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And I was. Julie was all over me with stories to tell, songs to sing, and requests to “Please, please go see Mr. Bubbles and Fanny in their new home, pleeease.”
My husband asked, “Have a good day, Blondie?”
“Sure did.”
“It’s all over your face.”
Julie had me by the hand and was pulling me to the kitchen. I saw what she saw. If fish can be happy, these two were. I sat down in my lounge chair and Martha jumped up on my legs and licked my chin and honest to everything, this was better than confetti. Better than a handshake and a bonus. Better than all of it.
I could tell from the look in Joe’s eyes, we were going to have a good time tonight…
I admit, some part of my mind was listening for another shoe to drop. But I didn’t hear the thunk of a falling shoe. Joe and I played Princess with Julie and wrestled with Martha and her rag toy. Finally, Joe and I went to bed.
As anticipated, we had a real good time.
I woke up once that night. Not by a gunshot, or any kind of threat. I thought about my mom’s letter, still unopened. Still unread.
CHAPTER 38
THE CHAPEL WAS small and sparsely filled. Marty’s widow, Darla Boxer, and her young son, Austin, sat in the left-hand front pew. Cat and her daughters, Meredith and Brigid, sat beside me and Joe across the aisle. Julie stayed at home with Mrs. Rose. In the pews behind us, Cappy McNeil, Pearl Joy, and Marge and Leo Spinogatti made up the complement of mourners who’d come to say goodbye to Marty Boxer.
Marty’s coffin rested on a stand in front of the altar, and Pearl Joy had sent flowers. Darla had sent a large vase of lilies and a color enlargement of Marty looking young and happy in his police officer’s blues. The photo was set up on an easel behind the casket.
The priest hadn’t known Marty, but he had kind words for him, saying that he was in a warm and loving place, under the care of God, and that he could hear our prayers.
He asked if anyone would like to say a few words and I had nothing—but my lovely sister, Catherine, got to her feet. Wearing a buttery-yellow suit and our mother’s crucifix, her blond hair held back from her face with combs, she stepped up to the podium.
I was sitting next to my niece Meredith and she grabbed my hand. I put my arm around her shoulders and she leaned against me, her aunt Lindsay.
Cat said, “Thank you, everyone, for coming. I know we all loved Marty in different ways, and will also miss him in our own ways. I’ve been thinking of both my parents, what hard lives they lived. Mom raised two rambunctious little girls largely alone. Dad was gone much of the time, taking cases up and down the state, doing dangerous work so that his family would have a roof, and food, and school. And then, Mom got cancer and was lost to us too soon.
“But right now, I remember one particularly ordinary summer day that Dad turned into an unforgettable memory. He made it a surprise, too, and we loaded up into his roomy old Pontiac, rolled down the windows to take in the breeze. Destination unknown became the ferry terminal.
“We had a wonderful lunch in a real restaurant, and it was the first time I’d had roast beef on a roll with horseradish. I was still little. About six or seven, and Lindsay was almost thirteen, but she was as pleased as I was—and there was more to come.
“After lunch, we got ice cream cones and took them aboard a beautiful white ferry. There were rows of seats both inside and on the top deck. We went on top, of course. Ran up and down the center aisle and made friends with another girl who had a white fluffy dog. And we hung over the railing before Mom told us not to do that. We watched the beautiful blue water, stirred by the breeze, taking on a miraculous quilted appearance.
“All around us were sailboats.
“There were so many that it seemed like everyone with a boat in the Bay area had decided to use it that day. And from the top deck, this was a wonderful sight.
“I know now that this was only a one-hour cruise, but it seemed so much longer. Dad put me on one knee and had his arm around Lindsay and we cruised under the soaring Bay Bridge with all the sails, like flags, flying around us.
“There were other moments, other times when Dad would stop by to see my own girls, to put delicious treats in their Christmas stockings. One year he brought a kitten who’d been abandoned—and that little cat turned out to be a blessing. The girls named her Chrissy, and she is still with us.
“Marty Boxer had a hard life but good came from it.
“And I see him now, in a blue sky with clouds sailing past him, looking down on his family and friends, thinking of us.”
The chapel emptied. Darla introduced herself to Cappy and to Joe. Cat was in the center of a circle of admirers, and I waited until she was free.
I reached out to her and told her, “That was beautiful.”
“Do you remember that day?”
“Now I do.”
Like Cat, I had good memories of my dad. There. I said it. Memories of my dad that were sweet. And I remembered times when I challenged him and told him that he didn’t care about me. And that I didn’t care about him. And a time when he’d said I would make a good cop.
