Hold Fast 'Til the Dawn

by Mary Haskell

  "You're bound to be as close as it's possible to be." He meant it. He could think of no one in whom he would have more confidence than Jenny in a crisis like this. He kicked on the engine, leaving it in idle; they must De prepared for anything. They could see nothing beyond the bow. Missing two whistles in these waters was bad news.

  Suddenly he heard one of the most fearsome sounds in nature to a sailor under ful sail—the whack of crashing water. "Jenny! Reverse course!"

  Her head snapped around. She, too, heard the alarming waves, and could now see a startling cascade of spray curling back toward them. No question now where they were— they had overshot Mark Island and were in the rock garden. For that moment everything was forgotten but the crisis of survival. Quickly responding to Larry's direction, she firmly turned the wheel at the same time she slowly pushed the throttle to forward. The vessel responded, starting its wide, sweeping turn away from the cliffs and the pounding surf.

  "Perfect!" Larry yel ed above the roar. "Keep the disturbance in sight and circle; I have to go do some refiguring." He took two steps and turned back to her. "Okay?"

  She gave a nod. "Okay." Shivering violently, she continued the tortuous circling for what seemed an eternity.

  The cold rain ran in streams into her eyes. That, combined with the fog, made a deadly duet. She kept dipping her head to her sleeve, trying to clear her vision, afraid to lighten her hold on the wheel. The cold of the metal was working into her palms, sending aching shafts of discomfort up her arms. At one point during the turn, she caught sight of a stretch of land. The sight was reassuring.

  Finally Larry was back at her side, his face a study of forced calm. "Okay, I think I've got it. Head southeast."

  Jenny completed the loop and adjusted her course, praying al the while, "Please, God, let it be right, bring us back on course. Whatever has gone on with us is not Ricky's fault. Please, please let it be al right." The rain let up, and the pelting downpour eased to a drizzle. Suddenly Jenny caught sight of a red nun buoy off the starboard bow. "Larry!" she yel ed, "look!"

  Larry's head shot up, al attention. "What?" Then he focused on the same blessed sight. "Oh, thank heaven."

  They stood side by side on the deck. The rain had stopped completely, and suddenly, like a giant stage curtain, the fog lifted. There before them stretched the most beautiful sight they could have hoped for—the Deer Island Thoroughfare, guiding them into Stonington Harbor.

  "Oh, Larry, we made it. Now if only Rick is al right."

  "He just has to be. Can you maneuver through the lob- sterboats while I check on him and drop the mainsail?"

  "Yes, go ahead."

  The moment they pul ed alongside the dock, Larry threw the line to a young man who was standing there watching. "We have a very sick boy aboard," he shouted as he secured the bow line. "How do I cal for help?"

  The man tossed the other line to Larry, saying, "Be right back," and took off at a run. In the time it took to finish securing the boat, a bright red ambulance screeched up to the dock, and two men and a woman jumped out and came aboard.

  Jenny greeted them with tears running down her cheeks, her reserve of stiff upper lip gone. Now that they were safe in the harbor, her terror concerning Rick's condition burst loose. "This way. How did you get here so fast?" she asked as they fol owed her to Rick's side.

  "The ambulance is kept right behind the store," the woman answered. "You're lucky the tide was in and that we were in minding the store. That's what we do when we're not on cal ." She knelt beside Rick, examining his head and taking his pulse, then looked up at Jenny. "How did he get this wound?" Jenny quickly explained the accident, and how concerned they had been about his health before it happened. "Let's get him on the stretcher and get going," she ordered the two men. They quickly freed him from his sail cocoon and as they carried him off the boat, the woman explained "I'm the district nurse. We'll take him to the Blue Hil s Hospital."

  "Al right." Jenny's voice would barely work. "May I ride with him?"

  "Of course."

  As they loaded the stretcher, Jenny cal ed, "Larry, where are you?"

  A very frazzled-looking Larry dashed out of the store, running his hand through his hair. He rushed over to the side of the ambulance. "Jenny, I can't go with you. This tide wil be going down fourteen feet very soon, and I have to get the boat to deeper water."

  "Can't someone here do it for you?"

