Page 98 of The Guests on South Battery
His eyes darkened as he studied me. “If you mean have we passed our first marital hurdle, I’d say yes. If anything, I think we’ve learned that we each need to work on trusting the other to share the bad stuff. It’s a heck of a lot easier dealing with it up front than being run over by the consequences.”
“You’re not getting any argument here.”
He followed my gaze out the window to where my father was putting the final touches on the back garden, where we were having the party despite the hole and caution tape. Nola had strung helium balloons—donated by a contrite Rich Kobylt for speaking out about the hole instead of simply filling it in—along the length of the tape in an attempt to disguise it as being part of the decorations, and my father had moved all pots and containers along the periphery to keep guests from tumbling inside. The only child guest was Blue Skye and I was sure either Sophie or Chad would be wearing her in a pouch and therefore not likely to be toddling past the barriers.
Jayne, in sensible flats and khakis, worked next to my father, laughing at something he said as he stood and reached for her hand to pull her up. He had not taken the news about Jayne easily, just as Ginette had predicted. My mother had always insisted, and still did, that he was the only man she’d ever loved, although the fact that Jayne even existed seemed proof enough that this wasn’t true. I placed my head on Jack’s chest, listening to his heartbeat. That was the thing with marriage, I thought. There would always be leaps of faith we’d be expected to make, whether we liked where we were supposed to land or not.
We watched as my mother approached, and I saw the way my father’s face brightened, the way his body turned toward hers. She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him, a second too long to be called perfunctory, and Jayne smiled. She had finally found the family she’d always longed for, and in a way she’d probably never expected. But she had a mother and sister, and even a father, two nieces, and a nephew. My dad hadasked her to call him Dad if she was comfortable with it, and she’d taken to it surprisingly easily.
I felt a little ping around my heart as I watched my parents put their arms around Jayne, but it wasn’t jealousy, exactly. It was more like the feeling of loss. Like that of a firstborn on the day her parents bring a sibling home from the hospital, suddenly dethroned from the halcyon days of only-childom. I’d only just found my parents again, discovered new relationships I’d never had, and it was hard to give it up. As Jack said, I wasn’t giving up anything, and accepting the new changes would just take time. Like learning to stop labeling every blessed thing in the house (his words, not mine).
I liked Jayne, and even enjoyed admitting our resemblance to each other, especially since she’d dyed her hair back to brunette. And because people thought we were a lot closer in age than we were. She’d moved back into the house on Tradd Street while the renovations continued on her house—moving faster now that there weren’t any more “disturbances,” according to Rich Kobylt. He’d actually managed to hold on to the same crew for two weeks without anyone running from the house and not returning, even for their tools.
Jayne had promised to stay on as nanny as long as I needed her, or until I could find a replacement. Jack had made some comment about her blocking off her calendar for the next eighteen years, and they’d both laughed. I hadn’t.
Jack kissed the top of my head, and I snuggled into him, realizing anew how precious our relationship was, and how easily we almost let it go. There was no pointing fingers of blame—we were both culpable, each of us holding back the truth for fear of rippling the waters. And in so doing, almost creating waves big enough to capsize the boat.
“How’s the writing going?” I asked. It had been a subject I’d avoided, understanding now the precarious situation his career was in. He’d been disappearing into his study on a regular basis for the past week, and I figured that if we were going to keep everything in the open between us, I needed to ask.
“It’s going great, actually. And so is Nola’s music writing. Yourmother thinks it had to do with Jayne putting on a mental block so spirits wouldn’t bug her. She’s apparently very strong-minded, and her block spilled over into other creative processes. Now that she’s aware of it, she’s using it more carefully.”
He kissed the top of my head. “They’ve agreed to let me write the book, by the way—both Jayne and your mother. All of it. I’m even allowed to use their names. I think Ginette is hoping for a movie deal so we can show up Marc Longo.”
I looked up at him in surprise. “I thought you’d decided not to ask—that we would find another way to get the money to remain solvent.”
“I did. And then your mother and Jayne approached me and told me not to be stupid. They both said that they’re too old to worry what people think, and they want Hasell’s story told. She had a short and tragic life and if it can be used as a lesson to help others, then it needs to be out there.
“And I promised them that I would be gentle with Anna’s story. Munchausen-by-proxy is a mental illness, borne out of her own personal abandonment issues brought about by her parents’ neglect. She knew it, too. And still blamed herself. I think that’s why she hanged herself.”
