by Tina Welling
Cam held her on his hip. “Wonderwear?”
Saddler held Nell.
“Underwear,” I explained. “Their panties have Wonder Woman on them.”
Nell said, “So we have to wear our baby suits.”
Jess joined us, after having hugged Daisy. He said, “Are those kind of like birthday suits?” His question set off extended giggling from the twins, heads tossed back, their moon faces catching the sunlight.
That one I couldn’t translate. Jess made another stab at it. “Bathing suits?”
We finished unloading supplies, stretched sheets on beds, gassed up, filled water tanks. And were off. Our destination was a small island on a map dotted with small islands. Our plan was to anchor there before dark. Marcus, our designated captain, said, “No problem.”
Jess and I sat up on the top deck and watched the scenery glide by, a big blue platter of sky above us with a gathering of clouds toward the west. The water was smooth and glossy, the breeze surprisingly stiff on the upper deck. Cam climbed up and asked to borrow my cell phone and sat with it on the other side of the deck. He’d borrowed it earlier to make calls on our way down the coast.
I said, “Cam, where is your own phone?”
“Guess.”
“You’ve broken it again?” I asked.
My dad followed his grandson up the steps. He called over to Cam, “If you’re ordering pizza delivery, no anchovies or black olives for me.” It was becoming more difficult to know when Dad was joking and when he wasn’t. So I offered a grin that would serve in either case.
The houseboat moved slowly into the gulf. As nervous as I’d been while doing the switch with Daniel’s phone, it seemed a rather silly prank to me now, a mild response to a situation my family and I only vaguely understood. Parson Fields probably had more to go on than some tiny card location. Then again, my sons might be right in thinking that their trick would slow and confuse Fields enough to give Daniel extra time. Out here on the quiet blue water with the family, it felt more like an unnecessary inconvenience to me, and probably also to Daniel, to be without our contact numbers.
I asked Cam, “So are you putting your tiny card thing in my cell?”
“No, I’m making calls with Daniel’s SIM card in case anyone is tracking.”
Jess said, “What’s he talking about?”
“I don’t know.”
Dad said, “That’s just how I feel sometimes. I don’t know what the heck anybody is talking about.” He didn’t seem to mind; he leaned over the railing and hummed “Biko.”
I was reminded of my earlier question. “Cam, what did you mean about cell towers and all that? And tell your father what you and your brother did with Daniel’s phone.”
When Jess heard, he leaned over the upper deck railing and called, “Saddler, get your ass up here.”
I said to Cam, “You guys dropped that little card in the water at the Turtle Nest, right?”
“No, we got it.”
Jess said, “You idiots. Where the hell is it?”
“In Mom’s phone.”
Dad broke into full voice. He stood at the front of the upper deck, the wind blowing back his thick silver hair, and sang loudly, “Biko, Bi-ko-oo-oo, Biko.”
Saddler came up the steps, fully aware of the tension in the air and his likely role in it. To blunt the force of the coming confrontation and to divert attention from himself, he said, “Grandpa, did you know you’re singing about a famous black man from Africa?” Saddler grinned. His grandfather’s bigotry was an old family fact.
Dad paused, looked stumped for a moment, then said, “I’m singing about a famous game. Bingo.” He turned his back to us, faced out toward the wind and water again and picked up his song.
Jess was angry. “What the hell were you two thinking? Whoever might be tracking Daniel is now tracking us. You’ve put your whole family in danger. Do you realize that?” He glared at his sons. “What made you two do such a stupid, damn-ass thing? Afraid you’d be bored hanging out with your relatives?”
That remark summed it up, I realized, as my sons confessed. They had expected to be bored out of their minds. Cam had wanted to spend spring break back home with his friends who were also returning home from colleges across the country to ski for a week. Saddler had wanted to spend it with Ella in Telluride. But they were worried about how the first meeting would go between their father and me. They had sacrificed their plans, believing that Jess and I needed them more. I was dismayed that they were so careless as to endanger others in their pursuit of excitement, but also touched that they had given up their vacations for the family. How could I have thought the company of adult relatives and four-year-old twin cousins was a match for anything else they could have planned? Maybe I had needed our sons present for this reunion with Jess more than I had acknowledged to myself.
