The Lace Reader

by Brunonia Barry

  “You sound strange. Are you okay?” she asked.

  “I’ve been better,” he said.

  He hadn’t told the chief that Towner was leaving. She wouldn’t be back for the trial, wasn’t going to testify against Cal when the time came. She’d told him she wanted to drop the charges. He’d told her it was impossible. That she hadn’t filed the charges, the state had. She said she wouldn’t testify. The only hope they had of nailing Cal now was if they found Angela’s body. Rafferty didn’t want to hope for that.

  They’d all agreed that he should turn over the case to a new guy, a young kid who’d just been promoted to detective. Rafferty had gotten too close, the chief said. The chief didn’t know the half of it.

  Rafferty packed the files in a box for the new kid, taking out some of the more personal stuff about Towner, filing those old manila folders back in the archive room where they belonged. If the new guy was going to dig that deep into the case, he’d have to do it himself. It wasn’t much, but it was the only thing Rafferty could do for her. He cleaned his coffee cup and straightened his desk. He knew he was wasting time. He wasn’t anxious to tell the chief that the assault case against Cal Boynton was all but finished.

  The chief came through the door and stared at Rafferty. “It’s over,” he said, as if reading Rafferty’s mind. The chief’s look was incredulous, he was amazed.

  “I was going to tell you,” Rafferty said. “Towner’s going back to California. She’s not going to testify.”

  The chief looked at him strangely. “I’m not talking about Towner,” the chief said.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Come with me.”

  Rafferty followed the chief to the lobby. Standing at the desk, talking to the desk clerk, was Angela Rickey. The bruises on her face were healed. She was dressed in maternity clothes that were almost fashionable.

  “What the…? Where the hell have you been?” Rafferty said.

  Angela turned to him. “I was in New York City visiting my friend Susan,” she said. “Someone called from Maine and said you were looking for me.”

  “That’s the understatement of the century,” the chief said.

  “The whole town thinks you’re dead,” Rafferty said.

  “I came as soon as I heard.”

  The desk clerk spoke up. “She wants me to tell her where Cal is.”

  “He’s in jail under suspicion of murdering you.”

  All of a sudden, she didn’t look as well.

  “I need to see him.” Her voice was shaky.

  “I told her he’s not here, but she doesn’t believe me,” the desk clerk said.

  “He’s up in Middleton,” said the chief.

  “I need to see him,” she said again.

  Chapter 26

  JACK TOLD JAY-JAY HE WOULDN’T be back. He didn’t tell him the other part, that May had fired him. Rafferty might have figured out that Jack was running girls for May’s new Underground Railroad, but his brother Jay-Jay didn’t have a clue. Jay-Jay thought he was hanging around in the hopes that Towner would come back, which was also true.

  “You know I love you, Jack,” May had said. “But you’re becoming a liability. You’re a drunk. I have to end this.”

  He’d already sold his slip. The only reason he was still here was to meet with the guy and get the check. He’d sold the traps last week, when he knew he was really going.

  He saw Eva’s boathouse door open. Saw Towner leaning over to start the Whaler. There was a dog in the bow, a big hulking yellow thing with huge teeth.

  Jack ducked inside the cabin; he didn’t want to see her. Still, he kept an eye on her as the boat passed.

  She looked better. Thank God. He never would have touched her if he’d known about the surgery. Shouldn’t have anyway. She couldn’t drink. Never could. The notion that he might have caused her to get sick was something he thought about every hour he was awake. She could have died. Almost did, according to May, though May had no idea what had happened between them that night, no idea it might have been his fault.

  He’d taken advantage of her the way you hear about at frat parties. Hadn’t used a roofie, nothing like that, but she had been…how do you say it? Impaired. He hated himself for it. As soon as he touched her he’d hated himself. But it hadn’t stopped him. She was just lying there, eyes distant, not looking at him. Some deep part of him, some sick romantic part, had thought if he just kissed her, she would wake up and come back to him. It hadn’t worked. Then, for some even sicker reason, he thought he should do more. The more he touched her the further she went, until her eyes, still open, were dead-looking and far away. She wasn’t there at all.

