Night Swimming

by Robin Schwarz

  “What is it?” Dolly asked.

  Blossom, not wanting to be rude, simply said, “Nothing.”

  “What?” Dolly asked again. She knew Blossom well enough to know a look when she saw one. And this was a look.

  “The soup...it’s cold. That’s all.”

  Dolly laughed. “It’s supposed to be cold. It’s vichyssoise, darling.”

  “Oh,” Blossom blushed.

  “So?” Dolly asked.

  “So what?”

  “Are you ready for that second opinion yet?” Dolly was a pitbull when it came to follow-through.

  “No. I am doing perfectly well without any doctors intervening.”

  “Yeah? Was that before you called me this morning to inform me that you had only twenty minutes left to live?”

  “I panicked.”

  “No,” Dolly said sarcastically.

  “I think I can beat this thing on my own.”

  “Number one, you don’t even know what thing this is that you’re talking about, and number two, western medicine has been known to do a few positive things, Blossom. It’s not such a crazy idea.”

  “No, it’s not, but I want to wait.”

  Dolly sighed.

  “Except for that awful headache this morning, I’ve been feeling good, really good. I’ve even wondered about the possibility of beating this thing and living. What if I live? I’ve made all my short-term plans for death, but I’ve made no long-term plans for living.”

  “Yeah, that would really screw things up.”

  “I’m serious, Dolly.”

  “You will do the exact same thing as you’ve been doing. Live your life ‘as if ’ because it’s rich and wonderful right now. I believe dying helps people live well. It helps you see what’s important. The truth is, we’re all going to die someday, so we should treat every day ‘as if.’ My husband’s death did that for me at first. Now my own mortality does it.”

  “It’s so funny you should say that, Dolly. I’ve thought that myself. When I initially heard my diagnosis, it was the first time I was motivated to act. For fifteen years I was eating bonbons and watching Magnum, PI reruns. Suddenly, I saw my own end and decided to change everything. I decided to live for the moment because the moment was all I had.”

  “And that’s how we should live. We won’t be here forever, so we must laugh and love as much as we can now. Especially love.” Dolly paused. “So how’s Skip?”

  “Good. We went sailing a couple of days ago.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yup.”

  “Are you still mad for him?”

  “Coming back from Las Vegas forced a shift in me. I got scared. I let go of things that weren’t helping me be okay. And one of those things was this crazy desire for Skip. Let’s just say I’m not as Adele

  H. about him anymore.” Dolly laughed. “And that’s allowing us to develop this really nice friendship. The

  other thing, call it obsession or crush or whatever, isn’t lurking in the corner waiting to pounce. Our relationship just is now.”

  Dolly hadn’t heard Blossom sound so self-possessed since she’d returned from Nevada. She could see her friend growing more confident. She took her hand.

  “That’s good. That’s so good.”

  “Dolly, you know all those books you have in your library?”

  “Yes. They were Mr. Feingold’s. Now they sit around and collect

  dust mostly.”

  “I was just wondering if I could borrow a few. I’d like to expand my reading list beyond People. I’ve never really read poetry or some of those other authors you have in there. I’ve heard of them but never read them.”

  “Oh, sure, darling, take whatever you like. Better somebody read them than they just sit around for posterity. Mr. Feingold would have liked someone reading his books.”

  “Thanks, Dolly. I’ll take a few today, if that’s okay.”

  “Perfectly.”

  “Oh, by the way, you know what Skip and I are doing on Saturday?”

  “What?”

  “Hot-air ballooning. Wanna come?”

  “Uhhhh...”

  “Oh, come on, Dolly. It’ll be fun. Please come.”

  “You better check with Skip and make sure it’s okay with him first.”

  “It’s fine. Just come. Please, Dolly?”

  “What the heck,” she said, “it’s good to have your head in the clouds once in a while, I suppose.”

  CHAPTER 51

  MAKLEY HAD BEEN BACK AND FORTH from Gorham to L.A. so many times, he earned a free trip with his miles. He was now leaving California once again after coming up empty. No one had called him about the pictures he’d plastered on telephone poles and left on windshields. His calls to Realtors resulted in dead ends, and many did not even return his calls. Frustrated, he flew back to New Hampshire to talk to some of Charlotte’s friends and acquaintances.

