by Unknown
“It’s a wedding ring, Alex. I don’t need a wedding ring.”
The vendor said, “You can buy it for good luck. Everyone needs good luck.”
“But it’s not a good luck ring.”
Alex looked closer at it. “Maybe it is, Mama. I have my rabbit’s foot. You can have a ring.”
Catherine took the gold ring off, and examined the inside of it. There was some kind of hallmark, followed by numbers that were too small to make out. She put it back on the velvet cloth and looked at the others, but her attention kept coming back to the Irish ring. “Can I ask you where you got it?’
The vendor shrugged. “In an estate sale. The guy who died was an Irish immigrant. A fisherman. He apparently found it in a large cod caught off the coast of Ireland.”
“In a fish?”
“That’s what the seller said.”
“Strange.”
Alex screwed up her face in distaste. “Ooo. The fish ate it? Does it still smell?”
Catherine laughed and put the ring up to Alex’s nose.
“It doesn’t,” said Alex, wide-eyed.
Catherine said, “It’s a beautiful ring. How much is it?”
“One hundred and fifty dollars. You won’t find another one like it. It’s a genuine antique. You’re lucky, it already fits. You won’t have to have it sized.”
Richard turned to Catherine. “Do you need another ring?”
She hated when he used that tone. As if she were a child. It was her own fault. She shouldn’t have asked for his opinion. She glanced down at her finger again. “I’ll take it.”
The vendor got a small paper bag from under the table, but Catherine had already slipped the ring on. “It’s okay. I’ll wear it.” She figured she could use some luck.
FOUR
The skies turned black and the sea below swelled. Towering waves thrashed the wooden deck of the old sailing ship. Catherine could see the mast falling, splintering in the gales. She glanced around, desperate to find him, but he was nowhere to be found. Where was he? Only moments before, they’d been in each other’s arms, and now she had no idea where he was. He should’ve been up on deck. Her wet white dress clung to her skin, and her boots slipped on the waterlogged boards as she tried in vain to battle the wind that hurled her against the rails. Maybe he’d gone below to look for her. Then a rat ran by. A big, ugly grey rat. What was a rat doing here when all hell was breaking loose?
Shivering, she turned back. She was almost at the top of the galley stairs when someone hollered through the din of the tempest. She looked back to see an old man slide towards her. His soaked white beard and hair framed a face lined with fear, and he held on to some rigging to steady himself. Their fingers touched and he tried to grab her, but she slipped away before he could get a good hold.
He extended his hand again. “Come, lass,” he yelled.“Ye cannot stay here.”
His weathered hand grasped her wrist and pulled. The seas continued to rage. A giant bird flew in and out of the dark clouds, trying to find an opening. A massive wave rose over the ship, crashed down, and sent her and the old man flying to the other side of the vessel. When she raised herself, the old man was gone. He had disappeared in the torrent.
She wailed, “Oh, God! No!”
“Mama, Mama. Wake up. Wake up.”
She held the rope tightly, while the rolling ship threw her in all directions.
Someone was shaking her. Was it the old man, or was it the wind? No, it couldn’t be him. He’d vanished in the storm.
“Mama, wake up. You’re having a nightmare.”
The sea departed quickly as if someone was chasing it.
“Mama, are you okay?”
Catherine opened her eyes. Alex was sitting beside her, her blue eyes rimmed with concern. It took a moment for Catherine to realize she was in Richard’s guest room. Her sheets were twisted around her thighs, and she kicked her legs to untangle herself. She had survived.
~~~
Catherine was setting the table in Richard’s breakfast nook when she stopped to marvel at the rock formations and peach trees in bloom in Central Park.
“I’ve always loved this view,” she said to Richard, who was masterfully flipping pancakes at the stove. “Anything else I can do?”
“There’s some maple syrup in the fridge. Do you want me to sprinkle some blueberries on yours?”
