Winter Wake

by Rick Hautala

  When she thought it might be a mermaid, she almost laughed out loud.

  Almost.

  But that was the impression she’d had ... of a person with long, flowing hair swimming on her back below the surface, looking up at the suurface.

  How? … Longingly?

  Angrily?

  And why do I think her?

  Panic tugged at her mind.

  Why do I assume it’s a woman?

  “Look over the side. Tell me if you see anything,” Julia said, pointing down over the gunwales.

  Both Ellie and John obliged her, staring for a while as the ocean slid past the moving boat. Then they both looked at her. John shook his head.

  “Sorry,” he said. “Just water ‘s far as I can see.”

  “I don’t see anything either,” Ellie said. Her face twisted between concern for Julia and caution.

  “I —” Julia halted, searching for the right word. ‘‘I’m … not sure. I thought I saw something.”

  “Could have been apiece of the kelp,” John offered. “Randy said the storm might’ve stirred things up. Or maybe it was a seal. I don’t know.”

  By this time, Randy had gotten to his next buoy. He cut the engine, bringing the boat to a stop, and he and John set to work, hauling the pot. As the hydraulic drum whined, pulling the lobster pot up, Julia was tense. Any minute, she expected to hear the hauler whine louder as it struggled to pull free another pot that was snagged on the bottom.

  But this one came up easily, and Julia let out a sigh of relief, telling herself to calm down and not get overexcited about things.

  What kind of things might be down there? Julia asked herself.

  For an answer, all she had to do was look — or try to look — over the side of the boat.

  Was that really a person? she wondered, or had it been a trick of the interplay of her reflection with the water and sunlight?

  Try as she might to deny it, Julia was convinced there was a person down there, floating along beside the boat, swimming on her back. If she looked now, she would see her. Her eyes would be closer to the surface now … so close Julia would be able to peer into them.

  Tension wound through her like taut bared wire as she imagined … not just eyes, but hands as well … swollen, white, water-wrinkled hands slapping like dead fish onto the side of the boat as they tried to find a hold … tried to get enough purchase to pull up …

  Julia knew it was impossible.

  No one — no human being could possibly stay in water this cold as she —

  Why do I keep thinking she? Julia wondered.

  — followed the lobster boat out to sea.

  It had to be something else … the kelp, like Randy said, or a school of fish … or maybe a sea otter like that one up in Rockport years ago. What was his name? Andre? She read something about how Andre made a nuisance of himself, following fishing and lobster boats around the harbor.

  Over the sounds Randy and John made as hey worked, Julia thought she heard a heavy, wet slap against the side of the boat. Her imagination was now spinning into overdrive, and her mind was flooded with the frightening image of those eyes coming up closer to the surface … of those hands, reaching up to the side of the boat.

  Swallowing hard before she sucked in a deep breath of air, Julia turned away from watching Randy and John. Her hands clenched into fists, and her shoulder muscles bunched up as though she were about to take a punch at someone. She inched her way to the side of the boat and, bracing herself, let her gaze drift down to the water.

  In one frozen instant, her mind literally went blank.

  There was someone there.

  A person.

  And eyes — cold …blank …dead — were staring up at her.

  Hands were reaching up out of the water.

  Hands as cold and white and thin as a skeleton’s broke the surface of the water and then, ever so slowly, waved to her as though beckoning for her to lean over the side of the boat … to look closer … to come closer …

  Waves of dizziness crashed over Julia as she stared in disbelief at the figure in the water.

  It was a girl … a young girl.

  Not much older than Bri, she thought with stomach-dropping horror.

  The girl’s long, dark, flowing hair twisted and tangled in the ocean currents. Her thin legs scissor-kicked in long, languid strokes that easily kept pace with the boat. She was suspended in the water, floating gently several feet below the surface, her image distorted by the rippling waves as she bobbed like a feather riding the breeze. She held her hands almost pleadingly up to Julia. Her long, narrow fingers curled as she beckoned.

  “No … I …” Julia stammered.

  She took a short step backward and thumped into the boat housing. Unable to force the image from her mind, she tried to tear her gaze away, but those eyes … those cold, dead eyes shot like coldly burning sparks into her soul. Like whirlpools, they dragged Julia forward to the side of the boat again, against her will.

  Seaweed and black slime dangled like bracelets from the hands as they waved to Julia, luring … drawing … pulling her to the side of the boat.

  “ … come … “ a voice whispered, rasping in Julia’s mind like the hiss of metal on stone.

  Julia was drawn closer to the side, her gaze transfixed by those eyes those cold eyes.

  “… come to … “

  One more step forward brought Julia up against the gunwales. She gripped the rail tightly, her knuckles going white as she leaned out over the water, fighting — yet deep inside herself not wanting to fight — the irresistible pull of those cold eyes … those dead, white hands … that voice …

  “… come … to … me …”

  Sunlight shattered like diamonds on the ocean surface, dazzling her eyes and burning like a laser into her retina, leaving spinning afterimages that danced across the water. The dark shape beneath the surface rippled and began to resolve into a clearly defined human shape as the hands reached up to her.

  “No,” Julia said in a whimper.

