Island Girl

by Lynda Simmons

  “Where are they?” while I pulled on my clothes.

  “Where did you say they were?” on our way down the stairs again.

  And once more, just for kicks, while we were running to the gate for God’s sake, with my head pounding and my hands clutching his shirt, holding us back, wasting precious seconds. “I’m sorry. I know you told me where they are, but I can’t remember.”

  I could see he was as frustrated and scared as I was, but he didn’t raise his voice, didn’t call Mary Anne for backup, didn’t try to leave the useless, weepy sidekick behind as I would have. Simply held my face between his hands, looked into my eyes, and said, “There’s no time for questions. Just follow me. I’ll take you to them, I promise.”

  No doubt Big Al would have preferred a scene, another riveting Ruby meltdown. But he must be learning to deal with disappointment because I was able to remain calm. Take a deep breath and trust Mark enough to stop talking and just follow him into the van. Feeling like everything was happening in slow motion. Certain only of one thing: If Grace was in the water, then something must have gone horribly wrong.

  “I don’t understand,” I said as we passed the ferry dock. “She’s an Island girl for heaven’s sake. She’s lived around water all of her life. What could have happened?”

  “We’re getting more details all the time,” David said as he drove. “What I can tell you is that someone at the art center called to report two girls in trouble. One was in the water, the other was in one of those giant swans.”

  “In a swan? So they were in the lagoon?” Mark asked.

  “No, sir, they were out on the lake, near the lighthouse. Apparently the one in the swan jumped into the water to help the other.”

  “I don’t understand any of this,” Mark said, giving me a lot of comfort. Assuring me I wasn’t the only one having trouble with this conversation. “How did they get a swan out there?”

  “We’re trying to determine that, sir.”

  “Are the girls all right?” Mark asked.

  “As of the last report, they were fine. Paramedics are with them on the beach now, and they’ll be able to tell you more when we get there.”

  But where was there? That fact kept slipping away no matter how many times I asked or how hard I tried to hold on to it. Disappearing into the same hole where Big Al was keeping the names of people I’d known for years, along with a few phone numbers I used to take for granted. I touched my back pocket, felt the edges of my notebook, and smiled. I didn’t remember putting it there, but Big Al would not be pleased.

  I turned back the cover of my lifeline. Ran my fingers over the clean, blank page. “Mark,” I said quietly. “Where is Grace?”

  “The beach near the lighthouse,” he said just as quietly, then asked the driver for a pen. My coconspirator, helping to keep Ruby’s problem a secret. When I had the pen, he repeated the information without being asked. We made a good team, Mark and me, and I couldn’t imagine trying to get through this without him.

  I scribbled, Grace in the water off the beach near the lighthouse at the top of the page. Not that the knowing helped make sense of what was happening. My girls had always been strong swimmers with a healthy respect for the lake. They knew the dangers of currents and hypothermia. The need for proper safety equipment on the water. But according to the next report, none of that made any difference this morning. This morning, Grace had decided it was perfectly acceptable to go out on the lake without so much as a life jacket. In a swan of all things.

  David parked on the road past the art center. A few early risers had gathered at the foot of the path down to the lake, but a police officer from the marine unit—female, maybe sixteen—was holding them back. David led us past the curious and across the grass to a small secluded beach, passing us off to an Officer Stokes when we reached the edge of the sand.

  “Grace and Jocelyn are still being examined,” Stokes said. “You’ll need to wait here for now, but you can see them once the paramedics finish.”

  Farther down the beach, the girls sat about fifty feet apart—presumably so they couldn’t talk to each other until after police had questioned them—both pale and coughing, both wrapped in a blanket, and both being tended to by paramedics. The relief when Grace turned and gave me a tiny wave was enough to weaken my knees, bring tears to my eyes. But relief quickly gave way to anger when Stokes drew our attention to the giant swan chugging around in a circle out in the lake, and the marine rescue boat trying to corral it.

  “What were they thinking?” I asked, hearing Grace cough again and again. Knowing I should be grateful she was alive, but furious all the same. “Why would she do something like this?” I looked up at Mark. “She knows better.”

