The Salt House

by Lisa Duffy

  I ignored the pain, letting the rage inside of me do all the work. The knife was next to me in the sheath at the rail, but I knew if I took it on his boat, I’d use it. My fists would have to do the work, and the black bruises on his face told me I’d done some damage the other night.

  I grabbed hold of the pot hauler, put a leg up and pulled myself up on the narrow rail. The boat pitched in the waves, and I grabbed the metal bar of the hauler with two hands, clinging to it to steady myself.

  Finn saw me and screamed something I couldn’t hear, motioning for me to get down.

  The rail was slick, my boots sliding, my legs screaming under the strain of trying to balance on the thin strip of wood. The wind had kicked up, the swells crashing into the side of the boat, and suddenly I knew I wouldn’t make the jump over to Finn’s boat, that whatever sickness I’d been fighting had won.

  My legs were rubber underneath me. The water and wind swirling around my head. My hand was clinging to the metal bar of the pot hauler, stopping me from falling to the deck or into the ocean below.

  Finn’s boat was drifting away from me, the water dark and swollen between us. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to stop the spin in my head, the numbness that was spreading through me.

  My foot slid off the rail. My head smashed off the metal bar, and for a moment, I was balancing on one leg, my arms around the hauler, straining to hold my weight.

  The heel of my boot slammed against the rail, and I was on two feet again. A voice in my head screamed at me to get down, or maybe it was Finn, standing across from me, pointing to something behind me.

  I turned, but it was too late, a wave already cresting over the bow of the boat, slamming into the hull of Hope Ann.

  My legs collapsed. There wasn’t anything left in me to hold on. The hauler slipped through my arms. My body pitched forward, the black water below me rising with a swell, coming, it seemed, to swallow me.

  There was no sound when I hit the water. Just the enveloping cold. And the tug downward. The pull of the water against my drained body.

  My head was above the water, my face tilted to the sky, but there was no air left to breathe. Black stains edged in from the corners of my eyes.

  And then there was nothing but darkness and a paralyzing cold and Hope’s voice, begging me over and over and over to go to the doctor.

   22

  Jess

  I could’ve slept in on Monday. Boon said not to come in until noon. But my eyes opened and it wasn’t even eight o’clock and I was wide awake.

  I gave it another half hour before I finally gave up and got out of bed. There was a note on the kitchen table from my mother that she was out to breakfast with my grandmother and Kat. I poured a glass of orange juice and sat down at the kitchen table when my cell phone buzzed. I looked at the screen and saw Alex’s name. I felt my heart speed up.

  I reached over and answered it and heard a rustling noise on the other end.

  “Jess,” Alex shouted. “You’re there.”

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, my heart jumping at the sound of his voice.

  “I’m not sure. Maybe nothing. It’s your dad. He came to my house.”

  “Did you say my dad?” I asked, confused. I felt the room spin. He was at Alex’s house? My father?

  “Yeah. He was upset. Something about someone stealing from his traps.”

  He was talking fast, his voice dropping in and out. Through the phone, I heard a car horn wail.

  “Where are you?” I asked.

  “Driving to the dock. I just wanted to tell Ryland. See if I could catch him before he went out. I don’t know what happened, but your dad seemed kind of crazy. Like he wanted to kill me kind of crazy.”

  “Kill you?” I yelled.

  “Well, me at first. But then Ryland. Or somebody. Whoever messed with his traps, I guess.”

  “Did he say where he was going?”

  “No. But he left here in a hurry. I’m thinking he went looking for Ryland.”

  “Pick me up,” I said. “I’m going with you.”

  There was a pause on the other end. Then, “Jess. Let me check it out and I’ll call you—”

  “Alex. Pick me up, or I’ll ride my bike down. Either way, I’m going.”

  I heard him sigh. “Fine. Be ready in five minutes,” he said. “I’m not far from your house.”