  She didn’t love him. Not anymore. She loved the other guy. Maybe she’d never loved him.

  There was a woman up in Canada. Someone he’d been seeing for a long time. He couldn’t commit to her. And she wouldn’t commit to him either, because of his drinking. “You’re going to die,” she’d said to him. “If you don’t stop, you’re just going to drop dead one of these days, and I don’t want to be there to see it.”

  He watched Towner head out of the harbor toward Yellow Dog Island. He wished they could go back and change things. Wished he had killed Cal that night in the car, the one time he got the chance.

  He wished he could kill Rafferty now. No, that wasn’t true. Rafferty was a nice guy. A much nicer guy than he was. Which is what made it hurt even more.

  Fuck. He had to stop drinking. He knew it. He could feel his fucking liver when he touched his side. It was huge.

  He started to cry. He couldn’t stop.

  He’d raped her. That was probably a fact. Maybe she wouldn’t call it that, if she even remembered it, but that’s what it was. He’d raped her, and he’d almost killed her. All he’d wanted was for her to come back to him. And what he’d ended up doing was the same thing as Cal. He was as bad as Cal Boynton. Worse, maybe, because he knew the horrible history of what Cal had done.

  The real truth was that he had spent the better part of his life hoping for something that would never happen. Hoping that Towner would come back and see him and know him the way she once had, and that they would live happily ever after the way some part of him had always believed they would. She’d once believed the happily-ever-after crapola as much as he had. He was certain of it.

  What he’d wanted that night was to wake her with a kiss and have her see him as her prince—her fucking prince, for God’s sake, how stupid did that sound? He wanted her to see him as a prince, when the fact was she couldn’t see him at all, not anymore. She hadn’t been able to see him, or even look at him, since the day she’d jumped off of his boat and tried to drown herself, and he’d jumped, too, all heroic, actually believing he could save her.

  Chapter 27

  ANGELA HAD INSISTED ON SEEING Cal. The police escorted her to Middleton.

  When she came out, she was wearing his ring, the one he let his followers kiss. It was huge on her finger. She held it like a treasure.

  “We’re getting married,” she said, her eyes full of tears. “We’re going to Las Vegas and getting married as soon as he gets out of there.”

  “Which should be sometime tonight,” Cal’s attorney said.

  Neither Rafferty nor the new detective said a word on their way back.

  She wanted to be dropped off at Winter Island. “To tell the congregation the good news,” she announced, beaming. “I also need to get my stuff.”

  The new detective was waiting for a reaction from Rafferty, but none came. As soon as they got back to the station, Rafferty left for the airport to pick up his daughter. He’d had enough.

  Chapter 28

  MAY STOOD ON THE FLOAT watching the Whaler pull into the channel. The dog was in the bow, a figurehead. From a distance she was back in time, watching Towner and Skybo come around the barrier island to the docks. At this moment Towner didn’t look any older than that.

  Time was having its way with May today. Towner had called, say
ing she was bringing back the dog, saying it would be cruel to take him with her to Los Angeles where she didn’t even have a place of her own to live.

  “You could buy a place,” May had suggested. “You have plenty of money now.”

  They didn’t fly dogs in the summer, Towner informed her. It was too dangerous. By the time Towner could have him shipped to L.A., Byzy would have turned wild again. It would be cruel, she repeated. He belonged on the island.

  May realized that meant Towner would not see Byzy again. Only in thinking that did it strike her that in all likelihood she herself would never see Towner again. It was hard to bear, but that was the truth of it. Unless May changed. Unless she could leave the island and travel three thousand miles. She wanted to, and in this moment she thought that it really could happen. People changed; things were possible. But as soon as the thought became real, May realized that the reasoning behind it was not. That she could no more leave this island and travel to Los Angeles than Towner could come back to her.

