Roche Harbor Rogue

by D. W. Ulsterman

  From somewhere down near the water a raven called out. The sound reminded Adele of laughter.

  I just hope the joke isn’t on me.

  30.

  “Y ou have questions?”

  “I have a lot of questions,” Adele replied.

  Bloodbone slowly lowered himself onto the sand and pebble beach that was partly hidden by tall grass and a row of madrone trees. He sat with his arms folded over his knees. “I might need your help getting back up,” he said with a smile. “These old legs aren’t what they used to be.”

  “For a man some believe is well over 100 years old I’d say you’re doing fine.”

  “Age is a concept I pay little attention to. I just wish my body would do the same.”

  “Exactly how old are you, Mr. Bloodbone?”

  A warm breeze licked the surface of Fishing Bay. It carried the familiar San Juan Islands scent of salt and pine.

  “How old do you want me to be?”

  “Please don’t answer a question with a question.”

  Bloodbone picked up a pebble and threw it into the water. “You see the ripples?”

  “Sure.”

  “There are also ripples you can’t see—energy that is transferred but invisible to the human eye. Those ripples continue to travel, to expand, far beyond this time and place. That’s how old I am.”

  Adele sighed. “That’s not an answer. It’s a riddle. I would really appreciate it if you spoke in more direct terms.”

  “For your newspaper?”

  “It doesn’t have to be. This conversation can be off the record.”

  “Then why have the conversation at all?”

  “Because I’m curious. I like knowing things and you’re an important part of the history of this place.”

  “Am I?”

  “Some people seem to think so. Delroy wrote a book about it.”

  Bloodbone breathed deep. “Ah, Mr. Hicks. Yes, he did write a book, didn’t he?”

  “I was told the book was a lie—a lie you demanded be published.”

  “Was it the nun who told you that?”

  “Does it matter?”

  Bloodbone skipped another rock into the water. “No, I suppose not. Mr. Hicks is dead and those few who remain from that time will soon join him in that place.”

  “Including you?”

  “All things die eventually. Even me.”

  “And what about Delroy’s book? Was the conclusion in it that you were a fraud in fact a lie?”

  “That’s not an easy answer to give. What Mr. Hicks published was an opinion.”

  “Can you heal people, Mr. Bloodbone?”

  “Most have that ability to some degree.”

  Adele decided to continue asking question after question hoping she could eventually crack Bloodbone’s circular way of deflection so that he might start giving her some real answers. “I’m talking specifically about your ability. Do you believe you have the power to heal?”

  “Your friend Mr. Kearns seems to think that power is to be found in certain crystals.”

  “Is it?”

  “My intent in talking with you wasn’t to tell you what to believe.”

  “No? You do sell crystals to people, though, right?”

  Bloodbone took off the crystal necklace and then dropped it into Adele’s hand. “Some I sell. Some I give as gifts. Whether or not the crystal possesses power has nothing to do with me and everything to do with the person who receives it. Please close your hand and tell me what you feel.”

  “It’s warm.”

  Karl nodded. “Good. What else?”

  “I can feel my own heartbeat passing through it, like a vibration.”

  “That’s very good. Now shut your eyes and focus on just that heartbeat. Push everything else out of your mind.”

  Adele played along, hoping to make Bloodbone more comfortable so he would continue talking. “What now?” she said.

  “I am going to place my hand over yours. Is that okay with you?”

  “Sure.”

  Bloodbone’s skin was sandpaper-rough. His long fingers encircled Adele’s like a spider smothering its prey. She felt his pulse joining with hers and then realized their hearts were also beating in time with the water as it advanced and retreated from the shore.

  “Many things are one,” Bloodbone whispered. “Everything is connected, one part to the next. Past, present, future, it’s all a universal thread being pulled from the same ball of string.”

