by James Villas
“Just look at the tiny whitecaps. It’s pretty calm out there, and the tide’s out. A Number 3 will just sit, stuck in the sand. Earl taught me that.” She tried and tried to unhook the metal catch for the new weight but couldn’t budge it. “Rats! Here, see if you have more strength than I do.”
After he’d released the catch and secured the new weight, time came for them both to cast. Ella, as expected, didn’t land her rig very far, which made her almost curse, but Edmund sailed his out as if he’d been casting his entire life.
“Well, knock me down!” she exclaimed, reaching over and squeezing his upper arm playfully to feel his muscle. “I thought you said you’d never done any fishing to speak of.”
“They don’t call me Charles Atlas for nothing,” he laughed, handling his reel like a true expert.
“Dad, look, look!” they heard Elizabeth yowl a couple of times farther down the pier as Sal pulled in what looked like a nice-sized fish.
“I’ll be damned,” Edmund proclaimed, noticing the two boys rush over to see what their father had caught. “And we haven’t had a nibble.”
“Honey, that’s the way it goes,” Ella said. “I can remember sitting right on this very pier and watching people reel in dozens while we didn’t have the first bite. Used to make Earl furious—mad as a hornet.”
“You and your husband must have fished a lot together.”
“Yeah, lots. Surf, pier, deep sea—you name it.” She suddenly jerked her line and concentrated for a second, but then reeled in the slack calmly, a look of disappointment in her expression. “And you or your wife neither one ever liked to fish?”
He chuckled. “You couldn’t get Grace near the water. Grace was terrified of water—any water. I recall one summer, when Lizzy was small, we decided to take her down to the Jersey shore so she could see the ocean, but Grace wouldn’t get near the water, much less go in swimming. Then, years later, when we learned about Grace’s illness, I thought a Caribbean cruise might be good for her, but…” He looked solemn for a second, then smiled again. “She was so uncomfortable on the boat that she spent all her time in the cabin and begged to get off in Ft. Lauderdale. We never really analyzed the problem in detail, but I think Grace was simply terrified of drowning.” He paused again. “Can you beat it? Eaten up with cancer and scared of drowning.”
“Maybe she had a bad experience as a child.”
“Well, in any case, what Grace was certainly not frightened of was the tennis court, and I’m here to tell you that that woman could hit a tennis ball like—” All of a sudden, he pulled hard on his line and cried, “Heeey, what do we have here!”
“Snag him!” Ella shrieked, glancing up at the line. “Now, wait a second to see if he’s on.”
When the tip of the rod fluttered, O’Conner pulled again and began reeling steadily as Ella and the two salts at the next bench peered over the railing.
“Goddamn crab,” bellowed the leathery man fishing for flounder.
Edmund continue to reel, but when the crab was about halfway out of the water, it released its hold on the bait and plummeted back down into the ocean.
All Ella and Edmund could do was howl with laughter and listen as Elizabeth screamed mockingly, “Big deal, Dad, big deal!” By the time he’d reeled in the rig, Ella had already secured her rod between her knees, reached for another slimy bloodworm with her scarlet nails, and proceeded to cut the creature in half on the railing with a small knife. “You thread it,” she then directed him, wiping the disgusting blood off her fingers with a small towel she’d brought from the inn.
“Did you and your wife ever do much traveling—besides that unfortunate cruise?” she then asked after he’d cast out again.
“Right much, especially after Lizzy was grown and away at school—Douglas in New Brunswick. You see, Grace always loved the theater and was actually a fairly talented dramatic actress in New York before we got married and Elizabeth came along. Naturally, we used to go into the city whenever there was something special on Broadway or Off Broadway Grace wanted to see, but what she really loved to do whenever I could take off from work for a few days was drive to various cities and towns and attend repertory theater. Frankly, I never really cared that much for plays and musicals, but Grace did, so we traveled everywhere—as far away as Cincinnati and Virginia and even Chicago. Now that I think about it, it seems that when we weren’t playing tennis or involved with some political rally we were usually sitting in some theater soaking up Williams, or O’Neill, or Chekhov. Must say the experience taught me a lot.” He now appeared lost in his own memories. “My one real regret is that I never took Grace to London for the theater. That’s something I know she always wanted to do, but with my practice, and Grace always worrying about Lizzy…And then, of course, it was too late to do anything.”
