by Liz Adair
The man continued on toward the hotel, and just before he began climbing the stairs to the entrance, he paused in a pool of light and looked up at Cassie’s window. Cassie stopped breathing again as she recognized Luke Matthews. Stepping quickly away from the window she closed the curtains and turned on the table lamp. Inhale, exhale, she mentally exhorted as she walked to the door and locked it. Then she inched the dresser over to its siege mode position and checked to make sure that the pantyhose were still tied on the French doors. That done, she sat in the chair by the table.
Taking her pen, Cassie scanned the chronicle of her life with Chan, and on the bottom she wrote: Aaron Fletcher had his boat seized for smuggling drugs, and Luke Matthews is watching me.
She started as the telephone rang, and her “hello” was a little faint.
“Cassie?” The voice on the phone was so welcome that tears suddenly came to her eyes.
“Ben? Is that you? How did you know where to call?”
“Bishop Harris gave me the number. I called earlier, but you didn’t answer.”
She laughed. “I was out earning my dinner. Oh, Ben, it’s so good to hear your voice.”
“Well, it’s good to hear you, too. Listen, your tip about the rental company was a good one. We found the car, and we know who rented it that day. Like you said, he’s from out of town.”
“I’m sure you’ll find that he’s involved someway in the drug trade. I know that Chan was working for the government in drug enforcement. I think that he was too good, and they followed him to Scottsdale and killed him.”
“How do you know this, Cassie?” Ben’s voice was serious.
“I’ve pieced it together, like a puzzle, from things Chan had in his briefcase and things people here have told me. I was right about the rental car. I’m right about this. Remember, Ben, when you go after the man who killed Chan, be careful. It wasn’t an accident.”
“When are you coming home, Cassie? You’re not doing any kind of detective work, are you?”
“No. If the ferry hadn’t hit a rock, I’d be gone. As soon as it’s back in service, I’m out of here. Monday for sure. I have some things to do in Seattle on Monday, and I’ll fly out that night.”
“Let me know. I’ll pick you up.”
“I will. Punky said you went to the dress rehearsal. How did she do?”
Ben’s voice was warm. “She was fantastic! Unbelievable! She had the audience in the palm of her hand, and the Arizona Republic called ‘You Can’t Get a Man with a Gun’ a showstopper. It was, too. I’m real proud of her.”
“I’m so glad,” Cassie said damply.
“Are you all right, Cassie?”
“I’m fine,” she insisted, wiping tears away with the sleeve of her shirt. “Just homesick, I think. I’d come home now, if I could get off of this island.”
“Well, come home soon. And take care.”
“I will. Thanks for calling, Ben. You did me a world of good. Kiss Ricky for me.”
“I will. ’Bye.”
Cassie heard the click as he hung up. Sniffling still, she got ready for bed and read a page of her New Testament. Then she knelt to pray for a speedy restoration of ferry service and got into bed.
As the tears continued to flow, she wondered what could have upset her so. Trying to turn her mind to happier things, she thought about her day, and the warmth and love of the Porter family. But Ben’s phone call kept intruding into the picture, and his admiring words about Punky’s performance were the last things in her mind before she dropped off to sleep.
21
Cassie woke Sunday morning to clear skies and sunshine. She got up and stretched on her way to the window to have her early morning dose of beauty. After surveying the harbor, her eye fell on the paper with last night’s scribblings, and she smiled ruefully at what she had written about Aaron Fletcher and Luke Matthews. Well, Aaron Fletcher did have his boat seized for smuggling drugs, but Luke Matthews watching her? Reflecting that things looked less dire in the morning, she remembered what Sister Harris had said, “There’s always a rational explanation.” As she pushed the dresser back away from the door, she wished that she could remember that bit of counsel at night when things were looking dark and scary. It would be easier on her back.
Dressing in her navy pantsuit and black boots, she tucked a blue print skirt into her purse to change into when she got to church. Carrying her fleece, she went downstairs for a quick breakfast before arriving at the dock a little before eight.