  I tossed the phone on the counter, ran to my room, and changed into the first shorts I could find, holding the waistband with one hand while I dialed my father’s cell phone with the other. It rang for what seemed like an eternity until it went to voice mail. I hung up and called again, tripping over my feet as the shorts stuck around my ankles. I hit the speaker button on the phone and pressed redial two more times in the time it took me to get dressed.

  When I got his voice mail the fifth time, I gave up, threw the phone on the bed, and ran down to the front porch just as Alex pulled up to the curb.

  He leaned over and opened the door and I got in, shutting the door in a hurry.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, glancing over at me as he pulled away from the curb. “I don’t want to scare you if it’s nothing.”

  I looked over at him. “Did it seem like nothing?” I asked, and he shook his head.

  He was driving fast, and we both concentrated on the road ahead. A minute later, we were in the center of town when I heard a siren. I looked out the back window to see an ambulance on the road. A fire truck behind it.

  Alex pulled over to let them pass, and we watched as they turned into the fish shop parking lot in front of us.

  Alex stepped on the gas, maneuvering through traffic, following the ambulance. I was out of the car before he shut the engine, sprinting down the dock. I turned the corner and saw Boon at the end of the dock, near the water.

  Two policemen stood next to him, all of them watching a boat tearing through the water, full throttle, straight at them, the No Wake buoy launching in the air from the large swells behind the speeding boat.

  My feet hit the gangplank at the same time as Alex’s, a loud clang ringing out over the sirens. Boon turned and saw me, a panic-stricken look on his face. He said something to the policeman, and then Boon was running at me, turning me around, pushing me back in the direction of the shop.

  “Get in the shop,” he shouted, then pointed at Alex. “Get her in the shop now, and don’t come out until I get you.” He stood in front of me, blocking my view of the water.

  Behind him, the boat roared into the dock, slamming into the slip so hard that the wood shifted under our feet.

  We stumbled, caught our footing. Boon looked over his shoulder at the boat, then looked back at Alex.

  “Make her go. Now,” he growled, grabbing my hand and motioning for Alex to take it. I felt Alex’s arm around my shoulders, turning me. Two paramedics ran past us, a stretcher rolling between them.

  I looked over my shoulder and saw a man on the boat. He was screaming at the paramedics, pointing at something on the deck of the boat. It took me a minute to realize it was Ryland Finn, his face bruised, black circles under each eye.

  I yanked away from Alex, running toward the boat. Boon caught me and swung me around, trying to shield my view with his body, but it was too late. I saw Finn bend over and lift something up, throwing it over his shoulder. A rag doll, the limbs flopping lifelessly. Then Finn stepped off the boat onto the dock, turning to the stretcher, and the lifeless rag doll’s head was in front of me, my father’s face resting against Finn’s back, blood in streaks down his face.

  My legs gave out, and then Boon was half carrying, half walking me up the dock, lifting me in the air, pushing me forward. Tears were blinding me. I tried to turn around again, but Boon tightened his grip. “Walk, goddammit,” he shouted.

  He pushed me through the back door of the shop, Alex following behind us, and slammed the door once we were all in.

  “Is he dead?” I cried, and Boon grabbed me by the shoulders. Alex was next to me, his face white.
/>   “Stop it,” Boon yelled. “I need you to calm down. Understand?” He glared at me. “Calm.” He spread his hands out at me, gesturing for me to slow down. I gulped, my breath coming out in ragged hiccups.

  “Now, listen to me. I’m going to call your mother, and then we’re going to get in my truck and go to the hospital.” He blew out a breath, rolled his eyes. “What a fucking shit show,” he muttered.

  The front door of the shop opened, and we heard footsteps, heavy and quick, and then Finn was in front of us, blood covering the front of his shirt.

  “He’s on his way,” he said, motioning to the ambulance pulling out of the parking lot. “He’s breathing, but I don’t know how long he was under. It took me a couple of minutes—”

  “Got it,” Boon cut him off, and Finn glanced at me.

  “Didn’t you tell him I gave it back?” Finn asked, and Boon’s face grew sharp, his eyes flaring at Finn.

  “You think I have fucking time to unravel this mess right now?” Boon barked, and Finn put his hands up, nodding again.

