Nancy entered and saw Stella, her eyes red and swollen, a tissue clutched in her hand, standing in the corner. Nancy opened her arms, and her daughter rushed over. She embraced her as she always did, with uncompromising love.
“Mom, I’m so sorry.” Stella’s tears flowed quietly.
“Shh, now. Hush, baby. Everything is okay.”
Stella melted into her mother’s hug and stayed there for a minute until a nurse came in and tended to the machines. Stella stood up then and looked at her father in the hospital bed.
Nancy looked over and saw her nearly-ex-husband hooked up to an IV with oxygen tubes stuffed up his nose. He was asleep. Nancy went over to Roger. She smoothed his hair and touched his forehead with the back of her hand. “You old goat, what have you done now?” Nancy murmured.
Roger woke up briefly and saw her. He gave her a wan smile and asked weakly, “Where have you been?”
“I’m here now.”
Roger looked at her with a rare gaze, vulnerable and open, the one he reserved only for her, the one that had made her fall in love with him in the first place. She softened when she saw his need for her again.
“I’m going to leave you two, but I’ll be back in the morning,” Stella said.
“Okay.” Nancy settled into the seat she had occupied. “I’m going to stay.”
Stella nodded, and Roger gently squeezed Nancy’s hand before he closed his eyes and fell asleep again.
As the evening passed and the light in the hospital room grew dim, Nancy fell into the same routine from a lifetime ago. She found the cafeteria and got herself a cup of tea, bought a bag of potato chips out of the vending machine, and settled in for the night in a chair by Roger’s bed.
The first and only time she had been in the hospital with Roger, beyond the happy birth of their daughter, was after a sailing accident in which Roger nearly drowned. It was the summer before Roger was heading into his senior year and Nancy her junior year at UC Davis. They had gone sailing with their friend, Tim Sheldon, on his family’s yacht in the San Francisco Bay on a wild and windy day. Roger, claiming to have much more sailing experience than he actually had, was standing on the side of the deck when the wind gusted and the boom swung over hard and fast. It hit Roger square in the head and launched him off the boat. Semiconscious, Roger struggled in the water while the entire crew, including Nancy, went into emergency lifesaving efforts. Someone threw him the life ring, and he clung to it weakly until the boat was able to maneuver back to him. The crew dragged a dazed and bloodied Roger back onto the boat and motored back to the harbor, where they were met by an ambulance that whisked him off to San Francisco Memorial Hospital. Nancy was traumatized by the thought of losing Roger, partly because she was in love with him and partly because she wasn’t sure she could handle any more loss. Her mother had died at the beginning of her sophomore year. It didn’t take much to send her reeling.
When Roger Hadley came into her life, she would never have guessed that he would offer her safety. He had been the captain of the football team at UC Davis, head of the chess club, and he knew how to surf. He was like the West Coast version of JFK—dashing, handsome, and in very high demand by the female contingent on campus. So, when Roger came courting her, Nancy was at first stunned by his attention but quickly found it suspicious and scoffed at his invitations. She was sure he viewed her as a conquest. Along with his popularity came his rather salty reputation. Roger liked to win. And that included women.
Nancy held out her affections longer than any other woman on campus. So, when Roger took the drastic step of joining her study group in nihilist literature, not the most popular of electives, she knew he was serious. No one talked Kafka for the fun of it, but there he was, going at it with the bookish Donovan Cartwright, another one of Nancy’s suitors and an expert on the Bohemian novelist. Roger got into a heated debate with Donovan over whether or not Kafka was really that grim or if he was just trying to get in the pants of a pretty wench at his local watering hole in Prague. Donovan ended up calling Roger a Philistine before he skulked away to lick his intellectual wounds. And in that moment, when Roger had bested Donovan in an effort to win her favor, she succumbed and agreed to go on a date with him. After a few short months of dating combined with some dubious contraceptive advice, Nancy found herself pregnant.
