by David Smith
The words meant nothing to Malaysia, not having read—let alone heard of—The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. Blain knew only about Tom Sawyer Island at Disneyland. He didn’t know who Joe was or Becky. He figured they were characters in Mark Twain’s novel. And he vaguely remembered something about those names relative to Tom Sawyer Island at the Park. Blain knew how to find out for sure.
Earlier, inside Evelyn’s apartment, while waiting for the water to get hot inside the microwave, Evelyn glanced in the mirror that was hung on the kitchen wall. In its reflection, she could see inside her living room.
And she watched Blain and Malaysia as they moved to the small table next to the couch…the table that had her most prized possession.
Evelyn watched the two read her note.
After they left her apartment, Evelyn looked out her back bedroom window where she could see the visitor’s parking area. She could see the black Camaro as it started up and then began backing out of the parking stall with the two good-looking people in the front. Looking at the license plate of the car before it pulled away, Evelyn wrote down six figures on a piece of paper and then she picked up her phone and started to dial.
“The general shape of the island, the way it curves and so forth, was Walt’s idea. The idea for Pirate’s Cove on the island was also Walt’s.”
Marvin Davis, talking about the design of
Tom Sawyer Island at Disneyland
CHAPTER 37
Fate and George Bailey
Thursday, July 1st, 2010
8:30am
The next day, Blain decided it was best for him to go to work as Malaysia had one more rehearsal before her big show at the Honda Center.
Blain wanted to call in sick again as he had done the day before and be with Malaysia during rehearsals. But Blain also felt Malaysia needed to concentrate on her band and the show. Although he was regretting the remaining number of hours they might have together were dwindling with her leaving for San Francisco on Sunday, he knew that Malaysia needed this time for her own needs and to focus on her show.
Before coming in to work, Blain got up early and woke up his hibernating computer in the den of his apartment while sipping a steaming cup of hot coffee.
Typing in “Tom Sawyer” and “Mark Twain,” Blain was able to quickly pull up information about the story. In a Wikipedia article, Blain learned that Mark Twain’s “Tom Sawyer” was a thirteen year old boy who lived along the Mississippi River where he and his best friend Huck Finn along with Joe Harper loved going barefoot and exploring, heading off on all sorts of adventures. Tom’s infatuation with classmate Rebecca “Becky” Thatcher is drawn out in the story as they go exploring caves, and, in fact, together, Becky and Tom end up getting lost in one.
Blain noted quickly that one of Tom’s friends is a kid named “Joe.” That fit the name in the note Blain and Malaysia saw at Evelyn’s apartment, with its mention of “Joe’s Cave.” But, Blain could not find any reference to Tom Sawyer finding or exploring a cave with Joe, only with Becky and later with his friend Huck.
Looking elsewhere, Blain found a ‘cliff notes’ site where he learned a lot more about Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn. On this site, Blain found a reference to a specific “Cave.” In the summary, Blain read,
“Tom and Huck return to a cave first discovered by Tom and Becky earlier in the story. Inside the cave Tom and Huck find a dead Indian and a box of gold.”
Now that looked more like what he was looking for; however, he still was lost on where—and specifically what—Nathan was referring to as it pertained to where he had hid the stolen money and the pendent he referred to in his notebook. Perhaps there is another clue missing he thought as he pondered what Nathan was hinting at with the note and the written clue. Obviously, he wanted only Evelyn, it would appear, to know or discover the hiding place. Without coming right out and asking Evelyn if she knew about some stolen money or a pendant that her brother stole, or about the key they found in the notebook and what it might have meant, finding out the answer might take more time, Blain figured.
Looking at the clock, Blain realized that he needed to get going to make his 10 AM opening shift on the canoes. He shut down his computer, locked up the apartment and headed out to the covered parking garage.
1:40pm
It was an overcast day at the park, a late “June gloom” in early July. Blain was paired with Alan O’Shay as his canoe partner, a slender, red-headed guy who had freckles and a southern accent. Blain always laughed hearing the southern twang in Alan’s voice when he spieled to each new group of guests on the canoes; his voice just didn’t seem to fit his physical appearance or his name. O’Shay was Irish but didn’t have even a wee bit o’ the Irish accent in his spiel, which Blain surmised, would have probably sounded even stranger.
As Blain steered the canoe around on his sixth consecutive trip without a break, he was feeling the effects of the last few days. The week had been a whirlwind of adventure and emotion. Sitting in the back of the canoe, where not only did he feel isolated since all the guests were in front of him facing to the front and paying no attention to him, Blain was lost in his thoughts. He was trying to figure out his feelings for Malaysia. Actually, he knew what his feelings were deep down. Blain could feel a physical tug in his chest every time he thought about Malaysia. What he was fighting was the inevitable: he knew he would have to give her up. That made his heart hurt even more. He remembered what he had told her several days before: “I’d rather have my heart broken in four or five days.”
His four or five days were almost gone. He didn’t want to let go of someone he knew he had fallen in love with.
But Blain also knew she would be on tour becoming even more famous every day. He couldn’t expect…or even dream of her having the same kind of feelings for him. Yes, they had shared so much in such a short time. Had someone told him a week ago that he would be having an intimate relationship with the famous pop star Malaysia Hosner, he would have laughed at them; the possibility—let alone the probability—of that happening would have been impossible in his mind a week ago. Yet here he was, in a very intimate, very meaningful, and a very real—and in his mind—a very loving relationship with the famous singer.