Ella sat silent listening to his story and staring impassively at the distant whitecaps enlightened by the warm, soft morning sun. Then, without turning her head, she said, “You must have been very much in love with Grace.”
“From the moment we first met at a church social. Yes, I was very much in love with Grace. She was a good woman and a good mother—the best. Believe it or not, I never looked at anyone else. She was that type of woman.”
Ella was seized by a strange quiver as she paid close attention to Edmund’s words, prompted not so much by their touching implications and his candid honesty as by the way they forced her to confront once again certain enigmas in her own soul that had remained unaddressed for so many years.
“I can tell it must have been much the same with you and your husband, Earl,” he then said, reaching for her hand and gripping it tightly.
“Yes, Dr. O’Conner. Earl and I were very close, and he was the most loyal husband and friend and father a wife could ever hope for. Oh, we traveled the world together, and overcame lots of crises and disappointments, and, I think, did a pretty good job bringing up three fine children, and…Lord, we danced our feet off every chance we got. You see, nobody on earth could dance like Earl—no reflection on you, of course. He put his heart and mind into every step, it seemed, and he could dance all night, any style, any step. It all came so naturally to him, and I used to say that Earl had been born with rhythm in his soul, and feathers on his feet, and magic in his fingers. Oh, we danced everywhere—on ocean liners, and Paris ballrooms, once at a little square in Venice, at the club in Charlotte on weekends—but mostly I remember how we danced down here in the Lowcountry. We made quite a couple, if I say so myself.” Her eyes began to mist when she stopped talking, and Edmund couldn’t tell whether she’d continue or not. “But there was a problem, Dr. O’Conner. A big problem.” She hesitated again, as if debating whether to continue. “I’ve never uttered this to another living soul and don’t know why I’m confiding in you at this point in time, but the problem, the honest, shameful truth…the truth is that I was never in love with my husband.” She tried to wipe her eyes with the sleeve of her jacket. “Maybe that’s hard for you to understand, Dr. O’Conner, and I’m not sure I understand it myself, but that’s the way it was.” She finally looked tearfully up at him. “You must think I’m an awful woman.”
He grasped her hand even tighter and waited a long while to reply, obviously puzzled. “I believe I can understand. At least I can try.”
“Please forgive me for being so blunt,” she came close to fully sobbing. “I don’t know what came over me, confessing something like that to you out here on a fishing pier. You must wonder where my manners are.” She wiped her eyes again. “Why aren’t these confounded fish biting?”
“Do you mind if I ask you just one very personal question?” he then said softly.
“Of course not.”
“Were you ever in love with someone else?”
She again held back a moment and could feel her heart thumping rapidly. “Well, as a matter of fact, yes. Oh, yes, I was. Many, many years ago when I was a young lady. Yes, I was very much in love with a boy when I was young, but he die
d, Dr. O’Conner. He died when we both were very young.”
“Do you care to talk about it?”
She sat silent, wondering what to say. “Not much really to talk about. It was so long ago, and we were so young, and, of course, there was the war.”
“So he was killed in the war?”
Ella pretended to reel her line to take up slack and give herself time to think. “No, he was overseas, but he survived that. Were you in the war?”
“Not that one. I missed it by about a year. My war was Korea—two long years.” A downcast expression came over his rosy face. “Not that anybody remembers that war these days.”
“Well, I remember it,” she began, ready to relate how one of Earl’s closest friends was killed in Korea when a sudden pull on Edmund’s line made him jerk the rod back and exclaim, “Wow! What do we have here?”
He waited a moment, as Ella had coached him, and when the tug was even stronger, he began reeling frantically while she cheered him on.
“A blue!” she blurted out even before he’d hauled the big fish all the way in. “I swear if you don’t have a big blue—caught with bloodworm and at this time of year. Just look at that!”