There was a light breeze blowing from the west, and Cassie put on her jacket as she noted each boat that left its berth, wondering if that were her ride. It was five after eight when she heard the roar of an outboard motor, and her heart sank when she saw that Aaron Fletcher was approaching in his skiff. Seeing that he was headed to the public space, she waved tentatively and wondered what kind of a greeting she would get from him. It was only when he tied up and she saw a white shirt and tie under his jacket that she realized that he had come to fetch her.
He was apparently as startled as she was. “They said I was to pick up a widow,” he said. “I was expecting someone older.”
“I am a widow,” she said, climbing down into the boat. “I didn’t know you were LDS.”
Aaron Fletcher looked at her intently for a moment and then said, “I was inactive for a while, but I’ve come back. You will probably be more comfortable facing me. That will put your back to the wind, and it won’t be so cold.”
Cassie obliged, and he nosed the boat away from the dock and set a course straight for the mouth of the harbor. As soon as they were out of the bounds of the marina, he opened up the throttle, and the bow of the skiff lifted as they hurtled along.
Cassie held onto the sides as the bow slapped the small waves wrinkling the blue skin of the sea outside the harbor. This was a totally different, more frenetic experience than the one she had had on the Red Swan. Instead of a steady, pulsing beat, the sound of this engine was a grating, tightly-wound whine, and instead of a smooth, measured glide, this ride was an agitated dash. The only thing that was the same was the square-shouldered stoicism of the man in the Greek fisherman’s cap and the shiny scar that stood out against the tan of his sun-weathered cheek. By the time they had followed the coastline around and crossed a small channel to Cedar Cove, Cassie was damp from the spray, and her hands were cold from hanging onto the gunwales.
As Aaron tied up at the public dock, he apologized for the uncomfortable ride.
“It was an adventure,” Cassie said. “One of several I’ve had on this trip.”
“Would you mind staying after and coming with me to dinner at my sister-in-law’s place? She lives here in Cedar Cove. She’s a single mom trying to make a go of it, and I bring her something to help whenever I can.”
Hesitating only slightly, Cassie said, “No, that’s fine. I haven’t any reason to be back early.”
Aaron stood and helped her out of the boat and then climbed out himself. Picking up a small cooler, he hoisted it onto his shoulder and led the way up the hill. Cassie followed his swinging gate in her high-heeled boots as best she could, grateful when they finally reached the little house that had been made into a chapel. She thanked him as he opened the door for her and then ducked into the ladies’ room to change into her skirt.
Quietly, Cassie entered the living-room-turned-chapel and sat on the back row of folding chairs that took the place of permanent pews. Aaron was sitting up a ways, leaning across a small, towheaded boy to murmur something in the ear of an ethereal blonde woman.
There were about thirty people in attendance. A tall, broad-shouldered, sleepy-eyed young man presided at the sacrament table, first blessing the emblems and then passing them to the congregation. The speaker was a plain-spoken purse seiner from St. Mary’s Island, and Cassie listened raptly as he talked about the fishermen who plied the waters of Galilee and speculated why they so willingly left their nets to follow Jesus.
After the closing song, the chil
dren and youth separated to other parts of the house along with their teachers. Cassie looked around for Aaron, but he had disappeared as well. She was trying unsuccessfully to imagine him teaching a Sunday School class when someone touched her on the shoulder. It was Aaron’s sister-in-law, the blonde beauty, who introduced herself as Amy. Inviting Cassie to move forward, she went to the front, called the Gospel Doctrine class to order, and proceeded to teach an excellent lesson on the Epistle of James.
Cassie could hardly take her eyes off Amy. She was as tall as Cassie and slender, with high cheek-bones and a generous mouth that lifted naturally into a happy expression. She wore her hair pulled away from her face and falling halfway down her back in a mass of golden spirals.