  Her heart skipped. She teared up. But she didn’t cry.

  Towner needed to get away from this place. It wasn’t safe. Sometimes running away was exactly what you should do. The only thing you could do. She knew that Eva wouldn’t agree, that Eva thought all of Towner’s problems could be solved if she only moved back here, but Eva had been wrong. If there was one thing May had learned from working with abused women and this new Underground Railroad, it was that sometimes the only thing you could do was run away and never look back.

  Chapter 29

  MAY TIES UP THE WHALER as we pull in.

  Byzy is pacing in the small boat. Tipping it wildly. A few of the other goldens (who have been sleeping in a pile at the top of the dock) are standing now, straining to see what’s going on. They jump around, excited to see him.

  It’s too much. His whole body is shaking as he tries to hold himself back until I release him.

  “Go,” I say when I can’t stand it anymore. He runs for them then, not knowing there’s anything final about this visit, not having any idea he’s not coming back with me. The dogs jump and wrestle one another in reunion, playing, rolling around.

  “You’re leaving tonight,” she says.

  “Yes.”

  I look up, catching sight of Auntie Emma in the vegetable garden. She looks up, too, feeling my presence. My hand goes to my heart. I see May notice. For a moment I don’t know where I am. I can’t speak; it’s all too much for me. Then, finally, I pull myself back.

  “I came to say good-bye,” I say.

  I look around the island. I see the women who make their homes here. They are walking back and forth doing the chores of daily living. This is their life now, all of them working together. Living together.

  I look up, and I see Auntie Emma walking back to the house with her basket of vegetables for tonight’s meal. I can picture it. All of the women and children cooking together, sitting together at May’s big table. An odd sense of longing overtakes me.

  “You can stay here,” May says. “You’ve always known that.”

  We both knew it wasn’t true. Still, I was glad to have the words.

  “I can’t.”

  She nods.

  For a moment it is all I want. All I’ve ever wanted, I realize. Everything has changed, and nothing has changed. And yet the only way to make it stop is to leave this place.

  I know that I should go up and say good-bye to Auntie Emma, but I just can’t do it. For some reason the sight of her gets to me—walking back to the house with her vegetables in the basket, moving forward into what is now her life. It is too much to bear. And I can’t make myself go to her. May can read it on me. All this emotion. She can tell it has immobilized me. And I can tell that she understands. “Will you say good-bye for me?”

  She nods and says, “When the time is right.”

  We stand in another kind of silence.

  “I don’t expect you’ll be back,” she says, “now that Eva’s gone.”

  “No,” I answer.

  She hugs me. It is out of character for May to do this and for me to allow. We hold on to each other for a long moment.

  “Take care of yourself,” she says as I finally pull back. And I can tell that it really matters to her.

  Byzy is sitting at the top of the dock, just looking at me, with his head cocked, wondering what’s next. What will our next great adventure be? I realize I have to leave now if I’m ever going to do it. I turn and walk toward the Whaler.

  “Sophya?” May says.

  I turn back for just an instant and say, “Yes?”

  I can tell she thinks about it for a second time, maybe even a third, before finally deciding to say it. “I couldn’t have loved you more if you had been my own daughter,” she says.

  Chapter 30

  OPEN OCEAN. FOG. HAND SHAKING with the vibrations of the motor. Judging the distance by the echo of gulls. Judging direction by the air. It wasn’t foggy a minute ago, but that’s the way it goes in this part of the world. Fog doesn’t roll in here. It drops in patches—not like a blanket, like a feather pillow. It can smother.

  I can’t breathe for the thickness of it. No, that’s not it. I’m hyperventilating.

  I couldn’t have loved you more if you had been my own daughter.

  Hands tightening, going into spasm, hyperventilation.

  I am smothering. Dying.

  No paper bag. Nothing to breathe into. I cup my hands. Useless.

  I look in all directions. There is no place to go.

