by Bonnie Leon
A confused mix of emotions tumbled through Jean. She understood that hating Ray Townsend was wrong, but contempt prodded her. It was difficult to watch this man sit here happy and fulfilled. It wasn't fair.
Even as her mind followed this train of thought, she knew all that was in the past and best left there. And Ray Townsend had changed. He was different and clearly wished her and her family no malice.
Jean didn't want to think about it. She rolled over and burrowed beneath her blankets, circling an arm around Susie. The little girl pressed her back against her, a dreamy smile touching her lips. Father, thank you for my children, Jean thought, understanding that their presence eased the emptiness.
Jean heard someone moving about and looked to see Luke head toward the beach. He passed Mr. Townsend without acknowledgment. Ray watched the young man. When he returned to cooking, his smile was gone and grief touched his eyes. Feeling like an intruder, she closed her eyes.
“That sure smells good. What is it?” Brian asked, sitting up.
Looking at the boy, Ray turned on a smile. “It's breakfast. You hungry?”
“Uh-huh.” Brian stood, with his blankets draped over his shoulders. “Can I help?” he asked, dropping the covers.
“Sure. Get me the eggs.”
Brian leaped over a small log and marched to the box of food. Reaching inside, he lifted out an egg carrier. It was large and bulky and made of metal, so it was heavy. Brian managed to get it to Ray without dropping it.
“Thanks.” Ray set the box on the ground beside him.
“Sure looks good,” Brian said, eyeing the bacon.
“Won't be long now.” Ray speared several slices, lifted them out of the pan and set them on a plate. “Do you know how to make toast?”
“Sure.”
He set out sliced bread and nodded toward a stack of dishes. “There's a pan over there. Set it in the coals and use it to toast the bread.” Ray watched the boy, and when the bread was laid out in the pan, he said, “Make sure to turn them. I don't like mine burned.” He handed the youngster a cube of butter. “Spread a little of this on when they're done.”
Brian was diligent. He checked each slice often, careful not to burn any. As each piece finished cooking, he slathered it with butter and set it on a plate.
Celeste climbed out of bed and sat beside her father. “Morning, Dad.”
“Morning. You sleep all right?”
“Uh-huh. I always sleep well when we're here.”
Adam sat up and yawned. Throwing back his covers, he stood. Laurel pulled the blankets closely around her and snuggled down. Adam sat on a log opposite Celeste. He studied the mists hovering over the cove. “Hope it clears up.”
Laurel sat up and combed back her hair with her fingers. Looking about, she asked, “Luke's gone already?”
Ray nodded.
Susie opened her eyes, stretched, and smiled at her mother.
“Morning, sweetie,” Jean said, giving the little girl a hug.
“Morning.”
“So, how are you this morning?” Ray asked Susie. “Did you sleep well?”
“Yep.” She climbed out from under the blankets. “But I'm hungry.”
“Good. 'Cause breakfast is just about ready.” Ray settled more bacon on the plate.
Luke returned and plopped down on the log beside Adam. He still looked sullen.
Jean was losing patience with him. “I'd hoped you'd be feeling better this morning.”
“I'm fine.” Bracing an elbow on his thigh, he rested his face in his hand.
Jean pushed back her blankets and stood, moving complaining muscles slowly. In spite of the cushion of beach sand, she felt stiff. Stretching from side to side, she said, “I feel like I slept on rocks.”
“It's age, Jean, age,” Ray said, his eyes teasing.
“I'm not that old,” she retorted, feeling an unexpected angst. It ought to be Will cooking breakfast and poking fun. Willing cheerfulness into her voice, she brushed sand off her face and neck and said, “A good breakfast is just what we need to send us on our way.”
“Do we have to leave right away?” Brian asked. “Can't we stay—at least for a little while?”
“It's a long trip,” Jean said.
“Yeah, but we haven't seen hardly nothin'.”
Ray lifted the last piece of bacon out of the pan and set it with the rest. Glancing at Jean he asked hesitantly, “What if I show you some of the coastline before we head home? There's some real pretty scenery, and we might catch a glimpse of another otter or maybe even something else.”