  “We’ll find out everything soon enough,” he whispered while the paramedic with Jocelyn packed up his kit and signaled to the female officer. The investigation was about to begin.

  “Jocelyn is twelve,” Mark said to Stokes. “I should be with her when she’s being questioned.”

  “Just give Officer Grant a moment to determine if Jocelyn is up to answering questions.”

  “She is.” The paramedic smiled as he came toward us. “Are you the parents? I tell you, luck was definitely on your daughters’ side today. The current is strong here, and that water is cold, but they made it to shore under their own steam. They’ve both swallowed a bit of water, and they’re coughing some, but nothing that warrants a trip to the hospital. Just get them home and keep them warm. Let them get some rest and they should be fine in a day or two.” He glanced over his shoulder. “The bigger issue is that swan, and how they ended up inside it.”

  “We’re working on that,” Stokes said, then nodded at Mark. “You can go ahead now.”

  While Stokes stayed back to ensure that the curious came no closer, we hurried across the sand to where Jocelyn sat—a tiny bundle in a blanket, staring down Officer Grant.

  “Tell me again how you got the swan out there,” she asked.

  “Like I said, we didn’t get it there. We found it there.”

  “And you decided to get in?”

  Jocelyn raised a brow, like the officer was missing a few screws. “Wouldn’t you?”

  She scribbled in her book. “How far from shore were you when Grace fell in?”

  “About a hundred feet.”

  Mark said her name and Jocelyn raised her head. Reached for her dad. “It’s okay,” he whispered, kneeling down, pulling her into his arms. “It’s okay.”

  “I just have a few more questions,” the officer said. “We’ve learned that a golf car went missing last night, only to reappear this morning. Do you know anything about that, Jocelyn?”

  Mark released her. Rearranged the blanket back on her shoulders. “Officer Grant, the paramedic advised that my daughter get some rest. Can we pick this up at the house later?”

  “Of course.” She closed her book and smiled at Jocelyn. “You take care,” she said, and headed back across the beach to join her partner.

  When she was out of earshot, Mark turned to Jocelyn. “You need to tell me exactly what happened. And if you give me that crap about finding the swan, I swear I will ground you until school starts.”

  She started to protest, thought better of it, and slumped against him. “What difference does it make? The swan is safe, we’re safe. What’s the big deal?”

  Mark kept his voice low. “The big deal is stolen property. Police are involved, paramedics are involved, even the bloody marine rescue unit is involved. And not one of them believes that swan magically appeared on the beach. I doubt it’s something you could have arranged on your own, so I figure you’re protecting someone, which I respect. But if you want me to help you get out from under this, you need to come clean. Do you understand?”

  “Fine.” She cast a suspicious glance at the officers by the path and kept her own voice to a whisper. “We took the swan because Grace was unhappy after all that stuff with Lori, and I thought it might cheer her up.”

&nbs
p; “Not this again.” I got to my feet. “Jocelyn, you have to let this nonsense go.”

  She shot up, the blanket falling behind her. “You keep telling yourself whatever you like, but I know Grace was miserable. About Chez Ruby, about you, about everything.” She turned back to her father. “I probably should have thought it through better, but I wasn’t planning to go far. Just back and forth so she could give the finger to the Island and tell everyone to fuck right off.”

  I spun her around. “That was your big plan? You put my daughter’s life at risk so she could yell fuck off at the world from a swan?”

  “She yelled it mostly at you, Ruby.”

  “Jocelyn, enough,” Mark said.

  “It’s just the truth. And I know it sounds like a stupid plan, but I swear it’s what Grace wanted. I wish you could have seen her out there, Daddy, sailing away on a swan with a big grin on her face and a fist in the air, shouting, ‘Fuck off, we’re goin’ to Grimsby!’”

  I shook my head. “This is ridiculous. Grace has never said a word to me about sailing away on a swan.”

  Jocelyn rounded on me. “I’ll bet she never said anything to you about getting on a plane at the Island airport either, but that’s another route she thinks about every single day.”