When Sunday School was over, Amy came to take Cassie into Relief Society, making her known to the handful of sisters before sitting at the piano and accompanying the opening hymn. The lesson was given by an older sister who was as dull as Amy had been dynamic, and Cassie had a hard time staying focused. So when Amy leaned over and asked her if she wanted to go listen to her son, Jerry, give a talk in Primary, Cassie readily agreed. She followed Amy to the basement, where eight children were sitting in two rows on little chairs. Aaron was standing at the back of the room with his arms folded across his chest, and she joined him there.
As Jerry stood behind a makeshift, child-sized podium, Amy knelt by him and handed him a picture. “This is Jesus,” she whispered to him.
Jerry just looked at her.
Amy pointed at the group of attentive children. “Show them the picture and speak to them,” she instructed. “This is Jesus.”
Jerry, obeying instructions, looked at the Primary class, showed them the picture, and said, “I know.”
“No,” Amy whispered. “Tell them that this is Jesus.”
“Oh.” He held up the picture. “This is Jesus.”
Amy took the original picture from Jerry and handed him a picture of Jesus surrounded by children. “He loves me,” she prompted.
Holding up the picture, Jerry said, “He loves my mom.”
Cassie, struggling valiantly not to laugh, glanced sideways at Aaron and was amazed at the tender smile on his face. He looked proud.
Jerry finished his last picture credibly, and then they sang the closing song and church was over.
It took a while to get away. Because their homes were scattered on five different islands, the members lingered, loath to leave the fellowship they found in that modest house. Finally the last good-bye was said, and Amy walked with Cassie while Aaron trailed behind with the cooler on his shoulder, holding Jerry’s hand.
“I’m glad Aaron brought you over,” Amy said. “Are you staying long at Quarry Harbor?”
Cassie shook her head. “I’m leaving as soon as the ferry is in service.”
As they continued down the hill, Amy gently plied Cassie with questions, listening intently with her pleasant expression to all her answers. When she found that Cassie was a recent widow, her own eyes became misty, and she gave her a quick hug.
Amy lived in a one-bedroom cottage two streets up from the dock. “I consider myself very blessed to have this house,” she said as they walked into the living-dining-kitchen area. “I work at the restaurant, and they let me bring Jerry with me, so that’s a double blessing.”
“What do you do at the restaurant?” Cassie asked.
“I’m a cook.” As Jerry came in the door, Amy grabbed him and tickled him, crying, “And guess what I’m going to cook now!”
“Swedish pancakes!” he yelled, giggling.
“Every time Uncle Aaron comes we fix Swedish pancakes, don’t we, Jerry?” Amy said, smiling up at Aaron.
He returned the smile as he walked by to set the cooler on the counter. “I brought you a salmon.”
“Thanks! Will you put it in the fridge while I fix dinner?” She already had a bowl out and was cracking eggs.
After changing out of her skirt, Cassie sat in the corner and watched the domestic scene, blown away by the change in Aaron’s demeanor. The icy aloofness was gone, and his face creased often into a smile as he helped in the kitchen or played with Jerry. She could see that Aaron and Amy had a comfortable intimacy and liked being together. The thought Like Ben and me popped into her head, and it wasn’t until a moment later that she realized it should have been, Like Chan and me.
The stack of thin, golden cakes grew, and soon Amy declared everything ready. Gathering around the table, they bowed their heads while Jerry prayed that no harm would come to them as they ate the food. As she dribbled blackberry syrup over her pancakes, Cassie said, “I really enjoyed your lesson, Amy. I wish I could teach like that.”
“You will, after you’ve been in the Church a while,” Amy encouraged.
“Amy’s a teacher,” Aaron offered. “Has her degree.”
Cassie stared. “Then why are you working as a cook?”
Amy ruffled Jerry’s hair. “Because I can take Jerry with me, and I don’t have to worry about childcare. Everyone in town mothers him, so I have lots of support. I can live cheaply here, two blocks from the sea. I think, economically, it all works out about the same. It’s good for now. Later on, we’ll see.”
“Do you mind if I ask what happened to your husband? What was his name?”
“His name was Jared,” Amy said, exchanging glances with Aaron.