  Adele opened her eyes and found Bloodbone staring at her with his face inches from hers. “You and I are the same. Delroy Hicks, Charles Soros, Mother Mary Ophelia, Sheriff Lucas Pine, his father Dr. Edmund Pine, Decklan and Calista Stone, Tilda Ashland—they were and are the same as well. All connected. All part of a greater whole.”

  “The same how?” Adele’s lips felt unusually heavy as her mouth struggled to form the words. She was falling into the dark abyss of Bloodbone’s gaze.

  “Protectors of the islands. The keepers of their secrets. We heal that which was broken and fight to protect this place from injury.”

  “Me? What have I protected?”

  “What haven’t you protected since you came here? From saving Calista Stone physically and Decklan Stone spiritually, to exposing the dark deeds of a corrupted sheriff and helping Lucas to replace him, guiding Roland Soros toward a better version of himself, and doing battle with the Russian criminals who would see our blue-green waters turned red. Need I go on? It’s why Delroy knew you were for this place and this place was for you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He chose to spend what little remained of his life helping you to solve the mystery of Calista Stone’s disappearance. He gifted you his sailboat to allow you a home unencumbered by debt and gave you a character reference for a job at the newspaper that you now partly own. And from those few things came great opportunity. Roland, Lucas, Tilda, Decklan and Calista, your relationships with them and so many others here began with Delroy’s instinctive desire to help you when you first arrived at our islands. He already knew then what I now believe as well.”

  Adele leaned away from Bloodbone’s face. “And what would that be?”

  “That of those I mentioned, the protectors of the islands, you are the most important and the most powerful of them all.”

  “Powerful? Hardly.”

  “Help me up,” Bloodbone said. “I want to show you something.”

  Adele stood, took Bloodbone’s hand, and pulled him up. He took his crystal necklace back from her and then turned and pointed at the largest of the madrone trees behind them. “Follow me.”

  Bloodbone touched the tree’s peeling cinnamon-red bark. “This madrone is among the oldest living things on the island. It was witness to the atrocities committed by my own tribal warriors who came down from the north to murder and enslave their Lummi brothers and sisters. It was here when I was but a boy staring up at the night sky stars and dreaming of worlds far beyond my own knowing. It watched as Robert Moran arrived from Seattle to live out the remaining months he had been told he had left. It knew your friend Delroy Hicks. And judging by its continued good health, this beautiful tree will be here after the both of us are long gone. Please stand under it and look out at the water so you might see the world as it has seen it for so long.”

  “You want me to pretend to be a tree?”

  “Something like that, yes.”

  Adele stood under the madrone, looked down at her feet, and then slowly lifted her head. The waters of East Sound stretched out before her. The warm air was filled with the light floral scent of the madrone’s emerging clusters of early spring blooms.

  Bloodbone’s long arm stretched out in front of them. “That forested hump to the south is Shaw Island, home of the nun. If you look to the west there is the side of Turtleback Mountain beneath which is Deer Harbor and the private island residence of Decklan and Calista Stone. And if you go further west beyond Turtleback Mountain, and allow your eyes a mom
ent to adjust, you can spy the tops of evergreen trees growing from the rich soil of your beloved Roche Harbor.

  “It’s certainly quite a view.”

  “Yes, it’s that and more. From here one can observe so much. If you turn to the east, you can make out the road leading to the Speaks property that you rescued Calista from. Roche Harbor, Shaw Island, Orcas Island, the people, places, and events that have been so important to your own experiences and destiny, Adele, are all connected by the view here from underneath this ancient tree.”

  Adele and Bloodbone looked up at a squawking raven that was resting on one of the madrone’s branches. Chasm-deep wrinkles cracked across Bloodbone’s face when he smiled.

  “There you are, friend. Come down and say hello.” Adele watched Bloodbone stick his arm out and then she gasped when the raven landed on his wrist. “This is George,” he said. “We’ve known each other for a very long time.”

  “I’ve met him before. The first time was outside the book store in Friday Harbor. He also showed up at the monastery on Shaw Island and then at the Speaks place with you.”