“Sure, sounds good.” As she watched him at the griddle, she had to admit she missed his cooking. He was damn good at it. She took the syrup off the refrigerator shelf and upon closing the door, she noticed a photo on it of Alex at two, just before everything went haywire. Richard was grinning from ear to ear as he held his daughter on a swing.
“Are you going to do it?” said Richard, transferring the pancakes to a warming plate.
“What?”
“The dive for National Geographic.”
“I haven’t decided yet, but I’m leaning that way.”
Richard poured more batter on the griddle. “Before you do, maybe you should see someone. I promise not to interfere this time.”
Surprised, she looked at him. He was admitting he’d been out of line.
Richard turned to her. “Well, what do you think?”
“Richard, I don’t need a shrink for this.”
“I understand, but…” He hesitated. “You had a hell of a time last night.”
“Did Alex tell you?”
He shook his head. “You were pretty loud. It reminded me of what you went through after your last dive.”
Catherine’s jaw tightened. “This was different.”
He ladled more batter on the grill. “It makes sense you’d dream something unsettling, considering what you’re thinking of doing.”
“I appreciate that you want to help but I don’t want to talk about it.”
“If you change your mind, I could recommend someone.”
“I know.” Maybe Richard was right. Maybe her nightmare had to do with her fears of something bad happening again on a dive. She couldn’t discount that. In her dream, she was fighting for her life, or was she trying to save someone else’s? But whose? It seemed like someone she loved. She was usually good at figuring out the connections between her dreams and reality. She’d learned that from Richard. But maybe her nightmare had to do with Frank. Maybe he was the old man on the ship beckoning her while she struggled with her footing. Gestalt therapists believed that every part of a dream was a part of yourself. Maybe it would help to talk to Richard about it, but he could be such a jerk. He had this pompous way of lecturing her, as if he had all the answers. No, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of lording it over her again.
“Alex,” Richard shouted through the open door. “Breakfast is ready!” He took his apron off. “I won’t say anything more, but it’s perfectly reasonable to be afraid.”
“Afraid of what?” said Alex, as she came running into the room, her skinny legs propelling her into Catherine’s arms.
Catherine chuckled. “I swear you have the ears of an elephant.”
“I do not.”
“Honey, I was admiring how well you hear.”
Alex pursed her lips. “You always change the subject.”
“I know.” Catherine sighed. “We were talking about Mama’s old bug-a-boo.”
Alex looked at her quizzically. “What’s a bug-a-boo?”
“It’s something that’s a little scary. Like for me, it’s the deep. Now, sit down and eat before your pancakes get cold.”
Richard met Catherine’s gaze. “You’re avoiding the issue.”
“Because I don’t want to talk about it?”
“You’re still as obstinate as you always were.”
“Aren’t you glad we’re not together?” As soon as she’d said it, Catherine realized she’d spoken in haste. Alex frowned and folded her arms. “Oh honey, Mama and Papa just couldn’t live together. But the best part was having you. That’ll never change.” Alex looked from one to the other. Catherin
e wished Richard didn’t look so pained. “Now Papa and I are good friends.”
“I guess.” Alex pushed pieces of pancake around her plate.
Catherine put her fork down. “Alex, your pancakes’ll get cold.”
“I don’t care.”
“Papa worked hard making those for you.”
“It’s okay,” said Richard.
Catherine shot him a look—it’s not okay—then turned back and said, “Alex...”
Alex scowled before picking up her fork to jab a pancake.
“I’ll talk to you about it later, okay?”
“Pinkie promise?”
Catherine interlocked her pinkie finger with Alex’s and said, “Pinkie promise.”
Satisfied, Alex took a bite of her pancake. “That’s a pretty ring, Mama.”
