by Rick Hautala
Without a word, Ellie got up from her chair and went up the stairs. A minute later, she returned and handed her husband a dark blue, imitation leather-covered book. Without reading the title stamped in fake gold on the front, John recognized the 1966 edition of Rocks and Pebbles, their high school yearbook.
“Check it out, my man.” Randy was still shaking with suppressed laughter as flipped the book open and fluttered through the first few pages. When he found what he was looking for, he displayed a page with a photo of a skinny, shorthaired boy staring at the camera with wide-eyed surprise.
“Talk about a deer caught in the headlights,” he said.
“I don’t know,” Julia said after studying the picture. “I think he’s kind of handsome.”
She held out her hand for the book, and when she took it, she thought that it was strange how she didn’t remembered ever seeing John’s graduation picture. Maybe once, when they first met they had leafed through it, but she realized now that she hadn’t come across it while they were packing for the move to Maine.
“Pretty cool-looking dude,” Julia said. “Radical hairstyle.”
She handed the book back to Randy after studying the picture for a moment, trying to see the man in the boy.
“Oh, he was cool, all right,” Randy said. “Just look at that hair.”
Again, his laughter was so loud he snorted as he doubled up.
“Give it a rest, will you?” John said. He glanced briefly at the picture, unable to accept that this was really him. The hair that had seemed so outrageously long back then was, in fact, barely touching the tips of his ears. And his eyes did look like the eyes of a scared animal.
And that’s just what I was, his mind whispered, a scared animal …
He struggled to control his shaking hand as he raised the cigarette to his mouth and inhaled deeply.
“See what he wrote?” Randy said. Clearing his throat, he held the book at arm’s length and read with a stern, professorial tone. “‘To Randy C. Probably the only person who truly knows how much this day means to me. I hope we stay friends in the years to come, but we can’t if you end up smelling like a bait barrel.’ Isn’t that sweet?”
“Actually,” Ellie said, “that’s why Randy named his boat the Bait Barrel … in honor of you.”
“I’m deeply touched,” John said, placing his hand over his heart. “I truly am.” No one reacted to the sarcasm.
“Could I have another look?” Julia asked.
Randy handed her the yearbook, and she silently flipped through the pages while Randy continued to needle John.
“That might not be such a bad idea, though,” Randy said. “Going lobstering, I mean. We could head out early next Saturday morning, and you can see exactly what the job is. I don’t remember a single time you’ve been out on the ocean.”
John squirmed in his chair and repeatedly flicked the tip of his cigarette into the ashtray. “I don’t need to do that. I know all I need to know about lobstering. It’s hard, smelly work.” Turning to Julia, he said, “Make sure you stand downwind of this guy after he docks.”
Randy leaned close to John’s ear and, just as he always did in the old days, egged him on, whispering, “Come on … What are you, pussy?”
Grimacing, John shook his head.
“I’m not interested,” he said.
For the first time, he thought Randy’s behavior was shifting beyond teasing. He was getting mad at Randy — and not just the old Randy he had known twenty years ago. For the first time since they’d gotten home, John wished Julia had declined the invitation, and if she could have read his mind right then, he would have flashed the message, Let’s get the fuck out of here now.
“What’s this?” Julia asked, her voice cutting off Randy’s next comment. John, at least, was grateful for the relief from the tension.
“What you got?”
Randy moved over to Julia’s chair and looked at the book spread open in her lap. John didn’t like seeing his old high school buddy sitting close to his wife.
Randy studied the yearbook page for a moment and then muttered, “I’ll be a son of a bitch.”
“Randy,” Ellie said, casting her eyes ceilingward.
“Look at this,” Randy said, taking the yearbook from Julia and showing it to his wife.
Curious, John also got up from his seat and came over to look at the book. The instant he saw the page, he recognized it; and when he saw what was wrong, a cold chill hit him in the gut.
“Look at that, why don’t you,” Ellie said, shaking her head with wonderment. “One of the pictures has faded.”
“That’s the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen.” Randy held the opened page up to the table light and turned it so he could see it at different angles. The page was of the graduating class portraits, but right across the middle was a blank strip where there should have been a photo, name, and description. Even under a bright light, there was no trace of the missing photograph or information.
“That’s weird,” Randy said, his voice dropping low. “John … This is where Abby’s picture used to be. What the hell happened?”
Feigning interest but fighting the waves of cold that made his teeth chatter, John craned his neck to look at the blank spot on the page as Randy angled it back and forth under the light. He had looked at that picture often enough to know exactly what should have been there … Abby’s smiling face … her soft, rounded cheeks… her long, dark hair hanging to her shoulders … and that quotation he had always thought was so damned stupid: “Fresh of spirit and resolved to meet her perils constantly. “
“It just … disappeared,” Randy said, confusion written all over his face. Marking the place with his finger, he flipped through the other pages of the yearbook, checking to see if there was any other damage. Apparently satisfied, he reopened it to the missing picture.
“Maybe they used ... I don’t know, some kind of cheap paper or printer’s ink or something,” Julia volunteered. She knew that was a foolish suggestion because, if that was the case, other parts of the book would have suffered as well.
