Night Swimming

by Laura Moore

“Yes,” Anne agreed, chuckling. “Almost as much as he loves that granddaughter of yours.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The lab was nearly silent. The banks of florescent lights gave off a muted hum, a white noise that reinforced the overall quiet. Eyes glued to her computer screen, Lily was mapping the areas where she and John had collected samples into the program. She was utterly absorbed in her task, satisfied, too. They’d made good progress, as exemplified by the advancing block of Xs and color-coded dots, demarcating where they’d taken the water and core samples, temperature and sediment readings from each transect.

  At the loud, shrill ring, she started, looking around wildly. Then she saw the alarm clock, the Post-it notes, and remembered. Knowing her tendency to get lost in her work, she’d stuck the bright yellow squares everywhere— on her notebook, on the test tubes, on her computer, on the top of the clock itself—with May Ellen! scrawled in bold letters. She was due at her grandmother’s in twenty minutes.

  The blasted thing was still ringing. “Okay already!” she muttered in exasperation, as she grabbed it and turned it off. Silence descended once more.

  “What’s with the alarm clock?”

  Lily spun around with a gasp, her hand to her throat. John was sitting at his station by the window, a row of test tubes aligned before him.

  “God, you startled me!” She gave a shaky laugh. John had been working so quietly, she’d forgotten his existence. “You’re still here?”

  “Yeah. What’s with that?” he asked with a nod at the clock in her hand.

  Lily felt her cheeks warm. “I’ve got to go see my grandmother. I set it so I wouldn’t be late,” she admitted, then glanced at him curiously. “I’m, uh, surprised you’re working this late.”

  A lot had been surprising about John these past couple of days. He’d been unusually cooperative aboard the Tangiers, his demeanor atypically inoffensive, as well.

  “Yeah, I’ve got to finish putting the labels on these core samples. We’re sending this batch off to the center tomorrow, right?”

  “Yes.” Lily nodded. “I’m sorry, I didn’t notice you were still here. I’d have lent a hand.”

  “That’s okay,” he said with a shrug. “I’m almost done. It won’t take too much longer.”

  She felt her jaw drop to the floor. John working late? Maybe the lecture Simone had delivered to him before their departure had done the trick. She would have to tell Simone about the new improved John Granger when she called her tomorrow. “Wow. This shows real dedication, John.”

  “Some of us have to take this project seriously.”

  “What do you mean by that? Oh,” she said, as understanding dawned. “You’re referring to Karen.”

  “ ’Course I’m talking about Karen,” John drawled sarcastically. “What does she think this job is? Some kind of Club Med vacation? She’s supposed to be working! But what does she do instead? Drives off with Cullen to another dive site, twenty miles south of here.”

  John actually sounded more jealous than anything. Lily frowned, bewildered. “But John, didn’t she ask you to go to the movies with her?” she pointed out reasonably. “You turned her down, said you already had plans. That was when Dave asked her whether she wanted to explore this site.”

  “Yeah, well, if I’d said yes, Karen would have dragged me to some boring chick flick,” John said sulkily.

  John Granger’s new, improved character had just taken a nose-dive, Lily thought. She hoped he’d get over his fit of pique soon, because Dave Cullen gave all the signs of being quite taken with Karen. Cullen had dived with the research team both yesterday and today.

  Unlike John, Lily had no problem with Karen and Dave’s blossoming friendship. She much preferred having Dave aboard the Tangiers than dealing with Sean’s unsettling presence . . . once she got past the sharp pang of regret. It was far easier to concentrate on the study without Sean there to muddle her mind. Really, the only reason she wanted to see Sean McDermott was to vent her frustration about this darned Career Day talk he’d managed to rope her into . . . which was probably why he was avoiding her so assiduously.

  With a sigh, she directed her thoughts away from Sean and looked at the clock cradled in her hands. She had fifteen minutes to get to Granny May’s. If she drove fast, she could make it to Laguna in seven minutes.

  “Look, John,” she said. “Why don’t I give you a hand with these labels? As you said, you’ve got plans. If we work together, we’ll be finished in ten minutes. Then we can lock up and call it a night.”