  "No, that's what I've been trying to arrange. The driver and the nurse and one other person have to go along, and that leaves one young kid to mind the store. You'd better get going, honey; the important thing is that Rick get help."

  "I'll be in touch as soon as I know anything."

  "Okay. They'll give you the store number so you can cal in a message. I'll fol ow as soon as I get the boat secured."

  Jenny sat huddled in the ambulance with the young man and the nurse, who took Rick's pulse and blood pressure, then checked his eyes. "His pupils are reacting wel ; he should be al right." The first ray of hope.

  Suddenly Rick began to moan and thrash about, pushing Jenny's hands away, fighting the efforts of the nurse to hold him down. "Dear Lord!" Jenny cried. "What's he doing?"

  "Probably a concussion," the nurse advised. "You hold his feet while we restrain him." They secured a cover around the stretcher, holding him fast. Jenny sat close to him, running her hand over his feverish forehead, murmuring words of comfort. Rick stared up at her, mumbling his own code of jibberish. "He doesn't know me."

  Jenny's voice cracked.

  "Probably not; that's a nasty wound on his head. Here." The nurse handed Jenny a blanket. "You're shaking like a leaf." Jenny grateful y pul ed the warm wrap around her shoulders. "Now," the woman said, "tel us again just what happened."

  As Jenny was finishing her account, the driver cal ed back, "The doctor on cal at Blue Hil s is already tied up in an emergency. They suggest we head for Bangor."

  "How far is that?" The fear inside Jenny was rising alarmingly.

  "Another hour; we'll get there as quickly as possible." The young man was very kind and clearly frightened. It wasn't hard to see why. Rick's face was chalk white, and he was moaning aloud. Jenny clutched her hands together in her lap, fighting the mounting hysteria. Why couldn't Larry be with her?

  The next two hours were a blurred nightmare. The ambulance screeching to a halt outside the huge building, the white-suited forms rushing about, her son disappearing down the long, blindingly white hal . Then the agonized waiting, with no one to talk to, ask questions of, or cry with. Just lonely, awful waiting.

  The ambulance, with its personnel, had returned to its station. The young man had cal ed the store before they left to tel Larry where they were, but it would be a long time before he could get there. She would have to go through the worst of it by herself. She should be getting used to that by now, shouldn't she? What else could she expect in the years ahead but going through troubles by herself? Oh Lord, she mustn't think about that now or she'd lose her mind.

  Just then a stiffly starched doctor appeared. "Mrs. Andrews?"

  "Yes."

  He pul ed up a chair beside her. "Your son is being prepared for surgery. We must perform an appendectomy.

  We'll need your signature." He gently placed a sheet of paper in her hand, which she numbly signed as she concentrated on not missing a word. "He has a concussion, but his reactions are good, so you don't need to worry about that." He stood, taking the form from her hands. "I have to get back. Find a place to rest." He leaned over and patted her hand. "We'll take care of your son." With that he was gone.

  Jenny, her legs turned to rubber, dropped into a chair by the wal . She began to shake al over, violently, uncontrol ably. Then two white-clad feet appeared on the floor in front of her, and a cheery voice said, "Mrs.

  Andrews, let me get you something dry to put on."

  "Thank you." She watched the nurse go through a closet for some green cotton slacks and a tie-back johnny coat.

&n
bsp; "Not beautiful, but dry," the nurse offered sunnily. "Here, put these paper slippers on, then I'll go get you some coffee."

  Jenny's exhaustion was indescribable. She huddled down and pul ed the blanket the nurse had supplied over herself. They had told her it would be a long wait. At least she could stay warm. She fel asleep before the nurse got back with the coffee.

  "Jenny..." Her eyes shot open, and she was staring up into the face of her husband. "Wake up, honey, the operation is over."

  She sat up so quickly that she felt woozy. "Steady." Larry helped her to her feet. "He's going to be fine. They got the appendix out before it burst."

  She stood stil a moment, squeezing her eyes shut and rubbing the back of her neck, trying to ful y awaken.

  "Can we see him?"

  "Yes, but the doctor says it'll be a while before he wakes up, and he'd prefer we look in and then come back in the morning."

