And so Bunny Ann Mc Intyre had won fair and square. She was now the official heir to the river.
In fact, she was the largest heiress in Collier County. Dora was thrilled, naturally. Jackie Hart rushed
off to write a special column for the newspaper. Robbie-Lee was relieved and more than a little
surprised that his mother had turned out to be wealthy—well, land-rich, at least. Billy and Marco had
raced off in their pickup to share the news. Before the sun reached its highest point, word had spread
sure and steady like a smoldering swamp fire in dry season. The last to hear the good news were the
Negroes who would have lost their settlement. Among them there was said to be as much shock as
joy, because there had been justice. They weren’t used to it. No one, of course, should have been
happier than Bunny. She had insisted on walking back to her fishing shack alone. Everyone else,
including her son, had gone off to celebrate. “Oh, don’t get me wrong,” she told Peggy Sue, who was
snuggled in her nest and upon hearing Bunny’s familiar voice, opened one eye. “I’m tickled to death
that I won. But now there’s one more job I have to do, and Lord knows I don’t feel like doing it.”
Bunny sat down on the edge of the dock and let her feet dangle over the side. She’d already taken off
the strange shoes she’d borrowed for court. “What do you think I should do, Peggy Sue?” she
continued. “I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place.” The fact was that one secret remained: the
one she feared most. “How am I going to tell her?” Bunny said, and the night heron responded with a
peculiar squeak. “Oh, am I annoying you? I beg your pardon!” Bunny added, and laughed. “But
seriously, Peggy Sue, the look on
her face is going to be awful. And who can blame her? How would you like to find out your real
mother was an exotic dancer turned alligator hunter?” For years, she’d watched from a distance
without her having a clue. Dora. Bunny liked the name they had chosen for her. But when Bunny
realized Dora was in the same book club as Robbie- Lee, she nearly passed out from fear that Dora
would figure it out, or he would. The thought of the two of them, half sister and brother, sitting side by
side talking about books was so painful it seemed like the devil was laughing in her face. Then Dora
went to Mississippi, and Bunny got really scared. She didn’t believe Dora had any idea she was
adopted, but she might figure it out if she started poking around there. And sure enough, Bunny
overheard the book club ladies—Jackie, Plain Jane, and Mrs. Bailey White—talking downstairs when
she stayed overnight at the old gal’s house before they went to court. They were discussing Dora, how
she had learned she was adopted but was dealing with it pretty well. Seems she’d found out a few
months earlier so she’d had some time to get used to the idea. But Dora still didn’t know who her
mother was. And likely never would. Bunny knew in her heart that Dora deserved to hear the truth,
even if she might be disappointed. She had gotten to know Dora, which made it mighty hard to ke ep
up the lie. Dora was, also, a rightful heir to Bunny’s land. She and Robbie-Lee would share it
someday. She was so desperate to save the river that she’d gambled by asking Dora for help. She
knew when she sent that telegram that she might be starting something that would be hard to stop.
Fact is, the State of Florida did not take her baby girl when she was fifteen and had run off to Tampa.
The truth was there was a nurse, a sweet gal from Mississippi, who told Bunny that she knew she
couldn’t have children. The nurse’s name was Callie and she was staying in Tampa, just for a while,
because she needed a job and it was the only place she could find work. Her husband—she said they’d
been married about a year—was from Collier County, and she would join him as soon as she could get
a job there. Bunny had a feeling there was more to this story but since she was so young and had a
world of troubles of her own, she didn’t ask. Then one night when Bunny couldn’t sle ep, the young
nurse told her how she’d left her man at the altar and run off with someone else. Up and left her
fiancé,
her parents, her whole life, and had no regrets. The same day she was supposed to marry one fella,
she married the other. She and her new man drove straight from Mississippi to Alabama and finally,
just after crossing the Florida state line, got married that night in the parlor of a Methodist preacher’s
parsonage in some small town Bunny had never heard of. To Bunny this was an impressive tale.
Unlike Bunny, the young nurse named Callie knew what she wanted in life. She had stood up for
herself. Plus, she was a trained nurse. She was educated. When Bunny found out that Callie couldn’t
have a child but really wanted one, she knew at that moment that she was meant to give her baby girl
to Callie. It hurt less to give the baby to someone she chose. Besides, the nurse’s husband was from
Collier County and that’s where they were going to live. Bunny felt like a part of her would stay with
the baby by having her grow up where she did. Although, of course, in a better home. When Bunny
had Robbie-Lee seven years later at the same hospital in Tampa, something told her it was time to go
home to Collier County. She wanted to be near Dora. She wanted to watch her grow up. And so
Bunny Ann Mc Intyre picked her new name—Dolores Simpson —not just because she saw it in a
magazine left on a southbound bus to Naples but because Dolores sounded, to her, a lot like Dora. Just
another little secret, a way to ke ep her close without anyone knowing. “Peggy Sue,” she called over to
her avian friend, “wish me luck.”