  John picked up his thin black marker. “That’s all right,” he said, and shook his head resolutely. “You go ahead and visit with your gran.”

  “Well, if you’re sure.”

  Lily looked over her work area to verify that the samples she’d processed were neatly arranged. She slipped her notebook inside her shoulder bag and zipped her laptop into its carrying case. With a final glance around the small lab to ensure she hadn’t forgotten anything, Lily picked up her bags.

  “Thanks for locking up, John,” she said, by way of reminder.

  “No problemo. You can count on me.”

  “Right. Well, I’ll see you in the morning, then.”

  “Don’t forget to say hi to your gran for me,” he said with a condescending smirk.

  The smirk was classic Granger. Lily felt a rush of relief as she closed the door behind her. John was definitely reverting to type: one hundred percent obnoxious. Thank God for that—she didn’t want to have to start liking him.

  “Hello, Lily, darling. Come in. I’d just picked up the phone to call Anne when you rang the doorbell. I’d better do it now, otherwise I’ll clean forget what it was I wanted to say to her,” her grandmother confessed with a bright smile. “Just go on into the kitchen, dear. I have a lovely Pinot Grigio in the refrigerator. Or, if you want something a bit stronger . . .”

  “No, wine would be perfect, Granny May.”

  “Good. Pour a glass for me, too. Why don’t we sit out on the porch. The sun will be setting soon.”

  She had just placed two wineglasses on the wicker coffee table when May Ellen joined her. “Well, I’m glad I got that accomplished. Anne and I were double-checking the invitation list for the party we’re throwing.” She sat down on the chintz-upholstered settee and patted the cushion beside her. “Come sit by me. You can see the sky so much better.” She reached for the wineglasses, holding one out to Lily. “Mmm, isn’t that delicious?”

  “Yes, absolutely,” Lily agreed.

  “Oh, look at that beautiful shade of pink! See, below the clouds there? It reminds me of raspberry sherbet.” She gave Lily’s hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m delighted you’re here to share this time of day with me. Sometimes sunsets can be so lonely,” May Ellen finished with a quiet sigh.

  Lily glanced at her grandmother in surprise. Granny May was more socially active than most people half her age. But then she considered her grandmother’s words, remembering the countless times she herself had sat on a beach at sunset, watching the last fiery rays dip beneath the silvered sea, and feeling an empty ache spread inside her that there was no one special with whom she could share the moment. “Yes, they can be,” she agreed quietly. “I’m very happy to be here, too, Granny.”

  She reached out and laid her hand over her grandmother’s.

  Her grandmother’s lined face lifted in a gentle smile. “How maudlin we must sound! Which is ridiculous, because I’m beside myself with joy that you’re home—even if it’s only for a short while. Your homecoming has brought so many memories of you as a young girl. You were such a lovely girl, Lily.”

  “Granny!” Lily cried in protest. “I was awful, and horrible-looking, too!”

  “Nonsense, you just felt that way because you were miserable,” May Ellen replied stoutly. “But that was your mother’s fault . . . and mine too, for not stopping Kaye.”

  Lily swallowed the hard lump in her throat. “Granny, that’s all in the past—”

&nbs
p; “I could kick myself every time I think of it,” May continued, as if Lily hadn’t spoken. “Kaye was head-strong and spoiled, and so very unhappy—especially when she and your father split up. And because I was worried sick about her, I stupidly kept my own counsel. I’m sorry about that. I realized too late that you were hurting more than any of us. I have a feeling your mother has some deep regrets about the past.”

  “I don’t—”

  “I understand, you don’t want to talk about it. But, Lily, I want you to know that Kaye’s changed since she and Scott married. I think she’s finally grown up. Scott’s done wonders for her. You might be surprised when you see her next.”

  That wouldn’t happen anytime soon, Lily thought. Over the years, she had come to realize that she and her mother got along best when they were about a thousand miles apart. She held her tongue, however, unwilling to spoil the evening.

  Perhaps sensing her mood, her grandmother patted her knee and said, “Now, tell me how your reef study is coming along.”

