Unscathed

“I couldn’t figure it out at first,” Uncle Rob said. “I felt as baffled as you now look, Jax. But like I’ve already explained, the mark I could see through my camera became clearer every time I came up here. Then one morning, I woke early and came out to the lake for a walk. The sunrise was as beautiful as it is this morning, so I took some pictures. In them, sitting on the other side of the lake, I could see a lone figure, and behind it was the mark. But it wasn’t just a blemish on my camera lens anymore, it was Summer. She stood beside the figure, her pretty blonde hair billowing in the morning breeze, the hem of her blue dress flapping about her knees. She was sobbing, and to see her looking so sad broke my heart. I raced around the edge of the lake to find a disheveled-looking man sitting alone. All about him there was empty bottles of beer. He was drunk, and just like Summer, he was weeping.

“‘What’s wrong?’ I asked him.

“He was unable to look at me. I held up my camera and it nearly leapt from my hand. Summer was lying on the dew-drenched grass beside him. Her eyes were open and they stared blankly up at me. Her body looked broken, like she had just been hit by a car and left for dead in the road. I knew what she was trying to tell me. She was lying next to the man who had killed her,” Uncle Rob, said, those tears now flowing freely down each side of his ashen face. “I just wanted to go to her, pick her up and hold her in my arms. But I couldn’t. Summer was nothing more than a smudge… a blur… a mark.”

“No! It’s not true!” Jax snapped, edging his way past my uncle, as if he didn’t want to hear any more. “My dad didn’t kill your daughter.”

Raising one hand, my uncle pressed it gently against Jax’s chest.

Jax stopped. He hung his head, unable to meet my uncle’s stare.

“I don’t blame you, Jax,” my uncle whispered.

“What about my dad…” Jax started.

“At first I was angry and I dragged your father to his feet,” Uncle Rob started to explain. “He was so drunk, he nearly collapsed in my arms.

“‘You killed her!’ I screamed at him, knowing that I was holding the man who had run down my daughter. ‘You killed my little girl!’

“Then he raised his head and looked into my eyes,” my uncle said. “And even though he was drunk, I saw a spark of recognition in his eyes… I saw a spark of guilt.

“I pointed my camera down at the patch of grass where Summer lay looking broken like some ragdoll fit for the trash,” Uncle Rob said. “But he couldn’t see her, only I could through my camera. I wanted to show him what he had done to her, so I held the camera up, and gripping him by the scruff of the neck, I forced him to look through it and down at the ground. Not for one minute did I think he would see anything. Then suddenly, your father started to scream and he pulled free of me.

“‘I’m sorry,’ your father cried, throwing his hands to his face. ‘What have I done?’

“I knew then that your dad had seen Summer through the camera, just like I had,” Uncle Rob continued to explain. “With a look of fear and great sorrow on his face, he staggered away from me and onto this jetty. I went after him…”

“You chased him…” Jax said, as if understanding what was coming next.

“No,” my uncle said. “I could see that he was dangerously close to the edge and went after him to stop him from falling in…”

“You pushed him into the water…” Jax barked.

“No…” Uncle Rob protested.

“He would’ve never killed your daughter on purpose!” Jax roared at him, his face now wet with his own tears. He gripped his hands into fists at his sides. “He drank because he never got over the death of my mother. It was how he coped… it was how we both coped.”

“I never pushed your father into the lake,” Uncle Rob said, staring at Jax. “I went to him, but he just kept screaming and pointing over my shoulder. I looked back at the sandy shoreline, and holding up my camera, I looked through the lens and could see Summer now standing at the foot of the jetty, and I knew that even without the camera, your dad could see her too. I heard a deafening splash of water, and lowering my camera, I looked back to see that your father was no longer on the jetty. I dropped to my knees and peered into the dark waters but couldn’t see anything… he was gone… and when I looked back… so was Summer,” my uncle said.

“So you didn’t go and get help?” Jax demanded, hitching back a sob in the back of his throat.

