by A Rosendale
Cooper shrugged again. “Kinda, I guess.”
“How about some oatmeal?” Alma suggested.
His little nose wrinkled in disgust and they laughed.
“Donut?” Dirk asked.
“Chocolate?” Cooper asked perkily.
“Anything you want, bud.”
“Chocolate with sprinkles!” he declared.
“You got it!” With that, Dirk darted from the room. He was back in record time with the ordered donut. To their surprise, the boy ate the entire pastry. Alma wiped his chocolaty lips clean with a napkin as a doctor entered.
“Well, hello there, big guy!” the white-coated man greeted brightly.
“Hello,” Cooper replied. Dirk swore his voice grew stronger with every passing minute, but chalked it up to wishful thinking.
“How are you doing this morning?”
“Okay, I think. My dad got me a donut!”
The doctor cast a fond glance at the unfamiliar man at his patient’s side. “Is that so? What a great dad! Can I listen to your heart this morning?”
Cooper nodded acquiescence and the man stepped forward to press a stethoscope to his little chest.
“Well?” Cooper’s little voice demanded as the doctor leaned back.
The adults smiled.
“Sounds better every day!”
“That’s good, right?”
“You bet! Do you mind if I talk to your mom and dad outside for a second, Cooper?”
“Okay.”
Alma squeezed Cooper’s hand quickly, offered him a reassuring smile, and followed Dirk and the doctor to the hall.
“I’m Dr. O’Loughlin,” the man introduced, holding his hand out to Dirk.
“Dirk Travers. Thanks for taking care of my family.”
O’Loughlin nodded and brought Alma into the conversation. “He really does sound better today. His lungs sound clearer, his heart more regular. You’ll have noticed his voice is stronger and he seems more aware. He realized you were here, right, Mr. Travers?”
Dirk nodded. “Right away. That’s a good sign?”
“Absolutely. The past few days he’s been pretty out of it.” He placed a gentle hand on Alma’s arm. “This is very reassuring, Alma. I really think we’re out of the woods.”
The release of tension in Alma’s body was palpable. Dirk put his arm around her, afraid she’d simply collapse at the good news.
“We’ll keep him here a few more days, make sure the antibiotics run their course and he’s 100% before we send you home.”
“Thank you!” she said gratefully.
O’Loughlin squeezed her shoulder, shook Dirk’s hand, and continued his rounds.
They spent the rest of the morning talking with Cooper. He fell asleep before noon and they stepped into the hall again.
“I hate to suggest this. You’ve been alone far too long already,” Dirk started, “But since Cooper is on the upswing, maybe I should head to Friday Harbor to be with your mom. Maybe I can help in the search.”
Alma hated to lose his company, only so recently regained, but nodded. “She needs you, too. I-” She glanced back at the hospital room. “I can’t believe this is happening. Cooper, Dad…” Those stubborn tears of late built up again.
Dirk gathered her in his arms quickly. While he was suddenly confident their son would be okay, he had a cold uncertainty about William’s fate. He held her until she gathered herself and heaved a deep breath.
“Keep me up to date,” she ordered evenly.
“You, too,” he replied. “I love you so much.” He kissed her quickly, held her gaze a moment longer, then ducked back into the room to kiss their sleeping son goodbye.
Chapter 43
Once on the ferry, Dirk stepped into the wheelhouse. The weathered man at the helm glanced at him.
“No passengers in the wheelhouse,” he growled.
Dirk held up his hands innocently. “You’re Sal, right?”
Sal scowled and gave the intruder a second look. A light of recognition lifted his sour expression a little. “Yeah. You’re William’s son-in-law, huh?”
“Yes, sir.”
“It’s a damned shame! I can’t believe he’s missin’. Been sailin’ his whole life. Mondays and Wednesdays are my days off, so when I heard he was still gone Monday mornin’, I took my own boat out lookin’ for him.”
“And did you find anything?”
“Nothin’.”
“Where did you look?”