Roger graduated with honors while Nancy put off her last semester to get ready for the birth of their unexpected daughter. They landed in Cow Hollow, an affordable and bustling neighborhood in San Francisco that boasted a park with stunning views of the Golden Gate Bridge. They, however, lived in a two-story walk-up flat that boasted an unimpeded view of a Safeway supermarket sign. It was here that they awaited the birth of their daughter and began to settle into the idea of becoming young parents.
One late night, Roger got home after a night out with the boys. Alcohol having removed his inhibition, he admitted that he had always pictured himself as the father of a strong, capable, handsome boy, a mini version of himself whom he could teach to throw a football and swing a golf club. “What do you do with girls?” he asked Nancy before they drifted off to sleep. She reassured him that she wouldn’t be just a girl, but his girl, which seemed to soothe him.
Roger worked hard, putting in longer days and nights. It was after one of those long nights at the office that Roger came home and carelessly left his suit coat in the kitchen. When Nancy went to hang it up, she found a bar napkin with a phone number on it with the name Lisa. Surprisingly, it wasn’t anger Nancy felt. It was fear.
The one devastating and lasting effect of trauma experienced too young was that her feeling of dread had never really left her. It was always there, lurking under the surface of her consciousness. It would fill her head with all the worst possible scenarios in vivid, full-color clarity. Hear a siren? Roger had gotten hit by a bus and was bleeding to death in the street. Doctor calling? It was stage four cancer. She always expected calamity, and she was acutely and painfully aware that everything could change in an instant.
So, in that instant, Nancy touched her growing belly, thought of her future, and decided to ignore this potential transgression. She tossed the paper down the garbage disposal, mulching up any chance of it ruining her life, and got on with her wedding plans.
But there were other notes over the years. Unlike a shocking diagnosis or a sudden death, Nancy learned that these transgressions slowly eroded love and trust, the heartbreak almost imperceptible but always there, until one day she couldn’t quite remember what real love felt like anymore.
At dawn, she woke with a start in the chair facing Roger’s hospital bed and instantly felt the soreness in her neck. She got up and wandered down the hall for coffee. When she came back, Roger was awake.
“Hey, you,” he said softly.
Nancy came over and smiled at him. He grabbed for the coffee, but Nancy pulled the cup back. “No, no, not until the doc gives his approval and you’re cleared for takeoff.”
He started to grimace but then switched gears, offering her a smile followed by a “Thanks for coming.”
“Of course, you’re technically still my problem.”
Roger smiled wider at the joke.
“So, what happened?” she asked.
“They think it was a myocardial infarction.”
“A heart attack.”
“Yes,” Roger said as he grabbed the sheet and started to wring it in his hands.
He seemed genuinely rattled by his situation.
“They’re still running tests, and I’m on blood thinners in case of clotting in the lungs. He said I have to stop drinking so much.”
“Good advice,” Nancy said, taking a sip of coffee.
Then his voice changed, and he added more sharply, “He also said it could be stress related. He asked me if anything had changed lately.” Roger looked Nancy dead in the eye.
Nancy stiffened. Was he blaming her for his heart attack? “And … what did you tell him?”
“Well, I told him th
at you had absconded away from the house and were living on a boat.”
“So, not the whole truth,” Nancy said flatly.
“Goddamn it, Nancy, do we have to get into details right now?” he growled, impatient.
“If by details you mean what Claire Sanford’s ass looks like naked, then no.”
“I’ve just suffered a heart attack!” he bellowed.
Nancy felt the muscles in her shoulders tighten as a familiar anxiety came over her. Before she knew how to stop them, the words came out. “I’m sorry.” She shouldn’t get him riled up.
Roger shook his head. “I need you, Nance. I need you to come back.”
Nancy sighed and got up. She started pacing around the room.
“Besides,” Roger added, “that thing with Claire meant nothing. It was over before it began.”
“Is that so? Because you seemed pretty into her. No pun intended.”
