Riley had a shelf of pregnancy, childbearing, and parenting self-help books at home in Raleigh, but nothing she’d ever read in those books could have prepared her for a moment like this.
Maggy pulled away from her mother’s embrace, her blue-gray eyes narrowed. “It’s Dad, isn’t it? Tell me, Mom. Something happened to him, didn’t it? That’s why he didn’t make the ferry last night. Tell me right now!”
Riley glanced over at Ed, who stood now, his hand on her right shoulder.
“Honey? Yes. It’s Dad. He was … there was some kind of accident.” She grasped her daughter’s hand. “Dad’s dead, Mags.”
“No.” Maggy wrenched away from Riley. She looked at Ed for confirmation. “He’s not, is he?”
Ed nodded, his expression grave. “I’m so sorry, but it’s true.”
“Nooooooo.” Maggy howled, collapsing to the floor. “Noooo. Nooo. Nooo.”
Riley knelt down beside the child, trying to embrace her, but Maggy pushed her violently away. “No!”
Ed stood quietly. “I’ll get Parrish. We’ll be on the porch if you need us.”
Maggy looked up, tears streaming down her face. “What happened?” she whispered.
“We don’t really know yet,” Riley said. “Some kind of accident, they think.”
“Oh my God,” Maggy moaned. “Was he in a car wreck?”
“No. The sheriff told me they found Dad this morning. In the water, at the marina.”
“What? What does that mean? Dad couldn’t drown. It’s the wrong guy. Dad couldn’t drown. Did you tell the sheriff they made a mistake?”
Riley reached out and tucked a strand of damp hair behind Maggy’s ear. “It’s not a mistake. Billy was there. This morning. It was your dad.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“It’s true, Magpie.”
Billy had entered the kitchen so quietly that neither of them noticed his presence. He sat down on the floor and took both of Maggy’s hands in his. “I wish it wasn’t true. Nobody wants it to be but it is. It just is.”
* * *
“I want to see him,” Maggy said.
They were sitting at the kitchen table. Riley drinking her second cup of scalding black coffee, Billy drinking a Diet Dr Pepper.
“Oh, honey,” Riley said, shaking her head. “No. I know this is a shock for you. It’s a shock for all of us. But that’s not a good idea. Look. The sheriff said Dad had some kind of wound on his head. You don’t want to see that. It’s too upsetting.”
“I don’t care,” Maggy said. “You think it’s not upsetting knowing he’s dead? Knowing he was in the water like that?”
“It’s just that, well, the sheriff said there has to be an autopsy. I don’t even know yet when we can have a service.”
Maggy stuck out her chin in an expression Riley knew all too well.
“He’s my father. You can’t just dig a hole in the ground and bury him without letting me see him. It’s not fair.”
“All right,” Riley said, shrugging. “I’ll call the sheriff and tell him what you want. It’s a holiday weekend, so he didn’t know when they’d actually … you know.”
“That’s the worst idea I ever heard,” Evelyn chimed in. She’d been flitting nervously around the kitchen for fucking ever, as far as Riley was concerned, ever since Billy had pulled her aside upstairs and told her the reason for the sheriff’s visit.
Evelyn put down the broom she’d been using to sweep up nonexistent crumbs. She took a seat at the table, directly opposite her only grandchild.
“Listen to me, Margaret. I know you think you’re all grown up, and that you can handle seeing your father like that. But you have no idea what it will be like.”
“I do so. I saw Boots—after she got run over by that car at home. I’m the one who had to pick her up and put her in the shoebox and bury her. And I went to Granny Griggs’s funeral, too. I went right up to the coffin, when Mom wasn’t looking, and I touched her hand.”
“Maggy!’ Riley said, shocked.
“I’m not talking about a kitten, or an old lady whose funeral you went to when you were only seven years old,” Evelyn said.
“I was eight.”
“You were a little girl, and you scarcely knew your Granny Griggs, because she’d been in that nursing home for years when she passed away. This is your father you’re talking about. It’s an entirely different matter. Right now, you’re in shock. You don’t really know what you want.”
“Mama?” Billy gave her an almost imperceptible look. “Why don’t we let Riley decide what’s appropriate for her own daughter?”
“Because she’s obviously not thinking clearly right now, or she’d never even consider letting this child have her way.” Evelyn’s voice rose, and Riley’s head throbbed even worse.
She stood up slowly, holding the edge of the table to stabilize herself.
“I’m going upstairs to shower and get dressed,” she said quietly. She held out a hand to her daughter. “Come on, Mags.”
12
Sunday morning, Riley was sitting at the kitchen table, staring down at a plate of cold scrambled eggs that her mother had just slid in front of her, when the doorbell rang.
“Got it,” Scott said quietly. From the hallway, they heard subdued voices. Five minutes later, he was back, carrying a foil-wrapped casserole.
“What’s that?” Evelyn got up to look.
“Mona Gillespie brought her Chinese chicken casserole,” Scott said, placing it carefully on the countertop. “She said to tell you to bake it at three-fifty for thirty-seven minutes.”
“Hideous,” Billy said, lifting the foil to get a peek. “Just as I feared, topped with chop suey noodles. And almonds.”
“Mona Gillespie is a dear, sweet friend,” Evelyn said. “Wasn’t that thoughtful of Mona, Riley?”
“Very thoughtful.” Riley pushed the eggs around on her plate, clockwise, and then counterclockwise.
Five minutes later, the doorbell rang again, and then again. It had been only twenty-four hours, but word of Wendell Griggs’s death had already begun to spread. The phone rang, and offerings of food began to pile up.
“Where’s Maggy?” Billy asked, standing with the refrigerator door ajar, as he searched for a place to stash Sheila King’s tomato aspic.
“She went to the beach with some of the Billingsley kids, first thing this morning,” Riley reported. “Shane, the oldest one, had a cast-net. They seem to think they’re going to catch a shark.”
“Good for Mags,” Billy said approvingly. “No use her sitting around the house all day with us.”
“That’s what I think, too. But I told her she needs to be back in time to shower and change so we can make the two-fifteen ferry,” Riley added.
“You’re going to town?” Evelyn asked, her coffee cup poised inches from her carefully made-up lips. “Traffic will be terrible.”
“I know, but the sheriff has arranged for us to go to the hospital so Maggy can see Wendell.”