  “Where’s his boat?” Boon asked.

  “Still out there,” Finn said. “Drifting. After I pulled him, I didn’t want to waste time with the anchor. I didn’t know, you know, if he was breath . . .” He glanced at me. “I just wanted to get him some help. Anyway. I’ll go find the boat. Tow her in if I have to.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Alex offered. “I can drive her in.” He looked at Boon, who held out his hand for Alex to shake.

  “Thanks, man,” Boon said to Alex. He walked to the front door, and I followed him.

  “Jess. Wait,” I heard Alex say from behind me. I turned and he was in front of me, his arms pulling me in, my face pressing against his T-shirt. He let me go, bending until his face was even with mine. “He’s going to be fine,” he whispered, and pressed his lips to my cheek, held them there for a moment before he pulled away. “I’ll come to the hospital as soon as I can,” he said, and jogged after Finn, who’d disappeared out the back door.

  I walked out the door, feeling numb. Boon was waiting in his truck, the passenger door open. I climbed in, and when my seat belt was fastened, he reached over and gave my shoulder a squeeze.

  “He’s a tough nut, you know, your dad.”

  We watched as the firefighters piled into the truck in front of us. It was blocking our way, and it seemed like forever until the fire truck moved and we pulled out of the lot.

  Boon gunned the truck, heading to the highway. The hospital was fifteen minutes away, in the next town over. The way Boon was driving, we had a chance of making it in ten.

  “Your mother is on her way,” Boon told me. “She wanted you to call her, but I told her to concentrate on driving.”

  I imagined my mother having a meltdown in the car after talking to Boon and my grandmother tapping her arm and saying, “Drive now. Enough nonsense. Life is ninety-nine percent how you handle it.”

  I knew it drove my mother bananas, my grandmother’s one-liners. The other day my mother was sitting at the table with her head in her hands, her laptop in front of her when Grandma walked in and asked her what was wrong.

  “Writer’s block,” my mother grumbled.

  “Where there is no struggle, there is no progress,” Grandma quipped.

  After she left, my mother had looked at me.

  “At least it wasn’t ‘that which does not kill us,’ ” I told her.

  My grandmother never even finished that one. She’d just nod her head and let her voice trail off.

  I was relieved my mother had Grandma with her now. Maybe she’d say something aggravating and keep my mother’s mind off my father.

  Boon turned the truck sharply to the right, and we merged onto the highway, my shoulder pressing against the soft pad of leather on the door. I saw the needle pushing eighty as we eased into the fast lane.

  “Tell me what you know,” he said, looking over at me.

  I told him what I knew, which was next to nothing. He crinkled his nose when I mentioned Alex.

  “How is this Alex character involved?”

  “He’s my friend. The one that called about Dad at his house.”

  “His house?”

  “Yeah. Alex said Dad showed up there and was angry. Something about someone stealing from his traps.”

  Boon hit the steering wheel with his hand, swore under his breath.

  “What?” I asked, alarmed, twisting in the seat to face him.

  He shook his head, hit the steering wheel again.

  “Boon!”

  He glanced over at me and sighed. “God forbid he pick up the goddamn phone or answer the radio.”

  “Boon. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Boon looked over at me, sighed. “I got a call from Finn this morning. Right after your father left on his boat. Apparently, Finn’s been going several rounds with your father these last couple of months. Things got messy the other night. Physical. And Finn went on a drinking bender and pulled your father’s traps. Managed to off-load it somewhere down the coast. He woke up this morning with a hangover and an envelope of cash. When he put two and two together, he came to me. Rock-bottom sort of moment, he said. Anyway, I took the money back, said we wouldn’t press charges, and sent him out to bait your father’s traps. Then I spent the next hour trying to hunt down your father, but he wouldn’t pick up.”

  “He must have found his traps empty. That’s why he was at Alex’s.”

  He looked over at me, confused. “Why would he go to your friend’s house? Wait. Is this the kid you had lunch with that day? Brown hair, had a baseball hat on, kind of goofy?”