“Watch his teeth!” yelled the man from the next bench, perching his rod on the rail and rushing over. “Them blues’ll take yo damn finger off. Mean as snakes. Here, lemme unhook him for ya.”
By this time, Goldie and the Marianis had noticed all the action and dashed over to gawk and praise.
“Gosh, Paw!” Tommy marveled at his grandfather, watching the gasping fish flop around on the partly rotted planks of the old pier.
Elizabeth, beaming, told Sal to go get the bucket with the spot, but after a short discussion about what, after all, they were going to do with these and any other fish they might catch, Ella suggested they simply give them to the scraggly couple at the next bench, who didn’t hesitate to accept. Then, with everybody’s hopes sparked by O’Conner’s bonanza and the turning tide, the fishing recommenced in earnest, and, in almost no time, Goldie and the boys had snagged a few more spots, while Sal pulled in a good-sized whiting. Ella still didn’t get so much as a nibble, and when Edmund hooked another crab, she said jokingly it served him right.
“I don’t remember when I’ve had so much fun,” he said at one point, placing one arm loosely around her waist. “I hope you realize that getting to know you and Goldie has so far been the highlight of our vacation.”
“Oh, don’t prevaricate, Dr. O’Conner. To tell you the truth, sometimes I worry that we’ve been intruding on your family’s privacy.”
“Nonsense. I’ve never seen the boys have more fun, and, well, Lizzy and Sal are infatuated by you both—as is this old geezer.”
She laughed, invigorated by the tepid salt breeze gently blowing her shaggy cloth hat and relishing the feel of his arm.
“I guess we’re doing okay.”
“I beg your pardon,” he muttered, puzzled.
“We’re doing okay. For our age, I guess we’re both doing okay.”
Now hardly aware of his line in the water, he fixed his eyes squarely on her face. “Old age has nothing to do with anything, except maybe a little loneliness. I truly believe that.”
Ella didn’t react for a long moment, her mouth twitching nervously. “You’re probably right, and I guess I’m just a fool to dwell on something I can’t do one thing about. But the truth is…the truth is I really don’t like being old. Maybe I could accept it better if only I could block out the past. Oh, it’s pretty easy dealing with the little aches and infirmities, and I’ve even learned to adjust to lots of today’s crudeness and sloven ways. But what’s hard, what’s really painful about being old, is remembering when you were young. For years, that didn’t affect me much, but now, at this stage, it does. It does affect me, and I don’t seem to be able to control it.”
He grasped her waist gently. “Remember what I told you about not losing control of anything?”
“But sometimes I do feel so confused and helpless when the past closes in,” she almost sobbed.
“At least you know you don’t have Alzheimer’s,” he quipped.
“I’m serious about this, Dr. O’Conner.”
“So am I. You must have lots of unpleasant memories.”
“That’s not really true, not true at all. I have mostly wonderful memories, and I guess that’s part of my problem—knowing those wonderful times are gone forever. That a way of life is gone forever. Sort of silly and childish, isn’t it? But yes, you’re right, I do also have a few very unpleasant memories that sometimes I wish I could forget—just erase from my mind. As I said, that used to not bother me so much, but lately I seem to dwell on them. Does that ever happen to you?”
O’Conner reflected for a moment. “Not really. An Irish father who drank too much and neglected the family. Being jilted by a special sweetheart in high school. Having to work at a gas station to help put myself through college. Korea. Grace’s long battle with cancer. Sure, I’ve got my share of sour memories, but, you see, Miss Ella, I take a very philosophical approach to it all and try not to dwell on it. I’m certainly no wise man, but I do believe that painful memories—like the good ones—are part of what makes us who we are, and that we must use them to our advantage so long as they don’t take control of us. About the only thing I know lots about in this world is teeth, but I am convinced that if we try to block out all the painful memories of our past, we also run the risk of blocking out the most wonderful parts of our lives. To put it another way, I guess, we diminish our humanity.”
