THE GHOST SHIP

by Gerrie Ferris Finger

  “Well, it was pretty dark on the beach when we went walking. Then I saw lights up ahead of us. Spence said they were ghost crabs.” She had Rod's attention. “Spence told me all about them, more'n I'll ever remember, but he said they were delusions.”

  “Illusions,” Spence corrected.

  “God, those lights were eerie. Then I saw someone in their lights. This person was mixed in with the ghost crabs.”

  “Happens all the time,” Rod said. “Illusions, delusions.”

  “I'm real, sugah. I don't do delusions. So I thought somebody was spying on Spence and me and I wanted to know what was up with him. He was no more than fifty feet from me. I called after him. He wouldn't answer. I saw his face clear as I'm looking at y'all. He seemed like he didn't see me. But he was looking in my direction. Spence kept on saying he didn't see anyone.”

  “I didn't,” Spence insisted.

  “And then I stumbled and almost fell. When I looked up again, he wasn't there. Just gone, like that. Not there. He couldn't have run fast enough to disappear in that time. No one was swimming in the ocean.”

  “What was he wearing?” Ann asked.

  “He had on a bucket hat, like fishermen wear and a slicker and boots. I described him to Spence. He said, 'You seeing ghosts, too?' I didn't think about ghosts until he said that. It looked like a flesh-and-blood person to me. But, maybe it was a ghost. The more I think about it, the more I believe it was a ghost.”

  Ann looked at Missi, and smiled wryly. “You going to write about it?”

  “I thinking I might.”

  “The locals will love you.”

  “What about it, Rod Curator?” Missi said flirtatiously. “Should I back Annie with a ghost story of my own?”

  “Do what you want.” He rose, clasped the hat to his head and headed for the door.

  Ann got up to and followed, grabbing Mrs. Sweeney's coat and hat.

  Outside he faced her, his expression stony. “You wanted to talk?”

  “Yes. At your house in Buxton.”

  “You know where my house in Buxton is?”

  “Spence pointed it out from Pamlico Sound.”

  “I see no reason to go there.”

  “It's important.”

  “Is this for your own amusement?”

  “No, I think it's important for you.”

  “What's going to happen.”

  “Can we just meet there?”

  “I'll be at the house at four this afternoon.”

  She returned to the booth and Spence announced that he was going to the Park Service headquarters office, and Missi said that she wanted to go to a book store. “So much ghost lore from around here,” she said excitedly. “Someone recommended a couple of books about it.”

  Ann looked at her. “Missi, let it go. It's over.”

  “The boiling's died down, but people will be interested for a while still. But Annie you just say the word, and I'll let it go.”

  “What's the word?”

  Missi tossed her head. “That we're friends again.”

  Ann thought about it. “No, I don't think that's going to be possible.”

  “Too bad,” Missi said, and she and Spence got up to leave. She looked down at Ann. “But I'm going to keep trying. Atlanta's not big enough for both of us to be hissing across town.”

  You had to admire Missi's determination to get her way.

  --

  Poblo had finished with the reporters, and, having bored them questionless, he walked down Queen Elizabeth Street.

  She slowed the SUV and pressed the window open. “Poblo,” she called.

  He turned. Recognizing her, his eyes up and down the street, apparently seeking reporters.

  “They're all gone, Poblo. We're not news anymore.”

  He came to the window. “Miss Gavrion.”

  “Your case is going to be dismissed.”

  “That is what my lawyer says.”

  “It was silly of you to rob the museum.”

  “I did not think so.”

  “You need a ride somewhere?”

  “I would like to go to the museum on the waterfront. I will tell them that I have been exonerated.”

  “It's a little early to announce that.”

  “We shall see.”

  She drove the few miles to the waterfront and she parked the MDX in the parking lot of the old Dare County Courthouse. She said, “Walk with me on the boardwalk before you go to the museum.”

  “Of course, it will be my pleasure,” he said. He bowed his head. “I am so sorry that we got sideways of each other.”