  I grabbed her by the arm, jerked her toward me. “How dare you.”

  Mark put a hand on my shoulder. “Ruby, let her go.”

  I loosened my grip, but she didn’t pull away. Leaned into me instead, teeth gritted, voice low. “You should know that Grace goes to the airport every day to watch the planes. And she has picnics with Liz every Thursday at the nude beach on Hanlan’s Point. In fact, there’s one planned for today. She’ll be here on the ten thirty ferry.”

  “Jocelyn, back off,” Mark warned.

  But Big Al had already perked up. Picnics with Liz? he said, and roared with laughter, filling my head with noise.

  “That’s a lie.” I put my hands over my ears. “A bloody lie.”

  “I tried to tell you before,” Jocelyn said. “You don’t have a clue about Grace. Not a goddamn clue.”

  “I know my daughter better than any of you—”

  “Do you know she has a cell phone? Did she tell you my dad gave her one?”

  “Ruby, it’s nothing,” he said. “She borrowed it one day and I told her to keep it.”

  I looked up at him. “But you didn’t tell me?”

  “Because everyone knows you’d just take it away,” Jocelyn said. “Or start snooping around in it, the way you snoop around on her computer.”

  “I’m trying to protect her!”

  “And she’s trying to protect herself! That’s why she sneaks around. That’s how she survives.” The kid stuck her face in mine again. “Why do you think you never found anything in her computer? Because she’s too smart to leave it there!”

  Mark pulled her back. “Jocelyn, that is enough!”

  “Sir,” Officer Stokes said, “is there a problem here?”

  I turned, searching for Grace. Spotted her, still huddled in a blanket, still being examined by that paramedic, oblivious to what was happening at our end of the beach.

  “No problem at all,” Mark said, leading Stokes away. But leaving Jocelyn behind.

  She leaned close again, whispering. “You’ve been lucky up to now because Grace always found a way to make things right for herself. But she couldn’t do it this time. Not after what you did to her with Chez Ruby.”

  It was my turn to curl my lip. “So you made things right by putting her in a swan out on the lake?”

  “Grace got in that swan all by herself. And she was having fun. Laughing and cheering, like she’d won something. Until she jumped, and it was all over.”

  My stomach dropped. “Jumped? Why would she jump?”

  “Are you that dense? She jumped for the same reason she can’t bring herself to get on a ferry. Because you taught her that it’s not safe to leave the fucking Island.”

  Big Al chuckled. So she climbed into the swan because of you and jumped back out because of you. Nice work, Mom.

  “It’s not my fault,” I muttered, and backed up a step. Thought how nice it would be to climb into a swan and give Al the finger. Tell him to fuck right off and go to Grimsby. I turned, searching for Grace again. Seeing that bloody paramedic still with her.

  “It’s not my fault.” I raised my voice. “It’s not my fault.”

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Jocelyn demanded, bringing me back, making me focus. She tipped her head to the side. “Are you sick? Grace thinks you might be. That you might have cancer again—”

  “I don’t have cancer. I never did. Where did she get such an idea?”

  “From Liz.”

  “Why would Liz tell her that?”

  “How should I know? But she said it was a basal cell and you had laser treatments.”

  I stared at her. Liz had lied to Grace? Elaborately? For me? She must have been really drunk.

  “If it’s not cancer, then what do you have?” Jocelyn jerked a thumb at me when Mark returned. “What does she have?”

  “Nothing,” he said at the same time I said, “Alzheimer’s.” I hadn’t known I was going to say it, but now that it was out there, I couldn’t take it back. And Big Al was quite amused when both of their mouths fell open.

  Jocelyn recovered first. Hauled back a fist and plowed her dad in the stomach. Doubled him over, bringing the paramedic tending to Grace running.

  “You’re going to marry a woman with Alzheimer’s?” Jocelyn growled. “Why would anyone do that?”