“It is, isn’t it?” She twisted the Claddagh ring so the heart sat in the middle of her finger. At one time, someone wore this wedding ring and also made a promise. She wondered if the woman regretted her promise just as Catherine regretted the promise she’d just made Alex. Her divorce wasn’t easy to talk about. She should’ve known it would come up again. Alex had been so distraught over the break-up that it had taken her two years to feel comfortable without her mother nearby.
Catherine reached for the sugar bowl and took two teaspoons for her coffee. She sighed. They were eating in silence again. It was as if nothing had changed. She and Richard used to sit for long periods, with nothing to say to one another.
Richard seemed to notice, too, as he said, “We’re very quiet this morning.”
“We’re probably jet-lagged.” Catherine didn’t want to say that they’d never had much to talk about in the old days anyway. Back then, she’d be the one who would share something she thought was interesting, and Richard would listen but look bored. Sometimes she had the feeling he was treating her like one of his patients. She guessed he was so used to listening and not responding, it had become second nature to him, even when he was at home.
“So,” said Richard to Alex, “we’ll go visit Grandma soon. She can’t wait to see you.”
Seeing Alex brighten, Catherine smiled. She was grateful for his help, but she wasn’t as sure about her ex-mother-in-law’s. Although Sybil could be great with Alex, she sniped at Catherine every chance she got. Not about her dragging Alex away from America but about her leaving Richard. Sybil had a habit of saying, “In my time, you wouldn’t leave for no reason. People stayed together for better or for worse. They weren’t selfish back then. They thought of the children.”
Well, Catherine would find out soon enough if there was any fallout after Alex’s visit with her grandmother. In the meantime, she’d be free to meet with Frank and find out more about the project. She hadn’t said yes, but she’d come this far. A little further, and there’d be no turning back.
FIVE
“See that building, Alex?” said Catherine, pointing as Richard’s car edged forward in the traffic. “That’s where Mama’s going.” With its granite exterior and a bronze statue of Abraham Lincoln on its front steps, the New-York Historical Society Museum and Library made for an impressive structure. Already, tourists were lining up to take pictures beside the sculpture.
While Richard double-parked out front, Catherine checked her lipstick in the passenger visor’s mirror.
“You look beautiful.”
His compliment unsettled her. She hesitated and then said, “I appreciate you doing this.”
“You know I’d do anything to help you.”
She didn’t know how to respond. She almost felt guilty for leaving him, but then she remembered the dark days.
When she didn’t say anything, he said, “Alex and I’ll have lots of fun at the zoo, won’t we, cookie? We’ll try and stay out of the monkey cage.”
Alex giggled. “Bye, Mama.” She made monkey sounds and scratched her armpits, forcing her mother to laugh.
Waving them out of sight, Catherine was torn. Why wasn’t she one of those mothers who’d be content to spend the day at the zoo with her family? Back in Provence, she’d been one of them.
But she hadn’t considered what she’d missed until Frank’s offer came out of the blue. That was when she realized she missed the ocean—a place where time seemed to stop, a place where she glided into another dimension. There was always one more crevice to explore, one more rock to look behind, and one more school of fish to follow. This surreal world with its flashing neon colors relaxed her like nothing else could. However, that was before the accident, before she let the sea seduce her into letting her guard down.
As she walked to the café’s entrance at the side of the building, she thought again about Frank’s phone call. That’s all it took and here she was acting as if she still had something to prove, as if she was still competing with her brother, who shone at whatever he tried. A star athlete in high school and a valedictorian for his graduating class, he’d given their parents lots to brag about. He’d even managed to keep his marriage intact. Why was she the one who was always screwing up? If she knew, maybe she wouldn’t be back in New York questioning her next step.
~~~
Caffé Storico, an elegant space with its high chandeliered ceiling, was half-filled with patrons. Catherine found Frank sitting on a yellow banquette against the wall, his head buried in the New York Times.
“You haven’t changed,” she said. “Still glued to the news.”
“Catherine! I was afraid you’d chickened out.”
“I told you I’d come.” Frank stood and embraced her. He smelled of cigar smoke and she wondered how he managed in a world that left smokers out in the cold.