  Bloodbone gently stroked the top of the bird’s head. They both had the same midnight-dark eyes. “Yes, George told me all about it. Ravens are among the most intelligent of the Creator’s creatures. Did you know that? My people have long considered them to be the link between this world and the other—a powerful thing of spiritual transition upon whose wings come messages from the beyond.”

  “You never did explain why you were at the Speaks house. Were you the one who locked us in the cellar?”

  “Yes.”

  Adele was surprised by the quick answer. There was no riddle, no attempted deflection. “Why’d you do that?”

  “Partly to prove a point.”

  “What point?”

  “That you were capable of escaping because you’re much stronger than you think. It showed me that you’re worthy of the great burden that has been placed upon you.”

  The raven spread its wings, squawked, and then flew off toward Shaw Island. Bloodbone grinned as he watched it go.

  “What burden are you talking about?” Adele said.

  “I told you already. You are the protector. Soon, very soon, all that you were, all that you have become, all that you might ever be will be challenged. And in your fate is found the fate of these islands.”

  “Are you saying I’m in danger?”

  “Not just you—everyone and everything here.”

  “If the risks are that great shouldn’t you be telling this to the sheriff?”

  Bloodbone nodded. “Lucas Pine will continue to play his part. As will Roland Soros, Tilda Ashland, and others who now all share one critical thing in common—you.”

  “Me?”

  “Look at this tree again. Note how it sheds its skin. Each year it is the same but different—like you. You are still the young woman who first arrived here years earlier to interview a reclusive author, but with each passing season you also became something different: stronger, more determined, more capable.”

  “And what’s the big threat you’re warning me to be ready for? Is it the Russians?”

  Bloodbone turned and looked out at the water. “Yes, and what they represent—the takers. Like Mr. Kearns, and the crystal I know he now keeps in his pocket. It is that kind of thoughtless, greed-inspired taking that is so dangerous to us. It’s also why your ongoing influence with Roland Soros is so important to the well-being of the islands. His grandfather helped build an unseen wall of protection around this place. Without knowing it, Roland has been steadily breaking that wall apart. He unintentionally invited greed, destruction, and evil to our home. Your problem with the Russians is simply the most evident example of that fact. But, as bad as it’s been, without your intervention it would have been far worse.”

  “Fin took that crystal because he’s desperate to save his mother. I wouldn’t call that greed.”

  “Desperation and greed are often interchangeable, Adele. His father Delroy came to understand this. Be a slave to the truth or know freedom from the lie. Those are Delroy’s words not mine. If the truth of these islands was to become known by all then soon nothing of the islands would remain. The soul of this place would be ripped out by the roots. The conclusion in Delroy’s book was an intentional lie meant to help prevent that outcome. I suggested the lie and he agreed to its propagation. We were not enemies. Far from it. Like you I miss his friendship, his wisdom, and his generous humanity. Delroy Hicks was the best of all of us.”

  When Adele blurted out her next words, she was surprised by the anger and hurt behind them. “You’re a healer, right? Then why didn’t you heal Delroy’s cancer so he could still be with us today?”

  “Your question is based on a false premise.”

  “How so?”

  “Delroy did, in fact, live a reasonably long life, one that was far longer than anyone else believed it would be.”

  “I asked why you didn’t heal him.”

  “You’re assuming I didn’t. Healing and curing are very different things.”

  “Fine, I’ll drop the Delroy subject for something more recent. Why did you write Delroy’s line on the inside of the cellar door at the Speaks home?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Then who did?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “But you knew the words were there?”

  Bloodbone nodded. “Yes.”

  “You wanted me to see them.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  Bloodbone sat on a rock, stretched his long legs out in front of him, and rubbed his knees. “Arthritis.”

  “Don’t try to change the subject. Why did you want me to see those words on the inside of the cellar door?”

