A Sea Change

by Annette Reynolds

  Danny understood this feeling well. Life with Maddy in it wasn’t what he’d imagined. Instead of bringing them closer, Nick’s two-week absence had become a tangible barrier. She’d cancelled their nightly dinners three days in a row. Tonight her excuse had been a stomach virus. Yesterday she’d needed time alone.

  Maddy’s unhappiness haunted her eyes; invaded her body. Danny wanted to exorcise Nick’s ghost, but didn’t know how. When he brought up the subject – telling her to forget him because he’d obviously forgotten about her – Maddy’s face would harden. And Danny could see her anger was directed at him, not at Nick McKay, but he didn’t understand why. It had been Nick, after all, who’d left her. Nick, who’d acted as if it had been Danny’s fault Becky had fallen. Couldn’t she see it was Nick who caused her heartbreak?

  He lifted his arm – heavy with the weight of his dissatisfaction – and turned on the bedside lamp. The brightness made the world outside the windows even more black. Picking up the sketchbook from the floor, Danny rifled through the pages. He’d bought it less than a month ago, but it was already nearly filled with drawings.

  In an effort to connect with his sister, he’d begun his own record of Salmon Beach. It was to be a gift to her. Something Maddy could use in conjunction with her own book, if she so chose. Almost everyone on the beach was represented. He’d done quick portraits of the people, and detailed drawings of their surroundings. There were whimsical studies of dogs, cats, and other assorted pets. The only person missing was Mary Delfino. The almost-innate adversarial climate between them had kept him away.

  Now, as the lonely evening loomed he wondered if one last attempt to get Mary on his side would somehow bring Maddy back to him. It was the only reason he would place himself within Mary Delfino’s orbit. She frightened him like no one else could, because somewhere deep inside he realized she saw through his façade and knew him for the charlatan he was.

  What little courage he’d mustered nearly deserted him as he stood at Mary’s door. Rain dripped off the hood of his poncho and onto his nose and cheeks, ticking off the long seconds it took him to finally ring the bell.

  Mary Delfino’s face betrayed so many emotions it was like watching a seamlessly pieced-together film. Eagerness, shock, disappointment, caution: all flitted across her ageless features. Danny knew there would be no shining her on with his usual grab bag of personas. Only honesty would do the trick.

  “I’m working on something for Maddy.” He moved closer to the door. Under the narrow eave, Danny pulled the sketchbook out from the protection of the cheap plastic cloak that covered him. Flipping the pages for her, he said, “It won’t be finished until you’re in here, too.”

  Mary took a step back. “That isn’t going to make up for the loss she’s suffered.”

  “I know that.” Danny had to bite back the words threatening to escape; that his sister’s loss wasn’t his fault. “But it’s the only thing I know how to do well.” Her eyes narrowed slightly, and he could imagine her reading everything about him just by her gaze. “I know you’re suspicious of my motives,” he said. “If you never believed me before, then believe me now – I’m doing this only for Maddy. I do love her. She’s all I have. This is all I have to give.”

  “How very admirable of you.”

  “You don’t like me. Fine. You don’t have to. Just let me do the sketch, and I’ll leave.”

  “How long will it take?”

  “Fifteen, twenty minutes.” Too long to be under your eagle eye.

  She finally nodded once then moved away from the door.

  Neither spoke as they walked down the hallway. Danny entered the studio/kitchen area for the first time, and with genuine appreciation said, “What a great space.” He spotted the potter’s wheel, saw the vases and bowls and planters – most of them fired in greens and grays, but some with an astonishing shade of blue he’d never encountered – and put two-and-two together. “We have something else in common,” he said.

  “What would that be?”

  “Creation,” he replied. “These are exquisite.”

  “Thank you.” She paused. “You said, ‘something else.’ I fail to see what else you and I could possibly have in common.”

  Danny set the cachepot he’d been examining back in its place, and turned to Mary. “We both love Maddy.”

