will was agitated, excited. “As long as Nana has looked for her sister, I don’t want to wait another day!”
Paul was excited to see Dandy when I got home, but glared at me when he saw how muddy and matted he was. “You said he was fine, Mom. He’s not fine! Look how he’s shivering. I’m gonna give him a bath.”
“Fine.” I grinned. “Just give me a chance to hop in the shower first to get all this mud off me. Then you can have the tub—if you clean it afterward!”
P.J. said his dad had called and left a message that he’d arrived safely. Wrapped in my robe and warm slippers after my shower, I punched Play on the answering machine and listened to Philip’s short message saying he’d call tomorrow to talk to the boys. But hearing his voice reminded me of the note Will Nissan had brought me—before all the drama of hunting for Lucy had crowded everything else from my mind.
Chewing a piece of leftover pizza at the kitchen table, along with a cup of hot tea, I opened the note. It was dated Thursday, 10:00 p.m. Last night.
Dear Gabby,
I want you to get this note sooner rather than later, so I’m hoping Will can deliver it tomorrow. First, I want to say thank you for saying you forgive me for all the pain I’ve caused you. It’s more than I deserve and it can’t have been easy. But it means more to me than I know how to put into words. I hope to earn that forgiveness by being a better man than I’ve been in the past.
Earn my forgiveness? Didn’t Philip realize none of us can earn forgiveness? At least, the only way I’d been able to forgive him was realizing that Jesus forgave all of us “while we were still sinners”— there was a Bible verse that said that somewhere. I was glad he wanted to become a better man. But he’d soon realize that wasn’t going to happen without a lot of help. God’s help.
I pushed the cold pizza away, wrapped my hands around the warm mug of tea, and continued reading.
. . . Also, you caught me off guard when you said the breakdown in our marriage wasn’t all my fault. I wasn’t expecting that. The decisions you made without telling me and the lack of communication did upset me a lot, so I deeply appreciate what you said. But one thing you said hit me hard. You said you didn’t talk to me because you were afraid I’d say no to everything you wanted to do. That’s what hit home. I didn’t see it, couldn’t hear it—until now. But staying with the Baxters this past week opened my eyes to a lot of things. Denny’s a YES man! Everything Jodi suggests, he tries to make it happen. Never seen anything like it! She’s the same way. It’s like they bend over backward to keep the other one happy. Doesn’t always work out, but the fact that they know the other person tried seems to make it OK.
Made me realize I never saw that in my home growing up. I’m so sorry, Gabby. Sorry for all the NOs I’ve thrown at you if it didn’t suit me. Guess I’ve been a pretty selfish guy. Wish I could do it all over, things might be different now.
Better go. It’s getting late. At least I don’t have to pack since I’m basically living out of my suitcase anyway!
Once again the note was just signed, “Philip.”
I’d been so absorbed reading Philip’s note that I didn’t realize the house phone had been ringing until I heard the answering machine click on. Jumping up from the kitchen table, I ran through the dining room and down the hallway to catch the call— but stopped when I heard Lee’s voice leaving a message.
“. . . on your cell but you must not have gotten my message. Would like to see you this weekend sometime. Call me, okay? Talk to you soon.”
I could have snatched up the phone and caught him before he hung up—but something stopped me. My emotions were too stretched and thin to talk to Lee right now. I let the machine click off and headed back down the hall. I’d call Lee later. Tomorrow maybe. Or . . . maybe not.