“No,” Uncle Rob said, shaking his head, as if in shame.

“Why?” Jax asked, looking bewildered and confused. “You could’ve saved him.”

“He was gone, Jax,” he said. “And I feared that others would think just like you.”

“How?” Jax demanded.

“They would’ve thought I pushed him in because he killed my daughter. They would’ve thought I killed him.”

“And they would’ve been right,” Jax spat, trying to get past my uncle again.

Uncle Rob stepped in front of him, again barring his exit off the jetty. “No, your father killed himself. If the lake hadn’t had taken him, the drink eventually would’ve. It was his own guilt that drowned him, not the lake.”

Jax lowered his head, unable to meet my uncle’s stare any longer. It was as if Jax knew what Uncle Rob had said was true. I took a step forward. It hurt me to see him standing alone.

I took Jax in my arms and held him close. He felt cold to the touch. I kissed him gently on the cheek and I could taste the saltiness of his tears. “I think that’s why I have been seeing that smudge… I mean your father through my camera,” I whispered.

“Why?” Jax said back.

“I think he wanted you to know the truth,” I said, looking up into his eyes. “Perhaps he didn’t want you to make the same mistakes that he had, Jax… the women and the drink…”

Jax looked down at me, then pulled me close. “But he’s at the bottom of the lake… I wish I could see him one last time…”

Then, aiming my camera phone at the spot on the other side of the lake where I had earlier seen the two dark smudges, I saw Summer and Jax’s father standing together on the other side of the shore.

“Take a look,” I whispered, handing him my phone.

Jax looked into it, his face a calm white mask. “They’re holding hands,” he slowly smiled.

“Good,” I smiled back, taking his hand in mine and never wanting to let go.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Jax

Mina and I walked hand-in-hand across the parking lot and through the wrought-iron gates of the old cemetery. Both of us were dressed in black. Me a smart shirt and tie, Mina a dress that swished about her calves in the cool fall breeze. We weaved our way around headstones and cemetery plots, coming to stop at a small, humble gravestone, which read:

Summer Anne Duncan, Beloved Daughter, Forever Angel 2006-2012.

Mina laid a bouquet of pink roses on the grave. I kissed my fingers, and pressed them to the tiny headstone. Slowly, we walked away and towards two identical cemetery plots. The first read:

Amelia Marie Jackson-McElvoy, Beloved Wife and Mother 1968-2010.

The second:

James Michael “Trick” McElvoy, Father, Husband 1967-2012.

“I can’t believe it’s been a year,” Mina said quietly.

I nodded. I still felt lost – like I was living in a kind of limbo waiting for Dad to come back, for him to say, “Sorry I was away so long, son. I had some things to sort out, but I’m okay now. We can both move on.”

But that was never going to happen. I would never see him again. Never work on restoring an old Mustang with him. Never go fishing again. He was gone forever and my chest hurt every time I thought about that. I took a small framed picture of my parents from my pocket and placed it against my father’s headstone. Again I kissed my fingers and touched the photo.

“I miss him. I miss them both. So much,” I whispered.

Mina nodded. “I know you do. You take your time, I’m going to wait in the car.”

I looked at her. “You don’t want to stay out here with me?”

Mina shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself. “Too many smudges,” she said, glancing about.

“But I thought you left your phone in the car?”

She nodded as she walked away. “I did. But I can feel them.”

I watched her walk to the car. When Mina was gone, I turned back and looked at the headstones. I sat for about fifteen minutes, not saying anything, just sitting on the grass and weeds that had grown up next to the graves. Sadly, the only thing I wanted right now was a shot of something stiff and pungent to numb the pain in my chest. But then I thought about my poor dad and how this very method of coping had ultimately cost him his life and the life of an innocent little girl, and decided that the only drug I needed to get through this was Mina’s love.

I got up, brushed myself off, and walked back to the car.

As I got in, Mina smiled at me.

“Let’s go home,” I said, smiling back at her.

THE END