  She pointedly ignored his statement, and asked, “Where do you want me?”

  “The wheel.”

  Mary sat on the stool, saying, “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

  He flipped the pad open and slowly paced in front of her until he found the angle he liked. Pulling up a chair, he sat and – as he drew – began to talk.

  “When we were little Maddy used to be my shield. She tried to protect me from the world. And she did such a good job of it that I had a really hard time dealing with real life when I left home.” His pencil moved swiftly, but his words were deliberate. “See, I never really felt like I fit in. Part of that’s being gay – it took me a long time to own up to that – but the real reason is knowing I wasn’t wanted. By my parents. By other kids…”

  “That isn’t an excuse for dishonesty.”

  Danny looked up. His eyes fixed on hers. “I didn’t say it was. I’m just trying to make you see I’m not a bad person.”

  “I think, therefore I am,” Mary quoted. Danny simply regarded her with feigned bewilderment. “You don’t fool me. You think of yourself as someone special. Someone beyond the laws of humanity. You believe the world owes you something for the humiliation you’ve had to suffer.”

  “I’m not a bad person,” he repeated.

  “You don’t believe that for one minute. You’re only saying it to convince me.”

  Danny’s head dropped back down to his work. “I do believe it,” he said quietly. “But I also believe I have very little worth. I don’t think the two things are the same.”

  For the next few minutes, the only sound in the room was the soft scratching of his charcoal pencil on the paper.

  Mary broke the silence. “You understand that Madeleine can no longer shelter you from the world? That it’s not her place, or her vocation, to do so? If you’ve come back to her thinking that to be the case, I must tell you, you’re very wrong.”

  Danny’s hand went still. “I’m beginning to see that.”

  “Fine, then. Are we almost finished?”

  He nodded, afraid to look at her lest she see the tears in his eyes. “Do you want to see it?” he asked.

  “No,” she said then quickly relented. Her voice held a redemptive note. “Yes. I do.”

  Danny held up the sketchbook.

  She was quiet for a moment as she looked at what he’d done, and then she said, “I don’t believe ‘worthless’ is the word I’d use, Daniel. You’re very talented.”

  It was the first time she’d said his name. He quickly stood and turned to leave.

  “You are also wrong about something else,” Mary said.

  He waited.

  “Yes, I do love Madeleine – for what she is and can be.” She paused. “But I think you love her for what she was.”

  Journal Entry

  October 18

  Becky called me tonight. I was so relieved to hear she was staying with Nick – that Janet didn’t keep her from him – I didn’t feel the full impact until we hung up. It hit me very hard, knowing Nick was there; knowing he didn’t want to talk to me.

  I’ve kind of staggered through the past two weeks. Nothing seems quite real. I get through a day, then have to suffer through a night, only to wake up and do it all over again. The beach feels so different without him here. And I feel lonely and left behind.

  All my boxes are still stacked around the house, shoved in corners. They’re reminders of what should have been.

  Becky had me on the phone for a long time. She filled me in on school, her arm, what she’s going to be for Halloween. It happens to fall on Nick’s weekend, and she plans on raiding both neighborhoods. Sh
e wants to send me a photo of a pumpkin she and Nick carved. I told her I’d like that, but in reality I don’t want any more mementos. Too painful.

  She asked me a million questions. There were easy ones like, “How’s Chloe?” and “Is it raining where you are?” And then there were the really tough ones. “When are you moving in?” “If you and Daddy had a fight, can’t you just say you’re sorry?”

  I have to think Nick was out of the room at that point. I can’t imagine him standing there, listening to his daughter as she played mediator. And I know he was out of the room when she said, “Daddy won’t tell me about it because he says it’s an adult thing, but I think he misses kissing you. Don’t you miss kissing him?”

  I told her the truth. Yes, I miss him. And I miss her. And I love them both.