“Yes. I mean, no. She plainly saw how important you were to me and decided to go sniff around Larry Bland instead. She is not you, Nancy. You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved.” He stopped and let that sink in. “The life we’ve built, the memories we have, it adds up to something.” He threw up his hands in mock defeat. “I can’t do this without you. Look at me, I’m falling apart!”
She looked at him. He wore a joking frown, one hand with an IV stuck in it, the other with a heartbeat monitor on it. He was a mess. But he still had that sparkle in his eye.
“What shape is the house in?”
He smiled ever so slightly and said softly, “Barely holding up without you.”
She smiled at that. She’d always loved to be needed. She thought about how safe and happy she had been in that house. How easy it would be to slide back into it. The boat was a lot of work. She’d made some friends, but she’d also hurt some people. Chuck Roverson, for one. And there had been too many nights on the boat when she would wake up alone and feel utterly terrified. The loneliness of her situation seeped into her bones, as if it were a slow-working poison. The dread would last until sunrise. Maybe she wouldn’t feel that way if she went home, if she went back to Roger.
Roger went in for the kill. “It’ll be different this time, Nancy. I got my first taste of life without you and I don’t want seconds. Please come back.”
He reached for her, his arm begging for her to come to him. She hesitated ever so briefly but found herself alarmed at how swiftly the life she was building collapsed like a house of cards at the prospect of the safety her old life offered. They embraced on the hospital bed before the nurse came in. She was clad in scrubs that had little red ladybugs on them.
“Good morning, I’m Amber. You must be family. Sister?”
Nancy shook her head, “No.” And then she looked at Roger with a smile. “I’m his wife.”
Roger smiled at Nancy and then he looked at the nurse with a worried stare.
Amber the nurse seemed slightly confused but then brightly said, “All righty then! Well, there’s a good chance this guy will be released by three PM today!”
“Oh, already? I mean, don’t you have to run more tests or something? Check for a clot?”
“Nope, the doctor will make one more round this morning, and he should be free.”
Nancy looked at Roger and smiled. “Then I’m going to go home, take a shower, and get some fresh clothes for you. I’ll be back. We’ll go home.” She meant it warmly, but there was something stirring inside of her, a feeling like a limb being caught in a bear trap. Her smile faltered. The gravity of her admission hung in the air like a foul smell.
“That’s my girl.” Roger smiled and kissed the back of her hand.
Nancy robotically leaned over and kissed Roger, something she hadn’t done in months, and it felt like it always felt. It felt like home. But maybe this time that wasn’t a good thing.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
THE SMILING BARRACUDA
That morning on her way back to the boat from the hospital, she saw Shepard Wallace.
“Hey, Shep, how are you?”
“I am very well, my lady. I went fishing this morning and thought I’d share the wealth.” He held up a small bag of dead fish.
“Ah, she’ll be happy to see you,” Nancy said as the two of them walked toward her boat. When they came closer, Suzanne was already waiting for them, meowing expectantly.
Nancy smiled and then addressed her cat, “No, Suzanne, you cannot go home with Shep. You belong to me.”
Suzanne flicked her tail twice to let Nancy know she wasn’t the boss of her and went up to Shep, gently took her fish treasure out of his fingers, and trotted off to enjoy her feast.
“If I may be so bold, I also wanted to let you know what went on last night, here at the marina.”
That was the night she had been at the hospital. Nancy thought he spoke like a weary knight from the Middle Ages—proper, measured, and ever articulate. When he moved slowly toward her, she could almost hear his bones creak, like rusted armor.
“Did something happen to Gypsea?” Nancy asked, alarm rising in her voice.
“No, no, not at all. Our fine ex–dock master, Chuck Roverson, paid a visit and called a meeting with those of us he deems friends. Ellis, myself, and a few others. He intended on you hearing it as well, so I have taken it upon myself to be the bearer of such news.”
“What’s going on?”
