Morning Glory(51)

I hear footsteps outside my front door. My heart flutters. It must be Collin. He saw the light on. He knows I’m home and he wants to see me. I rush downstairs and open the door.

“Jimmy,” I say, surprised, hoping he doesn’t see the disappointment on my face. I cinch my robe tighter. “Isn’t it a bit past your bedtime, honey?”

He’s wearing blue-and-white-striped pajamas. He has a teddy bear tucked under one arm. “I can’t sleep.”

“Oh,” I say, craning my neck toward the dock to make sure Naomi isn’t in hot pursuit. “Well, then, you might as well come in and let me make you some warm milk.”

He follows me inside and climbs up on a barstool at the kitchen counter. I select a small pan, fill it with milk, and turn on the stove.

“What happens when we die?” Jimmy asks.

I raise my eyebrows. “That’s an awfully deep question for nine o’clock on a weeknight.”

He shrugs. “Mama says when you die, nothing happens. She says you just close your eyes, and it’s over. But I don’t know.” He plants his elbow on the counter and sinks his cheek into his palm. “I think there must be more to it.”

I wink at him. “I hope you’re right.”

“So you believe in heaven?” he asks.

I nod. “I do.”

“Do you pray?”

“Yes,” I say honestly. I said a prayer on the plane that very day, in fact, not that I pray very often. There was something about soaring over the earth at ten thousand feet that made me feel closer to the Almighty—that and the fact that I feel so lost.

“Mama and Daddy are atheists,” Jimmy continues. “What is that?”

“Well,” I say, choosing my words carefully. I’m not exactly one to talk. I became a Sunday School dropout long ago. “It means they’re people who choose not to believe in a creator, a god.”

“Oh,” Jimmy says.

The milk is boiling now. I skim off the top, then pour some in a mug for Jimmy. “Careful,” I say. “It’s still hot. Cinnamon?”

He nods his head expectantly.

I smile, reaching for the cinnamon jar. “My mama used to sprinkle cinnamon on my milk every night before bed.”

Jimmy takes a slurp and smiles. “I’m not an atheist,” he says suddenly.

“Oh?”

He nods. “Because on the night of my fifth birthday, I prayed for an angel to watch over me.” He slurps his milk, then looks up at me with a milk mustache. “And God brought you to the dock.”

My eyes well up with tears then as I watch him turn back to his mug.



I don’t see Collin at all the next day, and by evening, I’m beginning to get worried. Did he go somewhere? Did he leave that morning after seeing me go to California with Dex? I make a batch of corn muffins and pace the living room floor while they bake.

When night falls, I put on a record, then slip on a sweater, and sit out on the deck. A half-moon dangles high in the sky, and I think of all the people looking up at it right now. Just then, I hear footsteps behind me, and I turn around quickly.

“Hi,” Collin says softly. His voice is timid, expectant.

“Hi,” I say, standing up. “I thought you’d gone away.”

“I thought you’d gone away,” he spars back.

“Listen,” I say. My heart is beating fast. “I didn’t know about the trip to California. It was Dex’s idea. He’s there now. Painting a mural for an actress in Beverly Hills.”

“Oh,” Collin says. He takes a step closer. “So you’re alone?”

“Yes,” I reply. The music from the record player drifts out to the deck. “Dance with me?”

He walks toward me and wraps his hands around my waist, and for a moment, everything is right with the world.





Chapter 20





ADA

The phone rings, and I open my eyes. “Hello?”

“Ada, it’s Joanie. I have news.”

I rub my eyes as my surroundings come into focus. “Sorry,” I say. “I must have dozed off.” For a moment I’m confused. What is she talking about? And then I remember the articles I read about Penny Wentworth’s disappearance before falling asleep.

“Penny Wentworth,” she says. “She disappeared from her houseboat on Lake union   on July 29, 1959.”

I sit up and stretch my arms. “I know,” I say. “I found the date in an article online.”

“Seems like they suspected the husband, Dexter, first,” Joanie adds. “The police interrogated him. I found the transcripts. From what I can tell it ruined him. He stopped painting. Left the lake. In the end, they closed the case, saying Penny likely drowned in Lake union  . But they never did find a body.