David W. Landrum

Il Penseroso

Outside Bar Divini—night
of bats, breezes, and stars;
you wear black boots, nylons,
black miniskirt, black blouse, and throw
a shawl, dark-woven, on you shoulders
like a goddess wise as evening.
We walk up to your place
four blocks away, down a cool,
confined, hushed alley path.
You do not shiver.
You belong to night, to shadow
and to silences. They welcome you.
Summers beneath the moon, long
after Venus decorates the sky,
the woodands venerate you, know
the grace your quiet brings.
And you befriend their dark, as if
you were a dryad exiled
out of the lonely past, the genius
of a grove of darkened oak
and ash and mottled sycamore.
We worship, liturgy of love;
candles only in your bedroom light
our long preludes. And in
the calm of afterwards, we talk.
Sometimes I read, you listen,
black negligee and sable sheers
thigh-high, your hair a raven’s wing
in the silhouettes the candles make;
between your legs, dark tangle, opening,
nocturnal place of pleasure’s mysteries.
Your tastes are odd: Plato, Camus,
Jane Hirshfield, Browning’s monologues.
You hear the words. The moon climbs up.
You talk of your novitiate, unspoken
days, two years, but stronger speechlessness,
the passion gnawing through the sacred hours,
compelled you to put on
the night’s stole, costume of intimate
encounters, ebony and sable-grained.

Sossity Chandler did not believe in anything like Divine Providence, but the way this series of gigs had fallen into place she could almost believe a deity of some sort was lurking behind it. Weary of the area where she did most of her performances—southern Michigan, northern Indiana, Chicago area—she had instructed Tonya her manager to find jobs for her in points north and ended up with two months of gigs. She had twenty-five performances in an eight-week period, and all were paying jobs (none merely for tips).

This thrilled her. After taking out living expenses, she calculated she would make over five thousand dollars. Her living expenses would not be high because Damian was letting her stay in his house at Sutton’s bay. She would give three thousand to Tonya and she would keep two for herself. The towns were tourist places: Sutton’s Bay, Traverse City, Charlevoix, Frankfort, and other places she had never heard of; some of the bars, restaurants, and coffee houses would want her back. Things had fallen out well for her. She remembered a bible verse her fundamentalist mother used to like to quote when things went well: “The lines have fallen to me in pleasant places.” This, she thought, would be a good deal.

Some students from Cornerstone were living in her apartment for two months (she was not supposed to sublet it but decided no one would find out). The money they paid her would cover for gas and food until she got the cash for her first couple of engagements. Furthermore, she had the chance to live in a house by the lake and get away from city into the serenity of the northern part of the state. The beaches, parks, the shore, all the area had to offer, were hers for this couple of months. She arrived at Damian’s house and unloaded her car. An isolated, low, rambling place set back in the trees fifty yards from a sandy Lake Michigan beach, it charmed her immediately and she saw it would be a good place to de-stress between gigs.

Damian Phelps was an off-on boyfriend. He lived in an apartment in Grand Rapids, played music locally and wrote for the stage, hoping to make eventually make it as a playwright. The two of them split some months ago after a short relationship but still maintained friendship and, now and then, intimacy. He would be staying with her from time to time.

After putting her things away, Sossity changed into shorts and a sweatshirt and went for a barefoot walk along the strand. Warm, sunny October days were rare in northern Michigan, so she took advantage of the weather, knowing rain and cold would set in shortly.

As she walked along, she breathed the cool air and delighted to see the whitecaps foam, the gulls scurry up and down the beach, the hard blue sky of autumn decorated with a few high, wispy clouds. The sound of the breakers coming in soothed her.

She walked probably a mile and came to an area of tall reed grass. Suddenly, Sossity Chandler saw the heads of two large dogs head pop up out the grass, their eyes—alert and curious—focused on her. Immediately they leaped up and began running for her.

She froze. They did not look vicious. They were some variety of husky or malamute, not pit bulls or Dobermans, so she was reasonably sure she was safe. But dogs unnerved her. She had been mauled once as a child and trauma of that incident remained in her memory. The dogs bore down on her but, to her relief, slowed as they came near and circled her, sniffling and shaking but not growling and, best of all, not biting her.

Human help appeared a few seconds later. A woman called the dogs’ names sharply. They jumped, turned, and ran toward her. Sossity noticed she waddled as she moved forward, and when she drew closer saw she was about eight months pregnant.

“They won’t hurt you,” she said apologetically. Then she looked at them. “Jude and Maris, heel.” The dogs, excited as dogs always seem to be, sat down, tails wagging, bodies shaking, long pink tongues hanging out.

“Are they nice doggies?”

“They are.” She reached down and petted one of them. The dog licked her hand. The woman smiled. She looked pretty with blond hair and a well-formed face. She wore a print maternity bathing suit beneath a baggy beach jacket that had at first concealed her stomach; a straw hat with a caplet that matched her bathing suit and a pair of flip-flop sandals. “I’m Emily.”