Cam handed me my phone as if he were separating himself from the evidence.
Jess herded us all down below and told his sons to explain to the family what they’d done and the danger they had put them in.
It was hard to break the holiday spirit. Marcus and Daisy made jokes about being arrested, and the twins picked up on it. Nell cocked a hip, pointed a finger at her father, and said, “Stick-ed your hands up.”
And Libby did the same. “You’re under arrested.”
Daisy said, “We’re not feeding any pirates.”
Marcus said, “We have plenty of food. Just don’t give them our beer.”
The boys were relieved by the reaction and practiced dueling with the barbecue forks. It went on like that until we all relaxed and even I began to believe nothing would come of the prank.
We pulled out drinks and snacks. Cam and Saddler argued over how to season the fish fillets for grilling. We reached our tiny island, dropped anchor in time to gather on the back deck and watch the sun set. Bands of juicy colors were shelved for the night, one on top of the other, in the western sky. Swathes of glitter spread across the water. As we all stood there together, silently awed by the beauty, I looked at my family’s faces aglow in the golden light of the evening and the silvery glimmer reflected off the water. I felt grateful and full of love for each of them: Jess, my sons, Dad, Daisy, Marcus and the little girls.
Suddenly my eye caught something unusual.
I pointed off starboard. Dolphins. Eight of them broke through the glittering water, arced in the sunlight, seemingly smiled at us, nosed back into the water. We all laughed right out loud with the marvel of it. And again the dolphins surfaced, performing for us over and over. The sun fell below the watery horizon, the light faded quickly to deep gray and the dolphins swam out of sight. Then we wandered back through the hallway of the sleeping rooms to the front deck and gave our attention to dinner preparations.
We heard them before we saw them.
Abruptly chilled, I shuddered at the muted sounds of approaching boat motors and wondered how many there were and what would happen next. Somehow I’d only pictured a single boat with a wan and aged-looking man asking for Daniel. Except that wasn’t his name, was it? I didn’t know his real name. And not even knowing that, what made me think I could know what to expect?
Right then my cell phone rang—or was it really Daniel’s cell phone? For a moment that ring unnerved me completely. Then I answered.
“Annie, you dope. What the hell did you do?”
“Just bought you a little time, Daniel. And it wasn’t my idea; it was my sons’.” I made eye contact with Jess and he moved closer while watching the darkness in the direction of the motor sounds. Were there two boats, three? Would people have guns?
“Well, drop the son-of-a-bitching phone in the drink, then get the hell out of there. Where are you?”
“On the houseboat off Islamorada a couple hours.” I’d never heard Daniel sound angry before. “What . . . what do you think will happen?”
“I think, like I told you, that Parson will pull in all his favors and they probably include the FCC and the go-fast officers. E
ven I don’t know how far his reach extends. Annie . . . My God, I hate having you involved in this.”
“We hear them coming, Daniel.”
“Remember one thing, Annie. They are acting illegally. They have no jurisdiction over you, despite what they say and how official they look.”
“Okay, okay. That’s good.”
“Let me talk to somebody who knows exactly where you lie. I’m calling the MEOs, in case things get nasty.”
As I walked toward Marcus, I asked, “MEOs?”
“Marine enforcement officers.”
I handed the phone to Marcus.
“Yeah, Daniel.” Marcus gave Daniel the proper information, then asked, “We’re not in any danger out here, are we?”
I looked out into the deep blackness of sky and water and denser black of the tiny island our houseboat huddled beside. Everybody had stopped dinner preparations and stood on the deck, listening. From the muffled sound of the motors, I suspected the boats were approaching the other side of the hummock we were anchored near. In contrast to the motors, the slap of water against the hull of the houseboat had a steady, soothing beat.
Marcus said, “Okay, we’ll stall them then.” And he handed the phone back to me.