“Oh, all the usual fishin’ holes. We’ve been fishin’ together for years, Will and I. I ought to know where he’d go. But I’ve got nothin’.” He sighed heavily with grief. “I’m plannin’ on goin’ back out tomorrow and makin’ another sweep. You here to be with Ava? Where’s Alma?”
“Our son is in the hospital. She stayed in Oregon with him, but I thought Ava could use some company. You said you’re going out tomorrow again? You mind if I tag along? I’d like to check in with Ava before I make any concrete plans.”
“Not at all. Give me a call tonight to confirm. Ava’ll have my number.”
“I will. Thank you.” He started to step back outside to the open deck, but paused. “You can’t think of any reason William may have wanted to skip town, right?”
Sal snorted derisively. “Yeah, right! That man hasn’t strayed from his wife’s side for more than 24-hours at a time in the past twenty years! And he’s as straight a flyer as they come.” He shook his head soberly. “No. William didn’t disappear of his own accord.”
Dirk nodded his agreement and took his leave.
The walk from the dock to the house lacked all of its usual appeal. He didn’t enjoy the barking of the sea lions, the scent of the salty ocean air, or the gentle breeze that played on his skin in the late afternoon air. There was no pausing to let Cooper skip rocks on the water or collect pinecones.
He knocked heavily on the front door. A single bark accompanied hurried steps on the hardwood before the door was flung open.
“Dirk!” Ava drew him into a hug, and, as her daughter had done mere hours ago, melted into him, sobbing hysterically. He imagined that, just like her daughter, she would maintain her stoic exterior in front of everyone else, but once enveloped in the secure embrace of a man she trusted, it crumbled.
It was nearly ten minutes before she stepped back, sniffling and wiping her face with a wrinkled tissue. Pan took his turn for a greeting. Despite his wobbly legs and arthritis-ridden joints, he jumped up to plant his front paws on Dirk’s chest. Dirk smiled sadly at the dog. His once jet-black coat was faded; his muzzle was entirely gray now and his eyes were clouded. After a quick ear rub, he took the dog’s paws and helped him gently return to the ground.
“Where’s Alma? And Cooper?” Ava asked as Dirk followed her to the kitchen table where a map was spread out.
“Cooper is in the hospital.” He hurried to finish before she could interrupt and insist he return to his child. “But he’s getting better. The doctor thinks he should be home by the weekend.”
Ava collapsed into a chair and placed a hand over her heart as if to still the dramatic rhythm. “Thank God. I don’t think we could take another…”
Dirk placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and sat down. “Can you tell me what happened?”
She nodded, took a moment to compose her thoughts, and began. “William went out early Saturday. He said he was going to troll just south of Vancouver Island. When he didn’t come home Saturday night, I figured he just decided to stay on the water overnight. A storm came up Sunday afternoon, so I thought maybe it slowed him down and he was waiting for the squall to pass so he could make it through the strait safely. But when he still wasn’t home Sunday night, I knew something was wrong. I went to the harbormaster early Monday. He called a group of locals together, told me to stay home in case he showed up. When they got back late last night with still no sign, he called the Coast Guard. There’s been no word on their search.” She swallowed and looked down at her hands in her lap.
“He’s never not come home.”
He had nothing to say, no words of comfort would come to mind. So he just squeezed her shoulder.
“Sal is going out to look again tomorrow. I thought I’d go with him.”
“Yes! Go! Those stubborn fishermen won’t let me near a boat, but you go! Maybe…”
“Maybe,” Dirk echoed quietly. “Can you show me where William was headed and maybe some of his favorite fishing spots?” He motioned to the map and turned on the overhead light.
Ava stood and leaned over the chart. She’d already marked a course in red ink. Her pointer finger hovered over the town of Friday Harbor, then followed the red line down the Strait of Juan de Fuca and out to sea. She stopped at a red circle several miles to the southwest of Vancouver Island. “This is where he said he was going.” With a pencil, she drew small X’s at six other locations in the water ranging up and down the sound. “These are his favorite places.” She raised her gaze to meet Dirk’s. “You think he may have abandoned his original plan and gone to another spot?”