Sossity introduced herself, explaining, as she often did, the origin of her name. An odd response flashed in the woman’s eyes when she heard this (like Emily, Sossity only gave her first name). She kept stealing glances at her as if she were trying to remember something.

“Are you visiting?” Emily asked. “I don’t recall seeing you around here before.”

The dogs sprang up and bounded into the grass to investigate something.

“I’m staying in Damian Phelps’ place, about a mile down,” Sossity answered.

“Sure, I know Damian.”

Sossity told about her concert tour. The woman listened carefully. She looked a little older than what Sossity thought of as typical age to have a baby. She would have guessed her to be forty, maybe older.

“You look like you’re pretty far along,” she observed.

“It will be any day now,” the woman replied, putting her hand on her stomach. “The baby’s kicking up a storm. I think it wants out. My sister’s staying with me, and I’m glad because I think I’ll be giving birth not long from now.”

“Do you live near-by?”

She only pointed to a large house a hundred yards or so back from the shore. It looked new and expensive.

“Nice place. What does your husband do?”

“I’m not married,” Emily replied. “I’m a lawyer. I work on patent law.”

Sossity was glad she had a way to get around her minor faux pas of asking about the woman’s husband.

“Patent law? That’s what my Dad is in.”

It turned out the woman knew Sossity's father. In fact, she had lived a few years in Grand Rapids and worked with him. This unexpected link enlivened their conversation. After a while, Emily said she needed to go back and asked Sossity if she would like to drop by for breakfast tomorrow. Sossity agreed. She walked back to Damian’s house and called her father.

He remembered Emily. She could tell from the warmth in his voice that he remembered her fondly.

“She’s pregnant.”

A long silence came on the phone.

“Well,” her father said, as if recovering, “that’s surprising.”

“Surprising?”

“I mean, given her age.”

“Women have babies at that age sometimes,” Sossity commented, losing interest in the conversation. Then she asked, “How do you know her age?”

He said he remembered when she left for up north and the office had a birthday-going-away party for her. “She was thirty-five then,” he said. “That was six years ago.”

Any time she talked for very long with her father he ended up reprimanding her for wasting her life trying to be a musician, berating her for dropping out of school, or reminding her that she had played all these years and still had nothing to show for her efforts. She asked about her mother and brothers, not really listening to his answers, her mind going to her first performance, which was tonight at seven.

She drove into Traverse City and bought a couple of new outfits to perform in. That took most of the money she got from subletting her apartment, but she would be paid tonight. She returned to Damian’s, called Tonya and Natalie Dowling and then her boyfriend David. The warmth and quiet of the house made her sleepy. She put a new set of strings on her guitar and then set the alarm, showered, and went to bed. The digital clock woke her up at five.

She put on one of the new outfits—her usual on-stage costume of a short denim skirt and long-sleeved blouse. She found she got better tips when she performed dressed so, especially in bars where there were lots of guys. She arrived at the bar an hour before her performance. It was bigger than what she thought it would be. She got something to eat, set up, did sound check, and ordered a whisky. The manager chatted with her as she wrote out a list of the songs she meant to do that night.

Just before the performance, she saw Emily walk in and get a table. She went over and greeted her.

“You look astounded to see me,” she smiled.

“Well . . . I guess we still do the Victorian ‘You’re in a delicate condition’ thing a lot with pregnant women. But I shouldn’t think that after seeing you out walking your dogs along the beach.”

She laughed warmly. “I do more than that.”

Sossity smiled. Emily put her hand over hers.

“Will you have a drink with me when you take your break, Sossity?”

The intimate touch startled Sossity a bit, but she also felt a rush of affection for the woman. Tonight she wore a sweater and maternity slacks. Her long, graying, straw-colored hair was pulled back and tied in a pony-tail. She had a pretty, well-formed face, kind eyes, and winning smile.

“Sure thing.”

“And will you do a request for me?”

“If I know it.”

“I think you know it. ‘Norwegian Wood’?”

Sossity laughed. “Knowing that song is a requirement if you play guitar. I’d be happy to, Emily. I’ll mention that you requested it. What’s your last name?” Her father had told her the woman’s last name but she had forgotten it.

“Gilbert.”

Sossity wrote her name and the request on her list of songs and then went up on stage to begin the show.

The show went remarkably well. The place was packed. The audience listened and Sossity caught the energy of the crowd and performed one of the best shows she could remember doing. Right before her break she did “Norwegian Wood” and dedicated it to Emily Gilbert. She usually did not end a set on a quiet number, but the audience listened to the modal, almost hypnotic guitar and the enigmatic words. Afterwards, she smiled and bowed to prolonged applause. She walked down through the crowd. Two guys invited her over for a drink. She said she would when the show was over and went to Emily’s table. A double shot of whisky awaited her. Emily smiled and lifted a fluted glass of what looked like wine.

“Pregnant woman aren’t supposed to drink, so I’m having sparkling grape juice. I bought you something I think you’ll like.”

“Thank you, Emily. How did you know I’m a whisky-drinker?”

A smile flashed in her eyes.

“You just seemed like a whisky drinker.”