  “They are the connective tissue between an earlier time and this one. Between Delroy and you. Between then and now and what will be. It is my hope that regardless the changes that are to come, and there will be many, the intent of those words remains. We must not share some of the unique truths of this place with the world or the world will swallow it whole and we will be made slaves to that new and destructive reality.”

  “You mean the alleged healing power of the crystals, the unusually long lifespan of island residents, those kinds of things are to be kept secret?”

  “Exactly. Protect us and the truth of this place through the telling of a lie.”

  “The lie being that the healing powers, the long lives, the island’s heartbeat you can feel in the earth, none of that is true.”

  Bloodbone stopped rubbing his knees and started rubbing his crystal. “Yes.”

  “But I’m not even sure if any of those things are true, which means I’m just as confused as to what might really be the lie.”

  “So long as you don’t report what I know to be the truth in your paper we’ll be fine—for now. Do as Delroy did with his book and as his son just did with his mouth. Declare me a fraud. That way those who come here seeking to take will remain small in number, a fringe group ignored by the rest of society. I would gladly be scorned by those living in ignorance than see harm come to our islands.”

  Adele sat beside Bloodbone. “I’ll agree to that so long as you tell me one thing right now.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “How old are you really?”

  Bloodbone lowered his face into his hands and rubbed his forehead. Adele sensed the indecision roiling within him. His head lifted, he sat up straight, and closed his eyes.

  “I have helped to deliver newborns into this world and later held their aged hands as they departed it. Over and over I have done this. I do not measure my life in years but rather experiences. That is how old I am.”

  While not a perfectly clear answer, Adele was grateful for it because it felt and sounded like an honest one.

  Karl Bloodbone wasn’t merely old—he was ancient.

  Adele decided then that it didn’t matter how or why. His age wasn’t nearly as important as keeping the isla
nds safe.

  He was asking for her help and she intended to give it.

  31.

  R oland and Fin were unusually quiet on the way back to Roche Harbor. Neither asked Adele much about her talk with Bloodbone. Both seemed preoccupied with thoughts Adele could only guess at. Roland sat in the passenger seat while Fin relaxed on the aft bench with his eyes closed, smiling as the wind buffeted his face.

  A strong incoming tide pushed multiple patches of floating wood debris throughout the narrow Wasp Passage that divided Orcas Island from Shaw Island. Adele was quick to spot and then navigate around the watery clutter without the need to slow down. It was a slight turn and then the wheel was straightened as the Chris Craft continued its fast charge toward Roche.

  Adele glanced to the side and caught Roland staring at her. “What?”

  Roland cocked his head and arched a brow. “Captain Sexy.”

  When Adele rolled her eyes at him, Roland wagged his finger. “I mean it. Watching you behind the wheel of this boat . . . I can’t stop looking at you.”

  Adele tried to brush the hair off her face, but the wind wasn’t having it. “I’m afraid I’m no big city D-cup television news reporter.”

  Roland winced. “Marianne? Please. Let’s not go there.”

  “You already did. She made that quite clear to me when she showed up asking why I was messing things up between you and her.”

  “Yeah, and now she’s working to break the story on the bank sale. She’s no friend of mine, Adele. Trust me.”

  “I wonder if she’s still on the islands.”

  “I don’t care if she is or isn’t. You’ll report the bank sale in your paper first and she’ll be left on the outside looking in. After that I doubt we’ll hear from Marianne Rocha again.”

  “I have to admit I kind of feel sorry for her.”

  “Why is that?”

  Adele turned the wheel and just missed running over a floating log by a few feet. “Clearly she fell for you hard and then you pushed her away. I might not care for the woman, but I wouldn’t wish that kind of hurt on anyone.”

  “It’s like I told you. It was just a few dates. I think it has more to do with how a woman like her isn’t used to not getting exactly what she wants than it is about me. She’s a Seattle TV reporter. I’m just some guy who lives on an island. I’m sure she’s already over it.”