He shrugged. “It’s possible.” He took a mental picture of the map and markings. “I’m hoping Sal will be up for searching all along the coast and hitting each of these locations. Do you know anything about the winds or currents this time of year?”
Ava smiled sadly. “No. That’s always been William’s expertise.”
He nodded understanding. “Sal said you’d have his number? I need to call and confirm for tomorrow.”
She motioned to the cordless phone at his elbow and dialed for him. The conversation with the grizzled fisherman took less than a minute.
“Are you hungry?” Dirk asked when he hung up.
She shook her head, staring at the map.
He frowned. “When was the last time you ate, Ava?”
Her silence answered his question as definitely as words.
“You have to eat!” he insisted.
“I just haven’t been hungry.”
“I know. But you still have to eat.”
The fridge was unusually empty. He managed to scrounge enough ingredients for two turkey sandwiches and delivered them to the table.
“Thank you for being here,” Ava muttered halfway through the meal.
They were both so mentally and emotionally exhausted that it was the first words spoken in ten minutes. Dirk smiled gently at her.
“Any time.”
After eating, he convinced her to go to bed, something else he was certain she hadn’t done in a few days. He watched her and Pan climb the stairs and a heavy sadness grew in his heart. The infectious energy that had flowed from both dog and veterinarian when he’d first met them had faded significantly with age. Dirk had never known anyone who was afforded the opportunity to grow old and the idea depressed him. He didn’t want to see Ava or Pan suffer, especially if William was never found. The distress of the situation aged his mother-in-law drastically.
Subduing emotions, Dirk called Alma’s cell phone.
“Hey,” he greeted solemnly.
“Hey. Cooper wants to tell you goodnight.” The phone passed hands with a crackle.
“Daddy?”
“Hey, bud!” His tone brightened. “How are you feeling?”
“A little bit better. Mommy and I walked to the end of the hall today.”
“Wow! You’re such a trooper!”
“Where are you?”
“I came up to see Grandma.”
“Is she not feeling good, either?”
“Kind of. You better get some sleep, Coop. I love you more than the moon!”
“I love you more than the sea!” the little voice replied. “Night, night.”
“Night, night, bud.” The fake smile of moments ago had been replaced by a genuine grin.
Alma took the phone back, but paused to kiss Cooper goodnight. She turned off the light as she stepped into the hallway. “Well?” Her tone sobered.
“There’s still no sign. He went out Saturday and your mom thought maybe he’d decided to stay the night. Then she thought a storm on Sunday slowed him down. By the time the harbormaster rallied the forces there was no sign. I’m going out with Sal tomorrow to take another look. The Coast Guard is sweeping the area, too.”
“How’s my mom?”
He sighed. “Not great. But she’s like you. She only lets on how she really feels for a minute or two, then it’s back to the toughest lady I know.”
“Thank you for being with her. I wish I could be there, too.”
“I know. It’s okay.” He yawned. Travels and emotions had gotten the better of him today and exhaustion was catching up quickly. “I’ll call you tomorrow night, if not sooner.”
“Okay. Be careful. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
* * *
Although it was still dark when Dirk rose, Ava was already in the kitchen with a fresh brewed pot of coffee. She was filling a travel mug when he entered.
“Morning,” he greeted gently.
“Morning. I’m sorry I don’t have much for breakfast.”
He looked at the selection of Poptarts or granola bars on the counter and smiled. “That’s okay. I happen to have an affinity for Poptarts.”
Ava looked him up and down. His cheeks were scruffy and hair disheveled. He wore a flannel button-up shirt tucked into jeans. Sturdy hiking boots adorned his feet and he had a baseball cap in hand.
“You’re going to freeze,” she muttered in a motherly tone and opened a coat closet by the front door. “Here.”
Dirk recognized the thick, tan canvas of a Carhartt coat. He’d grown up with the brand in Montana and welcomed the comfortable warmth of the garment. “Thanks.” He hugged her quickly. “I’ll be back tonight.”
The frown she shot him expressed a deep-rooted fear he’d never seen in her.
“I’ll be back tonight,” he repeated confidently, holding her gaze. “I promise.”
She nodded, her throat too tight to utter a response.