Sossity took a sip.

“Delicious. What is it?”

“Brooker’s.”

“That’s expensive as hell. You shouldn’t have.”

“Yes, I should. Enjoy. Thank you for singing that song. It’s my favorite.”

“It’s beautiful to play—simple, but the use of the guitar is sheer genius.”

“How do you interpret the song, Sossity? I’m curious.”

“I guess like most people do. It’s about a guy who is in a relationship with a girl and the girl leaves him. At the end of the song he’s sitting in front of a fire and wistfully remembering something she said.”

“I think you’re right. But when we paraphrase like that how it destroys the beauty of the lyrics as they were originally written. What the song says is so mysterious and odd. Why does he sleep in the bath? Is he at her place or his? Does it talk about just one night or is it about a longer relationship and several things that happened all through the time they were together? I don’t know. It’s the mystery of the song that charms me.”

“You really have an appreciation of it. That’s cool.”

“Are we on for breakfast tomorrow?”

“What time do you want me to be there?”

“Is seven too early?”

“I’m an early riser. I usually get up at six so that will be fine.”

“Then I’ll have it ready by then,” Emily said. “Anything you don’t eat?”

“No. Whatever you want to fix: pancakes, eggs, bacon. I love it all.”

“We’ll go traditional then.”

Sossity finished the show. She remembered it as one of her most successful nights at a local venue. The manager paid her an extra hundred dollars and she made two-hundred in tips. Wanting to say good-night, she looked for Emily but did not see her and concluded she must have left early. She drove home elated. This was going to be a good tour.

Before she went to bed she dug through the box of CDs she carried in the trunk of her car and got out Rubber Soul. She undressed, got in bed, and played it on Damian’s stereo system. When track two, “Norwegian Wood,” came on, she listened to the modal guitar, the sitar accompaniment, John Lennon’s voice (always soothing and pleasant to listen to), the enigmatic words Emily had mentioned. She lay there, tired from the concert and the trip north, and dozed off while listening to “Michelle.”

Sossity got up at five so she could run. The morning air stung her face and legs. She did three miles, showered, and got ready to go to Emily’s. She wondered what to wear and decided to dress up just a little and put on a sweater and a khaki skirt. She tied her hair back and drove the four miles into the nearest town to pick up some orange juice so she would have something to bring as her part of the meal.

A BMW sat in the driveway of Emily’s house, house, a two-story structure with cedar shingles and many wide windows—much nicer than Damian’s. Sossity knocked. After a moment, Emily appeared at the door.

Sossity was glad she had dressed up. Emily wore a long maternity dress, jewelry, and had here hair tied with a gold chord. They kissed and she invited Sossity in.

Beautiful objects filled her house. Paintings and ornate mirrors hung on every wall. Glass artifacts, metal sculpture, and wood carvings sat on tables and shelves. Yet the place did not look cluttered. Emily knew how to arrange, Sossity noted, as well as she knew how to choose distinctive, well-made art objects.

“Your place is beautiful,” she commented.

Emily smiled. “Thank you. I like it. Part of my problem is I like my privacy too much. I enjoy being alone in a house filled with beautiful things.”

“That a problem?”

They both laughed. Emily took the jug of orange juice and told Sossity to sit down while she finished breakfast.

“Where are the dogs?” she asked.

“My sister took them to a boarding kennel until I’m back, poor creatures. That’s where she is now. She doesn’t usually eat breakfast. You’ll meet her later.”

After the customary offer to help from the guest and the customary refusal by the hostess, Emily went into the kitchen. Sossity settled into a chair. She gazed at the art objects and relaxed. The smell of bacon and coffee drifted in. She heard Emily humming and setting the table, got up, and noticed a framed photograph on the mantle of the fireplace. It showed a young man with dark hair and eyes. Beside it was another photo of him with a young woman. Sossity felt a hand gently touch the back of her neck.

“That’s my son, Jared,” Emily said. Sossity had not heard her come up from behind.

“He’s very handsome.” She studied the picture. “He has your eyes.”

“He looks mostly like his father. I wasn’t married when I had him either. I guess I’m a real floozy. He’s twenty, a student Juniata in Pennsylvania—that’s where I’m from originally.” She smiled wryly. “I like to space my children apart.”

“I guess so,” Sossity laughed. She pointed at the other photo. “Who’s this?”

“His girlfriend. Her name is Nadia. The two of them are driving up tonight. You’ll have to meet them. I think you’ll like Nadia. She’s a musician like you. So is Jared. He’s working on a business degree, she’s going for elementary education. But they both play locally and have a CD. Shall we eat?”

They went into a dining room. Emily had made eggs, thick bacon and toast but also beans and cooked mushrooms. Sossity smiled with delight.

“An English breakfast!”

“I thought you’d like it.”

“It’s my favorite breakfast of all. Are you psychic, Emily? You know I drink whisky and you know my favorite things to eat.”

She smiled mysteriously. “I make some lucky guesses now and then.”

“My Mom cooked like this for us,” she said. “I was one of the few kids at my school who ate beans and mushrooms every morning.”

