Let’s face it, a lot of times love doesn’t work out. Yet even when it fails, it connects you to others and, in the end, that is all you have, the connections. Look at us; you and I have each other now, and just think, if I have kids and you have kids, well, that’s a whole new string of connections. And on it goes. Kya, if you love Tate, take a chance.”
Kya thought of Ma’s painting of Tate and herself as children, their heads close together, surrounded by pastel flowers and butterflies. Maybe a message from Ma after all.
* * *
• • •
ON THE THIRD MORNING of Jodie’s visit, they unpacked Ma’s paintings—all but one, which Jodie kept—and hung some on the walls. The shack took on a different light, as though more windows had opened up. She stood back and stared at them—a miracle to have some of Ma’s paintings back on the walls. Pulled from the fire.
Then Kya walked Jodie out to his pickup and gave him a bag lunch she’d made for his trip. They both looked through the trees, down the lane, everywhere except into each other’s eyes.
Finally he said, “I better get going, but here’s my address and phone number,” as he held out a scrap of notepaper. She stopped breathing, and with her left hand held herself steady on the truck as she took the paper with her right. Such a simple thing: the address of a brother on a slip of paper. Such an astonishing thing: a family she could find. A number she could call and he would answer. She choked on her own throat as he pulled her to him, and finally, after a lifetime, she sagged against him and wept.
“I never thought I’d see you again. I thought you were gone forever.”
“I’ll always be here, I promise. Whenever I move, I’ll send my new address. If you ever need me, you write or call, you hear?”
“I will. And come back for a visit whenever you can.”
“Kya, go find Tate. He’s a good man.”
He waved from the truck window all the way down the lane, as she watched, crying and laughing all at once. And when he turned onto the track, she could see his red pickup through the holes of the forest where a white scarf had once trailed away, his long arm waving until he was gone.
34.
Search the Shack
1969
Well, again she’s not here,” Joe said, knocking on the frame of Kya’s screen door. Ed stood on the brick-’n’-board steps, cupping his hands on the mesh to see inside. Enormous limbs of the oak, hung with long strands of Spanish moss, cast shadows on the weathered boards and pointy roof of the shack. Only gray patches of sky blinked through the late November morning.
“Of course she’s not here. It doesn’t matter; we have a search warrant. Just go on in, bet it isn’t locked.”
Joe opened the door, calling out, “Anybody home? Sheriff here.” Inside, they stared at the shelves of her menagerie.
“Ed, lookit all this stuff. It keeps goin’ in the next room yonder, and on down the hall. Looks like she’s a bit off her rocker. Crazy as a three-eyed rat.”
“Maybe, but apparently she’s quite an expert on the marsh. You know she published those books. Let’s get busy. Okay, here’re the things to look for.” The sheriff read out loud from a short list. “Articles of red-wool clothing that might match the red fibers found on Chase’s jacket. A diary, calendar, or notes, something that might mention places and times of her whereabouts; the shell necklace; or stubs from those night buses. And let’s not mess up her stuff. No reason to do that. We can look under, around everything; don’t need to ruin any of this.”
“Yeah, I hear ya. Almost like a shrine in here. Half a’ me’s impressed, the other half’s got the heebie-jeebies.”
“It’s going to be tedious, that’s for sure,” the sheriff said as he carefully looked behind a row of bird nests. “I’ll start back in her bedroom.”
The men worked silently, pushing clothes around in drawers, poking in closet corners, shifting jars of snakeskins and sharks’ teeth in search of evidence.
After ten minutes, Joe called, “Come look at this.”
As Ed entered the porch, Joe said, “Did ya know that female birds only got one ovary?”
“What’re ya talking about?”
“See. These drawings and notes show that female birds only got one ovary.”
“Dang it, Joe. We’re not here for a biology lesson. Get back to work.”