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My body feels heavy as it sinks into the bed. I am content and my mind starts to slow down with the silence surrounding me. Knowing she is here in Hancock, next door to me, it has me relaxed, and for the first time since the funeral, I sleep solidly until morning.
9
Isabelle
I don’t know if it was the long drive to the cabin yesterday or the fresh air in my lungs, but I slept like a baby last night and feel so refreshed today. I decided last night after reading dad's letter again for the hundredth time, that I can’t wait a moment longer. I need to go to town and find Maria. I also need to stock up on pantry items since there is absolutely nothing here. Dad must have cleared it out on his last visit, knowing it was his final time.
I don’t know what to expect if I see her. I have to admit, I am a little nervous. As I sit at the small table in the cabin, sipping on my morning coffee, I wring my hands together and pull at my fingers. I need to bake. Baking has always been my thing. If I am stressed, I bake, if I am sad, I bake, if I can’t sleep, I bake. I literally made all the food at my dad’s wake because since he passed all I could do was bake. It is my stress reliever.
I decide to make my way to town and start at the diner. From memory, it is where the town congregates, and someone will know Maria. I am sure of it. As I get into my dad's Jeep, I notice that the large house next door is still and quiet. If a family does live there, they are awfully private. I haven't seen or heard anyone from next door since I arrived yesterday. But I know that they must have been close with dad because of the connecting path between the two cabins, so I guess I will pop over later and say hello. It’s the neighborly thing to do.
I start the car and begin the short drive to town. It is a fresh morning, but the sky is clear blue, and the sun is shining. For the first time since the funeral, I don’t feel sad. I actually feel at peace. Maybe this is what dad felt every time he was here? Maybe that is why he came to Hancock so much.
I reach the town and am in love; it is even better than I remember. Sure, it is small, but it has everything that you need. It is well-maintained, with beautiful trees lining the street and garden beds full of colorful blooms. There are offices, banks, shops, restaurants, all the services and amenities that people require. I drive past a beautiful florist and decide to stop there on my way home. Some flowers in the cabin would be nice. In D.C., I was surrounded by flowers. I’m sure my mother has thrown them all away now that I have left. I love their smell, their appearance, and I feel like I have my life together when I have fresh flowers around me. Working in event management, I know the positive impact even the smallest bouquet can make.
I slow down as I see the diner come into view. It is still early, but they are open, and I can see through the large front windows that there are a few people inside. No doubt grabbing their breakfast or a morning coffee before starting their day. I pull into a parking spot and turn off the engine. I am nervous. I don’t know what to expect. In his letter, dad sure seemed to like Maria, and she obviously played a big part in his life. I take a hard swallow, because it was a part of his life that I didn’t know about, and I feel sad that he didn’t think he could share it with me when he was alive.
I grab the keys and open the car door, sliding my way down. I really am too short for this Jeep. I need to install some running boards to make it easier for me to get up and down, because I love the Jeep and don’t want to part with it. Locking it up, I make my way inside. It is a hive of activity, and I notice a few more people sitting at the bar and in the booths as I hesitantly make my way inside.
A few people glance my way, not being so subtle about observing the new person in town. I take a seat at the bar and order a coffee, then look over the food options. Now that I am here, I am starving. I don’t think I have had a proper meal since the gnocchi at Fiola’s a few nights ago, and my stomach growls at the thought.
“Hello, dear.” I hear a woman's voice say beside me, and I look up to see an older woman. She looks exhausted, defeated, and I don’t know how I know, but this must be Maria. She is in a grey and white uniform and is short like me, more so because she wears flat black rubber-soled shoes. She has dark hair with a few greys poking through, pale skin, warm brown eyes, and is the complete opposite of my mother. That is probably what attracted dad to her the most.
“Maria?” I say softly, inquisitively, as I take in her appearance. She is holding a coffee jug and fills up my coffee cup, then sets it down on the bar before looking at me and nodding. She seems to know exactly who I am, and I am not sure what comes over me, but I immediately stand and embrace her. I can hear her quietly sobbing on my shoulder which makes tears well up in my eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she splutters, pulling away, running her fingers under her eyes to prevent the tears from running and her mascara from smudging.
“It’s okay.” I have never hugged or touched so many people in my life as I have these past weeks, and it is becoming so natural now that I don’t think twice about it.
“Can we talk?” I ask her, curious to get to know her, and she nods toward the back of the diner to a corner booth away from prying eyes. We make our way over and sit, facing each other. We remain silent for a beat before she starts.
“I met your dad a few years ago when I moved here from Boston. My grandmother was living here at the time, and I came to look after her when her health was failing. I ended up staying here once she passed.”
I nod for her to continue.
“Your dad came in here for coffee every morning, always with a cheeky grin on his face, and always with a story to tell. He spoke about you often. He carried around a photo of you with him everywhere; that is how I recognized you when you walked in,” She smiles at the memory and so do I.
“We saw each other every day and became close. We confided in each other. He had many stories he needed to share, from his days in the military, and I guess I became his shoulder to lean on when things became tough for him to work through. He also helped me when my grandmother died, and together, we just kind of clicked.”
“Thank you for being here for him when I wasn’t,” I reply, and she looks at me, shocked.
“You’re not upset with me? I thought you would be angry, mad at him for having me here while you and your mom were in D.C.?” she asks, struggling to understand why I am not yelling at her.
“I guess when I first found out, it was a shock, but if I really think about it, my mom has been having an affair for a few years, and I was busy with work, so dad having his own life is not hard to believe. I am glad he found comfort with you, Maria. My mother certainly wasn’t providing it.”
Never in my wildest imagination did I ever think I would be talking to my dad's female companion in such a way. But there is something about caring for your frail sick father for months that gives you a new perspective on life. Life is too short to hold grudges, and of course it hurts to know your parents' marriage is not what you expected it to be, but I am an adult, and I can’t hang onto these things. It serves no purpose. I am not here to confront her or cause trouble. It is clear to me that she was in love with him, and I am not going to make her grieving worse.
“You didn’t come to the funeral?” I ask her, because I didn’t see her there, and I am positive I haven’t seen her before.
She shakes her head. “No, I didn’t want to face his wife or you during that time. We had our own small service here in town for him the day after. We have a memorial park just down the end of the street. You should go and see the plaque we put there for him.”
I smile in happiness that my dad found his place here and that he was so loved.
“I need to get back to work, but let’s talk some more before you leave town. Are you planning on staying long?” she asks, but before I can reply, a young boy comes up and places a hot breakfast in front of me.
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t order this,” I say, startled.
“No, but I did, you look like you need to eat,” Maria says as she stands. “Don’t be a stranger, okay?”