“They made you healthy,” Emily smiled, “and very pretty.”

As they were finished they heard a car pull up and doors open. Emily glanced at the mantle clock above her fireplace.

“I wonder if Jared and Nadia are already here.”

In fact they were. Jared, anxious about when his mother might go into labor, had suggested they drive all night.

Emily introduced them to Sossity. Jared, dark, serious, good-looking, seemed friendly though a bit laconic. His girlfriend, blond and tall, spoke as little as he—though they were both open and seemed glad to meet her.

“I know you guys want to visit, so I’ll leave now.”

Emily came over and hugged Sossity. “Thank you for coming. Won’t you come for supper tonight?”

She laughed.

“If I do I’ll feel like I’m mooching food off of you. Damian’s coming by this afternoon. I’ve got a gig tonight and Sunday I’m doing music at a church.”

“When will you be done with the church meeting?”

“I’m supposed to play for an hour during their dinner.”

“Then come to tea. I want you and Jared and Nadia to get a chance to talk.”

Sossity held up her hands.

“What can I say to that? Sure. I’ll be over at—”

“Four. Tea and a light meal, that’s all. And lots of talk.”

Sossity thanks Emily, shook hands with Jared and hugged Nadia, and left.

She walked back to the cabin. Damian arrived before noon. They went into Traverse City for lunch, walked and shopped, then returned. Sossity rested and drove to Charlevoix for another performance. Once again, it went well. The bar was packed out and she made good tips. The owner of a local ship that hosted short cruises and dinners gave her his card and said he would call her and see if they could arrange a date for her to play. She came back happy. She napped, showered, and came into the living room. Damian was writing, lost in concentration. She lay down on the sofa and looked out the window at the starry night, the moon turning the cloud to silver. She thought of Emily and her family, her odd story, her gracious, winning manner. She smiled to herself. As a musician, she thought, you certainly met interesting people. Damian came over and knelt by the side of the sofa.

“I’m going to bed,” he said.

“So am I,” she replied.

When they had finished making love, Sossity showered, put on a robe, and went out on his deck. She enjoyed the cold. Just as she settled into a canvas deck chair Damian came out. He had put on jeans and a sweatshirt but was barefoot. He sat down next to her a lit a cigarette.

“You usually fall asleep,” she commented.

He dragged on the cigarette. The glow of it illumined his face.

“I’m trying to break that habit. I think if I stay awake and talk to the women I sleep with I’ll get more ideas for plays.”

A virtual harem of girls loved Damian. Girls from his graduate classes, the poetry readings he attended, the bars where he hung out, all flocked around him like a crowd of pigeons around someone throwing out seed.

“I met one of your neighbors down the road. Emily.”

He blew out a cloud of smoke and chuckled.

“She’s quite a gal. I love her. I helped her move in. That was five or six years ago. When I’m here a lot in the summer and she always invites me over.”

Sossity told him how they met and what was going on with her.

“She’s about to have the baby?”

“I thought I might have to deliver it—she’s that far along. Any idea who the father is?”

“Some guy from Grand Rapids. I guess he’s a lawyer she used to work with.”

When he said this Sossity's breath caught in her throat. It was as if time stopped for a moment. He looked over at her.

“Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know,” she answered, almost stammering. “Just wondered. She’s a little old to be pregnant. I hope everything is okay.”

“I guess the risk is higher to the mother and the baby at her age. But Emily’s healthy. I think she’ll be okay. She and the baby.”

“Do you know Jason?” she asked.

“Sure. He’s a good kid. That girlfriend of his is a knock-out.”

Under normal circumstances Sossity would have joked about his commenting on another woman but what he said about the father of Emily’s child had numbed her mind. He noticed.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine—just tired. You know how I am after a concert.”

They sat out for a while longer. She was able to talk about her last two gigs and the opportunity for the one on the tour ship. They went inside and went to bed. Sossity was so exhausted from playing she did fall asleep. If she had not been so worn out, she knew, her mind would have raced and kept her up half the night.

She did not have much time to think in the morning. She slept late. After a leisurely morning making love and walking the beach, she and Damian drove into Traverse City once more and had breakfast. Sossity went on to a small town fifteen miles away and played for a youth group luncheon. The church was small but intimate, filled with lovely woodwork and ornate furniture. She got her money, declined an invitation to stay for the group’s activities, and drove back. Thoughts obsessively rolled through her mind as she made her way back to Damian’s place.

It seemed preposterous to even imagine her father might be involved with Emily. Something in her father’s tone of voice, his cautious but overly-eager questions about Emily, and her odd looks and uncanny knowledge of the things Sossity liked had made this untenable scenario seem at least possible. And now Damian had confirmed it.

She glanced down at the time on her car CD player. It was 2:53. She would have an hour or so to relax before she went to Emily’s. She would not be able relax, she knew. In fact, the idea of having over an hour of isolation seemed unendurable. She would think of nothing but her father and Emily and would have no repose no matter what she did. The only thing she could think of was to drink and she did not want to go to Emily’s drunk. And if she got drunk it would make things even worse. She would think of nothing but her father and be in an alcohol-depressive state on top of that.