  Just then, Randy gunned the engine, and the boat leaped forward.

  Caught off balance, Julia started to go over the side of the boat, but then something — someone snagged her arm and pulled her back.

  “Julia! For God’s sake! Be careful,” Ellie yelled above the roar of the boat’s engine.

  Julia lurched to the side, breaking free of Ellie’s grip and swinging her arms wildly to regain her balance.

  “… come … to … me … Julia …”

  John turned when he heard Ellie shout and dashed over to Julia as she slumped against the boat housing.

  “Are you all right?” he yelled, looking anxiously from Julia to Ellie for an explanation.

  Julia’s eyes were wide as she looked at her husband. She grabbed him by the shoulder and held him close … as close as she could. His breath was the only warmth she could feel as it washed over the side of her face. Her eyes bulged from their sockets, and her face was cold and bloodless … as deathly pale as …

  As those hands, she thought.

  Her panic increased with an audible rush.

  Those hands … were … reaching up … to me.

  “No … the — umm, I kinda lost it there for a second,” she stammered. Her voice had a distorted vibration. “Sorry. Maybe I’m getting seasick.”

  “You look like shit,” John said, shifting to one side and hugging her tightly. “For a minute there, I thought you were going to go over.”

  “Yeah, when the boat started up … it kind of caught me off balance, and my stomach sorta went.”

  “Well, now’s certainly not the time of year to take a swim,” John said, forcing a laugh. He had caught only a glimpse before Julia fell backward, but he had the clear impression she had been about to jump — not fall — into the water.

  “Yeah, I … I don’t know,” Julia stammered. “I think I’m gonna lose it.”

  She looked desperately at her husband, wanting to tell him what
she had seen.

  No, she thought. Not saw … Thought I saw … It wasn’t really there …

  She wasn’t sure why, but she couldn’t bring herself to do that. It wasn’t that she was afraid he would think she was crazy.

  What else would you call it? her mind whispered.

  “Why don’t have some more coffee?” John said. “Warm yourself up.” His voice was strong and reassuring, and it helped dissolve some of the panic inside her. “You still look pale. You probably ought to get out of the wind and rest a bit.”

  Randy stuck his head around the corner of the boat housing and said, “We can head back in if you’re not feeling well.”

  Julia started toward the boat housing, but every step was shaky, and she was grateful to have John to lean on. She shook her head at Randy’s suggestion.

  “You’ve got work to do,” she said. “I don’t want to screw up your day just because I got a little queasy.”

  “This ain’t an actual workday for me, anyways. I could let you and Ellie off at the wharf,” Randy said. “John and I can come back out and finish off.” He glanced at his wife, who had followed them inside the small cabin. The look of pleased expectation on her face was impossible to ignore.

  John held Julia’s elbow and assisted her in taking a seat inside the housing.

  “You may be coming down with that flu Bri and I had,” he said. “You shouldn’t take any chances.”

  “I’m all right … Honest,” she said, reaching for the thermos of coffee and pouring herself a cupful. “I lost my balance there for a second. I’ll be all right. I’m sorry I spoiled it for the rest of you.”

  For the next hour, as Randy and John hauled a few more of Randy’s traps, she maintained a brave front; but for the rest of the time they were on the boat, she couldn’t get that image of a woman in the water, under the boat, out of her mind.

  Maybe, as John had suggested, she was getting the flu. If she was running a fever, she could have been hallucinating. But she shivered whenever she looked toward the side rail of the boat. It had seemed so clear, so definite … those eyes staring up at her … and those hands reaching for her … and that voice.

  “… come … to … me … Julia …”

  By the time they moored the Bait Barrel and rowed the punt back to the dock, what she had seen began to take on the elusiveness of a dream. The image was still there — those eyes … those hands blazed in her mind like a glowing branding iron, but she told herself that, rationally, there couldn’t have been anyone swimming alongside the boat.

  It was impossible!

  She was running a fever or had seen a fish or something … but whatever rational explanation there might be — even if she never discovered it — she came away from this experience with one very clear thought.

  She was never going out on a boat, lobstering or otherwise, ever again.

  FOURTEEN

  Ice Maiden

  I

  A blue funk, that’s what Julia called it, even though it wasn’t Monday and it wasn’t even morning.

  It was Wednesday afternoon, and she couldn’t shake the feeling of … well, it wasn’t exactly depression. It was more like a fatigue, both mental and physical.

  Frank had come back from visiting friends down at the wharf and, after a light lunch, was in his bedroom with the TV blaring away, no doubt asleep. John was at work. Bri was still at school. And Julia was bored out of her mind.

  She had done the grocery shopping and all the housecleaning she could stand on Monday. With Robert Parker’s latest Spenser novel spread open on her lap, she was sitting in the living room, staring blankly out the window.

  After the cold — and terrifying — ride in Randy’s lobster boat on Saturday, she had come home with a bone-deep chill that she was sure would turn into a fever by night. It made sense that it was her turn to get whatever John and Bri had just gotten over. But by Sunday, although she still didn’t have much energy, she hadn’t been laid low, either — certainly not as badly as John and Bri had. She was sure she was fighting a light touch of something, though. That’s the only way she could account for her inability to get interested in anything. Even the Spenser book wasn’t holding her interest.

