“It was an accident,” she said quietly.
“But it was my fault.”
If she were here, she’d likely hug him and he’d stiffen at her touch. Because she could say those words a hundred times over, but he wouldn’t believe them even once.
“It was no one’s fault,” she said.
“Not even Louisa’s?”
The line turned cold on the other end.
“It was an accident,” she finally repeated.
It wasn’t something she’d ever said before. He’d always assumed she blamed Louisa because it was too painful to blame her own son. And let’s be honest, they all needed someone to blame.
“Are you sure you want to go to this party, Mom? You know the Chambers family will probably be there.”
She sniffed and he worried she was crying, but she quickly found her voice. “I need to do this, honey. I don’t expect you to understand.”
He didn’t expect her to understand what he was about to tell her either.
“Mom, I’m in Nantucket.”
If a jaw going slack had a sound, he’d just heard it on the other end of the line. “You’re what?”
“I got stationed here,” he said. “It’s not a top secret mission or anything—they moved me to help build morale, to bring about awareness for what we do here.”
“Why didn’t you say—?”
“Because I didn’t want to upset you. You’ve been through enough already.”
“I’m not a delicate flower, Cody. You can tell me these things.”
“Not about this,” he said. “Not about Dad.”
She cleared her throat. “It’s been years.”
“Well, it’s not like we’ve moved on.” He wouldn’t push, but it was true. She wasn’t over the way Daniel left, as if it had been his choice. She wasn’t over the fact that her life turned out nothing like it was supposed to.
He knew how that felt.
But the betrayal she must’ve felt when she saw those empty bank accounts—that, he didn’t fully comprehend. And his suspicions about JoEllen Chambers were only going to make it worse.
Louisa, you shouldn’t have sent that invitation.
“I think I’ve done a pretty good job bouncing back.” There was defensiveness in her voice.
“You did, Mom,” he said. “We’re all doing just fine. But coming back here—it’s not going to be easy. I’m afraid all it’s going to do is set you back. A lot.”
“Why would it?”
He sighed. Because he’s everywhere. His laugh, it catches on the wind and plays on a continuous loop over the ocean. Here, you can’t push him out of your mind. You can’t forget. “It’s just hard, is all.”
“Well, you’ve always told me it would be good for me to move on, so maybe this is what I need. Closure. I’m glad you’re there.” She paused. “But you should’ve told me.”
“Yeah.”
“Have you . . . ?” She stopped as if trying to decide whether or not to probe him. He wasn’t sure if her hesitation was because she was worried about upsetting him or herself.
“What?”
“Have you seen anyone we knew?”
It wasn’t like she cared if he saw Brenda and Jonathan Singer, the people with the yippy dog who had lived next door. She didn’t want to know if Dr. Smithton and Mary Beth Jeffries were back in town. She meant Louisa. She meant Warren and JoEllen.
“Yeah,” he said after too many seconds of silence. He refrained from telling her he’d spent the afternoon holding Louisa in his arms. She wouldn’t understand. “Why did they become the enemy, Mom? They didn’t kill Dad.”
Now she was crying. She thought she was going to come here and go to a party on the beach and have zero feelings about it? Was she crazy?
“You said it yourself—it was an accident.”
“It was senseless,” she said.
“It wasn’t her fault.” He realized he actually meant it. He didn’t blame Louisa. He had for a long time, mostly because he needed to—but going in the water that night, it had been his choice. And it had been his father’s choice to go in after him.
“We shouldn’t talk about this,” his mom said.
“You shouldn’t come to the party,” he said.
“I already sent in the RSVP.”
“Mom, they’re all here. And there’s something else.” He really didn’t want to have this conversation. He wanted her to go back to her life in Chicago and let her imagine he was still in San Diego. But he couldn’t escape it—and he knew she deserved to know.
“What?”
So he told her. About the memorial and the note on the back of it.
“A note?” she asked. “What did it say?”
He told her that, too.
She went quiet again.
“Mom, it could’ve been anyone,” he lied. “Someone he worked with or—”
“Joey.”
His heart dropped.
“I always thought she regretted giving your dad to me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Nothing,” she said. “Never mind.”
He dragged his hand over his forehead and wished he could travel back in time to try to figure out how to keep this conversation from happening in the first place.
“I don’t think it was her.”
“Either way,” she said, “it doesn’t really matter now.”
He tried not to groan. Because it did matter, and being here made it matter more.
“Mom, the party is in a month,” he said. “Don’t book tickets. Don’t come here.”
Then his mother’s voice shifted as if she’d found a new resolve. “Too late, honey. I already booked my ticket. I’ll text you the details so you can meet me at the ferry. Or not—either way.”
Unsent letter to Marissa Boggs:
Dear Mrs. Boggs,
It’s been six months since Mr. Boggs died. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him or you or Cody. In fact, you’re all I think about. I know you probably never want to talk to me again. I know you’re probably mad at the way I treated your son, and hate me for the way he reacted to what I did.
I didn’t mean to hurt him.
I guess that’s the thing about mistakes. We never mean for them to happen.
My mom made me see a counselor, and he said I need to forgive myself. He said if I ask, God will forgive me, and I believe that.
But what about you and Cody and Marley? Will you forgive me? Can you ever forgive me?
I don’t know if I’ll ever move past this until you do. And that’s not me trying to convince you to say something that isn’t true—I just wanted you to know how deeply sorry I am for the mistake I made.
My mom misses you. Maybe, even if you can’t forgive me, you can somehow still find a way to be friends with her? I know it would make things so much better.
Louisa
PS—I don’t think Cody will ever talk to me again, but could you let him know that I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying to make up for what I’ve done?
xoxo