  What I couldn’t tell her was the reason we’re apart. If I’d interfered, and told her how Nick felt about Danny – if I tried to explain that I felt trapped between the two of them – it would’ve confused her, and probably made her wonder why adults are so incomprehensible. But more than that, it would’ve left Nick holding the bag. I’ve caused him enough trouble. I don’t need to make him look like the bad guy. Not when I’m beginning to think he was right about Danny all along.

  I couldn’t face Danny tonight. Just like I couldn’t look at him last night. And the night before. There’s a frightening idea rolling around in my head. I can’t even put it to paper.

  I wish I could go far away somewhere, where no one knows me. I need to think without memories getting in the way. I need some guidance; some vision.

  October 19

  Danny came over with a Charlie Chan movie tonight. He’d unearthed it in a box of junk someone had put next to the dumpster in the parking area. I couldn’t put him off anymore, so I opened a can of soup and we started to watch it. It was better than sitting across from him at the dinner table, trying to pretend nothing had changed.

  It was weird seeing that old film after all this time. I discovered I still enjoyed the humor, although I was painfully aware that Sydney Toler was about as Chinese as I am. And Danny was enjoying it, too, but for different reasons. I could tell this was what he had in mind when he imagined the two of us together again, which made me sad to think how – really – nothing had changed for him.

  Half-way through the movie Rita and Susan came by. They stood on the front deck – both with shit-eating grins on their faces – and Rita handed me a business card from the Pratt Gallery. I looked at it, looked at Rita, and then the words literally exploded from her mouth.

  She’s friends with the owner, who happened to have dinner with them, who saw some of my prints, who – get this – wants to “show” me.

  I’m still in a state of stunned disbelief…and I have so much work to do! I’m meeting with Wendy Pratt on Thursday, so it’d be nice to have something resembling a portfolio to take along.

  I couldn’t sit still after Rita and Susan left. I dragged out my box of prints, and while Danny watched the rest of the movie, I started sorting through the photos of the beach. He kept trying to get my attention: “Remember this part?” He wanted me to look at the furniture, or the dress Phyllis Brooks was wearing. But I was impatient with it – with him.

  Seeing my prints all together like that made me realize how much I’ve done in the past few months. I saw how really good they are. And I saw something else: how big a part Nick’s played in getting me back on track.

  I’ve been asking myself why I’ve had to find someone like Nick, only to lose him. Maybe this is why. Maybe – after it’s all said and done – knowing him has shown me how to be myself again. Maybe that’s the best gift he could’ve given me.

  I wish I could thank him.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  “So, we’re looking at a February twenty-first opening…” Wendy Pratt’s half-glasses slid down her thin nose as she flipped pages in her day-planner. “With a six-week run.” She looked at Maddy over the black rims, one eyebrow raised. “You’ll be ready?”

  Maddy tried to get air into her lungs. Tried to look professional. But her heart was pounding, and her palms had turned slick with sweat. All Maddy could manage was a nod.

  The owner of the Pratt Gallery smiled. It stretched her angular face into a grinning mask that was saved by her caring, dark eyes.

  “You’ve got nothing to worry about, Maddy. This is great stuff.”

  Maddy breathed out. “Thanks.”

  “I’ll be thanking you when these start flying out the door.” Wendy Pratt picked up the print of Becky and the mermaid. “God, I love this one,” she sighed and looked at Maddy again. “We’ll go over the final selection next month, but I’m thinking twenty-five framed pieces for the rich folks. And at least ten – mounted – of each one. I want to keep the print run low. Builds desirability. Makes people salivate for the next show.”

  “So, these’ll be for sale?” Maddy asked, unsure she’d heard correctly.

  “That’s the whole idea. I don’t do charity work. You make money – I make money. That’s the name of the game.”

  Maddy – mesmerized – watched as Wendy Pratt pushed herself away from the desk.

  “You’ll be sharing the space with Jeremy Kellor. He’ll bring in a good crowd.” Her head ducked out of sight as she searched through the bottom drawer.