“Poor Anna. Despite what she did, it’s hard not to feel compassion for her. Even after she tried to scare the living daylights out of me.”
“You should have taken your labeling gun after her—now, that might have scared her away.”
I elbowed him in the ribs. “Very funny. Somehow I think it took my mother, Jayne, and me to make her see the light. Literally. She was such an unhappy soul. I hope she’s found peace. And poor Button. She must have suspected something. Enough to cause her to do something as drastic as faking a baby’s death just so she could keep the baby away from Anna. Knowing Anna as she did, she would have assumed that Anna would have tried to find a way to influence the baby’s care, perhaps even insinuating that my mother’s abandonment of me meant she was an unfit mother, and perhaps then Jayne’s raising would have gone to Anna by default.”
“Such a sad, sad story.” Jack kissed the top of my head. “Why do you think Anna stayed earthbound? Because she couldn’t forgive herself?”
“Partly. And also because she didn’t want anyone to know what she’d done—that’s why she repressed Hasell’s spirit, while Hasell stuck around to try to diminish her mother’s internal rage that she misdirected toward the rest of the world. And to let everyone know the truth about her death. Not to cast Anna in a bad light, but maybe shine some understanding instead of condemnation for mental illness. I don’t know if we would have found the evidence in the stairwell if it hadn’t been for Hasell. Or her cat.” I shuddered. “I can’t believe I didn’t know it was a ghost. But because Jayne saw it, it never occurred to me.”
Jack kissed my nose. “Don’t beat yourself up. Your cluelessness is one of your more endearing attributes.”
Mrs. Houlihan bustled into the kitchen, the dogs following behind her, knowing she was bound to drop scraps while she prepared food for the party. “Out you go, you two. Nola and her friends just brought down JJ and Sarah fresh from a nap, and they look sweet enough to eat.” She smiled, her round cheeks dimpling, and for a moment I could, indeed, imagine her snacking on my children.
“Let us know when you need us to help bring out trays. The tables are all ready in the garden,” I said.
“Will do. But first, if you wouldn’t mind, would you please remove that old notebook from the hall table? It’s unsightly, and I don’t want it to be the first thing guests see when they arrive by the front door.”
Jack sent me a quizzical look. “It was in my study. Why is it on the hall table?”
I gave Mrs. Houlihan a thumbs-up as I took Jack’s hand and led him to the foyer. “Don’t worry—there’s no hocus-pocus here,” I said, using my father’s words for anything resembling psychic activity. “I put it there.” Thomas had taken the bottles and syringes for analysis, but had given Hasell’s notebook to Jayne, who’d in turn shared it with me.
Hasell had been a gifted artist, her whimsical dreams of exploring the world from the confines of her attic room carefully drawn withcolored pencils on alternating pages. She’d used images from the mural and the snow globes, entwining them with those in her vivid imagination, creating a magical world where she could fly among the clouds and visit the four corners of the earth.
On the facing pages her small, childish penmanship told the stories that went with each picture, except they didn’t. They were fairy tales, the characters disguised as animals or fairy-tale creatures, their actions exaggerated, their journeys to happily-ever-after convoluted and difficult to follow. It was only after reading it through more than once that one began to read the story she was trying to tell, a story of a loving mother who slipped up a hidden staircase to poison her daughter. It must have been Hasell’s way of trying to solicit help from other adults. Maybe it was her isolation that didn’t expose her to enough outsiders, with or without her mother’s constant presence, or maybe it was the complexities of the stories that allowed those who did read them to dismiss them as the ramblings of a childish, yet creative, mind. We guessed that Anna had hidden the notebook along with her secret stash of bottles after Hasell’s death, and then forgotten about them in their secret hiding place.
When Jayne had given me the book, she cried, grieving for the half sister she’d never known who’d led such a short and horrific life, and had known what was being done to her, yet was powerless to stop it. But she’d still found beauty around her, and in her brilliant imagination. I’d hugged Jayne, assuring her that she still had a half sister, and that if she could ever forgive me for thinking she was having an affair with Jack, I’d be the best half sister she could hope for. As Sophie had suggested, the embrace had been one of comfort after Jack had told Jayne the truth about who she was. My insecurities had led me to jump to the wrong conclusion, a mistake for which I’d be beating myself up for a long time to come.
I picked up the notebook and stuck it inside a drawer. “It’s for Cooper. He wants to go to medical school, perhaps specialize in psychiatry. He thought this would be an interesting case study.” I smiled up at Jack. “Just think, we could have a doctor in the family.”
