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First thing in the morning, Marigold's boy always looks exactly like the toddler he'd once been: hair mussed, eyes squinted shut, and torso bare. She smiles up at him from where she's crouched in the dirt on her knees, lifting the floppy brim of her large hat so that she can see him better.
"Hi, buddy," she says, pulling her hands out of the dirt-crusted gloves she wears when she digs around in the garden. In addition to the cascade of bright pink bougainvillea, Marigold also grows pineapple in their short, squat shrubs, and firm, yellow bananas on a tree awash in green leaves in the corner of the garden. "How'd you sleep?" She wipes a hand across her forehead and leans back on her heels, pushing herself up to standing.
"I slept like a baby.” Elijah takes a drink of his coffee as he watches his mom gather her bunches of flowers. "Something about the ocean air always does that to me."
"If we were in London, you wouldn't be walking around barefoot and shirtless in the garden a week before Christmas," Marigold says, bending over to pick up the scissors she uses to snip flowers. She cuts a glance at Elijah. "Speaking of London, are you sad not to be there with Dad this Christmas? You said he wasn't leaving the house a lot, so will he be spending the holidays alone?"
Elijah looks around the garden, one hand on his hip as he stares at the little pots that hold growing avocado plants. "Um, well," he says, sipping his coffee again. "Actually, I have a proposition for you."
Marigold stands there, dirty gloves and scissors in one hand, cut flowers in the other. "Oh?" she asks carefully, lifting her eyebrows. "A proposition?"
Elijah clears his throat, looking guilty. "So, Dad isn't exactly in London at the moment."
Marigold drops her hands to her sides. She has a feeling like she's been standing behind a curtain without realizing that just beyond it is an entire audience, and that Elijah is about to pull that curtain up without warning.
"Where is he?"
"He's in Miami," Elijah says, looking guilty. "He had to have bypass surgery."
"What?!" Marigold nearly screams. "Your father is in Miami and he's already had heart surgery, and I'm only hearing about it now? What the hell is going on, Elijah?" She storms past him and into the kitchen, dropping the flowers on the kitchen table and walking over to the sink to wash her hands furiously. Elijah follows her inside sheepishly.
"He's with Aunt Kerry," Elijah says, referring to Cobb's younger sister. "She came down to stay with him for a couple of days so that I could come here...and ask you if it was okay for Dad to come and recover here. With you. On Shipwreck Key.”
Marigold turns off the water and stands there, hands dripping, mouth open as she faces the window that looks out into her garden. She doesn't turn around.
"So you came here not just to spend Christmas with me, but to ask me if I can play nurse to your dad for the next couple of months?" A breath catches in Marigold's throat as she parses all of this for more meaning.
Elijah waits before responding. When he finally does, he sounds far younger than his thirty years. "Actually, Iamhere because I want to spend Christmas with you, but I was hoping that if we brought Dad here it could be like old times."
Marigold spins around, wiping her wet hands on the front of her shorts. The sight of her son--her tall, lanky, fully grown son--looking at the floor sadly and admitting that what he wants is to spend Christmas withbothof his parents nearly breaks her.
"Honey," Marigold says, sighing. No part of her had ever envisioned Cobb on Shipwreck Key for any length of time, and no part of her can now picture him rambling around her lovely, dainty cottage filled with floral print couches, white linen curtains, fresh flowers, and old photos in delicate frames. She pushes her hair off her face with both hands and sighs. "Your dad and I..."
"I know, Mum. It's fine," Elijah says as he waves a hand at her. "It was a crazy idea. Aunt Kerry can take him back to New Jersey with her. I think. I'm pretty sure."
From the look on his face, Marigold knows that this isn't true. Kerry is a busy college professor with two teenage children of her own, and her house has no room for an over-the-hill rockstar brother and his lengthy recuperation. But her cottagedoeshave room for Cobb--as does her life. And she knows it.
Marigold sighs again. "Okay," she says, nodding and chewing on her lower lip as she considers the mechanics of it all. "So when did he have surgery?"
"Four days ago."
"Four days? And you're just telling me about itnow? You’ve been here for twenty-four hours already!“ Panic rises in Marigold's chest as she thinks of Cobb, poor frightened Cobb, lying in a hospital bed in Miami with no idea who will look after him while he recovers. "But wait, why did he come to the States for surgery? He could have stayed over there and paid for all the in-home care he wanted." Her hand flies to her chest as a thought occurs to her. "Oh no, has he run through his money?" Marigold's voice drops. "Is Dadbroke?"
The thought horrifies her because she knows how much money Cobbshouldhave, and she's always felt that he deserved it--every penny of it. He wrote the lyrics for all of his band's biggest hits, sang lead vocals, and played guitar on most of the songs. Not to mention the fact that he's given away years of his life and a fair amount of his health as he's toured and continued to entertain millions of people. If Cobb has run out of money, then something is wrong.Perhaps a poor choice of money managers, or a gambling habit, she thinks, feeling that same sense of fear coursing through her.
"No, he's not broke.” Elijah shakes his head. "He just wanted to come here."
Marigold puts a hand to her mouth to hold in a giggle. "No," she says. She can feel a hysterical laugh coming on. "He came here and had surgery on my turfon purpose? Because he knew I'd step up to the plate and bring him home with me? You’re kidding, right, Elijah?”
Elijah drops his chin like a naughty puppy being scolded, and then he looks up at her through his messy hair. "Kind of?"
Marigold throws both hands in the air and shakes her arms like she's railing at the heavens. "Why?" she asks no one in particular. "Why me?"
Elijah looks so sad that she has to walk over to him and throw her arms around him. "Oh, come on, buddy, I'm only joking," Marigold assures him, stepping away and looking up at her boy. "Your dad and I have so much history," she says, letting the words trail off for a moment while she thinks. "We truly do. And a long time ago--long before you were even a twinkle in either of our eyes--I promised him that I would be there for him, and that I'd take care of him no matter what. So guess what we're doing today?"
Elijah watches his mom but says nothing as he shrugs one bare shoulder.
"We're getting our butts dressed, taking a boat to the mainland, and getting ourselves to Miami. Let's get your dad back here as quickly as possible so that we can have a nice Christmas, yeah?"