“I’ll be damned,” Randy said with a shrug. “I can’t figure it out.” He turned the yearbook over in his hand and inspected the sides and back. “You have a yearbook, don’t you?”
John shrugged. “Probably.”
“What do you mean, probably?”
“I mean I don’t sit around and look at it, recalling the old days. I’d just as soon forget them.”
Randy frowned and said, “If you think of it, maybe check yours to see if Abby’s picture in it.”
“If I think of it,” John said. It took effort to keep his voice from trembling, but he managed to add, “It’s like memories … They fade away after a while.”
“I’m gonna take this to the photo shop in Portland and see if they can explain it,” Randy said, obviously still bothered.
“It is sort of strange, don’t you think?” Julia said. “You said no one’s seen Abby in — how long?”
“Since right before graduation?” John said, his voice shaking noticeably.
“And then her picture fades out of the yearbook. It’s like something out of The Twilight Zone.” She rubbed her shoulders and shivered.
“I’m sure there’s a more reasonable explanation,” John said.
When it was obvious no one had anything to add, Randy put the yearbook away. That also, thankfully, seemed to stop any more nostalgia for the evening, and they spent the rest of their visit talking about raising kids, how Frank was doing following his stroke, and jobs — but not condos. Around nine-thirty, John gave Julia the signal that he was ready to leave, so they said their thank-yous and, bundled against the raw weather, started for the door.
At the door, Randy nailed John with a look and said, “So are you gonna do it?”
“Do what?” John asked, dreading what he thought was coming.
“Go out lobstering with me on Saturday. If nothing else, it’ll make you realize how lucky you are to
have the job like that.”
“We’ll see,” John said.
Randy swung the door open and held it for them as they dashed out into the rain to their car. John went first and held the car door open for Julia, who threw herself onto the seat. Her face was dripping wet from the short time in the downpour.
“I had a good time,” she said, wiping her face with one hand and waving to the Chadwicks, who were standing in the doorway. “How about you?”
“It was okay, I guess.” John punctuated his comment with a low sniff. Leaning to one side, he fished the car keys from his pocket and started up the car. Looking over his shoulder, he backed down out of the driveway. “Randy’s kind of a dipshit, though.”
“He was teasing you,” Julia replied. “And — I don’t know — maybe what he said explains why the people haven’t been all that friendly to us.”
“The condo, you mean?”
Julia nodded.
John’s mouth was set in a hard line as he pulled into the street and started forward. The headlights worked to push back the cold darkness
“Yeah, well, one thing you got to admit. I sure as hell don’t look as old as Randy.”
Julia regarded John in the soft glow of the dashboard light and then said, “Oh, I don’t know. I don’t think he or Ellie ooked all that bad. A bit more weathered than us, maybe, but they didn’t seem that old. You want to know what I’m still ticked off about, though?”
“What’s that?” John said, expecting Julia to say something about the condo project.
‘‘I’m ticked off that I still don’t know what she looks like,” Julia’s voice took on a dreamy quality.
“What are you talking about?”
John looked at her face, glistening in the light reflected from the wet pavement.
“Abby,” Julia said softly. “I wish that picture had still been there in the yearbook. I’d like to know what your old girlfriend looked like.”
“Can we not talk about it?” John said tensely.
He forced a sharp laugh and, keeping his eyes focused on the road, added simply, “For one thing, she wasn’t half as pretty as you are.”
And in his mind, he involuntarily finished his sentence, Not anymore, she isn’t.
ELEVEN
After the Storm
I
Bri had pretty much given up on the idea of trying to meet Audrey again and make friends with her. At least that’s what she told herself when she set out for her walk on Saturday morning. The week at school had been lousy, and she was trying to accept that — at least for now — she wasn’t going to make friends easily — if at all — either at school or on the island. This bothered her because she had been part of such a close-knit group of friends back in Vermont. On her walks, she thought a lot about the way things used to be.
The day had dawned clear and bright, just like her grandfather had said it would. The breeze off the ocean was raw and invigorating, tangy with salt. It tasted funny on the back of her throat when she breathed through her mouth. Waves were piling up high on the rocks — huge swells that crested before they hit. White spray flew high into the sky. Driven toward land because the sea was so rough, sea gulls circled and dove among the breakers, looking for crabs that had washed up onto the rocks.
The storm had stripped what little foliage remained on the trees on Indian Point. The winding paths were mired with mud and rain-battered leaves. In order to keep her shoes clean, Bri had to skirt some pretty deep puddles. Halfway out onto the point, she saw someone’s footprints in the mud, and her instant thought was it was Audrey, out for a walk. But she pushed aside any excitement, determined not to say a word to Audrey if they met.
It’ll serve her right for what she’s done to me, she thought as she mentally catalogued Audrey’s offenses: trying to scare her on Halloween night; ignoring her, maybe even actually hiding from her at school; and that trick she had pulled out on Bald Hill, hiding in the deep woods and calling to her …
“Yeah, screw you,” she said sullenly as she kicked a divot in the wet turf.
More and more, Bri was coming to see the ocean as her only real friend on the island. Oh, sure, there was always her mother and father, and — truth to tell — she was starting to appreciate her grandfather. Still, it was only when she came down to the ocean that she could think and feel her own thoughts, and there was no need to say them out loud because nobody else was around.