“Yeah,” Brian said. “Can we? Please?”
Jean wanted to go home. She'd had enough adventuring, but with a nod she said, “All right, but we can't take too long.”
“How did you sleep?” Ray asked, cracking an egg into hot bacon grease.
“Surprisingly well. Sand makes for a reasonable bed, that is, until it's time to get up,” she added with a wry smile. She shook out her hair. “I don't like the grit much.”
“It's annoying all right,” Celeste said. “It gets into everything.”
“How's that toast coming?” Ray asked Brian.
“Just two more left.” Brian looked at his mother. “I made the toast.”
“I can see that. Looks good. Can I have a piece? I'm starved.”
“No. You got to wait just like the rest of us.”
“All right,” Jean said, feigning disappointment.
It was Celeste who hurried the campers after breakfast. She told them about the eagles along the coastline south of Anchorage and how she'd watched them snatch fish out of the bay.
They loaded the boat and headed for the coast. Emerald green beaches greeted them. “Why is it that color?” Laurel asked. “I've never seen such a thing.”
“When the temperatures warm up, algae grows,” Celeste explained. “It's prettier than the dirty gray we have most of the year.”
The tide was still out so they didn't go ashore but continued south. It wasn't long before Brian stood in the bow, and peering at the water, said, “I think I see something!” He pointed at a white blur just beyond the boat. Like ghosts, white shadows moved beneath the waves.
“What are they?” Laurel asked, moving cautiously toward the middle of the boat.
Celeste giggled.
Ray laughed and cut the engine. “Beluga whales—a whole pod of them. Don't be scared. They won't hurt us.” A snow-white beluga breached, then dove straight down, its tail quivering as it disappeared beneath the waves.
“It's beautiful,” Jean said. “I didn't know they were white. I've never seen one.”
A whale came close to the boat, then another. All of a sudden the dory was surrounded by the white beasts. One bumped the boat.
“Maybe we ought to keep moving,” Laurel said, her voice tight.
“We'll just sit tight. I'd hate to run over one with the motor.”
Jean nodded, surprised that Ray Townsend was enchanted by the ocean mammals. He was a hunter and trapper. He killed animals for a living. He's a puzzle, she thought.
His camera ready, Adam leaned out and snapped a photograph, then another and another. He seemed oblivious to anything else. Finally he sat and said, “These will be great. I can send them in with the story I'm going to write about this outing.”
The whales finally moved on, and Ray started the engine. “You want to get a good look at the eagles? We can go to a bay where there are always a lot of them.”
“Yeah, I want to see,” Brian said.
Ray turned the boat toward the cove. Once in the quiet waters, he spotted an eagle almost immediately. The impressive bird sat atop an old black spruce. A few moments later it lifted into the air and soared over the inlet. “Now watch him. He's hunting,” Ray explained, his eyes following the magnificent raptor. Circling the sky and periodically beating the air with its huge wings, the bird searched the sea. Suddenly it folded its wings and dove, pulling up short just above the water. With a splash, it snat
ched a fish from the water; then with its prize firmly grasped in its talons, the eagle lifted back into the sky and landed in the spruce.
“Wow!” Luke said, forgetting to be surly. He stood and leaned toward shore. “Can we stop here and take a look around?”
“I don't know. It's probably not a good idea,” Ray said. “The tide's got a ways to go before we can make it ashore, and we'd have to wade through the muck. These mud flats can be dangerous.”
“I don't mind a little mud,” Luke said. “Just move in close, and I'll walk.”
Ray headed the boat inland, gently steering the bow into the sand. He looked at the mud and prodded it with an oar.
“What's that smell?” Laurel asked, covering her nose.
“Smells like sulfur,” Adam said.
“The flats around here have a smell all their own,” Ray said with a grin.
“I'm gonna walk in,” Luke said, swinging his legs over the side of the boat.
“It's not a good idea. The sand is real fine and can close around your feet. You could get stuck.”