  Earlier that day, she had considered taking a walk, but the weather had gotten increasingly colder since Saturday, and she didn’t want to take any chances of lowering her resistance if she was fighting a flu. Instead, after running a few loads of laundry through, she brewed a cup of spearmint tea — that “unnatural” tea, as Frank called it — and settled in the living room to read. The only problem was, the stillness of the house, cut only by the indistinct buzz of Frank’s TV, worked on her nerves and kept drawing her attention away from her book.

  She had a lot to consider, and thoughts and feelings she didn’t like having kept intruding on her mind.

  Thoughts like — What about that note she had found?

  I won’t forget what …

  What?

  Who wrote the note and why?

  And, more importantly, why had John been hiding it from me?

  He had purposely it under the couch cushion and then, when he thought she wasn’t paying attention, grabbed it and thrown it away.

  Why?

  Why did she suddenly feel as though she couldn’t trust her own husband?

  She was desperately wrong if something as simple as that note — but is it so simple? — could shake her trust in him.

  Why didn’t she tell John, honestly and upfront, what was on her mind?

  Even if she hadn’t confronted him about the note, why couldn’t she tell him what she had seen in the water under the boat?

  It wasn’t just because he might think she was crazy.

  They had always had an honest and open relationship. They prided themselves on never hiding anything from each other. But — and it hurt to admit this — for the past few weeks — ever since they’d moved to Glooscap, if she was honest with herself — John had been acting like he was hiding something from her.

  Maybe it was as simple as not wanting to live with his father … or that he didn’t like his new job. Certainly, it couldn’t be that he loved her any less, but something was galling him and was eating him up from the inside.

  She knew him well enough to know that.

  Wishing she had someone to talk to, she let her gaze drift over to the phone. If she had felt a little better, she would have dialed her friend Sue back in Vermont and talked it out. Over the years, she and Sue had been through a lot, and Sue might see something obvious that she was missing.

  But she didn’t want to break the closed silence of the house. The small measure of contentment and security of just sitting on the couch and watching small motes of dust spiral through the shafts of sunlight filtering through the curtains was soothing. The droning of Frank’s TV receded to little more than a distant insect-like hum as Julia sat there, staring off into space and letting her thoughts roll around in her mind until she became aware of something … a very light tap-tapping sound.

  By the time the sound had intruded on her awareness, it was as though she had been listening to it for a long time before she became aware of it. Shifting her feet to the floor, she let the book drop to the floor as she craned her head around and tried to locate the source of the sound.

  It seemed to be coming from the kitchen … a steady, faint tap-tapping … as though someone was rapping lightly on the window. She stood up and walked around the side of the couch. When she entered the kitchen, the tapping sound suddenly stopped, and a fleeting shadow shifted across the windowpane.

  Her first impression was that a bird had been sitting on the sill pecking at something — maybe its own reflection on the glass. Before she could relax the tension in her shoulders, the sound came again, only now it was behind her, in the living room.

  Julia was about to call out to Frank to ask if he was doing something that might be causing the sound, but he napped every day at this time. There was no sense disturbing him. She
walked back into the living room and almost screamed out loud when the indistinct silhouette of someone appeared in the front door window. Before she could blink, the figure rippled and then was gone.

  It didn’t duck away to one side.

  It simply ... vanished.

  Am I imagining things? she asked herself.

  She was torn between wanting to walk boldly to the door, pull aside the curtain, and look out. Either that, or ignore it and go upstairs instead and lie down, pretending she hadn’t seen a thing.

  But she had seen something, and as her mind replayed the figure she had seen in the water beside the boat the other day, a deep chill took hold of her.

  Am I losing my mind? she wondered.

  Is there something wrong with me?

  She thought that perhaps the pressure of moving and trying to adjust to island life was affecting her more than she realized. A wave of panic clutched her, but she told herself they had been living in Maine for almost two months, now. That excuse was wearing thin. Julia’s hands were clammy, and a swirl of cold air as though the door had been left open sucked up around her, making her shiver.

  I’m getting sick, she thought, eyeing the couch and her unread novel lying facedown on the floor.

  The muscles in her legs turned to jelly as waves of cold swept up and down her back, making her teeth chatter. Staggering backward, she grabbed the couch arm for support and was easing down onto the couch when the tapping noise came again … this time behind her … near the dining room window.

  Her legs almost gave out from under her as she swung around to look and yet again saw a hint of motion as someone ducked out of sight.

  “This isn’t very funny,” she muttered. She didn’t have the strength to shout as she strode to the closet by the front door. Grabbing her heavy jacket, she shrugged her arms into it and, swinging open the front door, stepped out onto the front doorstep. With her first breath, the cold autumn air hit her lungs like a hammer. She gasped, and her eyes were watering as she looked around both sides of the house.

  The grass was yellow and matted. It showed no sign of footprints by either the living room or dining room windows. Pulling her collar tightly around her neck, Julia came down the steps and walked slowly around the side of the house. Frozen soil crunched underfoot, sounding like someone grinding away on a mouthful of breakfast cereal.