As if in answer to the racing thoughts in her mind, her cell phone rang. She reached across the car seat and flipped it open. It was her father.

“Yes, Daddy?”

“How are you, baby?”

“Fine, Daddy.”

A pause came. The flatness in her voice gave him pause. She would have to be careful to not reveal her thoughts.

“You don’t sound fine. Everything okay?”

“Yes, Daddy. Everything’s okay.”

“You getting enough to eat?”

“Too much. What’s up?”

“What’s up? Can’t I just call you to say hello?”

“You usually don’t.”

Another pause. “Well, I guess I don’t, and that’s not right. I wondered when your next concert is. I’d like to come and hear you play.”

Sossity squeezed her phone between her thumb and fingers. She did not reply.

“Are you there, Sossity?”

“Yes, Daddy, I’m here. Sure. I’m playing Wednesday night in Alden. You know where that is?”

“I can find it.”

“I’ll be doing a gig at the local bar there.”—she gave the name—“Eight to ten.”

“I’ll see you there, then.”

“Should I tell Emily you’re coming?” she asked.

He did not answer immediately. She turned down the drive that led to Damian’s house.

“Daddy, are you there?”

“Yes, honey.”

“I thought for a minute I’d lost the call. I just wondered if you would want to drop by and see her. You and I might pay her a visit.”

“Probably not. I’m busy here. How far are you from Aden?”

“About twenty miles.”

“Well, no. I won’t swing by.”

She pulled into Damian’s driveway, put her car in park, and turned off the key.

“I’ll give her your regards.”

“Please do.”

“Maybe after the concert we can all get together—if she doesn’t have the baby by then. She has a really nice place and loves to have guests.”

“I probably couldn’t stay that long.”

“I could put you up at Damian’s. It’s a three bed-room. Plenty of room.”

“No,” he said. Did she detect anxiety in his voice or merely imagine she heard this? “I’ll need to get back home and back to your mother.”

Her face got hot when he mentioned her mother. She fought to control herself.

“All right. I’ll just tell her you wish the best.”

“I do. And I’ll see you Wednesday. I love you, baby.”

“I love you, Daddy. It will be great to have you watch one of my concerts.”

He clicked off.

She sat there for a half hour, thoughts and action paralyzed. She watched the birds fly on and off the tottering cement bird bath in the front yard. Finally she got up and walked out to the beach. She found a rock to sit on and watched the whitecaps roll in and the gulls scour the wet sand for insects. Far out on the horizon two sailboats cut the waves, their red and orange sails full-bellied with wind. Two massive clouds, their centers grey and pregnant with rain or snow, shut out the sun. The cold made her shiver. This would be the end of the warm weather, she thought. The sailboats moved farther away from her.

Sossity Chandler could not sort out her thoughts. We do not think of our parents as human beings, she mused. We think of them as our parents. When she backed off and tried to see them objectively, she could possibly understand her father’s motivations. Her mother’s conversion had put a strain on their marriage. As a teenager, she had thought they might divorce over it. They had smoothed things over, but the change in her mother had driven a wedge between them. As a child sensitive to the nuances of a home she knew her mother and father had become cooler to each other in the years before she left for college. In the early days they had been close and loving—five children could attest to that. It seemed things were different now.

She got up and walked back to the house. The clock said 4:15. She had to get going. She quickly changed into a sweater and a nice pair of slacks. She did not want to go to tea at Emily’s looking grubby or casual. She drove to her house. As she got out of the hall she felt a surge of anxiety. In a moment she would see a woman who had been sexually intimate with her own father. She knocked on the door.

Nadia answered. Sossity noted at once how absolutely beautiful she was. Tall, straight, with long arms and legs, blond hair and blues eyes, she wore a light blue minidress and boots and had a choker-band around her neck. She parted her hair down the middle. The outfit and hair-do made her look like the pictures of sixties celebrities (Mia Farrow came to mind) Sossity had seen in magazines and glossy table books about that era. She also met her sister, Miranda, three years old than Emily, a quiet woman who seemed severe and reserved.

Sossity gave Emily a kiss.

“How are you, Emily?”

She smiled wearily. “Not real great, to you the truth, Sossity. I think the time is drawing nigh. The doctors said two weeks from now, but they have been wrong.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Mother, you ought to sit down,” Jared said.

“This time, I’ll agree.

Jared helped her into her seat. Miranda brought in a blue and white ceramic tea pot. They enjoyed tea and scones. Emily perked up and led the conversation. Her sister said little. Jared and Nadia asked Sossity about her experience as a musician. She went on at length about the ups and downs of trying to make it as a performer. When they finished, Emily lay on the sofa down but insisted Sossity stay. Jared brought out an old guitar. Sossity entertained them with songs—some of her own compositions, some oldies, and lots of Beatles songs. After they had talked and played music an hour or so, Emily made a noise. All eyes went quickly over to her.

She nodded. “It’s time,” she said.