Ignoring Ray's warning, Luke climbed out. He took a step. “Feels sturdy enough. It's fine.” He headed toward shore. He had little trouble at first, his feet sinking only slightly with each step. Soon the mire sucked at his boots with each step.
He kept moving.
At one point Luke struggled to pull his foot out of the muck. Finally managing to free himself, he moved forward, sinking deeper and fighting for each step in the thick goo.
Jean had a bad feeling. “Luke, come back. Please!”
He glanced back, then went to take another step, but this time he couldn't pull free. His feet sank, and mud closed in around his ankles. Working hard, he managed to free one foot, but the other became more deeply entrenched. “It's getting bad. I'm coming back,” he called. He wiggled his left leg, trying to work it loose, but mud wedged it in. He tried the other leg, but it sank up to his knee. He fought the muck, but soon he was encased up to his thighs and couldn't move.
“I'm stuck! I can't get out!” He pressed his hands down on the sand and tried to pry himself free, but the effort only caused him to sink further. He was lodged up to his hips.
“Oh, Lord,” Jean said, grabbing the side of the boat and leaning out. Beads of sweat dripped down Luke's panic-stricken face. Fear knifed through Jean. “What can we do? We have to do something!”
“Luke, stop struggling,” Ray yelled. “You're only making it worse. We'll help you; just hang on.”
Adam stepped in front of Ray. “You can't go out there. You'll end up just like him.”
Ray stared at Adam, saying nothing. Then his eyes roamed over the boat and across the mudflats to Luke. “He's out of reach of the oars.”
“Maybe not,” Laurel said hesitantly. “What if we set them on top of the sand, use them as a walkway, then pull him out?”
Ray thought. “It might work. We can try it.” He grabbed an oar.
“Why you?” Adam asked.
“I'm the biggest and strongest.”
“Yeah, and you're heavier—you'll sink.”
“Maybe. But the oars are wide, and I'm the only one who can get him out. I'm going.”
He lay one oar out flat on top of the sludge, tucked the other under one arm, and walked across the first. It sank slightly under his weight. When he reached the end, he laid out the other, picked up the first, and kept moving. He repeated the process several times before reaching Luke.
Lord, please let this work, Jean prayed, watching as Ray grabbed hold of Luke's arms and pulled. The oar sank, and although Luke threw his upper body back and forth, he made no progress. No matter how hard Ray pulled, Luke didn't budge. In fact, after all the struggling, he seemed even more deeply entrenched.
Luke turned his eyes toward the returning tide, and fear moved across his face.
Squatting on the oar now nearly hidden by the mire, Ray studied the boat, the sand, and the ocean. His gray eyes were pensive and anxious but determined. He stood. “OK, this is what we're going to do. When the tide comes in, we'll float the boat to you and all of us will pull you out. I can't do it alone.”
“Wait for the tide? What if you can't get me out?”
“We will,” Ray said. Luke shook his head back and forth vehemently. “Luke!” Ray's voice demanded attention. The young man looked at him. “Calm down. It will work. Once the water washes in around you, the sand ought to loosen, and it'll be easier to pull you free. For now, you rest, we rest, and then we'll be ready.”
“We've got to be able to do something else.” Luke's voice quaked.
“I wish we could, but I can't think of anything.” Ray looked at the others, called out the plan, then asked, “Any better ideas?”
No one answered.
Ray knelt. “I'll stay with you.”
“I'm no baby,” Luke snapped.
“All right. I'll wait in the boat. You thirsty?”
“Yeah.”
Ray returned to the dory. “He needs a drink,” he said, grabbing a canteen of water.
Jean stared at her son, her arms hugging her waist. She felt sick. “What if it doesn't work?” Her eyes settled on Ray. “He could drown.”
“There's got to be something else we can do!” Laurel said.
“I wish I knew what it was. I just don't.” Ray glanced at Luke. “This should work.”
“Should?” Laurel challenged.
“Yeah. Should. What do you want? I'm not a magician. I'm not God.”
“He's right,” Adam said calmly. “None of us is God. But we do need him and we need to pray.”
“I've got to get this water to him,” Ray said.
“No. Adam's right. Wait and pray with us first,” Jean said.