Daniel had hung up. Making his call, I supposed, to the MEOs. I had already forgotten what that stood for, aside from help for us. Then the phone rang again and I answered.
Daniel said, “MEOs on their way. Until then, I told your brother-in-law that there’ll be threats nobody can carry out. But there will be threats. Stand firm. Give them my phone if they ask for it. And remember what I told you about Jeter.”
I said I remembered what he’d told me. Then I asked if he was safe.
Daniel said, “I’m not in danger at the moment; don’t put yourself in any. Tell them whatever they want to know. Take no chances.” Quietly, he said my name: “Annie.” Then the line went dead.
I passed on Daniel’s information to the others.
I looked up into the black sky, blacker even than in Jackson Hole. In my valley the high altitude snowfields and glaciers always reflected light, no matter how little came from the moon and stars at night. Here, no moonlight, no shore lights, no lights from anywhere but the dim battery-run lamp inside our kitchen and the running lights around the hull of our boat. It was as if the thick mangroves soaked up all available illumination.
Then suddenly light was everywhere. From each side of the small island strong spotlights appeared and moved directly toward us. As one, we all raised hands to shield our eyes.
Libby said, “Daddy, now we can swim, ’cause we got lights.” Except that she said “smim” with her sweet mouth twisting around the word. Nobody laughed. The family’s joking had halted.
Marcus lifted both girls into his arms and Daisy stood beside him, holding Bijou, as they waited like the rest of us to see what would happen next.
Moments ago there was our boisterous family, living proof that nothing unpleasant could interrupt our fun, the twins “accidently” dropping chips in the water to feed the fish, my sons and my husband and I enjoying our first reunion since the New Year, and Jeter and Bijou—as Jess had so crudely put it to the boys—getting more petting than a cashmere sweater on date night. Spread around the deck were open sodas and bags of snacks. All this in celebration of Dad out for a final adventure with his family.
Then all hell broke loose as the loud boats sped in close, attaching themselves to us like tacks to a magnetic. In seconds, five men boarded the houseboat with commands to stay put, keep our hands in view.
“You are boarded by officers of the U.S. government.”
Four men were in uniform. One older man in plain clothes gave the orders to us. No one flashed badges or ID.
I was shaken. Filled with horror at what my family had been drawn into. I had trusted and befriended a man I didn’t know well, and dragged everybody I loved into this with me. Then, in the midst of the self-attack inside my head and the racket outside of it, I heard Jeter’s low hum of a growl and saw him crouch beside me. I realized at the same moment that I did trust Daniel, had from day one. I was about to reprimand Jeter when Daniel’s reminder on the phone recalled what he’d told me before handing his dog into my care a week ago.
“Always friendly. The only exception is Parson Fields. I took Jeter to the hospital grounds for a couple walks with Parson while he was recovering. Something happened behind my back. Jeter turned on that guy and Parson got rigid with fear.”
“We’re looking for Nickerson Addis. Tell him to come forward and we’ll be on our way.”
Dad spoke right up. “Here’s your man, boys.” He walked directly to Jess, gripped his shoulder, gave it a little shake. “Sorry, son, but you’ve been caught.”
“Dad,” I said.
“Dad,” Daisy said.
The twins laughed. “Pop-pop’s acting silly.”
Marcus quieted his daughters, one on each arm, their bare knees clinging to their father’s middle.
Jess stepped forward. “Officers, we’ll cooperate. Tell us what you need.”
The other officers maintained their silence, as their leader spoke for them. He needed Nickerson Addis, aka Daniel Taylor, recently of Hibiscus, Florida. Last address: Hibiscus Marina. He was wanted for a federal offense, and anyone who obstructed the law would also be considered a federal offender.
Jess asked, “Do you have a search warrant?”
“The marina,” Dad said. “This is your guy. Don’t take my daughter Annie. She didn’t know. I saw one of you fellas; I knew something was up.” Dad gestured. “Well, here he is.”
“Dad, this is my husband, not the man you met at the marina.”