  They started down the hal . "How's his head?"

  "It was a concussion, but they assure me he'll be fine."

  After a reassuring visit to their stil -sleeping son and a quick change into clothes Larry had brought for her, Jenny fol owed him out to an old blue Toyota. "Where did you get this?"

  "The kid at the store loaned it to me. A real nice bunch at that place."

  Jenny eased herself into the seat. Everything that strung her body together ached. She leaned back and closed her eyes, listening to Larry's voice. "One of the nurses got us a room at a motel; it's supposed to be just around the corner. The boat is moored for the night, but I have to go back in the morning and move it to Boothbay. They're keeping an eye on it for me tonight, but they have no way to keep it there any longer."

  The car slowed. "Ah, here we are. Sorry I couldn't be with you, but at least I had a chance to make several cal s. I cal ed Christy and Wil ; Wil is going to let Dick Baxter know, in case he wants to have anything checked on the hul . I told him I was sure we hadn't hit anything."

  Jenny leaned against the motel door while Larry got the key. Hadn't hit anything. We almost lost a son, but we didn't hurt the boat. Several cal s. Larry had said several cal s. Several usual y meant three.

  He was there, unlocking the door. She stepped inside, waited for the light to be turned on. The room was brown and dingy. Tawdry. That word instantly brought another scene to mind. Lying, her back pressed against the deck of a covered boat, her husband on top of her, using her body, she was sure, to pump out his passion for another woman. And another, squashed between jostling bodies in the smoke- fil ed, people-packed room at Criehaven, with a drunken fisherman pawing over her while her husband stood by, heedlessly drunk.

  Tawdry. There had been a tawdry pal over their lives for long, long weeks, ever since...

  Several. Several cal s. She watched Larry move around the room, putting their bags neatly at the end of the bed. She focused on the double bed in which she was supposed to sleep with this man. Her husband. Several.

  He Wouldn't, he wouldn't have cal ed Ky at a time like this—unless. Unless he loved her enough to want her reassurance, to need it from her more than he needed it from his wife. She stood in the middle of the room staring at the grotesque floral pattern in the carpet.

  "Jen, your pj's are in your bag. I brought your toothbrush and comb and what clothes I thought you'd need."

  "Larry, who else did you cal ?"

  "What?" His eyes met hers, startled.

  "Who else did you cal ?"

  "Why, I—I didn't say I cal ed anyone else." His eyes shifted from hers, and he ran his hand across his forehead. Jenny's heart rol ed over and stuck, a lead weight in her chest.

  "Several usual y means three."

  "Jenny..."

  "Did you cal her?"

  "I—"

  "Did you cal your lady love to chat while your son was being operated on and your wife was sitting by herself in a hospital waiting room?" Something powerful, frightening, was bubbling up from her toes, flooding each vein and corpuscle in her ankles, calves, knees, thighs, with unrestrainable force. It wasn't quite high enough for her to identify, but as it rose, so did her voice.

  "Jenny, we're both exhausted. Let's go to bed, and we can talk this over in a reasonable way tomorrow."

  "I don't want to be reasonable, Larry. After al , Larry, you wanted emotion, didn't you? You wanted a little fire, didn't you?" Her voice had risen from a murmur to a shriek. The flood tide had engulfed her, and she recognized what was consuming her. It was fury. Al the pent-up, pushed back, contained fury had broken loose. "Wel , I can do very wel without you. Do you hear that clearly? I want you out of this room, out of the house, and out of my life. Go to your Oriental original, I don't give a damn! My children and I don't need you!"

  "Hey!" Someone banged on the wal from the adjoining room.

  "Shut up!" Jenny shouted at the unseen foe.

  Larry approached her cautiously from behind as she addressed the protestor. He gently put his hands on her shoulders. "Jenny..."

  She whirled, her face twisted with rage and anguish. "Don't you touch me! Get your Ky-stained hands off me!"

  Larry dropped back, unable to believe what he was seeing.

  Jenny picked up his duffle bag and, with al the strength in her, heaved it at him. "Get out!" she screamed.

  With one last tortured look, Larry left the room.

  Jenny col apsed on the bed, her body shaken by wracking, heaving sobs, a mourner bewailing the end of her own life.