  “So far, so good,” Lily replied, grateful for the switch in topic. “We’ve been collecting lots of samples. The corals that we’ve looked at show few signs of damage or disease. The reef seems to be quite healthy. We were out on zone three today. There were some good-sized schools of mackerel and jacks. I even spied a couple of barracuda.”

  “How thrilling. That’s so good to hear. Your grand-father and I loved exploring that reef when we first married. Are you almost finished?”

  “We covered the northern portion so far. There’s still quite a bit of work ahead of us.”

  “Oh.” May Ellen was silent for a moment. “Well, I hope the storm system that’s coming this way won’t cause too much delay.”

  Lily had forgotten May Ellen was a Weather Channel junkie. If the Weather Channel ever decided to hire grandmothers as forecasters, May Ellen would be a shoe-in for the job. “Storm system?” she parroted.

  “Oh, yes. It’s the season.” Her grandmother nodded happily. “Should be a messy one, too. Heavy rain, with potential thunderstorms . . . pretty much a typical fall weather disturbance. Ryan Jeffries—I only tune into him, those others wouldn’t know an occluded front from their derriere—” May Ellen pressed a hand to her lips and turned bright pink with embarrassment. Clearing her throat delicately, she continued, “Ryan says the rain should begin tomorrow or the next day, then sit on the coast. I already canceled my hair appointment—” She broke off at the sound of the doorbell chiming. “Oh! That must be Lloyd,” she said, jumping to her feet. “I’d forgotten all about him.”

  “Lloyd?” Automatically, Lily rose as well.

  “Lloyd Gans, my internist. He promised he’d drop by with the results of my exam.”

  “Your doctor makes house calls?” Lily asked incredulously, as she followed May Ellen.

  “I used to baby-sit Lloyd. I can still remember how bad those poopy diapers smelled. Of course he’d make a house call for me! I find doctors’ offices terribly depressing.”

  A doctor who made house calls? In the twenty-first century? Fascinated, Lily trailed after her grandmother.

  This had to be the most unconventional doctor’s visit in history. Dr. Lloyd Gans, comfortably ensconced on the sofa, was happily drinking his wine while he systematically devoured rounds of Brie and chutney on toast and mini mushroom quiches. Seated next to him, Lily studied him covertly, trying to match this hearty, silvermaned, sixty-year-old doctor with Granny May’s description of him as a smelly-diapered toddler. It defied imagination. Giving up, Lily concentrated on her wine.

  Dr. Gans’s bedside manner was novel, too. Ignoring May Ellen, he focused exclusively on emptying the hors d’oeuvres tray and on quizzing Lily with questions about Coral Beach’s reef study. Twenty minutes later, Lily knew Lloyd Gans was an avid scuba diver, was quite familiar with many of the sites Lily had researched, and that he’d even read her book on coral reef ecology.

  On the topic of her grandmother’s health, however, he remained surprisingly mute. It took May Ellen a number of prompts before he abandoned his description of a recent dive in Belize and addressed the issue of her health.

  “You should be quite pleased with your lab tests, May Ellen. Your numbers are excellent for someone your age.” With that, he rattled off May Ellen’s blood pressure and cholesterol count, a proud smile on his face, as though this were a professional triumph.

  Strangely enough, her grandmother seemed less than delighted at the news. Then, as if realizing how odd her reaction appeared, May Ellen added hurriedly, “That’s such a relief, Lloyd. Because you know how worried I’ve been about the dizzy spells I keep having.”

  “Oh!” Dr. Gans’s silver brows beetled together. “Oh, yes!” He cleared his throat importantly. “Your dizzy spells. I’m sure they’re nothing serious, May Ellen, but I want you to stay away from that stepladder. And no heavy lifting.”

  “But, Lloyd, I was planning on moving these pictures this week!” May exclaimed, gesturing about her. The papered walls of the living room were almost hidden, covered with framed artwork, large and small.

  “You were planning on moving all these, by yourself?” Lily asked. She set her wineglass down with a clink. Maybe she’d had too much to drink.

  “Why, yes, I consulted an interior decorator, Angelo Barbieri. He’s very successful. He told me it’s a wonderful way to give a room a fresh look. I want to switch all the art in the dining room, the den, and the guest bedroom in time for this party. Did I mention Anne’s wonderful idea, Lily? She suggested we make it a dual celebration, a combined homecoming and birthday party. Won’t that be fun?”