Ella sat deadly still. Then, as if overtaken by an awesome sense of relief, she looked into his eyes. “I must confess I never thought about it in those terms, Dr. O’Conner.”
He pulled her closer to him. “I think you sometimes underestimate yourself.”
Then, with no warning, he leaned forward and kissed her tenderly on the cheek, adding, “Hope you’re not offended by me doing that.”
Although her free hand was partly stained with dry blood from the worms, she wiped her fingers unmindfully over her chin and red lips. “Can I confess something else to you?”
“The last I heard, we still at least have the right to free speech.”
“Well, I’m mortified to admit this, but it just dawned on me…something just dawned on me. I suddenly realize, for the best of me, I can’t remember your first name.”
He broke into a big smile that made the creases next to his nose more pronounced. “Edmund.”
“Of course. Edmund.” She repeated the name in her soft accent. “Now I remember. How silly and thoughtless of me. Do you mind if I call you Edmund?”
His smile became even more pronounced. “I thought you never would.”
Chapter 14
A DISTANT CLAP OF THUNDER
That night, after dinner, Ella and Edmund decided to take a walk on the solitary beach while the Marianis were up roaming around the Pavilion and Goldie was watching a movie on TV. Luminescence from the moon, almost full, gave the strand a slightly eerie glow and the foam on the gently breaking waves a sparkle that seemed to flicker from nowhere, and, if viewed from a distance, the elderly couple, holding hands, would have appeared to be just two young lovebirds on a romantic nocturnal stroll along the sand.
“I think it’s finally catching up with me,” Edmund was saying.
“And what could that be?” Ella asked, waiting for some engaging answer or gesture.
“The fried food,” he moaned.
She hesitated as if disappointed, then laughed. “That can happen.”
“Oh, don’t get me wrong. I love it. The problem is, I love it too much.”
She chuckled again. “Doesn’t faze me, honey, but, then, I’ve been at it my whole life. Maybe your system has to get used to it. Are you upset?”
“No, no, just a little indigestion.” Now he laughed. “Those flounder strips taste almost as good now as they did at dinner. I’ll take a couple of Rolaids later on.”
; “Maybe we should go back.”
“Would you mind? Sorry to be such a rotten date tonight.”
“Oh, don’t be silly,” she said, squeezing his hand. “We have to expect those boring little inconveniences. And besides, I’ve enjoyed every minute of this evening.”
When they reached the wooden stairs that led back up to the inn’s planked terrace, Edmund stopped abruptly, faced her, and looked directly into her eyes.
“Would you consider this old geezer foolish if he said he’d like to kiss you good night?”
Ella stood motionless for a moment as she returned his gaze.
“Why, I’d be honored, Edmund,” she whispered over the murmur of the waves as they lapped faintly but steadily in the distance.
Then, slowly and gently, he kissed her on the lips, sending a shiver through her as she held him tightly and relished a sensation she hadn’t experienced in many years.
“That was nice,” she said calmly, still holding onto him and wondering if he noticed her slight quivering.
“Well, it just confirms what I said about you being a very exciting lady.”
“Thank you, Edmund. And you’re quite a beau yourself,” she sighed. “Now, you better go take care of that edgy tummy.”
When they passed through the lounge and heard the piano music, he wondered out loud whether a brandy might be better than Rolaids, but Ella, now acting more protective than excited, insisted that what he really needed was a good night’s sleep. After leaving him in the elevator, where he pecked her on the cheek, she returned to her room and could hear Goldie’s TV still playing next door. She put on her own set and began nervously changing channels, but when nothing caught her interest, she sat in the comfortable chair without undressing and tried reading more of Tyler’s memoirs. Distracted by what had just occurred with Edmund, however, and not the least bit sleepy, she decided that what she wanted, after all, was a snifter of Grand Marnier. Throwing the light sweater around her shoulders and checking her lipstick and the number of cigarettes in her case, she went back downstairs and was about to take a seat at a small table when, realizing how nice it would be to sit outside in a rocker, she asked the waiter to bring her cordial to the porch.