Jared and Nadia got her to the car. Sossity said she would follow to be a back-up in case anything went wrong. The drive to the hospital took about twenty minutes. Sossity and Miranda helped Emily out of the car. Her water broke on the way into the emergency room. The doctors whisked her up to delivery. Jared, Nadia, and Miranda went with her. Sossity waited.

After ten minutes, Jared came down. He looked a little shaken. Sossity stood up and took his hands.

“Everything okay?”

He nodded. “Fine. It’s just a little crazier when it’s your mother. They told me to leave. Miranda and Nadia are there.”

She led him to a chair. He put his head between his legs and said he felt better. Sossity went to the cafeteria and got coffee for them both. They sipped it, waiting anxiously.

After perhaps an hour, Jared turned to her.

“Sossity, can I tell you something?”

She regarded him a moment. “I know.”

“It’s uncanny. It’s unreal. Did your father tell you?”

“No. But I put the pieces together. Then Damian told me something that confirmed it beyond a doubt.”

Jared relaxed. She could see he had not been sure what her response might have been. She sat back in her chair.

“I couldn’t believe it when Mother told me who you were. What’s the line: ‘Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world’? It’s an unbelievable coincidence.”

“Maybe it was meant to be.”

He looked over at her.

“You believe in that kind of thing?”

“I’m not sure what I believe. But I believe there’s more to life than we imagine. In fact, I know there is. So who can tell?”

Just then Nadia came down. “It’s a girl!” she exclaimed, literally jumping up and down. “They’re both fine.”

The three of them rejoiced together, shouting and hugging. Soon after, a nurse came up and said Emily and her child were in the recovery room and could see them. Jared turned to Sossity.

“She’s your sister,” he said. “You have a right to see her. Come with us?”

She shook her head. “No. I’ll wait. I don’t have the right to see her first. And I’d like to talk to her alone.”

He looked dubious.

“No,” she said. “It’s nothing like that. I love Emily, though I’ve only known her two days. But this is serendipitous. I rejoice with her.”

He studied her with his eyes, trying to evaluate her sincerity. After a minute, he nodded.

“I’ll tell her you know.”

He and Nadia went to the elevator. Sossity finished her coffee. She called Damian and told him about Emily and that she would be late getting back. As she closed her phone, Jared and Nadia came back.

“She’s beautiful,” Nadia said, still exuberant. “Wait till you see her!”

“Mom’s ready to talk to you,” Jared told her. “Room 224.”

Sossity took the elevator up to the second floor. She tapped on the door of Room 224. She heard Emily tell her to come in.

She walked into the room quietly, as people do when they enter a hospital room for any occasion. Emily lay propped up in bed with a tiny, red baby in her arms. Sossity walked up to the right side of the bed.

She gazed with wonder at the child. Emily smiled up at her.

“Well, we both made it through. I’ll tell you, Sossity: it sure was a lot easier at twenty than it is at forty-four.”

Sossity only stared, open-mouth. Emily laughed.

“Are you dumbstruck?”

“I don’t know what to say.”

Emily kissed her child’s head.

“Jared told me you know.”

“I sort of figured it out. He confirmed it.”

“And?”

She held her hands up in a gesture of helplessness. “I don’t even know how I feel, Emily. I haven’t had time to think about it . . . but, what is there to say but a child is born and it’s a miracle.”

She held the tiny child out a little.

“This is your sister.”

“What did you name her?”

Emily smiled a mandarin-like smile. “What do you think?”

It took a moment for the truth to dawn on her.

“My God, no! You didn’t!”

“I did. Too late to change it. They just filed the birth certificate.”

“Great—now she’ll have to do what I’ve spent my whole life doing. She’ll have to explain her name to everyone she meets.”

“It didn’t seem to have harmed you much.”

“Emily, why?”

“I wanted to give her the name of someone worthy. That is you, child.”

“Having an odd name is annoying,” Sossity grumbled.

“Life can be worse than annoying.” She pressed the child close to her. It made a sound. Emily looked back up at Sossity. “Your father is a very loving man. He talked about you a lot. In fact, he talked about you all the time.”

“Talked?” She emphasized Emily’s use of past tense.

“We had a brief affair when I worked in Grand Rapids. I left town because I didn’t want him to desert a family with teenaged children for me. I may not be the most morally scrupulous woman in the world but I am not a home-wrecker. I saw him in Traverse City last year and let the old flame flare up. I shouldn’t have done that, but I did. One night, we thought it would be okay not to use protection. I got pregnant in my old age, just like Sarah in the Bible. I broke it off before he found out. I was raised a Mennonite, and even though I left religion behind a long ago I still can’t bear the thought of aborting one of my own children. Starting up again with him was a very stupid thing to do. He needs to stay with his family. Whatever he says, he loves your mother.”

“My mom created a few problems.”

“Not anything that cannot be overcome. And he does love her. I can tell.”

“He’s coming up here to see you. He said he was coming to see one of my concerts, but it’s just so he can have an excuse to see you.”