  “But, Granny, I don’t need a home—”

  “You most certainly do,” May Ellen interrupted in a tone of voice that brooked no resistance. “There are countless people who are dying to see you, and I can’t think of a better time to celebrate my seventieth birthday. After all, you might be on the other side of the world when my actual birthday rolls around,” she reminded Lily, making her feel about two inches tall. “I hope you’ll come, Lloyd. We sent out the invitations today.”

  “I’d be delighted, May. Thank you. However, it’s absolutely out of the question for you to move even one of these pictures by yourself.”

  A woeful expression settled over her grandmother’s features. “It’s so difficult to be old and alone,” she said with a sigh. “You remember my grandsons, Mike and Ned, don’t you, Lloyd? They’ve moved away and are busy with their lives. I don’t want to be a burden, make them drop what they’re doing and drive all this way, simply to spend an afternoon moving pictures for me. Kaye’s still on her cruise—I can’t recall when she’s due back, but I’m sure it won’t be in time to help me.” With a visible effort, she brightened. “I suppose I can ask Sean, Anne’s grandson. He’s always been such a help.”

  And what am I, Lily wondered, chopped liver? Her grandmother had named her entire family as possible support, but not her. Bringing up Sean was the last straw.

  “I’ll do it for you, Granny May.”

  “Oh, no, Lily! I couldn’t ask that of you. You’ve got the study to complete—though if this storm comes, I’m not sure how much work you’ll be getting done. Have you listened to the forecast, Lloyd?” she inquired, but then continued before Lloyd Gans could reply. “No,” she repeated with a decided shake of her head. “Sean can move them for me. I’ll telephone him—”

  “Really, Granny,” Lily insisted. “I’m more than happy to hang your pictures.” All fifty of them. But it could have been a hundred, and still she’d do it.

  It bothered her profoundly that it was Sean to whom her grandmother instinctively turned. Maybe she has to, since you haven’t bothered to come home, an inner voice reminded her pointedly. Well, she was home now, and it was she who’d rehang every etching, print, and Homeresque watercolor in her grandmother’s possession.

  “Well, if you insist, Lily, dearest,” May Ellen capitulated with a radiant smile. “Why don’t you come the day after
tomorrow?”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  What could make a horde of bored teenagers sit up and pay attention? Lily asked herself for the hundredth time. Ever since Sean had maneuvered her into speaking at their old high school, Lily had gone about her work with one part of her brain worrying over the question.

  No solution satisfied her.

  Inspiration came from an unexpected source.

  In Lily’s case, creative genius wore tie-dye and multiple body piercings.

  It was later in the evening and Karen, unable to find anything sufficiently entertaining on TV, had asked Lily if she could use her computer to look at some pictures she’d posted on her Web site.

  With a nod to her laptop, Lily said, “Go ahead,” and returned to reading the proofs of an article she’d written on the current debate over artificial reefs. The article would be published in the upcoming issue of Scientific American.

  Karen sat down beside her and booted up the computer. A few minutes later, a flash of vibrant colors had Lily glancing sideways, curious to see what Karen had pulled up. The corrections Lily was working on, indeed, her entire article, were forgotten as she gazed at the image of a moon jellyfish.

  Round and nearly transparent, except for traces of blue and purple, the jellyfish floated in front of a large elkhorn coral. The branches of the coral were visible through the body of the jellyfish. The photo had the quality of a wonderful abstract painting, and yet, all the elements remained immediately identifiable.

  Lily scooted her chair closer to Karen. “God, that’s beautiful.”

  Karen grinned, her eyes fixed on the screen. “Thanks. You really like it?”

  “It’s incredible. How’d you manage to stay still for that shot?” The thread-thin lines delineating the jellyfish were incredibly sharp—no blur to betray the tremor of an unsteady lens.

  “That was the trickiest part. I was super lucky. There was a patch of sand just in front of the elkhorn. I sat down cross-legged and held the camera tight against me. The hardest part was remembering to breathe.”