I found Ginny’s room later that day. She was asleep when I went in so I sat by her bed and held her hand.
“Ginny, I wanted to say good-bye,” I said when she opened her eyes.
She gazed up at me. “Good-bye?”
“I’m leaving tomorrow and I wanted you to know that I think you did the best you could, given the circumstances. I don’t blame you, and I know Nick never blamed you or else he wouldn’t have kept that picture of you all those years.”
“I never told you the whole truth,” she said. “When I came to talk to you and we went to the cemetery. If I had this might not have happened.”
“Why didn’t you tell me, Ginny? Did you know that Cora and Harrison were involved even after she got married?”
“I suspected. But I didn’t know that Nick was Harrison’s son. It makes sense looking back. It just didn’t occur to me before.”
“Why didn’t you say something? When all of this was going on, you were right there. When the gardener found that coin, I think you knew that little boy was dead.” It wasn’t accusing, I just wanted to know.
She looked at me long and hard. Her eyes searched mine. “You’re partly right. In my heart I feared that J.R. was dead; I’ve been tortured over that thought for years. But I had no proof. Harrison denied it. There was unshakeable loyalty between the three of us. I had to trust…sometimes you just have to blindly trust. Or what is there?”
That simple sentence gave me the permission I needed to forgive myself for all the ridiculous blind trust I had given Nick during our marriage. A bit of peace washed over me. I wasn’t really so naïve or stupid. If you can’t blindly trust your spouse, the person you vow to spend the rest of your life with, then what is there?
“Nick killed James. My husband was a murderer and apparently it didn’t bother him that much,” I blurted.
Ginny nodded. “You don’t know that Mackenzie. It ruined his life. He was never able to really get away, even though he left that property. He couldn’t get close to anyone, I bet. Not even you. Did he have any real friends? Any at all? His mother followed him everywhere he went, even if not in the physical sense. Probably a day didn’t go by that he wasn’t aware on some level of what he was. Don’t judge his soul by looking at appearances.”
I felt my eyes welling up and I had promised myself that I wouldn’t shed one more tear on Pennsylvania soil.
“Did Cora kill Bradford?” I said to change the subject.
She squeezed my hand. “No. Bradford had a heart attack. Probably caused from the stress he was under. The police said Nick told his father the truth about what happened. That wasn’t his first attack. That information must have just pushed him over the edge. ”
“The timing of his death was just very fortunate for Cora.” I added. “Weird.” She gave a small nod. “So where are you going when you leave here? Back home?”
She shook her head. “I think I want to live in one of those retirement communities. I can’t live in that house with all those memories. Maybe I’ll put the house on the market in the spring.”
“Do you need anything? Are you okay financially? I can help you out. Nick would’ve wanted that and I can’t think of a better way to spend his money.”
“No. I’m fine.” Her wrinkles moved as she smiled. “My family left me money, so I’ll be just fine. You’re a good girl Mackenzie. You deserve to be happy, get on with your life.” I smiled and nodded. “Stay in touch with me?” she asked.
The last impression I had when I turned at the door was of a frail old woman, covered in wrinkles, sagged against the bed, weary, defeated. Cora had taken this woman and sucked the life right out of her.
* * *
I was discharged from the hospital the next morning. Dylan picked me up and brought me to his house where I found Samantha packing her things.
“Good. I timed it just right. My cab’ll be here in a bit,” she said.
“Where are you going?” I asked. I assumed she’d be driving back with me.
She zipped her bag and turned to me. “I made flight reservations. My plane leaves in a couple hours.”
“Why? I thought we were driving back together.”
“I think you and your father could use the drive back to get reacquainted. You have a lot to talk about.”
“But Sam, he and I can talk anytime. I don’t want you to leave like this.”
“No, you and I can talk anytime. You need this time together. I’ll see you tomorrow. Just call me when you get in.”
“Let me at least take you to the airport.” I followed behind her, carrying her bag. She was doing pretty well with her crutches. “You can’t manage on your own.”
