“Forgive me if I don’t genuflect.”
Father Gus shook his head. “Not at all. ‘Stand and kneel as you are able.’”
“Ah. Unitarian,” she said, a smile stretching her face.
His eyes widened. “Yes. My mother was Unitarian. How did you know?”
“They’re the only ones I’ve ever heard use that expression.”
“Yes, well, we’re about to integrate it here. Are you coming to Mass on Sunday?”
She considered. “I might, you know. I just might.”
“Good. And if you can’t make it, why don’t you meet me back here during Monday Confession?”
Jess smiled and turned toward the door. “Thank you. I will.”
Chapter Thirteen
Jil walked along the outer wall that overlooked the dolphins’ lagoon. Spray from the breaking waves doused her face, which had gotten too much sun yesterday and still ached from the sunburn.
Rebecca joined her, hitching herself up onto the wall.
“How’s it going?”
Jil frowned. “Well, I’ve talked to almost everyone, but I’ve hit a bit of a roadblock.”
“Anything you’re ready to share?”
“No.” Jil had a strict policy about sharing anything before a final report.
“Well, I think you’ve earned a little recreation, don’t you?”
Jil looked at her.
“Such as?”
Rebecca winked. “Ever swum with dolphins before?”
Jil shook her head.
“Nothing like getting your feet wet!”
“I’ve never been within chomping distance, and I’d like to keep it that way.”
With a snort, Rebecca gestured to the lagoon. “I don’t think there’s been a dolphin attacking a human in recorded history. Like, ever.”
“There’s always a first time.”
Rebecca rolled her eyes. “Wow. All right. You can do the open water exercise tomorrow.”
“You take the dolphins into the ocean? Don’t they swim away?”
Rebecca shook her head. “Nope. This is their home and their family. They’re a pod and they like to be together. Every day, they get to go out and play. We take out a motor boat and guide them around, but they always follow us back.”
“That’s some trust.”
“Well, for a lot of the dolphins, this is the only home they’ve known. Three of them were born here. And they do important work. That’s why I want to keep this place open. If I had to close, who knows what would happen to them?” She looked tired all of a sudden.
“What work do they do?”
“Wait and see. You’ll find out. Just suit up and head on down to the back forty.”
Jil felt her heart thudding. “Great.”
She emerged from the locker area, her slightly damp suit making her skin crawl. Why had she agreed to this?
She stood by the wall, overhearing voices from below. She crept forward a bit and listened.
“Slammed, man. Covering all of Baz’s shifts.”
“Why?”
“Need the money. Girlfriend lost her job and we’re locked into our lease. Otherwise I’d move.”
“You’ve got a nice place.”
“Yeah, definitely. Love the water and whatever, but it’s tight right now.”
“Heard from Baz?”
“Naw. Not since he gave his two weeks’. Can’t blame him.”
“No shit. You wouldn’t stick around a place where your girlfriend was killed either.”
“Damn straight. I’d leave the island. Vanessa’s my life. Another reason I need the money. Saving for a ring.”
His buddy shoved him. “No way! You’re gonna tie the noose?”
“Sunset wedding. The whole shebang. Sure am. Life’s too short, man.”
“Ha ha. Tait the Great’s gonna be a married man. Yeah. I get that. Hey, good for you.”
“Thanks. What about you? Seeing anyone special?”
But his buddy didn’t laugh. Instead he just mumbled something about, “Not anyone you know,” and turned away.
Jil emerged from the doorway.
“Hey.”
The two guys looked up, and then down at their feet.
“Hey,” said the blond one.
“I’m Jil.”
“Yeah. You’re doing a dolphin experience?”
Jil smiled. “I’m hoping it’s not a drowning experience.”
The guy with the mop of dark hair gave her a grin. “I’m Max. This is Tait.”
“Hi, guys.”
“You’re visiting Rebecca?”
“Yeah. Tax appraisal.” Jil wondered if there was anything in the world she’d be less suited to than her cover job.
“She’s buttering you up?” Tait winked.
“Could be. Why? Something I should know?”
She’d meant to be light, but they both clammed up right away, looking back at the ground.
“Joking, guys.”
Max nodded. “Let’s get you into the water.”
She followed him down and he handed her a pair of flippers. “First thing you’ve got to do is get used to the flippers and mask. We’ll just get into the water for a bit, without the dolphins.”
“Sounds good.”
She would have been perfectly happy to avoid the dolphins altogether. They were beautiful, sure, but swimming in open water with marine life of any type seemed dangerous to her.
“So, you’re working more than usual?”
He climbed down the ladder, onto the platform that hovered inches above the water.
Slowly, she followed.
“Yeah. Ever since, you know. We’re one short.”
“Since the incident.”
He slipped into the water, and she put on her flippers and followed.
She tried to focus on what he was saying. Treading water in the dark lagoon was proving enough of a workout, and her breathing was starting to get short.
“The other trainer, Baz, he quit straight after.”
“Right. So now you’re down two.”
“Yeah. Not that it matters. The place will be shut down anyway, right?”
Jil looked at him. “Why do you say that?”