  “If you had it to do over, would you call the reporters again?”

  “I was misguided,” he said evasively.

  She thought about that statement. “That happens to all of us.”

  Their steps echoed on the wooden walkway that lead from the marina to the boat slips. She looked across the water. A colorful, masted sailing ship lay at anchor. “Isn't that the Queen Elizabeth I?”

  “It is,” Poblo said. “It is a full-sized reproduction of a sixteenth-century sailing ship like those that brought the first English colonists to the new world.”

  “So pristine,” Ann said. “Like the Carroll A. Deering on her maiden voyage.”

  Poblo's face was wary. “Why have you come to see me now? Are you here to taunt me?”

  “No. I'm here because the story is over and you don't seem to know it yet. You see, stories – no matter how strange and titillating – only have so much viewer time in them, and then the public looks for newer more exciting things.”

  “I thought I could revive interest with the robbery.”

  “You got another day out of it.”

  “Are you here to make fun of me?”

  “No.”

  “But what am I going to do now?”

  “Go back with the museum in Hatteras.”

  “I will die of shame.”

  “Henry Lockridge is a wonderful man. He will re-hire you. Rod will, too.”

  “Rod will make my life miserable.”

  “I don't think so.”

  “I will go nowhere. I will have no future.”

  “Look, it's your best chance. People will forget. In a year's time, you can put your applications in for other museums.”

  With his hands folded on the wooden rail, he moaned and hung his head. “I am ruined.”

  “No you're not. Many a brilliant career is launched in adversity. I'm going to confide in you – and if you go to the press with what I'm saying – I'll deny it. I know you're not wearing a wire because you just left the court house, and before that you were in jail, and I watched you from the time you came out.”

  “You do not trust me.”

  “Do you blame me?”

  His eyes looked like a hound dog’s. “Maybe not. What do you want to confide? You are right, I am not wearing a wire.”

  “Dr. Lockridge believes in the voyage. Talk with him. Go to Washington. We can be allies instead of enemies.”

  Like a kid who's just popped the piñata, he said, “Yes!”

  “I think you could do a wonderful book about The Ghost Ship.”

  “Many books have been done about The Ghost Ship.”

  “You will find a new approach.”

  “Will you help me?”

  “No. You see Poblo, it was a very special time for me. It was a personal journey.”

  “Do you hate me for publicizing it?”

  “At one time I did. But I understand your reasons.”

  “I lost something precious, your trust.”

  “I lost something precious, too, Poblo.”

  “What?”

  “A person I came to like very much.”

  “This person does not adore you? I cannot understand that. Is it my fault?”

  She stared across the water. “No.”

  A small white boat chugged toward the marina. A woman was waving at someone on the dock.

  Suddenly Ann felt a stab in her ches
t, and a vigorous humming in her body. The bright blue day turned dark, the waters were ugly brown and slapped the white boat. She turned to look at Poblo, who didn't look like Poblo. He looked like someone else she knew.

  She grabbed his arm and called his name. “Poblo?”

  Poblo clutched her. “What is it? What is wrong?”

  Suddenly the sky brightened. The blue day was back. She looked at the water. It was a deep friendly green. The white boat pulled into a slip, soon to disappear from view.

  “What kind of boat is that?” she asked.

  Poblo studied it. “It is a Boston Whaler, I believe.”

  “Is it a ski boat?”

  “It can be. They are for pleasure or fishing.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  --

  The sign said Bayside. The yellow with white shuttered house was propped up on stilts and surrounded by moss-laced live oak trees. Ann pulled onto the driveway and parked behind Rod's Jeep. He stood beside it, cross-armed. She closed her eyes and thought she could still back out of this. Feeling raw, her breathing coming shallow and quick, she told herself: buck up, it has to be.

  He opened her car door. She looked at him. His eyes changed from clear blue to an indistinct darker navy. His frown told her he was prepared to hear the worst. He held her hand and she got out. He asked, “Where to?”