  His personal investment in apprehending Charlotte had become more than the two million dollars she had stolen. Hell, the money didn’t even belong to the bank. No, it was emotional with Makley now. How could a 250-pound woman, a simple, small-time bank manager with no worldly experience, have eluded his grasp? His father had always figured it out. His father would have figured this out already, no doubt. Makley would, too. After all, he was his father’s son, was he not? He reviewed the notes he had accumulated over the past several months, and studied them judiciously:

  Sally Adams Baxter—Enjoyed Charlotte quite a bit. Especially during the Christmas drive. Charlotte would make sure every needy child had a toy. Even if she had to take money from her own pocket, which she did on several occasions.

  Jean Anderson—Charlotte is kind, warm, and giving. Helped find my kids summer jobs. Even let Sam work at the bank between semesters at college.

  Lynn Robinson—Charlotte helped stuff envelopes to reelect Josh Connelly.

  Mary Alice Babson—Charlotte helped run the food drive for the coalition for the homeless. Walked from door to door collecting canned goods.

  Connie Pardee—There isn’t a nicer person in Gorham, or New Hampshire for that matter. Just stop looking for her already. If she’s alive, let her be, for God’s sakes. (This interview was stopped because Mrs. Pardee was getting more and more agitated with Officer Hobbs.)

  Stan and Happy Turner—She shoveled us out from two blizzards. And brought over food and firewood for our stove.

  Evie Schwarz—Charlotte brought my dog to the vet when I couldn’t bear to put him down. It had to be done. There was no one more gentle I would have entrusted him with. I couldn’t go in—I had to sit in the car. She stayed with me till eleven that night.

  Grace Poole—Very nice.

  Jane Clay Marchhill—She loaned my cousin money after he got out of jail when no one else would. I just want to say Cal didn’t try to kill his wife. The gun misfired in the kitchen.

  *Makley, just a note about this interview. Cal Vincent Clay runs a gun shop in Claremont. Something to watch.

  Dottie Spencer—Charlotte brought food over when I broke my leg on the icy steps. And stayed to make me dinner on many occasions.

  Lisa Bilfuco (known among her friends as Lisa Bifocals as she was vision impaired)—Charlotte always took me to the eye doctor when I needed drops, and waited to drive me home. She’s the only person who didn’t call me Bifocals, which I appreciated. I know who my friends are. I’m not blind!

  Ellie Leger—Doesn’t know Charlotte well, but said she seemed very nice. She knows people that know her, and they like her.

  Cassie Winthrop—Charlotte has the bank sponsor the 10-mile walk to raise money for Cystic Fibrosis. She walked herself every year even though it’s hard on her being a very large woman.

  Ellie Leger—A lovely woman that Charlotte was. Always to be counted on and brought the best manicotti to every Auxiliary meeting. We miss her. We also miss her manicotti.

  Honey Withrop—Charlotte had such a great sense of humor. She always said if I had married Soph
ia Bea’s husband my name would be Honey Bea. She said it would have been worth it just for the name alone.

  MaryAnn Barzini—See separate notebook.

  Makley put the notes away.

  Hobbs’s regard for Charlotte had deepened. He wished he had known her before she was placed on the FBI’s most-wanted list. Makley warned Hobbs not to go soft on him. “She’s still a felon.”

  “Allegedly,” Hobbs reminded Makley.

  “Let’s call MaryAnn Barzini one more time.”

  “Again?” Hobbs asked.

  “Yeah, she’s our best shot. Maybe there’s some question we haven’t asked. Maybe there’s some detail she forgot to share.”

  “I don’t know, Chief. She’s practically given us her blood type.”

  “Yeah, well, then get her blood type, but call her in.”

  “And ask her what?”

  “I don’t know.” Makley was agitated. “Ask her if Charlotte had any hobbies, if she was superstitious, if she ever had a secret lover.”

  “I’ve asked those questions, Chief.”

  “Well, ask them again.”

  “Okay. Okay.”

  “Anymore news on Kelly?”