“I’m glad you told me. I don’t want to see him. Not because I despise him but because he needs to know it’s over. He needs to work things out with your mother and get his life back on track. Will you tell him that? When will he come to the concert?”

“Wednesday night.”

“I’ll write a letter for you to deliver to him, if you’re willing to do that.”

“I will, Emily.” She wanted to say more but hesitated.

“Go on,” Emily prompted. “You want to say something. Say it.”

“He’s never come to one of my concerts. He blew up when I dropped out of school. We had some very hard words then. I feel like I don’t have any kinship with him any more. Even with this he’s not really coming to see me. He’s coming to see you.”

“I know all about your quarrel. He talked about it. He cried about it. He knows how much he hurt you but he doesn’t know how to apologize.”

She felt tears welling up. “I wish I could believe that, Emily.”

The tears spilled out her eyes and splashed down her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“Don’t be sorry you’ve shown me how you really feel. This whole situation may give him to opportunity to finally talk to you about it. They’re keeping me here for a few days to make sure I’m okay. An old lady like me shouldn’t be having a baby, for Christ’s sake. I’ll probably be here until Friday. I would like you to dissuade him from coming here or to my house. I really think it would be better if we didn’t see each other.”

Just then a nurse came in. She suggested Emily nurse the child.

“Do you want me to leave?” Sossity asked.

“Why do you want to leave?”

“Well, it’s kind of a family thing.”

Emily laughed again. “I don’t think Jared wants to see me nurse her. He’s progressive but not that progressive. I think it would be wonderful if you saw you sister nurse. You are her sister. Hold her while I get ready.”

She handed the child to Sossity, who gathered her in her arms. The child grunted and puffed, as babies do. The sweet smell newborns have came to her nose. She rubbed her lips against the down on the child’s soft head.

“You are beautiful, Sossity,” she said. She glanced over at Emily. “It really seems funny to be calling someone else by that name.”

Emily undid her hospital smock and bared her freckled left breast. Drops fell from the nipple.

“Well, I see it still works,” she said.

Sossity laughed and gave her the child. She went around to the left side of the bed, pulled a chair up, and watched the baby slurp and suck hungrily until it fell asleep, sated with colostrum. The nurse said Emily also needed to rest and took the baby to the nursery.

“I do need to rest,” she said, wearily. “That was a fast delivery but it really took it out of me.”

“I’ll go. I’ll come and see you tomorrow.”

Emily nodded. She had almost dozed off.

She spent the rest of Saturday and most of Monday with Damian. He left for Grand Rapids on Tuesday and Sossity was alone in the house. In the afternoon she went to the hospital. Emily gave her a card to deliver to her father.

She hardly slept Tuesday night and did not feel like eating. She tried to read and listen to music but could do neither. A mass of grey clouds had blown in and a cold wind frothed the water. She got in her car and drove up to the Grand Traverse lighthouse. By the time she arrived, a violent rainstorm driven by cold winds had swept over the Leelanau peninsula. She parked and ran to the entrance, the icy rain stinging on her face, legs and arms until she entered the warmth and repose of the interior.

Like all the lighthouses in Michigan, this one was not active. It had been transformed to a museum and gift shop. Only she and the docent were there. Sossity wandered through the exhibit rooms and then wound her way up the narrow spiral staircase to the beacon room with wide windows overlooking the lake.

She looked down. The rocky shoal of which the lighthouse had once warned ships away from churned with huge, grey, wind-driven waves. Rain lashed the windows. Wind shook the building. In the safety of her vantage, she looked at the storm, the violence of nature, the raw forces of heat and cold, so primal and yet so real and present. Sossity remembered coming here with her family. Her mother and the boys had stayed downstairs. She and her father had climbed up and watched a similar storm assault the shoreline. That was fourteen years ago, she was eleven, Daddy’s pet, the only girl in the family. Sossity recalled how the spectacle of wind and rain had fascinated them. They had stood there for perhaps a half hour and watched without speaking. Halfway through, she took his hand. He had squeezed her hand and they had both understood.

She recalled the ugly scene later when she dropped out of school. The bond they recognized that moment in this very room was broken. Her father ceased to be her protector. Though Sossity prided independence, somewhere deep in her lodged the most basic desire to belong—the need of a daughter to feel protected and of a child to feel loved. No doubt her father loved her. No doubt he would give his life in exchange for hers if the situation arose. Yet the pain of those days when she bore up against his anger and felt the stab of his reproaches still lodged in her soul. She had disappointed him and, to some degree, he had turned away. The old bond was shattered and a more tentative, distant one forged in place of it.

Usually Sossity Chandler knew what to do. Now the direction she should go had clouded over and was as unclear as a storm must have seemed to the old ships that plied the Great Lakes and searched through storms for the beacons of lighthouses to point their way to safe harbor. She could see no lighthouse. There never had been one for her. She walked back down the steps, browsed and bought a poster in the gift shop, and drove through the rain back to Damian’s. She had a show tonight.

By the time she arrived at the bar, the rain had stopped. It was cold. Streets and houses glistened under the light of street lamps. She went inside and set up. Her father got there a half hour before the shore.