  “The dock.”

  His hand in hers, he lead her around the house, to the back, down the railroad tie steps to a small boat house. With short, curt gestures, he checked the side door. He took a key off a nail and unlocked it and went inside for maybe a minute. He backed out and locked the door. Oddly, he put the key back on the nail that was in plain sight.

  He turned. “Well?”

  “You don't make it easy,” she said.

  “You don't, either,” he said, “I can tell this is not going to be pleasant.”

  She stepped off the dock to the lawn and walked to a live oak. Underneath its leaves, Spanish moss tickled her face. He came close enough for her to feel his apprehension.

  “You come here often, don't you?” she said.

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “I loved her.”

  “But there's another reason.”

  “I don't know if there is or not.”

  “I believe you are compelled to understand what happened to her.”

  “Maybe that's why I come here. Now you tell me why you wanted to come here.”

  The breeze picked up, and the tree branches threw shadow spatters across the grass. There is no gentle way to do this, so launch into it. “Because I want you to be with me when …”

  “When what?”

  She faced him. “It happened again.”

  “What again?”

  “Getting into someone else's moment.”

  “What are you talking about?” He pulled a cascade of moss off the tree and threw it on the ground.

  “Dr. Lockridge's theory of parallel universes.”

  “So what does that mean here?”

  “I've had visions.”

  “When?”

  “For days. They started out as nothing, just notions and auras. Then they got stronger with sounds and light images and I know they’re going to get stronger. They’ve become so clear that I know what they mean and who they’re about.”

  “Who?”

  “They’re not about you, but they affect you.”

  His face tightened into a mask of control. “Visions of what?” he snapped.

  “I think it's to do with what happened here. I have to give these visions free rein. I must let them play out.”

  “And what am I supposed to do?”

  “Listen while I describe events.”

  He pointed at the choppy waters of the sound. “Right out there is where Carmen had her accident.”

  “I know.”

  “How did you know?”

  “Spence told me. Actually he showed me when he and Young spirited me out of town.”

  He kneaded the side of his neck where his muscles were rigid. She held out her hands. “Take them.”

  He balled his hands into fists. “I don't want to enter into your delusional world.”

  “You won’t. You can’t. You don’t believe.”

  “Your mother says delusions are a family trait.”

  My father is not delusional; he's merely spoiled by my mother. I've never experienced anything remotely delusional. My visions are not delusions. They reflect something that actually happened.”

  “You and old Henry are the only ones I know who think people can go back in the past.”

  “It’s difficult for you, Rod. Please, stay with me.”

  “I’m here, aren’t I?”

  “I am going to relive something that happened. I’m going to let my mind see it, and I’m going to tell you what happens as I see it.”

  He grasped her arms in his hands. “Ann, I'm trying to understand. Okay, we're here at the spot where my wife died. Can't you understand this is not a place that brings joy to me.”

  She laid a palm on his chest. “Do you want to know what happened that day?”

  “I know. Her boat flipped, she hit her head. It sank.”

  She held out her arms. “Hold my hands.”

  “Why? So you won’t run in the water after a boat?”

  She smiled. “Maybe. I don't want to enter another's universe. I just want to see into it.”

  “You're serious?” he said.

  “Yes.”

  “Ann – this is craziness. Are we going to have a séance, right here under the old oak tree?”

  “Something like that. Take my hands, keep me here.”

  “Christ.” His eyes roamed the sound, and then he looked at her. “Were your ancestors Druids?”

  “Could be.”

  “Are we supposed to cross wrists or something symbolic like that?”

  Unruffled, she said, “If you'd like.”

  “Ann, I'm willing to go along with the sea thing. I want you in my life, so I'll have to, but I don’t know about this.”

  She held out her hands. “Please.”

  He took her hands firmly in his. She turned to face the sound, and so did he. They stood side by side arms twisted, holding hands. Hers shifted gently in his.