Jeter began creeping his way across the deck, lips pulled back, rumbling louder, and I admonished myself for paying attention to my father instead of the threat at hand. I stepped toward the dog and laid my hand on his head to halt him.
Jess said, “I see no legal search warrant. None of you has any business being here.”
Cam warned, “Dad, better cool it.”
Both sons stepped up closer to their father.
Jess said, “Mr. Fields, leave right now and take these men with you.”
Jess kept his eyes on Parson while he checked in quietly with me. “Are you sure?” Like me, Jess suddenly questioned his knowledge about Daniel.
“I’m sure.” I spoke loudly to overcome the threatening sounds emitting now from Jeter, whose low, menacing rumble had escalated into a loud, aggressive growl.
Parson’s eyes started shifting from Jess’ face to the dog.
“Uh, better grab the dog, lady.”
Jess said, “Mr. Fields, you need to leave our boat now.”
I added, “I can’t control this dog. Only Daniel can do that and he isn’t here.” I lifted my hand from Jeter’s head, and he began to inch his way toward Parson. Parson backed up, one step, two, and the four officers separated themselves from their leader. Jeter bellied across the floor after Parson, growling louder.
“Would never bite anybody, even Parson,” Daniel had said. I hoped he was right. I didn’t want Jeter to hurt anyone. The dog was frightening when he showed his teeth and glared fiery-eyed. Still, I didn’t call Jeter to me.
It was a standoff in slow motion between Jeter and Parson Fields, with incremental moves on both sides. As alarmed as I was, everything else faded to these two forces. Time became a taut line, and I hung on to it. I hoped help would come soon. The four officers stepped back onto their go-fast boats.
Saddler said, “Mom, better call off the dog.”
Jess said, “Parson Fields, leave our boat.”
“Mom,” said Saddler. “The dog.”
“Mah-om,” Cam repeated.
“Mom, these . . . are . . . officers . . . of . . . the . . . law.” Saddler spoke with his eyes on Parson Fields and the four uniformed men.
And Cam repeated, “Officers of the law, Mom.” Both boys sounded afraid.
I had no intention of
calling off Jeter.
“Men, that’s Nick’s dog.” Parson kept his eyes on Jeter. “Nick is on board this boat.”
The four officers were talking quietly together with their heads cocked back, looking upward as a sound came from above.
“Call the dog off, ma’am.” Parson took another two steps backward. “Now,” he commanded. No guns. I was watching that closely; I didn’t want Jeter hurt.
Now the family, too, looked skyward.
“What your men are hearing, Mr. Fields, is response to our call for help.”
Was Jess bluffing? Marine . . . something officers, Daniel had said. Help should arrive from the water, shouldn’t it? Why was everyone looking up?
Then our attention was brought down to the deck with a loud bark from the dog. Jeter had backed Parson Fields to the very edge of the deck. Parson held his own for a moment, then fell overboard backward, arms waving in the air, legs kicking, mouth shouting garbled threats.
Maybe I’d watched too many Wile E. Coyote cartoons with the boys when they were little, but I’d have sworn that Parson spent a long moment paddling the air before the big splash came. Silence then, until his head surfaced and we heard sounds of gasping for breath and floundering beats on the water.
Nell’s surprised laughter curled into the quiet; Libby joined her. “That man forgot to put on his baby suit before he smimmed.”
Our anxiety eased, and we all laughed a bit. Even the go-fast officers.
That was when I remembered this man had recently experienced an aneurism.
I ran to get the lifesaver that hung on the outside cabin wall, but two of the four officers, standing in their own boat, which sat lower in the water, reached down, gripped Parson beneath the arms and pulled him in.
Then the air and water churned wildly. I looked up to see a helicopter hover over the water beside the mangrove hummock. My hair slashed my face, my skirt strangled my knees and all our bags of chips and boxes of crackers flew off tables and whipped around the floor of the deck. From the helicopter a bright circle of light shone down on us. I let go of the lifesaver and went to the edge of the deck to hold Jeter.