“I can’t tell you how good it is to see you.” He sat down and tucked his paper under the leather portfolio case on the table. “You look great. Life must be good in Provence. I’m almost sorry I dragged you away.”
“Good. Maybe you won’t be too disappointed then when I tell you I haven’t decided yet.”
“Was your meeting with Hennesey that bad?”
“What do you think?”
He leaned back and clasped his hands on his stomach. “Let’s have it.”
When she finished telling him her firsthand impressions, Frank said, “Okay, so he’s a prick. We expected as much.”
“True, but—”
“Before you say anything more, I want you to know I’m prepared to feature this dive on the cover. Time and Newsweek will probably publish excerpts.”
“There you go again. Jumping ahead before the ink is on the page.”
Frank sighed. “Catherine, you know it’s a fantastic assignment.”
He was right. What could be more exciting than covering the discovery of a Spanish galleon, one the world didn’t even know existed? That should’ve been enough to hook her, but Frank was smart enough to know that by suggesting some possible wrongdoing, she’d have trouble turning her back on his proposal. In the past, they’d had many discussions about pollution and how impossible it was to stop the various assaults on the planet’s waterways. It wasn’t that long ago she’d dissolved in tears while watching a newscast flash photos of pelicans covered with oil as a result of an rig explosion in the Gulf of Mexico. This wasn’t oil, but it was greed of another kind.
Still, she wavered. “I know it’s fantastic, but I have to think of Alex.”
Frank crooked his head to the side and gave her an incredulous look. “C’mon, Catherine. You know Alex will be fine. She’ll have her father. It’ll give him a chance to make up for the time he’s been away from her.”
He was making it sound so simple. He didn’t know the butterflies in her stomach. No, they weren’t butterflies; they were more like screeching bats. “It’s not that. I wish it was. It’s … God, Frank. I don’t know if I can do another dive without hyperventilating.”
Frank’s brown eyes softened. “You got spooked. It happens to the best. Don’t think I haven’t thought about how hard it’s going to be for you to re-enter the field. In fact, I
’ve already talked to someone who can help. Maybe you know him. Daniel Costello.”
“Doesn’t ring a bell.”
“He’s a nautical archaeologist. He may as well be an underwater psychologist, since he’s helped a number of divers recover their nerve. I’ve told him about you. He’s anxious to meet you.” Frank looked at his watch. “He’s across the street right now, doing a presentation at the Museum of Natural History.”
She cocked her head. “You devil. So that’s why you wanted to meet here.” She smiled and then gave him an annoyed look. “I promised myself I wouldn’t be roped into anything.”
“Just meet him.”
Just meet him. Trust Frank to work all the angles. “I hope he has a lot of patience.”
They took a break from business and ordered lunch along with a glass of merlot. Frank had the rigatoni and Catherine selected the shaved zucchini and grilled chicken salad. This was one perk she’d missed since giving up her profession – dining on someone else’s expense account.
Between mouthfuls, they caught up on the more personal details of their lives. Frank had had a bypass and was slowing down, but he hoped to end his career on a high, which was why he was pushing to have her on the project. He was still married to Nona, even though she’d threatened to leave him if he returned to work after his heart surgery.
“I thought Nona was fed up with your hours.”
“She was, but I wasn’t any good at home. I was getting depressed. Maybe I should’ve taken up farming like you.”
Catherine laughed. “I can’t see you as a farmer.”
“Neither can I.” He took a sip of wine. “Now, what about you? How has an attractive woman like you managed to keep the wolves at bay?”
First Richard, and now Frank. She’d never considered herself attractive, but she knew she had something. Her hazel eyes and long, wavy auburn hair set off a face that her friend Lindsey described as ethereal. “Thanks for the compliment, but pickings are slim over there. I even joined a local reading group for American expatriates, but no one of any charm came my way.”