“Well, the financial losses, obviously. Isn’t that what you’re here to figure out?”
Jil kicked herself. “Sort of,” she answered, deciding honesty might be the best route to go. “I’m more interested in finding out the truth of what really happened.”
He squinted at the sun. “Right. Okay. So, let’s say I knew something.”
“Okay. Not about dolphins?”
He handed her a buoy and she grabbed it. The flotation device kept her bobbing at the surface and she let out a long breath.
“Thanks. I thought I was a pretty good swimmer.”
“Flippers can take some getting used to.”
“Aren’t they supposed to help?”
“Yeah, but at first they can sort of drag you down too. Just go a bit more horizontal and you’ll level out.”
Jil leaned back into the water until she found her equilibrium.
“If you did have something to say, I’d be happy to hear it.”
“This is the only place where nobody could be listening.”
“You have something to tell me?”
“You don’t look much like an accountant.”
“Yeah? What does an accountant look like?”
“Well, this one looks like a PI.”
Jil stared at him. She’d never been made so easily before.
“If you are a PI, I’m glad.”
“Why would you be glad?”
“Because the gendarme here suck. They’re not looking into this shit at all. There’s no way Tasha would have been stupid enough to get anywhere near Tsunami when she was alone. She knew her story. She was careful. And smart. This was her dream job. And if Tsunami had killed her, she would have eaten her, not carried her around for a ride on her back.”
“What do yo
u think happened?”
“I dunno, man. I just know the gendarme have been wanting this place closed for years. No idea why. They just came in, strung up their yellow tape over everything, and started posting up notices. Doesn’t seem to matter to them that someone was trying to kill the whale.”
Jil frowned. “How? Who told you this?”
“Tasha.”
“What did she say, exactly?”
“She didn’t know for sure. Only that the fish he was eating smelled strange. She thought it had gone off, so she tossed it out.”
“Where?”
“Into the garbage bin at the back of the sea aquarium. She got Tsunami new food, but…”
A dolphin chattered across the lagoon, and Jil braced herself.
“Just relax. They haven’t drowned anyone in years.”
She gave him the slit eye and he smiled.
“When she left for the day, she noticed the dead seagulls near the bin.”
“How many?”
“I don’t think she stopped to count them. She said she didn’t even clue in right away—that they might have eaten the fish.”
“But birds eat rotten fish all the time.”
“That’s what she realized. Later. When we were back in residence. She wanted to come back to check it out, but we were all going out for the night and so she waited till morning.”
“And?” Jil’s legs were beginning to feel like overcooked spaghetti.
“When she got here, they were gone. The bin was empty.”
“Is it possible that someone just cleaned up the dead fish so they wouldn’t stink up the park?”
“Yeah, it’s definitely possible. It’s just weird, that’s all. Weird enough that Tasha would say something. There’s a lot of people’s jobs on the line here. Animals’ lives at stake. If you were a PI, I’d be glad someone was looking into the truth. That’s all.”
Jil nodded. “Well, as far as I know, I woke up an accountant and I’ll go to sleep an accountant. But if I were a PI, I’d be glad you shared that with me.”
Max smiled and put his whistle in his teeth. He let out a quick blast and a dolphin popped up next to Jil.
She gasped.
“Hold out your hand,” Max said.
Jil extended her arm just in time, and the smooth gray skin touched her fingertips as the dolphin glided by, then ducked out of sight.
“They’re denser than I thought.”
“Everyone says that. Wait till you ride one.”
“Ride one? I’m not riding one.”
The dolphin bumped her with her nose and she laughed.
“Hey!”
Max grabbed onto the dolphin’s dorsal fin with two hands, holding himself slightly up and over the animal’s broad back. And with a powerful downstroke of her tail, Koko had him halfway across the tank. They sped in a circle, reminding Jil of a circus performer standing on a horse’s bare back.
“That was awesome.”
Max reached into the bucket and gave Koko a fish. She chittered and gulped it down.
“God, they’re smart, aren’t they?” Jil said.
“They are. Smart enough to teach you how to ride one.” And before she could object, Max had guided her hands onto the dolphin’s dorsal fin. “Hang on tight.”
She felt the instinctive reflex of the dolphin’s muscles under her and held on for dear life as she was skimmed around the tank, water spurting over her head and body. She counted three, four seconds before she fell off. Coughing and sputtering, she surfaced.
“Wow.”
“Not bad for your first ride.”
Max gave her a thumbs-up from across the lagoon.
Something bumped her from underneath and she turned around to see Koko’s black eyes staring at her. She didn’t know if dolphins could laugh, but it sure looked like it.
“Thanks for the ride,” Jil said.
Koko body-rubbed her, reminding her unexpectedly of Zeus, asking for a pet.
She rubbed the dolphin’s head and back.
“Heads up!”
She turned just in time to see Max toss her a fish to give to Koko, but the dolphin caught it herself and dove down.
“That was amazing,” Jil said after she’d swum back to the dock. “Exhausting, but amazing.”
“You’re not a bad swimmer,” Max said.
“Not bad, per se, but definitely not stellar.”
The fish in the bucket had reminded her…
“Hey, one more question.”