  “Jeez, I almost forgot to tell you, being all wrapped up with Charlotte. I got a call this morning. It seems the FBI has tracked Kelly’s brother-in-law to a ring of gamblers that have been laundering money. The suspicion is that Kelly has let him keep his stash in the bank every now and then until he could move it.”

  “Unbelievable. I knew something was rotten in Denmark when we had two million in this bank. Where do we get off with that kind of cash? Certainly not from the 7-Eleven, not from the Ladies’ Auxiliary bake sales, not from the food mart over at the Cash & Carry. I can just see it now,” Makley laughed, and his voice went up into a high pitch, “Oh, Ms. Turner, could you deposit eight hundred thousand for me today? You can’t believe how many chickens we sold this week. Heck, we have back orders on rotisserie chickens till 2008. Women are fighting to get the last chicken. It’s gotten ugly down here at the Cash & Carry. We may have to get backup, bring in the heavy artillery, particularly for the poultry section.” He laughed again, even harder.

  “Now the Banking Commission is placing a temporary halt to all of Kelly’s doings as president till this mess is cleaned up,” Hobbs continued. “He might be doing jail time.”

  “Ouch. He must be madder than a junkyard dog.”

  “He’s mad, all right.”

  “Well, we’ll have to see what they turn up. Meanwhile, call the Barzinis again. Maybe there’s some stone left unturned. MaryAnn worked at the bank. Find out what she knows.”

  And so Hobbs called the Barzinis again.

  “Mrs. Barzini? This is Officer Hobbs from the Gorham Police Department. I’m sorry to bother you again. I just need to ask you a few more questions regarding Charlotte Clapp.”

  He leaned back in his leatherette chair, poised to take more notes. MaryAnn was always ready to talk about Charlotte Clapp and never seemed to run out of things to say.

  CHAPTER 52

  AT THE LAST MINUTE, Skip had to cancel the balloon trip. He had been all set to go, but something had come up.

  “That’s okay,” Dolly said, “I have some errands to run anyway.”

  “What do you mean?” Blossom exclaimed, “Oh, no. We’re going, Dolly.” “But wasn’t the whole idea to go with Skip?” “No, the whole idea was to go hot-air ballooning. And I’m as

  happy to do it with you as I was to do it with all three of us.”

  Dolly could see more clearly than ever that Blossom’s obsession had truly changed into something far more realistic. But she was still curious, and tested Blossom’s resolve.

  “Are you sure, Blossom? I mean, you would certainly have more fun with Skip than with this old fart.”

  “First of all, you’re not exactly what I’d call an old fart, Dolly, and second, yes, I’m sure. It would have been wonderful to have Skip come along, but I feel worse for him than I do for us. Look what he’s going to miss!”

  “You could have made it for a different time.”

  “Nah, I was already psyched. I think he was a little disappointed, though.”

  That confirmed it: Her friend had truly blossomed. And for a split second, Dolly could actually envision Skip and Blossom together.

  Two hours north of Los Angeles they passed a sign: Hot Air Balloon Rides, one mile. When they arrived, their balloon was just being filled with propane. It was strange to see these enormous swaths of silver cloth lying on the ground like a great gray elephant trying to stand up. The pilot asked if they wished to help, and both volunteered like excited schoolchildren.

  Holding the edges of the balloon, they could see its lungs taking in more life. They laughed as this playful monster tugged them first one way, then another, until the balloon finally lifted up off the ground and swelled like a glorious chef’s hat above their heads.

  “Ready, ladies?” the pilot asked.

  At that moment a pickup came careening down the dirt road toward their launch pad. It skidded to a halt, and Skip came charging out, armed with champagne and glasses.

  Something occurred to Blossom at that moment: When Skip had canceled, she had told him she’d be going anyway. And now here he was, after all. Was this that little dance of intimacy that men and women do? She certainly hadn’t done it on purpose, but she found it quite amusing that he had shown up. Did he sense that it didn’t seem to matter to her? Men!

  “I postponed the business I needed to deal with regarding the damn divorce. When I thought about missing this, I said to myself, ‘What, are you crazy?’ So here I am.”

