The Hideaway

I shrugged. “Maybe so.”

Bubble gum snapped as someone approached behind us. “Y’all ready to order something?” the waitress asked without looking at us. I recognized her as the same waitress from my dinner here with Allyn.

William glanced over the menu and ordered a fish sandwich. I chose the grilled shrimp salad, and we both ordered sweet tea.

“You sure you don’t want a glass of wine? Or three?” the waitress asked. I looked up at her and she winked.

“No, thanks. I’m fine.”

“I’ll have that out to you in a few.” She snapped her gum as she wrote our orders on her little notebook and walked away.

I took a deep breath. “I left something out the last time we talked. I wasn’t ready to tell you then, but I don’t think I can keep it in any longer.”

“Then you’d better tell me.”

“That little girl you saw the day you came back to The Hideaway?” William nodded and I swallowed hard. “You’re right that she was my mother. But she was not Robert’s daughter.”

William’s brow creased between his eyes.

“Mags and Robert never shared a bedroom once he moved in,” I said, making my point clear.

“Then who . . . ?” He turned his eyes to the water and clenched his jaw. “She . . . that little girl wasn’t mine, was she?”

I nodded.

His mouth opened and closed, then he shook his head as if shaking away a dream. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“In those last couple weeks before I left, something about Maggie was different.” William dragged his hand across his face. “She looked and sounded the same, but she felt different to me. I even wondered . . .” He shook his head again. “So all this time . . . and that day, behind the house wasn’t . . .” He exhaled, blowing the air out with force.

I looked away. Whatever his feelings were, they were private. When I glanced back at him, his head was down and he’d put his hand over his eyes. Finally, he sniffed and pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “This is such a surprise. Where is she now? My—the little girl?”

I hated to deliver another blow. “Her name was Jenny. She and my father died in a car wreck almost twenty years ago.”

William took his cap off and held it in his hands, pulling at the edges with his fingers. This man had lived most of his life under a wrong presumption, and I’d just thrown open the shutters, letting in the light of truth. Should I have kept my mouth closed?

He turned back to me. “Up until I met Maggie, I’d lived much of my life without a family. My parents died young, like yours did. When I met her, I thought that would all change, that I’d finally be a part of something bigger than myself, but it wasn’t to be.” He shrugged. “Not then anyway.” He pulled the corner of his mouth up in a small smile as he wiped his eyes again. “This must be strange for you too. But I’m glad you’re here—does that make sense?”

“It does. I understand.”

The waitress brought our food and we ate mostly in silence. I began to dread the silent car ride back to the house, but then William began to talk about his life after he left Sweet Bay.

Despite the failed marriages, his life had been mostly good. When he left The Hideaway, he moved around for a while, finding odd jobs to support himself while he worked on his furniture.

“I was constantly on the road in my old truck, the bed filled up with planks and boards I pulled out of abandoned houses. I was always covered in sawdust. Still am, really.” He looked down at his hands and dusted them off on his pant leg, even though they were clean.

He found a few shops that agreed to carry his pieces, and business took off. After coming back and seeing Mags and Robert together, he settled in Still Pond, a small farming community an hour north of Mobile, and had been there ever since.

“It’s a nice town. I’ve had friends over the years, I have a church, people who look in on me. Most of the town eats at a dining table or sits on a bench I made for them or their parents or even grandparents. I know most everyone there. It’s been a good life,” he said, nodding. “Lonely at times, but a solid life.”

“Sounds a lot like mine.”

“You mean you don’t have a fellow down in New Orleans waiting on you?”

I shook my head. “Not in New Orleans.”

“Here?”

“For now, I suppose.”

“I don’t have much recent experience dealing with young people’s relationships, but I can listen. If you want.”

I wasn’t in the habit of talking much about my relationships. Allyn knew most of what was going on with me at any given time, but it had taken me a while to feel comfortable sharing my life with him. For some reason, I felt okay telling William about Crawford.

Talking about Crawford naturally led to talk of the house and how beautiful it was becoming. I rounded it out by giving him the blow-by-blow of Sammy’s plan.

“Sammy Grosvenor. The name rings a bell, but . . .” He shook his head. “Can he do it? Can he take the house?”

“I wish there was a way out, but Mags’s lawyer has gone over it and checked with the mayor’s office. Sammy has had his eye on the property for a long time, so once he convinced the mayor the time was right, he jumped on it.”

William sighed. “All in the name of progress, I suppose.”

I nodded.

“So much life in that old house,” he said.

“Sammy used to come around The Hideaway every once in a while. He’d tell Mags he could set her up nicely for the rest of her days if she’d only sell. Every time, she’d practically chase him off the porch. I don’t think Sammy ever understood what kind of woman Mags was.”

William chuckled. “So she wasn’t interested in passing her time with shuffleboard and sudoku?”

“Not quite. The only time I ever saw her sit down and relax was when she went to the garden at night to sit on your bench. Otherwise, she spent her time working on something—the boat motor, her vegetables, replacing a missing board on the dock.”

“Sounds a lot like me,” William said. “Keeping busy—making things with my hands—is the only way I know to live. It’s the only way for me to keep Maggie with me. Well, that and the keys.”

“The engravings,” I said slowly. “You made those.”

He nodded. “It’s my trademark. I’ve carved that key into everything I’ve made since I met her. But it’s more than my mark, it’s my inspiration—or more accurately, she’s my inspiration. She held the key to my heart back then, as well as now. As much as it meant to me though, I didn’t think she’d ever thought about it again. Seeing it carved into the marble on her headstone . . . Well, I wasn’t sure what to do with that. I guess that’s why I finally made myself come back and ask some questions. I sure am glad I found you.”

“I am too.”

We were both quiet a moment.

“Can I ask you a question?” I said.

“Of course.”

“Why do you call her Maggie?”

He smiled. “It seemed like she was making a fresh start in her life, so I gave her a new name to go with it. And you call her Mags?”

I nodded. “I guess somewhere along the way it was shortened.”