“He was lost at sea,” Aaron said brusquely. Looking out the window, he added, “The breeze is picking up, and there’s a front moving through, looks like.” He stood. “I think we’d better get on our way, or we’ll have a rough crossing.”
“When do you work again, Aaron?” Amy asked.
“Tomorrow afternoon.”
Cassie put her fork on her plate and stood as well, holding out her hand to Amy. “Thank you so much for everything,” she said. “It was so good to meet you. You’re an inspiration to me.”
“We’re sisters,” Amy said simply. Then she turned to her son, “Tell Sister Jordain good-bye, Jerry.”
Jerry had a mouthful of pancake, but waved dutifully.
Aaron, empty cooler in hand, handed Cassie her fleece and purse and hazed her to the front door. As they stepped outside, he said, “Wind’s shifted around to the south.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing. That’s the prevailing wind, especially in the fall. We get some pretty big blows in November.”
Cassie looked out into the channel and saw flecks of white against the blue. “Will we make it back all right?”
“Yep,” Aaron replied. “It’s high slack, so it won’t be as rough now as it will be when the tide turns.”
Cassie, hustling to keep up, asked, “When will the tide turn?”
“About the time we get back.”
They did make it back all right, though the ride was a lot rougher than the last, and Cassie’s hair and fleece were damp from the spray coming over the bow. She was glad when they entered the mouth of the harbor and the water flattened out.
As they tied up at the public space and climbed out, they noticed a shiny new boat pulled up at the fueling station. A gray-haired man, obviously the new owner, was talking to the teen-age attendant in a loud voice, bragging about the good deal he had hammered. “This is my first time out,” he said. “I’m from Seattle. I deal in real estate.”
Climbing to the flying bridge, the novice skipper asked the fuel attendant to cast off the lines and push him away from the dock, stern first. As the young man complied, Aaron muttered, “I hope he knows enough to turn on the blowers before he tries to start it.”
“Why?”
“Because, if there are gas fumes in the engine compartment, a spark from starting could blow up the boat. It’s a routine safety precaution that every boat-owner—”
Aaron didn’t get through the last sentence, because an explosion ripped through the new cruiser, flinging the hard bargainer into the water from the flying bridge and leaving the burning boat drifting toward where the Red Sw
an was moored.
Aaron jumped back into his skiff, untying the lines with a practiced motion and heading over to where the hapless senior was flailing in the water.
Driven by a frantic urge to protect her boat, Cassie ran down the dock. The burning wreckage was just feet away from the neighboring sailboat when she slung her purse on the bench, undid the lines, and pushed the Red Swan out of the slip. Thrusting it away from the heat of the blazing conflagration, she jumped aboard the bow at the last minute and noted with satisfaction that she was drifting away from the two burning boats.
The edge around the cabin was very narrow, but she made her way to the stern and got the boat hook. Telescoping it out, she pushed away from B Dock as they threatened to bump against the end piling. When they were floating clear, she heaved a sigh of relief and turned to watch the commotion as people flocked to the area to fight the fire and save nearby boats.
As Cassie drifted to the middle of the harbor, she began to wonder what she should do next. Sure that someone had to notice the idle trawler, she decided to wait for rescue. As she watched, she could see a stream of water being trained on the burning boats, and the black smoke in the air seemed to be abating. Soon, someone would notice.
About that time, Cassie heard a thump, thump, thump. Looking over the side, she saw she was bumping against a rock sticking up fairly close to shore. She knew that couldn’t be good for the hull, so she pushed away with the boat hook, only to realize that the harbor mouth was getting closer. The sea beyond was a gray churning mass, and she noticed for the first time that the sun was gone and dark clouds covered the sky.
With a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, Cassie considered her options. Maybe if I put something on the boat hook and wave it, people will see my distress signal, she thought, and dug in her purse for the key to the boat. As she held it in her hand, she saw the ignition key and laughed with relief. “I’ll just start the engine,” she said aloud as she undid the padlock. “How hard can it be? I watched Aaron put it in gear. I can at least get back to the middle of the harbor.”