When she saw him, she turned and went out a side door. She walked around to the back of the building. The tavern stood on the shoreline. She looked out at the dark waters and felt the chill of the air sting her wrists and legs. Her father came up behind. They stood there for several minutes and did not speak.

“Did she tell you?” her father asked.

“Yes. But I had already figured it out. She only confirmed what I suspected.”

“Sossity . . .”

“Daddy, you don’t have to explain or excuse yourself. I don’t know what I think about what you did, but whether I condemn it or not, I understand why.”

They stood in silence again for some moments.

“Don’t you have to play?”

“Not for thirty minutes. Daddy, why did you lie about wanting to come to my concert? You only wanted to see Emily.”

“I’ve been trying to get up the courage to come to one of your shows for a long time.”

She suddenly turned to face him.

“God damn it, don’t tell lies on top of lies,” she said fiercely. “I don’t think it can take it.” She turned toward the water again. She felt too miserable even to cry.

“I’m not lying,” he said after another silence. “I’ve wanted to come and I’ve wanted to tell you I’m sorry. Sossity, back then I went through some of the worst days of my life. I was frustrated at your mother. My job was not going well. Our family was in bad shape, everyone taking sides on religion. The one bright spot, the one thing I could look to with pride, was you. You were in college on a scholarship, making good grades, a fine athlete, you were popular and doing well. I was proud of you. It seemed I had done at least one thing right. Then you come home and tell me you’re dropping out of school to be a blues singer. I exploded. I didn’t think things could be worse, but suddenly they got worse. I realize now how much I hurt you.”

“Daddy, you’ll never know how much you hurt me,” she said.

He came closer. “Maybe not. But I want to tell you I’m sorry. Even for lying to you about this whole thing. And I was not lying entirely. I wanted to see you and talk to you. Then I wanted to tell Emily I accept what she has already told me: that it’s over between us and I need to return to Megan and start rebuilding my family.” He stopped then said after a moment, “I didn’t know she was pregnant.”

“She had the baby Sunday. It was a girl. She’s doing fine.”

He said nothing. A hard, cold gust of wind blew.

“You’re going to freeze standing out here with no coat and wearing that miniskirt,” her father said.

“It’s not a miniskirt, Daddy, it’s a short skirt. You’ve never seen me in a miniskirt.”

“Sossity, will you give me a chance? That’s all I ask.”

She turned to face him. “Daddy, I wouldn’t think of not giving you chance. But it won’t happen in a second. All these years have put a wedge between us and it’s not going to disappear in an instant. That only happens in movies.” Then she added, “And in songs. As for you and Emily—well, I can understand, maybe, why you did what you did. I’m not saying it was right or wrong, but when I look back on how things were then I understand. You made a choice. I made a choice too, Daddy, and it was what I had to do. I think you understand that now.”

“Yes.”

She had no more words. Her legs and face stung from the cold. Her fingers felt numb. She turned and put her arms around him. She wanted to make the embrace stiff and tentative. She wanted to show him through body language that some distance must remain between them. But when she felt his warmth—the familiar warmth she had so loved as a girl, his bigness and the sureness of how he felt—all resistance dissolved. She began to sob and shake.

He did not say anything. He only held her. Her fingers were numb by now. She felt the chill of the wind go through her. Still, she stood with him until she felt she had gone through her pain—until she felt she had broken the barrier and stood in a place where at least they could begin again. She pulled away and looked up at him.

“Let’s go inside.” She glanced at her watch. “I’ve only got five minutes to thaw out.”

The owner of the bar said she could start at 7:15 instead of seven. Her father bought her a whisky. They sat under a vent so she would get the warm air. Sossity felt the numbness leave her fingers. She and her father did not say a lot. It did not seem like the time to speak, but simply to enjoy, to once again feel each other’s presence. Whatever she thought about the morality of her father’s actions, his nearness comforted her. She realized what a vast gulf their estrangement had left in her life. Maybe they could work things out. Maybe they could be father and daughter again.

She tuned her guitar and went up on stage. The crowd cheered, she went into a blues number. She felt a new energy in her voice and in her playing. As she continued the concert, she saw she had a good crowd. People responded enthusiastically. After forty minutes of music, she said she was going to take a break.

“And I want to introduce a very special guest. My father is here from Grand Rapids. Daddy, stand up.”

She gestured and he stood up and waved and as everyone cheered. When the peal had died down, she put a capo on the second fret of her Taylor guitar.

“I would like to do one more song before break. I’m dedicating this to two people: to my Daddy, whom I love so much.” Her voice caught in her throat and she had to stop. The people in bar heard this and cheered but with a sympathetic edge to their acclaim. “And,” she went on, “to a friend over near Interlochen named Emily Gilbert, who just gave birth at age forty-four—to a healthy baby girl.” More applause. “Mother and daughter are both doing fine. I’m dedicating this song to her as well.”

She tuned a moment, looked out at the crowd and her father, and began the opening notes to “Norwegian Wood.”