“Sure.”
“Besides you, did Tasha tell anyone about the fish?”
Max thought for a sec.
“Yeah, actually, I think she did.”
“Who?”
He hauled himself out of the water, then turned to help Jil out as well.
“Ramone.”
Chapter Fourteen
This physical aspect to decision making was something Jess still struggled to understand. Forgot about, actually, until it happened to her. How she’d be wrestling with a decision, wracked with anxiety, guilt, confusion. How she’d make pro and con lists. Pray, occasionally—when she still felt like she could do that.
And how, one day, she’d just wake up and the decision would have been made for her, almost as if her dreams had sorted out the facts and now her body could act. She’d pick up the phone or get in the car. Make the appointment or cancel the event. Say yes or say no.
Her body would decide.
And this morning, as her eyes opened and the first light of the new day washed over her, she had decided.
She was going to quit her job. Resign.
As the coffee filtered down into the carafe, she emailed the superintendent and asked him to meet her at nine a.m.
He would be busy, but he would make time for her, she knew it. Within minutes, he’d responded. Meet you at St. Mag’s. Already there for the morning.
She tried to call Jil, but it went straight to voice mail. Instead, she texted.
You were right. Meeting with the Spr this morning. Call you when it’s done.
She poured a cup of coffee and stood looking out the window while she drank it.
This house would have to go on the market. She would have to move. She could do that, now that he was dying.
Dying.
Hadn’t he been dying for years?
She sat on the window seat and watched the kids getting on the school bus. She smiled sadly. Their little backpacks, their little hats.
Maybe it was just that she missed teaching elementary school. The kids had been so cute with their earnest expressions and their forthright renditions of their home lives. But something deeper clawed at her when she looked at those little ones. Motherhood. A chance she’d never taken, and now, could never endure.
“Jessie, how do we know if we don’t try? Who knows what kind of parents we’d be?”
“I’m not even thirty yet. Don’t you want to wait?”
“Thirty. Geez,” he teased her. “I thought with your ambitious nature, you’d want to pop out two or three before that.”
She turned away from him and he rubbed a hand on her shoulder, kissed her neck like he was sorry for bringing it up. She didn’t shrink away from him, but she also didn’t turn around. Just let her arm drape over the side of the bed, keeping the same distance from him.
How could they possibly think of being parents right now? Someday, maybe. Probably. But now? They’d talked about it. Agreed in their marriage preparation courses. They’d made a plan, and that had involved kids. She knew that. She remembered talking about it with Mitch and Father McGillivray. And she remembered, quite clearly, that she’d been telling the truth when she said she wanted kids.
But if she wanted it someday, shouldn’t she at least be able to imagine it now? She couldn’t. What it would feel like to have her stomach expanding, a tiny person inside her, kicking to get out? Mitch playing the guitar or the clarinet every night after dinner.
How was it that some parts made sense? That a
cooing baby could produce a longing so strong she had to look away from the chubby cheeks, the bright, perfect eyes. That she could happily wander through the baby boutiques, picking out a crib, admiring quilts and stuffed animals. Fingering onesies and bibs…little dresses. She could imagine holding a baby, smelling him, rocking her to sleep and singing lullabies as she nursed.
She knew how babies were made. She knew she needed him to produce one inside her. And Mitch would be a good father. He’d be there for baseball games or clarinet practice or whatever their child was into.
But whenever he moved to touch her, she turned away. Not always. And not bluntly. But consistently.
She went to Confession.
“I want a baby but I don’t want sex, Father.”
“Usually it’s the other way around, my daughter. Remember your wifely duties. Perhaps you are just tired.”
Three Hail Marys and a trip to the lingerie store.
And just before Christmas, she found out she was expecting.
Five weeks in and she wrapped a little ornament in a box to put under the tree.
Maybe it was premonition that had stopped her. Changed her mind. Maybe she’d known, somewhere in the recesses of her subconscious, that it wasn’t meant for her.
Perhaps it was a blessing, in the end, not having to raise an infant by herself. But maybe, if they’d had the baby, he wouldn’t have gone on that trip. Maybe he would have stayed home to look after the baby. Maybe he wouldn’t have been driving angry. And frustrated.
There were so many possibilities.
That night, the night before they would cross the threshold to the second trimester—the time when they could officially tell everyone they’d unofficially told—she’d felt a cramping in her pelvic floor. A light, niggling feeling around the perimeter.
She stretched. Took a bath. Looked it up in the pregnancy book that sat dog-eared on her nightstand. Mild cramping toward the second trimester might indicate that baby was growing.
Fine.
But she didn’t feel fine. She felt heavy and tired. Anxious. She checked her underwear in the bathroom. No spotting. Just that dull, heavy feeling.
“Go to bed, Jessie. You’re tired. Pregnancy has aches and pains, remember?”
She did remember little bands of women at baby showers, birthday parties—talking ad nauseam about the nausea and the vomiting, the swollen ankles and tender breasts. She’d absorbed it, as women absorb the story of motherhood from other women: lightly, letting their experiences wash over her and sketch the outlines for what she should expect.
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