  “He’s not goofy.” It came out defensive. My face went from pink to red.

  “Ah, the lady doth protest. . . .” Boon winked, and I saw he was just being Boon.

  “Finn’s his stepfather,” I said.

  Boon turned and looked at me. Looked at me for so long that I gave him a look and pointed at the road, reminding him that he was driving. He shook his head, his eyes sliding to the highway in front of us. “This keeps getting better,” he muttered under his breath.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  He kept his eyes on the road, his thumb drumming the edge of the steering wheel. But I saw his leg tense and felt the truck pick up speed, as if this news had sent a jolt from his brain to his foot.

  “Um. What’s going on?”

  “Let’s change the subject. When’s school start?”

  “I don’t want to change the subject. What’s the deal with Ryland Finn?”

  Boon sighed. “It’s old stuff. Nothing to do with your friend.”

  “Well, what does it have to do with? Why were they fighting in the first place?”

  “Let’s just say your father and Finn have a history. And not a good one.”

  I looked at him to continue, and he held up his hands, letting the wheel go for an instant before he put them both back on the wheel.

  “I’m not going to say any more, Jess. It’s not my business. Wasn’t then and isn’t now. I will say I’m glad it was Alex he found and not Finn. Your father left the dock like he was shot out of a cannon. Your friend must be able to hold his own to deal with your father when he’s like that.”

  “Wait. You saw him leave the dock this morning?”

  “Saw him? I yelled to him, damn near chased him down. Thought about getting in my truck and following him, but he was gone. I didn’t know where to start looking.”

  He turned off the exit and pulled into the entrance of the hospital, a sign marked Emergency leading us to a semicircle in front of a pair of glass doors.

  “You found him,” I said quietly, looking out the window.

  The electronic doors opened, and my mother rushed out to the car. I opened the door and jumped down.

  “He’s okay,” she said, pulling me into her. I felt my body go slack when I leaned against her. “He’s in with the doctor, but he’s okay.”

  She tilted
forward with me still in her embrace and squeezed Boon’s outstretched hand through the passenger window.

  “I’ll park and be in,” Boon said.

  “What’s wrong with him?” I asked my mother as we walked into the hospital.

  “Double pneumonia to start. Maybe a lung infection because he ignored it.” She muttered stubborn under her breath, then kissed the side of my head. “A gash on his head from something. The doctor was surprised his temperature wasn’t higher with the infection, but he thinks the time in the water cooled his body down. But he swallowed a bunch too, so there’s that. That’s all I know for now. Go sit with your grandmother. I want to check in with the nurses.”

  My grandmother was in the waiting area, and I gave her a hug, sat down next to her. I let my head rest on the back of the chair and closed my eyes. The relief I’d felt when my mother said my father would be okay was so overwhelming, it was almost numbing.

  Over the last few weeks, it had felt like there was one of those metal merry-go-round things you find on old playgrounds living inside of me. There’d been one on the beach playground down the street before the town tore it down. Mom hated it, called it a dangerous contraption. Kat and I would beg to go on until she’d give in. She’d stand next to it, yelling at us to be careful while Kat and I got that thing spinning like crazy. I’d feel dizzy for hours after. But the ride was worth it.

  Now, sitting in the chair with my eyes closed, my father alive and breathing somewhere in the hospital, all I felt was tired, as if whatever had been going round and round and round inside of me had simply run out of the oomph it needed to keep going.

  We sat there for what seemed like years. Boon was on the phone, pacing in the hallway. I’d just stood up to stretch my legs when Alex walked through the door. He walked over to us, his hand already on the brim of his hat, fiddling with it nervously.

  I introduced him to my mother and grandmother. After a round of hellos, we stood awkwardly in silence. My grandmother looked from me to Alex. Then excused herself to get a cup of coffee. My mother gazed blankly at us until my grandmother said, “Hope. Keep me company.”

  “Oh,” my mother said, reaching down to get her pocketbook. When she saw that it wasn’t at her feet, she turned to the row of chairs.