  Dolly was delighted, while Blossom simply smiled and made room for Skip as he slipped over the edge of the basket.

  “Expecting anyone else?” the pilot inquired.

  “Nope. Up, up, and away,” Dolly declared.

  “Wait, wait,” Skip insisted, pulling out a camera. “I have to get a shot of this.” And so he took a picture of Dolly and Blossom, standing in the basket rosy cheeked and ready like a couple of perfectly picked apples.

  They went, higher and higher, until they were floating over the ragged hills and plains of Antelope Valley. Skip broke out the champagne and poured it into each glass. Blossom watched the bubbles float up in a giggle of effervescence. She felt a rush of clarity and happiness.

  “Look!” Skip said, pointing to a bicycle race below. Wending its way along the road was a long kaleidoscope of color. The riders were dressed in bright neon blues and roaring reds, hot yellows, and fiery oranges. They lit the course as if throwing sparks off the backs of their wheels. The happy balloonists watched as hundreds made their way toward an underpass only to disappear beneath the belly of the bridge. From up in the sky, Blossom thought they looked like so many marbles spilling into a child’s dark jar.

  “What do you think?” the pilot asked.

  “It’s amazing. And you know what else is amazing? I have a fear of flying.”

  “You do?” all inquired, surprised by Blossom’s confession.

  “Wow! It took some gazumbas to try this,” Skip said.

  “Maybe, but I had to. It was on my list.”

  Blossom settled back to revel in this new sensation, which was truly glorious but strangely familiar. It felt like...like...And suddenly, she knew: She felt as if she were swimming in the endlessly blue sky that lay before her like a celestial pool. Back and forth they went, back and forth. It was as close to heaven as Blossom had ever felt.

  CHAPTER 53

  THE WATER WAS WARMER than usual when Blossom lowered herself into it and began her nightly meditation. She wondered when she would know it was time to say good-bye. Every time she didn’t feel well, she worried it was the beginning of the small breakdowns her body would begin to suffer. All terminal illnesses started with a first twinge of something. Hadn’t her mother’s? Stay positive was the mantra she tried to reiterate in her head. Stay with the hope of beating it. Because
I can, because I can, because I can...

  Whom would she be leaving behind? Not only Skip and Dolly, but all the others... People and places flashed like electric memories, reconnecting her to the past. The townspeople of Gorham might have said good-bye to her months ago, but she hadn’t said her final good-byes to anyone yet in her own mind.

  MaryAnn, standing at the altar with Tom, making her vows under the flowery canopy. There had been three hundred people fanning themselves on that hot, sunny June afternoon, to witness their nuptials. And during it all, Charlotte’s heart was breaking into tiny pieces like a fragile porcelain plate dropped without care to the floor. She held her own, repressed the tears, flashed the obligatory smiles, as if she’d built a dam around herself.

  Now, under the pull of the moon, she drew hard with every stroke, forgiving them both. She forgave MaryAnn for Tom, and she forgave Tom for his own betrayals. She needed to forgive them as much as she needed to forgive herself. She had conjured up so much anger toward them for so long, it exhausted her. The amount of energy she had expended could light up whole cities.

  She had to forgive in order to go on. If she didn’t, she would die with anger and regret. And that was far too high a price to pay. She relinquished both MaryAnn and Tom from the hurt that bound her to them, and whispered a long-awaited good-bye with every new breath she took. And in the close and tender night, she recited a little eulogy to the friendship they once had:

  Go now, MaryAnn. I cannot bear to be held down by the sadness anymore. We were once good friends, you and I. I choose to remember only our youth, our age of innocence. I forgive you for what happened and, by doing so, free myself from anger. I am tired of anger. So very, very tired, so I’m letting go, MaryAnn, letting go and making more room for love.

  She apologized for stealing the money, which she knew was wrong. It had been a moment when the lines between reality and fantasy blurred, when sanity and craziness merged. She did it, and now in the waters that seemed to cleanse her conscience, she forgave herself. She forgave herself for that fateful night with Trevor James. She wished she could turn back time and have it all end differently, but the simple act of forgiveness removed the armor that had been welded to her body for years. She became more buoyant as she forgave.