• • •
SHE DECIDED TO TELL ROBBIE-LEE first. That was only fair. The next morning she walked
to Mrs. Bailey White’s house. People were coming and going, and she began to despair of having a
moment alone with her son. Finally, she asked him to help pack up the belongings she’d left when
she’d spent the night before going to court. It was a lovely little room on the second floor, and Bunny
knew she would miss it. They were taking a break; he was sitting in a chair that was too small for him
and she was perched on the side of the bed. He was talking about how he needed to go back to New
York, that he wasn’t on official leave from his job. Now was the time.
“Dora Witherspoon is your sister,” she blurted out. They were the most powerful and difficult
words she’d ever said aloud, and to her they seemed to take over the room like a swarm of furious
bees. The sting of those words mocked her and hung in the air until she noticed something odd.
Robbie- Lee was strangely calm. “Why do you think I joined the book club?” he asked. “Huh?” “I
joined the book club because Dora was in it. I wanted to get to know her better. I knew who she was,
but we weren’t in school at the same time, so that was my chance.” She felt like she had a crawfish
stuck in her throat. “But how did you know?” she asked. “Mom, you forget, you talk in your sle ep,” he
said bluntly, almost impatiently, adding, “Especially when you’ve been drinking.” “Well, did you ever
say anything to her about it?” “No, of course not. That’s your story to tell, Mom. Not mine.” “Since
when do you call me Mom?” “Well, I can’t call you Dolores anymore. You’re not Dolores. And,
frankly, I don’t want to call you Bunny. All my life I’ve wanted to call you Mom. I never liked the
way you made me call you by your first name.” “Well, I didn’t feel worthy of being a mom, that’s
why,” she said, her voice breaking. “Aw, now, you mustn’t think like that,” Robbie-Lee said, adding
lightly, “I turned out pretty good, didn’t I?” “Don’t tease, this is a terrible situation. I can’t tell Dora.
You have to do it. I just can’t.” “Yes, you can.” “No, I can’t. Maybe if I was, you know, purty and . . .
normal. Someone she could be proud of. That’s why it would be better coming from you. You could
tell her you are her brother. She’ll like that. That will be good news, because she likes you as a friend.
It might even be a happy surprise, for all I know.” Robbie-Lee sighed. “This is an awful thing to ask
someone to do for you.” “Well, what if she upchucked when I told her?” she asked. “What if she
laughed at me? What if she said something so horrible to me that I won’t
want to go on living?” “Oh, Mom, please,” Robbie-Lee said. But she could see that he finally
agreed. It all was happening so quickly. Not more than ten minutes later, Bunny stood at the upstairs
window half-hidden by an old lace curtain, and watched her son tell her daughter that they were kin.
They sat opposite each other on wrought-iron furniture that must have been as old as Mrs. Bailey
White. Someone had been making an effort to trim the grass and plants in what must have been a
lovely flower garden at one time. She wished she’d thought to open the window. It was too late now.
They’d hear her open it for sure. But at least she could see their lips moving. And she could see their
faces. He leaned forward, his hands on his knees, and Bunny thought, Oh, doesn’t he look like a
grown man, so serious and strong. He said something that must have been meant to pr epare Dora for
important news because she reacted by folding her arms across her chest, crossing her legs at the
ankle, and tilting her head. Then he said something that might have been the word “sister.” Dora
pulled back, surprised. Then her shoulders sagged, and she covered her face with her hands. Just as
Bunny had feared. Dora stood up and walked a few feet away from Robbie-Lee. He said a few words,
and she responded without turning around. He said a few more words, and she finally faced him again.
She was crying. Robbie-Lee went to her and hugged her for a long time. Then he took her face into his
hands. He smiled. And she smiled back. She might have said, “Brother.” Then Dora sat back down
hard, like she was a sack of flour. Suddenly it occurred to Bunny that they might come looking for her
as soon as Dora caught her breath. Mercy, what an awful thought. She hurried down the stairs and out
the front door. The river—her river—was calling her home.