“I can mange fine. I think you oughta spend time here while you have it.” I could hear Dylan in the kitchen. I heard a beep out front. Dylan came out of the kitchen and they said their good-byes. She leaned down and hugged me. “Don’t get in any trouble before you leave. And don’t go over to that house. All your stuff is upstairs.” The cab driver took her bag. She kissed my cheek and was gone.
I spent the rest of the day in bed with Dylan, which isn’t as exciting as it sounds. I was exhausted emotionally and physically. Every muscle ached and I was covered in splotches. My nose was swollen and deep black bruises spread out under each eye. We just lay there together, for the most part, talking and sleeping. I kept an eye on the clock. My father was due at six. When it was time to get up, Dylan wrapped himself around me and asked for five more minutes. Then five more until I’d frittered half an hour away. Finally we got up and showered and dressed.
I unzipped my bag and there on top of my clothes was my wedding ring and a thick white envelope.
“My wedding ring?”
“The police found it on Cora and I know it means something to you.”
I picked up the gold band and studied it in the palm of my hand.
“Thank you.” I put it back and ripped open the envelope and stared. “Dylan?” I felt my eyes fill.
“Hey, come here. Sit down.” He pulled me to the bed. “Mackenzie, it’s time. It’s your little slice of life. Don’t let anyone or anything take that from you. Not even the crazy thoughts in your head.”
The Red Sox tickets in my hand were blurry through my tears. “But Dylan, all I see when I look at these tickets is the accident, Nick dead, and then my mother, in that order.”
“No, Mackenzie,” he put his arm around me, “what you see are all those asshole Yankee fans in their Boston Sucks T-shirts, yelling and screaming. You see Josh Beckett on the mound, the fans on their feet, stomping and yelling. It’s the top of the ninth, two outs. A man is on third. Yankees are at bat, one run down. Jeter is up, he swings, strike one. Red Sox fans are on their feet, the crowd is going crazy, he swings again, strike two. Here comes the pitch. It’s high and outside but Jeter gets a piece of it. Yeah, it’s going. It’s going, Manny Ramirez jumps for it, it’s just above his glove, can he catch it?”
I was so caught up in his scenario, I forgot everything else. “Does he catch it?”
He tossed the tickets in my lap. “Go to the opening game next year and find out. I had to make a deal with the devil to get them.”
I flipped through them. There were at least twenty sets of tickets in the envelope; seats that were almost impossible to get. “How did you do this? Do you have any idea…?” I stared at him.
“I told you I made a deal with the devil. My father. He went to school with one of the lawyers that represent the organization. They’re still close, so I asked him for a favor.” After everything that Dylan had been through with his father I could only imagine how hard it was for him to go and ask for a favor like this. “Even the lawyer had some trouble coming up with those. Check them out. Tickets for most of the big games are in there.”
“You went to your father?”
He shrugged. “Once I started talking it wasn’t all that hard. He owed me and we needed someplace to start. So, go to those games,” he pointed to the envelope, “because you know Boston can’t win without you.” He kissed my cheek. “And I know someone who would just die to go to the first game with you.”
“My father?”
He nodded.
The thought of my father and me at a game together again made me smile. I held the envelope until Dylan took it from me and put it back with my things.
He took my hand and pulled me to the door. My father was waiting outside on the porch.
He and I walked arm in arm to the car. It was a beautiful night.
He stopped and looked up. Orion was smack dab in the middle of the sky looking down on us. It was so clear. His belt, his arrow, his two dogs.
I saw my father’s fingers go to his forehead.
He smiled. “You remember?” We saluted together in unison as we had so many years ago.
“Tell me the story again, Dad.”
“Orion was once a mighty hunter who roamed the earth. He was loved by the moon goddess.” He scratched his head. “I forget her name.”
“Artemis.” I said.
“Oh, yes…Artemis. She loved him so much…”
I hadn’t felt such peace in years.