  She looked into the distance and felt the wind skim her skin, and listened to the music of the water gurgling in the mud, and the frogs croaking, and the fish flopping near the water reeds. There was a protracted pause, a weightless whisper. “The atmosphere is changing,” she said. “Can you feel it?”

  He answered, “The sun's gone behind the clouds.”

  “The water is choppy and dark now. It stinks of blood and motor oil. It's a day in summer, but it's not bright and sunny. The water in the sound is churning, splashing against the dock. I hear a man's voice – your voice, Rod – saying, 'Please, Carmen, don't take the boat out. It's rough on the sound.'

  Rod's hands tightened.

  Ann continued, “A woman says, 'And what the hell am I supposed to do all day?'

  “You say, 'You wanted to try a new recipe for tira misu.'

  “She says, 'Oh, right, keep the little woman cooking in the kitchen.'

  “You say, 'Carmen, please, go shopping, go anywhere, just don't take the boat out today, okay?'

  “She says, 'Oh, go on. I'll think of something.’”

  Ann looked at Rod. His bleak eyes were fastened on the coursing waters of the sound. She said, “I hear laughter now. A boat is approaching the shore, toward the boathouse, maybe a little too fast. A woman in it, wearing a little bikini, waves at someone on the dock. I look over and see a man standing on the dock. He is just a shadow. Funny how the woman is so vivid, and he so inconsequential. She is dark and beautiful. Full of life.

  “I hear the man call her name. 'Carmen, cut back on the throttle.'

  “The motor gears back and she pulls the boat parallel to the dock.

  “The man says, 'Don't you want to pu
t her away?'

  “The woman says, 'Not now. Let Rod. Let him know he can't tell me what to do.'”

  Rod’s hands squeezed hers.

  After inhaling deeply, Ann went on, “Carmen throws the line and the man catches it and makes the boat fast. He's holding out his hand and she takes it and jumps onto the dock. They clash in an embrace so quickly and fiercely I feel my heart jump. He's unfastening her bikini top. They fall to the wooden slats.”

  Ann looked at Rod. “I don't think I should go into what they begin doing.”

  Rod stared at her. “Yes.”

  Transfixed, Ann watched the couple kissing like teenagers in a movie theater. Lightheaded, she looked at Rod’s profile.

  Rod did not look at her, but said, “Go on.”

  “The woman sits up and says, 'Silly, we're in the open. What if Rod comes home?'

  “The man says, 'Rod's not coming home. He's out with the Coast Guard. And it's perfectly private here. Only the oaks and gulls can see us.'

  “The man stands and takes off his clothes. When he turns I can see his – his sex.

  “The woman says, 'Well, then, if you're going to be like that, then I'll just have to join you.' She takes off her bikini bottom. She asks, 'You got a condom, don't you?'

  Ann stopped speaking and looked at Rod again. “Rod, I don't think …”

  “Continue. Isn't that why we're here?”

  I’m going to be sorry for the rest of my life over this. “He picks up his trousers, and takes out a wallet, and then a packet. He says, 'Hate these damn things,' and he pulls it on.

  “He grabs her hair. He’s rough, but she doesn't seem to mind. She jumps on him and wraps her legs around his lower body while they kiss.”

  Ann broke off. “There's no need to …”

  “Continue,” Rod said, a tic flickering at his temple.

  Ann decided not to describe what she was seeing, and Rod stayed as still as a statue for many moments, his eyelids narrowed to slits. He appeared to Ann to be imagining the scene. “Continue,” he said.

  “Carmen steps back and says, 'Guess the number in my head.'

  The man says, “Guessing games again,” while he lays down on his back, and she stands spread-legged over him. He says, 'Give me a clue.'

  “She puts her foot on his stomach near his sex. She says, 'I'm thinking of a number between six and eight.' She laughs at the size joke.

  “He laughs back and says, 'Nine long inches.'