Dirk squeezed her shoulder, grabbed his coffee and Poptarts, and headed for the docks. Sal was already warming up his troller. A younger man was stowing unnecessary equipment under the glow of dim running lights.
“Permission to come aboard?” he called to announce his presence.
“Come on in,” Sal called from the wheelhouse. He had a chart open on a table behind the helm.
“What course are you thinking?” Dirk asked.
“I thought I’d head back around Vancouver Island, see if anything’s come up in the area William was fishing.”
“Sounds good. After that, do you mind if we check a few more places?”
Sal motioned to the map and Dirk pointed to the coordinates Ava had marked the night before.
“Sure thing.”
“Do you know what direction the wind was blowing on Saturday?”
Sal opened his mouth to answer and was interrupted by the younger man entering the wheelhouse. In the light, he appeared to be no older than twenty. “North, northeast,” he answered.
Sal nodded his agreement and motioned to him. “My nephew, Wally. Wally, this is William’s son-in-law.”
“Nice to meet you, sir,” Wally greeted while pumping his hand eagerly.
“Call me Dirk. You’re a friend of William’s, too?”
“Yeah. Uncle Sal and William let me tag along.”
“Shall we?” Sal muttered and without waiting for an answer, he nudged the throttle and they puttered out of the harbor.
* * *
By early afternoon, they’d crawled up and down the coast of Vancouver Island and circled the marks on the map. All three men were tired and cold. Dirk’s head hurt from squinting at the water, even with his sunglasses and cap. Sal threw the throttle to all-stop in frustration. Wally paced the back deck.
Dirk leaned back against the rail and crossed his arms. The boat rolled in the rough waves and water sloshed against the hull. “Where would William have stopped to wait out a storm?” he asked after a long and
tense silence.
Sal frowned in thought and Wally stopped pacing. They gathered around the chart table. Sal traced the Strait of Juan de Fuaca from Friday Harbor to the coast, then trailed south to Makah Bay.
“He’d wait it out here.”
“Where are we?”
Wally tapped the map fifteen miles to the northwest. Sal moved automatically to the wheel and the boat was churning toward the coast a moment later.
* * *
The coast at the center of Makah Bay was a rocky beach that grew rockier and more treacherous to the north. Dirk gazed through binoculars. Mid-afternoon light abolished the shadows created by craggy rock formations. The surf was mild for the moment and he could see in the crevices of a stone reef reaching from the shore.
“I’ve got something!” he shouted, squinting at a rough outline of a boat’s stern. He pointed to give Sal a heading. “It’s the Pretty Lady,” he announced.
“That’s William’s boat,” Wally said, joining him at the forward rail.
Dirk passed the binoculars to him. “Get me as close as you can.”
Sal judged the surf for a moment, then gunned the motor between waves. Dirk was ready and leapt from the bow to a rock outcropping. The captain instantly reversed and was safely away before another wave could smash his own troller beside his friend’s.
Dirk balanced precariously on the slick, sharp rocks and picked his way toward the wreck. He realized the bow of the troller was gone. A few planks floated in the tidal pool below and he plucked one out that had the boat’s name faded across it. He placed the plank on the rocks before leaping onto the stern. He grabbed the rail and used the propeller as a foothold to pull himself on board. The deck slanted at a thirty-five-degree angle and he held onto the rail to keep from sliding on the wet surface. The top half of the wheelhouse was gone, too, leaving the controls open to the elements. Scorch marks, faint, but certainly there, discolored the jagged front edge of the wheelhouse. Everything was soaked from the surf. Keys still dangled from the ignition.
Dirk eased himself through the hatch and landed below decks in ankle-deep cold water. The first things that caught his eye, other than the missing front half of the boat, were blood spatters. Dark red trails of blood adorned the bulkheads all around. A pool of rusty liquid had soaked into the ruffled bedspread on the bunk. Dirk took a deep breath. The coppery scent of blood was disguised by the sharp salty smell of the sea lapping at the hem of his jeans. Frowning, he climbed awkwardly back to open air. He stood on deck several more minutes, committing the details to memory.