  I cut the engine. Peel my hands off. Sit, putting head down between the knees. Then I remember the Stelazine. In case of emergency, break glass.

  I swallow it dry. It sticks. I swallow again. Cough.

  I couldn’t have loved you more…

  I find myself standing, rocking the boat crazily. Force myself to sit.

  This is the fog from the dream. I squint my eyes. I expect to see Eva or Lyndley, expect to be led. But there’s nothing.

  I sit low in the boat. I’m afraid of standing again. Afraid I’ll do it without knowing. I don’t trust myself.

  No sound now. No birds. No air. Only the pattern on the water, a dark lace.

  Then, for a moment, I think I see the sea horse.

  My first instinct is to look away, but I am dying. I feel like I have in fact died.

  Just get back to the house. The plane. Just get to the plane and get back to California.

  I start the engine. I cannot move.

  I am pinned. Unmoving. Cal is here. Cal is on top of me. Cal is suffocating me. Then the shape-shift and the face changes. This is not Cal. It is Jack.

  I am crying. Just let me get back. Please. Just let me go.

  I put the engine in forward. Then I see the body parts. Floating in the water up ahead of me. An arm, a leg, a torso. Life-size, it seems, until I come upon them. Then no, not life-size, tiny. Plastic? No. Ceramic. Religious. Ceremonial. I’ve seen them in L.A., on Olvera Street. I follow the trail of floating milagros until the fog clears and I can see the curve of Salem Willows dead ahead. I make myself think. I make a list. Get to L.A. Call Dr. Fukuhara. Get help. I can do this. I have to believe I can do it, or I’ll die right here. Get to L.A. Call Dr. Fukuhara….

  I couldn’t have loved you more if you had been my own daughter.

  Chapter 31

  ANGELA TOOK DOWN THE MILAGROS and wrapped each of them in toilet paper, winding them, then placing them inside pieces of her clothing for protection, one in a sock, one double-wrapped and placed into a running shoe.

  She folded the black lace mantilla and threw it into the trash. Cal hated lace. He wasn’t fond of the picture of the Virgin either, but she left that up. When they got back here, she’d be living in Cal’s trailer; the next person who lived here might think it a pretty picture.

  She had stopped to tell the rest of the Calvinists the good news. That she was going to have the baby, Cal’s baby. That he’d finally admitted the baby was his. That they were g
oing to Las Vegas to get married.

  “Reverend Cal would never go to Las Vegas,” Charlie Pedrick said. Angela refused to call him John the Baptist even though she’d heard a rumor that he was trying to legally change his name.

  “Reverend Cal hates Las Vegas,” one of the women agreed. “That and San Francisco.”

  “You can get a marriage license any time of the day or night in Las Vegas,” Angela explained.

  “I will pray on it,” Charlie said.

  You do that, Angela thought, and started moving her things into Cal’s trailer.

  John the Baptist called a prayer meeting. Fine. They could do what they wanted. Let Charlie call a prayer meeting; she had a lot to do before Cal got here. She had to get both of them packed and ready to go.

  She filled her backpack, throwing in a change of clothes for Cal and his best Armani suit for the wedding. She thought about calling her parents and telling them the good news—her mother, not her father. But there wasn’t time. She had to find out the ferry schedule. She had to get airline tickets.

  She took Cal’s wallet and some credit cards, then remembered she didn’t have any underwear for him. It was odd choosing underwear for Reverend Cal. She grabbed his comb, looked for his toothbrush. She didn’t know what else of his to take.

  The backpack was heavy as Angela stepped off the metal stairs to the grass below.

  They were all waiting for her—Charlie, the women, and some of the others, the ones Cal referred to as his bodyguards.

  “What’s up?” she said, thinking it would be nice if one of them could at least help her with the backpack.

  “I just have one question,” Charlie said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Could you please recite the Lord’s Prayer for me before you go?”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  He smiled at her.

  “He’s kidding.” She turned to the others for confirmation.