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“I knew you would, because I called your office in New York and they explained to me that you were available remotely. It was a safe bet that I’d find you here. And you,” she says, turning to Athena, “posted a photograph of Shipwreck Key on your public Instagram account three days ago, so I hoped to find you still here.”
Julien clears his throat before speaking, and his accent is much thicker than his mother’s, his English less fluent. “I am happy to meet you,” he says to his half-sisters, looking at them shyly. “I’m sorry about your father.”
There’s a sweetness and an innocence to the way Julien says this, and it tugs at Ruby’s heart in a way she hadn’t expected. She finally comes out from behind the counter, compelled to be real—to be human—to this little boy. She can be as angry as she wants to be toward Jack (though it’s far too late for that to do any good), and she can be as cold as she feels toward Etienne, who should have known better than to take up with another woman’s husband, but Julien has done nothing but be born. He’s just a child with a tender heart.
“And you,” Ruby says to him, walking past Etienne, who bristles slightly, “we’re sorry for your loss as well. You lost your father too, and that has to be hard.”
Quickly and quietly, Etienne translates this into French for her child. Julien’s eyes well with tears and he nods.
Everyone stands there in the bookstore without speaking for a long minute.
Finally, Athena speaks. “Do you want us to tell you more about him?” she offers to Julien. Athena is Ruby’s deeply sensitive, caring child, and offering to share her father with a boy she’s never met is right in line with how she operates.
Julien nods.
“Let’s go sit down,” Athena says to him, and then she reaches out, offering him a hand. Though Julien is nearly as tall as she is and not really much of a child at all, he takes her hand willingly, and the of them go to the back room of the store, where they sit down in the mismatched floral chairs together. Ruby has no idea what they’ll talk about, or whether the language barrier will be a problem, but she knows her daughters will handle Julien with care, and Etienne is absolutely right: it’s up to the three of them to decide how and if they want to continue to have any sort of relationship.
“You don’t have to read the letter,” Etienne says now, looking at the envelope on the counter.
“I can’t even imagine what it contains,” Ruby says. She’s tired and overwhelmed. She runs her hands over her face and sighs deeply, feeling like she just aged thirty years since her first bite of the hotdog on the front step with Harlow. “What could Jack possibly have to say to me from beyond the grave, and why am I just reading this now, a year after his death?”
“It’s what he wanted,” Etienne says with hesitation. She’s treading on thin ice here, presenting facts and information that proves her intimate knowledge of what Jack would or wouldn’t have wanted. “He left me a letter that I read right away, and in it, he asked me to wait a year before presenting this to you.”
“That’s bullshit,” Ruby says, swearing angrily, though she normally measures her words much more carefully. “Why do you get to read a letter immediately frommyhusband, and then why do I have to wait a full year to find out what the hell went wrong with our marriage? That pisses me off.” Her voice has grown loud, and when she looks through the store she can see the three kids looking back at her from their huddle of chairs. Ruby drops her voice. “Once Jack was dead, why didn’t you send me that letter immediately? Who cares what he wanted—he wasn’t there to know whether or not you carried out his wishes.”
Etienne keeps her mouth pressed in a straight line, but folds her arms over her chest protectively.
“And why are there even letters for us at all anyway? If Jack died in a small plane crash unexpectedly, then why the hell did he have letters for his wife and mistress in the event that he died?” She watches Etienne’s immovable face. “Are there letters for the girls as well?”
Etienne shakes her head. “No. One letter for you, one letter for me. I think if you read it for yourself, you’ll have more answers.”
Ruby thinks of her recurring dream, and of how badly she’s always wanted answers directly from Jack’s mouth. Every single time she dreams about them on that damned boat together, she wakes up wanting more. She wants answers. And now here they are—maybe, possibly—in an envelope right here on her front counter, and she wants to run away from them.
Ruby seeks out her daughters with her eyes, suddenly desperate to be alone with them. She looks at Etienne and knows that this conversation is over. Pulling herself together, she stands up straighter and takes a deep breath.
“Thank you for the letter. I’ll read it when I’m ready. I’m glad the kids had the opportunity to meet, and if they wish to have further contact, then of course they should.” Fumblingly, Ruby reaches for a business card to the store and picks up a pen. She scribbles her personal email address on the back, because really, now that she’s met Etienne, is there really a monster left to avoid? She’s just a living, breathing woman like any other, and whether Ruby likes it or not (she doesnot), they shared a man, and their children share genes. “Here’s my information if you need to reach me.”
Etienne takes the card from Ruby’s hand and gives her a tight nod of understanding. “Thank you,” she says, and Ruby understands that it’s a show of gratitude for everything from speaking to her in the first place when she showed up on the doorstep of Marooned With a Book, to encouraging their children to foster any sort of relationship at all. “Julien,” she says, calling for her son. Julien stands and offers his hand to both of his half-sisters, which they shake in turn. It’s a formal goodbye, but not an unfriendly one, and Ruby observes her daughters’ faces as they watch Julien go. They look curious and guarded, but she knows they’ll never shut him out if he wants to know them.
Ruby unlocks the door and lets Etienne and Julien out, then closes it behind them, locks it, and closes the curtains. As Harlow and Athena watch, she presses her back to the door, slides down it, and lands on the floor with her forehead pressed to her knees.
There on the floor, Ruby succumbs to the tears that have been building since the second Etienne introduced herself. They are the tears of a woman who had to pull herself together the moment she heard that her husband was dead. They are the tears of a woman who never got a straight answer from her husband about his other life—his other family. They are the tears of a woman who is angry, lonely, sad, confused, and, maybe most of all, they are the tears of a woman who is afraid of what she’ll find inside that envelope on the counter.
Athena
Thank God Aunt Sunday is on Shipwreck Key now.This is the first thing Athena thinks when she wakes up a week later to hear voices on the deck below her bedroom window.
“But Rubes, you need to read it,” Sunday is saying when Athena walks outside from the kitchen with a mug of coffee in her hands. “Morning, sweets,” Sunday says when she looks at her. “You’re looking lovely as a daisy bathed in the sunshine of a summer day.”
Athena laughs out loud and plops down in an Adirondack chair. “Doubtful,” she says, holding her coffee between both hands. “But thank you.”
Sunday turns back to Ruby. “That letter could have the answers you need, Ruby,” she argues, pacing back and forth on the deck wearing a pair of yoga pants and a tank top. Ruby is watching from a chair of her own. “That woman had the nerve to show up here aftercarrying outJack’s stupid wishes, but what if the letter tells you how sorry he is, and explains everything you ever wanted to know about why he did this in the first place?”
“It won’t,” Ruby says with a firm shake of her head.
Sunday sighs dramatically. “Okay. Well, I won’t be able to convince you before my yoga class starts,” she says, glancing at the watch on her wrist. “And I need to go and meditate on how I’m going to handle my own marriage, so call me later on, alright?”
Ruby gives her a small salute and she and Athena watch as Sunday bounces down the steps of the porch in a pair of flip-flops. She hops into her new golf cart and backs out of the driveway.