Ray waited.
Fighting to quiet her spirit, Jean said, “All right. Let's pray.”
Everyone clasped hands, bowed their heads, and closed their eyes. At first the prayers were silent; then Adam said, “Father, we know you love Luke. So do we. And we're asking you to save his life. Show us what to do.” He paused. “And Lord, help him to be calm and give him peace as he waits.”
Jean followed with, “Please Lord, I… I can't bear to lose him. Don't take him from me.”
A long silence followed, then Ray said, “I know I'm the kind of man who does things in his own strength, Lord. This is one I can't do. I … we all need your power. Help us. Amen.”
Taking the canteen, Adam painstakingly made his way across the sand. He waited with Luke, hoping to keep him calm and distracted while the tide flooded toward shore. When fingerlings of foam flowed around the boat and reached toward Luke, Adam said, “Looks like it's coming in. I better get back.”
“I'm scared,” Luke said, his voice trembling. “I don't want to die.”
“You're not going to. This'll work. God will see to it.”
“He didn't save my brother or my father. What makes you think he's going to help me?”
Adam didn't know how to answer. He cleared his throat. “I don't know why God allowed any of that, but I know he's here and he loves you. He's going to save your life.”
“How do you know?”
“I can't explain it. I just do.” He knelt and rested a hand on Luke's shoulder. “God won't abandon you.”
“In a lot of ways he already has.”
Adam squeezed his brother-in-law's shoulder, then stood and headed for the boat. “It's time,” he said, climbing in and watching water flow around the dory.
Jean stared at her son. “He looks so scared.”
Adam wished he could do or say something to ease Jean's anguish, but he couldn't. Lord, please save him, he prayed silently. He sought out Laurel. She sat with Susie on her lap, arms wrapped around the little girl. Brian huddled next to her. Their faces were stamped with fear.
Ray watched the waves break against the boat and creep across the sand. “I should have kept him from walking out there.”
“Dad, you tried to tell him. He was set on going.”
Celeste stepped across the boat and placed a hand on her father's back. “It's not your fault.”
“She's right,” Jean said. “He went on his own, knowing it was dangerous.”
Ray stared at the water, his eyes anguished.
The moment the surf was deep enough to float the boat, Ray and Adam used the oars to propel them forward.
Water slithered across the sand toward the young man. When the first swell reached him, he sucked in his breath, his face a mask of dread. Adam prayed hard. Help him, Lord. Please, save him. He glanced at a terrified Jean and laid a hand on her arm.
“I can't lose him,” she said.
“Hurry!” Luke hollered as a swell washed around his waist. “The water's getting deeper.”
“We're moving as fast as we can,” Ray called. He looked at Adam. “We've got to get closer.” He pushed the oar through the water and into the mud. “Push!”
Adam did as he was told, and they inched toward Luke. Finally the boat was beside the terrified young man. Seawater swirled around him.
Shaking with cold and fear, Luke gazed at them. “Hurry! It's getting deep!”
“We need to get leverage around him. Use the oars,” Ray said. “Maybe we can loosen him.” He pushed his oar into the sand and tried to dig away the earth, but each time he removed sand, more fell in to replace it. “That's not going to work,” he said. “Luke, can you move your legs?”
Luke tried but couldn't budge them. “I'm still stuck.”
“All right then. We'll just have to use more muscle.” Ray grabbed a rope under one of the seats and made a loop in it. “Put this around you,” he said, dropping the line to Luke who quickly put it over his head and slid it under his arms. “Everyone take hold.” Ray braced his legs against the side of the boat and gripped the rope. Adam stood behind him, then Celeste and Laurel. “OK. When I say pull, you pull!”
“One, two, three—pull,” he hollered. Everyone hauled on the rope. Mud and clay sucked at Luke's legs, but he inched upward. “Again!” Ray yelled. Everyone pulled.
“Ahh!” Luke cried. “Stop!” He was pale and panting. “My legs, they feel like they're going to come off.” Another wave hit him, and he sucked in his breath. “It's not going to work! I'm going to drown!”