Off in the distance, Bri could see the Great Diamond lighthouse. The crystal-clear air made it look much closer than it was. The steady breeze off the water carried a lonely, distant hoot from some offshore light or buoy. Bri’s eyes started to water as she eased down off the slope and started climbing around on the slick, black rocks. Tangles of seaweed and frayed rope, driftwood, and a few smashed lobster pots littered the strand.
Bri was beginning to know this area like the face of an old friend, so it surprised her to see how much one storm could actually change the shoreline. Whenever she found some washed-up wood or rope, she would pick it up and toss it back into the ocean. This gave her something to do, a sense that she was restoring the point to what it had been before the storm.
In the lee of a huge rock, half-buried in the sand, she saw something glittering — a piece of shattered green glass, worn and rounded by the waves. As she bent to pick it up, someone spoke from behind her.
“Looking for buried treasure?”
Taken by surprise, Bri barely registered what had been said. She was even more surprised when she turned and saw Audrey smiling down at her from the bluff. The sun was directly behind her, and her long hair blew in the wind like tangled smoke. She cast a long shadow over the rocks all the way to Bri. The bright sunlight and the brilliant blue of the sky blurred her features.
“Lots of treasure,” Bri said, instantly mad at herself for not sticking to her resolution not to speak with her if they met. She wanted to walk away and ignore Audrey — let her feel what it was like to be ignored. Instead Bri stood there, tossing the beach glass from one hand to the other as she looked up at Audrey.
“There’s supposed to be pirate treasure buried somewhere on this island,” Audrey said.
“Whoop-de-do,” Bri said, not caring if Audrey got mad and left.
“Can I look for buried treasure with you?” Audrey asked. Her voice was pleasant and mild, so soft it seemed as though she was standing beside her, not at the top of the rise.
She still hadn’t moved from her position looking down on Bri.
When Bri shifted to get out of Audrey’s shadow, the sunlight stung her eyes so she shielded them with her hand.
‘‘I’m just walking,” Bri said. “You can do whatever you want.”
Audrey let out a soft laugh, barely audible above the hiss of the wind off the water. Breakers roared against the rocks, and the air was filled with the cry of sea gulls. When Bri turned to continue making her way along the shoreline, Audrey noiselessly climbed down the rocks and suddenly appeared at her side. They walked for a while in perfect silence, their hands in their pockets and their faces turned away from the cold wind.
“How come you act so... strange?” Audrey said at last.
“I thought we might be friends.”
They had rounded the point and were heading toward the harbor. The ocean was much tamer on the landward side, but there was still plenty of evidence of the storm washed up on the rocks.
Bri shrugged as she recalled the first — and only — time she had walked out here with Audrey. Talk about acting funny, she thought, remembering how Audrey had been afraid of being seen by anyone on the wharf. She wasn’t surprised when Audrey suddenly turned on her heel and said, “Let’s go back on the other side. I like to watch the waves come crashing in.”
Not caring one way or another, Bri turned with her and started retracing their route around the point. She was burning to say something to Audrey … to ask her why she acted so … well, funny wasn’t the right word. Mysterious and mean was more like it.
These and other questions arose in her mind, but she didn’t ask any of them, figuring she’d give it a rest and see how Audrey treated her today. If they spent the morning together and had some fun, then fine. If Audrey suddenly took off, leaving her behind — then fine. She simply wasn’t going to push it anymore.
“I love it when the ocean’s so wild,” Audrey said, stopping in her tracks and turning her face into the wind. Her hair blew straight back, exposing her face. When Bri looked at her, she felt a sudden chill. Until now, she had never taken a good look at Audrey. She realized that Audrey always kept her eyes averted and never looked directly at her. As she studied her now, she was surprised how thin and pale Audrey looked. Although she couldn’t have been more than sixteen, the cornerss of her eyes were wrinkled like an old woman’s, and her lips were thin and cracked. Her jawbone stuck out as though the skin covering it was no more than paper-thin. To Bri, she looked like someone who hadn’t eaten or slept well in years.
“Don’t you just love it?” Audrey asked.
When she looked directly at her, Bri had to struggle not to scream.
Audrey’s face — even as she was looking at it — seemed to shift subtly. It wasn’t just the interplay of the shadows from her windblown hair. Her skin seemed to have lost what little muscle tone it had and was dissolving away, exposing the skull beneath. Her eye sockets were shadowed, and Bri had the terrifying illusion that the girl’s eyes were actually gone … that Audrey was staring at her from bony, empty sockets.
In a roaring rush, she flashed on the decomposing body she had discovered that day on Bald Hill. No amount of insisting by her father or mother was going to convince her that she hadn’t tripped over a human body in the woods. And now …
Am I losing my mind? she thought as waves of fear tugged at her.
“Something the matter?” Audrey asked.
She leaned closer to Bri, and in Bri’s terrified imagination, she saw — not fleshy lips, but the clacking teeth of a skeleton. The voice didn’t come from Audrey’s thin throat … It was in the roaring air all around them.