  Chapter Eleven

  Larry sat hunched in the cockpit of the moored boat. He tried to remember getting there, but it was a blur. The long drive, the endless pul ing on the oars of the dinghy, al blurred over by the mental picture of Jenny. Of Jenny out of control. The gently shining, soft-brown doe eyes darkened and blazing with rage; the lilting, soothing voice pitched to a strident shriek. Jenny—always steady, sweet, constant—cringing from his touch, violently throwing his bag at him and ordering him out of her life. Jenny. Oh dear God, what had he done?

  He shuddered, aware for the first time of how very cold he was. The cold went right through him, his bones, his veins, al those tiny life-sustaining mechanisms that worked so diligently to keep him going. For what? So he could turn Jenny's face into a picture screen of brutalized emotions?

  He trudged down the ladder to get a jacket and a hat, then resumed his place on deck. The foggy, rainy day had given way to a star-fil ed night. Usual y, when they were on board on a beautiful night like this, especial y after such a crummy day, he and Jenny would... His head dropped into his hands.

  The whole dreadful scenario began to rol before his eyes, in ful technicolor and sound. He re-experienced the heart- stopping sensation of watching Rick waver, of being so sure, for a sickening instant, that he was going overboard. The ghastly thud of his head. The feeling of total impotence when he wasn't sure where they were or how quickly he could find the way to harbor.

  Lord, how he loved that boy. How he loved both his children. Beautiful Christy, who could lighten the darkest of his moods by dropping a kiss on his cheek. Larry stood and stepped up on the housing, holding onto the mast and gazing out over the glistening water. A whole slew of clichés popped into his mind. Take stock of your life, at a fork in the road, bend in the river, change of tide. Fish or cut bait.

  The enormity of the decisions he had to make rammed into him with the relentless force of a rampaging hurricane. No more dodging. No more sidestepping the consequences of his actions. No more patting himself on the head and assuring himself that he had a right to take his time, to be careful not to let go of something precious for the second time.

  He sank down, wrapping his arm around the mast, leaning his head against it. He couldn't seem to establish a rational thought pattern. He kept seeing Jenny's anguished face. Anguish, hurt, anxiety. He had seen them etched in her features al summer, had seen them and pushed the image out of his mind. How could he have turned his back on her pain? Because he had been so engrossed by Ky.

  Ky... None
of the usual flood of passion accompanied the thought of her tonight. He recal ed his mother's warning to beware of the heldover emotions of a twenty-year-old. He and Ky had been so young when they were lovers. Young and impetuous and just a little wild. Al the things you should be when you were that young. They'd had something special then. Then. What did they have now? Lust certainly, no doubt about that.

  Memories. It stil massaged his ego to have her openly flirt with him. She was sensational-looking, always had been. Then why had he panicked when she told him she was pregnant and wanted to get married?

  Larry stared up at the stars, so many light years away, more light years than his youth. He shuddered. The cold deepened as he al owed his mind to open up for the very First time to the true remembrance of his feelings at the time Ky had told him they must get married. Trapped. That's how he had felt. Trapped and panicked. Strange, he had run away from those events so hard and so long that he had never truly examined them.

  He had not been a hard-hearted young man. He would never have set out to hurt anyone. But he had shut out, along with other memories of the period, a very important realization. He had discovered, in his two years away at col ege, that each step toward ful maturity seemed to be a step away from Ky. Why his feelings for her had changed he didn't know, but they had. He had known, before she brought up the question, that he did not want to marry her, that he would have to break off the relationship, not "temporarily" as he had rationalized, but permanently.

  He felt a rush of release, as though he had been freed from tenacious, invisible bonds. Then why had he reacted the way he had when he'd seen her again nineteen years later? Guilt? Regret? More than that, surely.

  There was a chemistry stil . He would be lying to himself if he tried to dismiss what she did to his temperature.

  But it wasn't a game. They were no longer twenty years old, free and irresponsible. Ky must have felt him slipping away if she'd tried to trap him into marriage. Why had she real y come after him now? He remembered Wil 's joking observation that there was more than a little barracuda in the woman.