“It seems there are plans by a developer to renovate the entire Redondo pier and marinas. Chuck, while employed at the marina and under a nondisclosure agreement, could not discuss the rather disastrous details of the plans. But since he has been, shall we say, liberated of his employment shackles, he told us what is at stake.”
“I’ve heard a little about the pier project—they call it the BURP, right? I thought it only affected the pier itself and some of the lesser outbuildings.”
“Yes, the Bayside Urban Renovation Project. And no, my lady, it seems as though it is much more far-reaching than that. A company called Bayside Development is the lead on the project, and their plan is to demolish the entire pier and replace it with an upscale mall and, I shudder to think, luxury condominiums. But the most concerning part is that they intend to expand the Portofino Marina and …”
Nancy nodded to prod the gentleman on.
“It pains me to say it, but they want to backfill King Harbor for parking and build a neon-ensconced pier not unlike the one in Santa Monica. A tourist trap, complete with restaurants, bars, and amusement rides.” Shep mimed a roller coaster dropping with his hands that mimicked what Nancy’s heart was doing in her chest.
“What? They want to pave over our marina?”
“Indeed. And they also intend to take the public boat launch out and replace it with Jet Ski and powerboat rentals. Evidently, our little marina only brings in a meager profit, whereas the daily parking fees and lease agreements from the new pier would fill up the coffers for Bayside Development and the city of Redondo Beach for decades to come.”
“This cannot be happening. Don’t we get to vote on it or something? Do we need to mobilize? How do we stop this?”
“That’s part of the problem. It’s been done under a blanket of secrecy for precisely the reaction that you are having now. The development company is in the process of doing an environmental impact report, but Peter Ellis is quite adamant that those results can be manipulated to be in favor of the highest-paying party.”
“Jesus, it’s like Congress.” Nancy stood there, shocked at what she was hearing.
Shep said one last thing. “It seems our last line of defense is the California Coastal Commission. In order for the project to get a final green light, they need a majority of the nine members to vote for it.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” Nancy said. “The commission will never allow this to happen. Its main responsibility is to uphold environmental protections. They’re famous for it. This Bayside Urban Renovation Project will never get a majority of the votes.”
“Or so we thought,
” came a voice from behind her. Nancy turned and saw Pete strolling over from his boat. “They’ve already got four votes,” he said gravely.
Nancy was incredulous at this news. “Impossible. How?”
“Three of the commissioners are new. Appointees from the current Republican administration are hell-bent on seeing California abandon its frivolous environmental ways in favor of unregulated capitalism. Offshore drilling, old-growth logging, and in our case, marina backfilling. These three new appointees are even threatening to overturn protections for the Monterey Bay Marine Sanctuary so British Petroleum and other enormous oil companies can build offshore oil platforms.” Pete shook his head and looked out at the bay.
“What about the other six commissioners? Most of them are as liberal minded as it gets,” Nancy said.
“Most is the imperative word there. Calvin Eldridge is a long-standing Reagan Republican who is pro-business. He’s indicated that he feels the development will bring in much-needed revenue and is good for the local economy. That gives them four solid yes votes, and they only need one more.” Ellis frowned before continuing. “Right now, there are only four confirmed environmentalists on the commission.”
“That’s eight, so who is the last and deciding vote?” Nancy asked.
“We’re not sure. It’s someone who was just appointed, and the name isn’t public yet.”
Nancy shook her head, incredulous at the news. “I know how developers work. My husband was one. I know for a fact that they have to get the city’s approval through a vote. Especially if they’re out-of-town developers. Surely we can still have a say.”
“That’s the worst part. The developers aren’t out-of-towners,” Pete said. “They’re based right here in Hermosa Beach. Turk had his grandson dig up anything he could find on them. Kid is a tech whiz, although I have calluses on my big toe that are older than him. Turns out Bayside is a newly formed development company working out of offices on Pier Avenue. They’ve got Marlin Equity bankrolling them too. Small potatoes they are not. We’re talking serious money. And that kind of money almost always gets its way.”
Beware the Mermaids Page 20