  “Probably because he loves her,” the young man said, helping Mark to bend over, catch his breath. “I see that kind of devotion all the time. Especially in couples who’ve loved each other for years.” He smiled when Mark straightened. “So how many has it been for you, sir?”

  “Twenty-eight.” Mark struggled to draw in a breath. “And I’d like twenty-eight more.”

  The paramedic gave us one of those horrible I’m so sorry looks.

  “He knows that’s not possible,” I told him. “He’s just an optimist.”

  “He’s an idiot,” Jocelyn said. “I can’t believe you’re going to saddle us with a … a—”

  “Lump?” I finished for her. She shot me her trademark scowl and I laughed. “I’m the one it’s going to happen to, and I’m even more surprised than you are that he wants this.”

  “With all the research being done today,” the paramedic said, “you have every right to be optimistic.”

  Mark smiled and there she was behind his eyes—Hope. Waving her little pixie fingers, trying to make me believe he was right. Luck was on our side, just like with Grace and Jocelyn. Miracles for all today!

  I sighed and turned back to Grace. With the paramedic busy here, Officer Stokes had wasted no time taking his place. I hurried across the sand and sank down beside her. “Grace, honey? Are you okay?”

  She held out her arms to me. “Mom, I’m so sorry.”

  I drew her close and laid her head on my shoulder, her damp hair brushing soft against my neck, her breath warm on my skin. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. Nothing at all.” I glanced over at the officer. “Can your questions wait until we get her home?”

  “I don’t see why not.” He tucked the notebook into his pocket. “Maybe a little rest will help trigger her memory. Help us figure out how that swan got all the way over here.”

  “It’s a mystery.” Grace sat up straighter, wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “But if I think of anything, I’ll let you know.”

  “You’ve got my card.” He turned to me. “We’ve arranged for the art center shuttle to take you all back to Ward’s. I’ll come by the house to speak with the girls later today.”

  Out in the water, a man with a hook finally caught the swan and guided her back to the marine rescue boat. Once she was alongside, another man climbed in, turned her motor off, and settled back for the ride to the dock. The drama was over. The curiou
s started to leave. Like Jocelyn said, the swan was safe, they were safe. What else mattered?

  Mark and Jocelyn were already making their way to the shuttle, Jocelyn marching ahead, talking, talking, talking, and Mark hanging back, silent—giving her the right to be angry, to say her piece. Probably feeling bad because he’d kept the Alzheimer’s from her, but confident that eventually she’d shut up and start asking questions instead. Giving him a chance to explain, to mend the rift with an open and honest discussion, because that was his way. Had always been his way, even when the girls were little. Encouraging them to ask tough questions, develop opinions, and learn to voice them effectively—as if Liz had ever needed encouragement. He’d made me crazy if you want the truth, but maybe he’d been right all along. His daughter wasn’t the one who had jumped out of the swan after all.

  “We should get you home,” I said, helping Grace to her feet. “But I have to ask. How did that swan get there?”

  “It was the strangest thing,” she said. “We got to the beach and saw her floating in the water, right over there.” She went on to tell me the Tale of the Swan. How the big bird had danced on the water, turning in a circle, nodding her head like she was happy to be there.

  “We were nervous at first,” Grace said. “But how could we not get in?”

  She looked down at the sand, avoiding my eyes while she gave me her version of the story that she and Jocelyn must have cooked up before the police and the ambulance arrived. Not trusting me with the truth the way Jocelyn had trusted Mark. Telling me instead about the beautiful sunrise, the fun of riding on the lake at dawn. Steering clear of the darker truth, brushing the unpleasantness aside, because that’s what I’d taught her, because that’s what we did. We swept aside the pain and sadness, pushed the tough questions and the guilty answers under the carpet and then we walked on the lump. Told ourselves we were moving forward, giving ourselves a clean slate, a fresh chance. And all the while, we kept walking on that bloody lump, pretending we didn’t feel a thing, until one day we tripped over it and fell flat. Found ourselves drunk in a park, or swimming from a swan, or taking the handyman to bed, with that lump lodged in our throats, making it harder and harder to breathe.