  Maddy’s brain was having a hard time processing the idea that someone was actually going to pay money for her photographs.

  Wendy Pratt’s head surfaced again. “Here’s the pamphlet from his last show. I think you’ll be a good match.”

  Maddy walked down Pacific Avenue unaware of the drops of rain just beginning to fall, her grin growing wider the closer she got to her car. People passed by and smiled, but she never really saw them. She was focused on the Volvo. Wanted to get inside.

  Her scream of joy exploded the moment she slammed the door shut. With shaking hands, Maddy shoved the key in the ignition. As she pulled away from the curb, she said, “Wait until Nick hears this!”

  And suddenly she was in tears.

  Plastic-covered camera slung over her shoulder, Maddy stood in front of the mermaid. A particularly high tide had left her draped in seaweed. A good-sized clam shell nestled in her upturned tail.

  The rain came down steadily. The mermaid’s knowing face took on a sad cast, as drops of water fell from her cheeks and nose. But Maddy’s tears had dried by the time she’d reached Salmon Beach.

  Alone in Jaed’s house, she’d had an inexplicable urge to see the mermaid in the rain. To photograph her one more time, at the mercy of the elements.

  Maddy watched her for a long moment, then whispered, “Tell me what to do now, Chloe. The sea change is rougher than I ever thought it would be.”

  But no answer came from the cold, bronze lips.

  Maddy brought her camera up and looked through the viewfinder. It was the first time she’d taken a photograph since Nick’s leaving. Her wet fingers turned the close-up lens and the mermaid’s face came into sharp focus. She moved even closer until all she saw was Chloe’s cheek and eye, and the rainwater rapidly trickling down her face. Maddy pulled the camera away from her eye and set the shutter speed.

  She looked through the lens once more. Maddy held her breath, placed her finger on the shutter button, and pushed it. A sharp gust of wind hit Maddy, then moved through her like a heavy sigh, bringing with it an untarnished vision.

  With a certainty borne on that gasp of air, Maddy turned to the path, and the knowledge of what needed to be done.

  *****

  When Danny found the Charlie Chan movie he was sure it was a sign. But it hadn’t worked. Nothing was working for him. Maddy became more distant as the days passed. And Danny couldn’t shake the old fears creeping up on him.

  This time, it wasn’t Dad turning him away, though. This time he was losing Maddy all by himself. And this was a million times worse.

  She left for her appointment without talking to him. He’d wanted to wish her luck.
But she didn’t answer the phone. He could picture Maddy listening to his message – standing away from the machine, not even willing to get close to his voice while he told her how proud he was.

  It tore him up.

  He went straight to her place to wait. That’s what he told himself, anyway. But when he let himself in Danny went straight to her bedroom. He knew where she kept her journal.

  Danny hadn’t read it in several weeks. He’d delighted in Maddy’s recollections. Was moved by her understanding. Revelled in her confessions – of how much she missed him; loved him. The parts about Nick made Danny jealous, but as long as she still loved him he could tolerate them.

  As he sat on the bed this morning, reading Maddy’s words, fear fluttered through his stomach. His hands shook so badly he finally had to put the book on the mattress in order to continue. Her cramped script dissolved before his tear-filled eyes.

  She didn’t want him here anymore. She wouldn’t protect him.

  *****

  Maddy entered Danny’s cabin without knocking. He sat, cross-legged, on the bed. He didn’t seem surprised to see her, as if he’d been waiting for her.

  Water from her slicker dripped onto the linoleum. It made a loud, pattering noise in the heavy silence.

  When she finally spoke, it was in a strong, sure voice.

  “Where did you run to get help?”

  It wasn’t the question he expected.

  “You don’t trust me anymore,” he answered.

  “I don’t know you anymore, Danny. That’s the problem.” She paused. “Answer me.” He didn’t speak. “There were people all around – close by. I was only a shout away. Where did you run to get help?”

  He went on the defensive out of instinct. “I got confused. I ran the wrong way.”