The Sky Beneath Her(82)

“My mother never talked about her father. I don’t even know his name.”

“Eric Riggs. He married a local girl in Norfolk—Cassidy—and he was at sea a lot.”

“Our last name is Cassidy. Mom must have taken her mother’s name as her surname. Why?”

“Your mother said she cared for her mother while she was ill. Her dad was at sea when her mother died, and Mariah was angry he hadn’t been there to help. By the time he was stateside, Mariah was gone. It was a shame. Eric would have been here if he could have.”

I was talking about a stranger rather than my mother. “Mom never talked about any of this.”

“She never liked to look back.”

I shifted my focus back to the Oceanus so I could process what I’d just learned. “In the manuscript, the author focuses on Gertrude Werner and Sigrid Stein. Are either of those names familiar?”

“I know they were listed on the manifest, but other than that, I’m not familiar with them.”

I thought about the pictures I’d found of the woman with Dr. Brooks. I had no idea who she really was. I opened my phone and showed him the pictures I’d snapped of the black-and-white photos. “I found these pictures in the house.”

He adjusted his glasses and took the phone. “She’s not familiar to me.”

“It was taken in the 1940s. Maybe it was a younger version of my great-grandmother.”

He shook his head and handed the phone back. “Maybe.”

“None of the images capture a clear view of her face.” A woman running from a violent husband would always have lived in fear. I added, “Have you heard the name Alfred Gruber?”

“No.”

“According to the manuscript, Alfred was Gertrude Werner’s husband. Though Gertrude’s real name wasn’t Gertrude. It was Naida. She changed her name when she fled Austria. I believe Alfred put a bounty on her head.”

“I don’t know about that.” He sipped his coffee.

“Do you have pictures of Margaret?”

“I might be able to dig one up. If I find it, I’ll text it to you.”

“Thank you.”

“Your mother sure did love the water. She said she couldn’t imagine a life without it.”

Bitterness tightened my throat. “Sometimes I think she picked it over me.”

He sat back and pulled off his glasses. He seemed to wrestle with his words before he asked, “Did you know your mother was sick?”

All my images were of a tanned, fit, and energetic woman. “She wasn’t sick. She was in top form.”

“She had cancer. It was a brain tumor. It was a matter of time before the cancer caused dementia. She shouldn’t have been diving that last day, but I’m sure she didn’t want to die in bed like her mother, and she sure didn’t want you to see her wither.”

A dull headache pulsed behind my right eye. “She never told me anything about this. She never looked sick. She didn’t see doctors. She hated doctors.”

“A Greek doctor made the diagnosis when you were in Athens.”

We’d been in Greece the year before she vanished. She’d had a bad headache that wouldn’t let her go. “She’d taken the bus into Athens and left me behind at the boat with Nathan and her customers. I’d been annoyed because I wanted to see Athens. She said I had to stay and cover the boat. When she’d returned the next day, she’d seemed okay. Happy. Her headache was gone.”

“The doctor put her on painkillers to manage her symptoms until she got stateside to see a specialist.”

“She never saw a doctor here.” I shook my head, searching for signs Mom had been ill. She’d seemed a little tired that last day, but nothing else. “She told you this?”

“I don’t think it was her intention. But her morning medication was wearing off. She became pale. I got her a glass of water, and she took a pill. I saw the bottle. I told her my wife had died of cancer and had taken a similar painkiller.”

Betrayal and hurt burned. “I wish she’d told me.”

“It’s natural for a parent to protect a child.”

Memories of her skimming along the hull of the Oceanus flooded. She looked so free, at peace. “She left me.”

“She knew the end was coming fast, so she reached out to Dr. Brooks and asked him to look out for you.”

I thought about the old man walking away from Mom’s table as she’d been speaking to Mr. Green. “Dr. Brooks. I’ve heard he was really old.”

“A hundred and eighteen when he passed.”

I shook my head, still marveling at the age. “We never spoke, but he moved like his entire body ached.”

“His last few years were tough. He was ready to close out this life.”

Wishes and curses—two sides of the same coin? “He set up the trust for you after your mother died.”

“Why? And why would she reach out to him?” I sat back.

“He must have crossed paths with Margaret on the Oceanus. When you endure a torpedo attack with someone, it tends to create a bond.”

“But Mom was a granddaughter.”

“Dr. Brooks was known for his loyalty. You worked for his great-nephew’s law firm, didn’t you?”