Katherine Page - The Body in the Kelp

“That would be very kind.”

He sat at the kitchen table in silence and watched Faith as she heated up some scallop bisque. She set a steaming bowl in front of him and quickly spread some thick slices of bread with cheese to run under the broiler. He ate swiftly, and it was not until she had paced a cup of coffee in front of him and sat down herself that he began to talk.

“Her real name was Laura Sue. She never liked it. We took both grandmothers' names." He paused. "Did you know Bird well?"

“No, I'm sorry, I didn't. We have been staying here only since the beginning of the month. I've seen her. She used to gather seaweed on the beach in front of the cottage, but we never actually spoke." Faith did not feel it was necessary to describe the scene in the cemetery or remind Mr. Warner that she had found the body. Perhaps he didn't know.

“We lost her mother when Bird was twelve. Cancer. It was pretty rough on Bird. They had been so close. Rough on me too, but I was more used to death. My parents, a brother. For Bird it was like the world had come to an end. She had always been a little different from the other kids. Always reading books.”

Probably Bill's, Faith thought. This view of Bird's childhood was different from what she had imagined. Lonely. Somehow the self-assurance her beauty had projected had never suggested that.

“She used to hang around with the older kids at school. That's how she knew Roger."

“Knew Roger? You mean Roger Barnett?" Faith was astonished.

Bird's father nodded. "Oh yes, he's from Blakesburg too. Iowa born and bred. Known his family all my life."

“But Roger would have been quite a bit older than Bird," Faith said.

“Only five years. She and Roger were always close. I'd say like brother and sister, and maybe it was for Roger, but not for my daughter. She never looked at any of the boys in her class. If she went to a dance, it was with Roger or not at all. When he went away to college, she was very unhappy. He'd come home from time to time, but it wasn't the same. Then there was a while when his mother didn't know where he was. They'd quarreled. Bird left soon after that.”

He picked up one of the crusty slices of bread. His hands were covered with age spots, which stood out against his smooth, untanned skin. Whatever he had done with his life, it hadn't been outdoors. He broke the bread in half with studied care. Faith was torn between wanting him to eat and needing to hear the story.

“I came home and there was a note o nthe table. Said she had to get away. Find herself. That sort of thing. I guess I wasn't too surprised. There wasn't much in the town for her.

I knew if I tried to go after her, she'd just leave again, so I waited. I didn't want to lose her.”

Did that first step lead to this end? Faith wondered. Oh, why didn't Laura Sue stay at home, get married, and start a health food store! Was she looking for Roger?

“She'd phone every once in a while so I'd know she was all right, and she'd send funny postcards. They came from all over. She started calling herself Bird after living with some people in New Mexico. `I feel free as a bird, Daddy,' she said, so Bird it was.

“Did you know she was going to have a baby? The police told me." His eyes filled, and he stopped speaking. Faith poured some hot coffee into his cup.

“I don't know why she didn't tell me—or about Zoë either. Maybe she was planning on surprising me, turning up with two babies. I'd never pushed her to come back to visit, but she always said she would. She knew how much I wanted to see her.”

Would she have come if he had asked, sent her a ticket? Faith was sure money was never plentiful for Bird. But her father must have been afraid she would stop getting in touch if he made any demands. Maybe he had been right.

“I knew she was in Maine, because I got a postcard with a sea gull on it. It had been mailed from Camden. I looked it up on the map. I always did that. I knew Roger lived in Maine. His mother told me, and I planned to tell Bird the next time she called. But I never got another call." He broke down completely at this point and, putting his face in his hands, sobbed uncontrollably. Faith got a box of tissues from the bathroom and stood with her hand resting lightly on his shoulder. There was nothing she could say. All those years of longing and separation. It was the saddest story she'd ever heard. Why did people have children anyway? If Ben had any ideas of cutting out when he was seventeen, he could just forget it right now.

Mr. Warner lifted his head, wiped his eyes, and blew his nose. "I feel so foolish. Please forgive me. Since I got the news I don't seem to be able to stop."

“Please, don't apologize. This has been such a shock for you."

“I have to see the police again. I've made plans to leave tomorrow morning. I want to take Bird home. She'll be next to her mother.”

A tiny cry drifted down to the kitchen. Faith smiled. "That's Zoë. She's a slow waker.”

They went upstairs, and Mr. Warner took his granddaughter in his arms. She stopped crying immediately and burrowed down against his suit jacket with obvious pleasure.

“She's a sweetheart," Faith told him. "Your daughter must have been a very fine mother. Zoë has such a lovely disposition. We're going to miss her.”

Mr. Warner was gently stroking Zoë's cheek. "Don't worry about her. I come from a big family, and she has more relatives than she'll know what to do with and they're all standing ready to give me all the advice I want and some I don't."

“What about tonight? Would you like to leave her here? You could stay too. There's plenty of room," Faith offered.

“Thank you for offering, but I think we'll stay at the Holiday Inn. I already ordered a crib, and it's nearer the police and the airport. I stopped at the Shop and Save on my way down, and the car is loaded with everything from diapers to toys, so we'll be fine.”

Faith took Zoë and changed her, then put on a warm sleeper. Arlene had appeared on Saturday with a bag of baby clothes from her mother's stockpile. Faith added a sweater and handed the little girl over to Mr. Warner. Ben had been running around waving toys at her. When they got to the front door and it became apparent that this big man was taking Zoë away, Ben started to howl. Faith felt much the same way.

Mr. Warner looked upset.

“Don't worry, he'll be fine," Faith assured him.

He managed a smile. "How can I thank you for all you've done, Mrs. Fairchild?”

He looked out toward the cove. From there it wasn't possible to see the water, but the sound of the steady pulse of the waves was plain. "I don't know why she came to Maine.

Bird hated cold weather and she never liked to be near the water. I couldn't even get her to learn to swim when she was a kid. She probably never did learn." He gazed into the fog again.

Faith gave Zoë a last kiss and picked up Ben, who had attached himself to her leg like a suction cup and was still crying. Mr. Warner shook her hand awkwardly, both of them encumbered. "We'll be in touch. I'll let you know how things are."

“That would be nice," Faith answered. She knew she would never hear from him again. She waved good-bye and bundled Ben back into the house for an intensive dose of quality time. He wasn't fooled and cried off and on for an hour for the baby to come back. Faith was exhausted and it was only two o'clock. It always seemed to be only two o'clock when she felt this way.

She dug out some homemade playdough and installed Ben at the kitchen table with a garlic press and a small rolling pin. Soon he was happily making "sketties" and she was thinking of food too. She had a few quarts of fresh tomatoes, and she ought to make sauce before they went bad.

She had just finished seeding and skinning them when Pix called.