Not to mention the mystery about Nathan Duncan that they had seemingly gotten more deeply involved with…and seemingly closer to solving. Could they solve it together? Or was it just a wild goose chase anyway?
What was Malaysia thinking about, he wondered? How did she see him? While there was no denying her feelings when they kissed, held hands or touched, what did she see in him? Was he just another man in another city? A guy in every port? He didn’t think so. He didn’t want to think so. He believed she was honest in her own convictions and feelings for him. But, he also knew she lived in Switzerland…which might as well have been another planet, as far as he was concerned. What was her life like back at home? How different would it have been from his life here in California?
Blain then thought back to the moment he saw her. He remembered the time in the back of the canoe when they touched, him shaking her hand, then talking, and again, locking eyes after that first canoe ride was over. Again, Blain felt his chest tighten.
He guided the canoe around the bend in front of the Indian Village. Another memory of the Mark Twain and of fireworks, and what Malaysia said about kissing: “I like these fireworks better.” That made Blain smile to himself, probably one of the most delightful memories for him.
The quiet group of guests in the canoe seemed to reflect Blain’s mindset and the overall gloomy day. The groups all day had seemed more subdued, more reserved. It was often like that working at Disneyland, especially on the canoes. Where one day you have one wild group after another, other days, like today, you could have what the RO’s called, “Dead Heads,” guests who didn’t laugh at any of the jokes or seemed oblivious to the fun they were having.
Leaning forward out over the right side of the canoe, Blain took some long, slow strokes with his
paddle, feeling the blade move through the dark green water. He watched eddies form around his paddle, the currents of water flowing around the blade as he dug deep and pulled the paddle back slowly. Blain looked into the water, looking beyond the dark green color and trailing currents made by the canoe as it glided along. He stared at the water, studied it, as if it could provide answers for him, as if the river were a languid, sinuous crystal ball.
Answers to his questions did not materialize from the shallow depths of the colored water.
Coming around to the left by the abandoned train tracks along the bank of the river, Blain looked to his right at the old pier that jutted out from the edge of the Island. For some reason, he suddenly remembered the time he, Jimmy and Mark all played ‘Ditch-em’ on the island and when he saw the canoe go by and the ride operator splash water at their feet, setting in motion the possibility of him sitting in this canoe at this very moment. He thought more about that particular day and how his decision to get a job working at Disneyland, conscious or otherwise, may very likely have sprung forth from that unscripted moment in his life, like a proverbial twist of fate.
Fate.
Blain thought about that word, about how one fateful event triggered so many others. He thought of the old movie he and his parents had watched every Christmas when he was younger and even later in life, “It’s a Wonderful Life” with Jimmy Stewart. Blain remembered how Stewart’s character, George Bailey, learned how much one life touches so many others, how one event can make a difference in future events. Blain suddenly felt the essence of what that movie was touching upon.
Fate.
What if he hadn’t been sitting on that pier with his friends? What if that canoe guide, so many years ago, hadn’t slapped the water with his paddle making Blain sit up and take notice? What if he hadn’t been working the day that Malaysia and her sister were sitting on that bench…or what if Malaysia had decided to sit somewhere else to drink her lemonade? What if his canoe hadn’t stopped at that spot in the river, waiting for the island rafts to cross in front? What if he hadn’t glanced up at the bench at that exact moment? What if Malaysia had picked a different city to start her tour? The thoughts he was thinking were making his head swirl.
The ramifications of so many events and the chance occurrence of so many others, made his situation feel, more and more, incredible. The odds that so many things had fallen into place made Blain feel like it was almost divine influence or simply a miracle that he had even met Malaysia at all. It was that improbability that led Blain to believe that there was something here that was meant to be. Add in the chance discovery of the wallet; what were the circumstances that allowed the wallet to have been lost in the first place? It all didn’t make sense.
Yet it all made total sense.
The canoe he was in was moving slowly, passing the abandoned Rainbow Caverns train trestle on the left. Blain casually looked over to his right where the opening to one of the caves on the island was. Blain watched kids running out of the cave as he had observed so many times over the past two years working on the Canoe Ride. His mind fluttered back again to the many times he and his friends played on that very island. Blain cocked his head slightly when he noticed the small wooden sign above the cave entrance.
Injun Joe’s Cave.
Out loud, Blain said the three words he just read. “Injun Joe’s Cave.”
Suddenly, the sun broke through the thick marine layer of clouds, burning off the mantle of vapor and cast the river in brilliant sunlight. Simultaneously, Blain felt that a beam of bright light had just shown him an answer.
“Injun Joe’s Cave.” He said it again out loud, even louder. “Joe’s Cave!” Blain almost whacked himself in the forehand for not making the connection earlier.
He sat up straighter and paddled a little more, thinking. He thought of the note and what Evelyn had said the day before; About Tom Sawyer, Becky and Joe’s Cave. He then thought of Nathan the landscaper and all the locations in the Park that he would have had access to at very early morning hours before the Park opened; all the places and things he tended: Plants and planters, trees and the Island. And other locations…
Caves.
Finally, after taking one more stroke with his paddle, Blain sat back against the curved gunwales of the canoe. With a big grin on his face he slapped his thigh, as if he was giving himself a pat on the back.
“I know where it is, Nathan,” Blain said out loud, looking across the river at the Island as if seeing it for the first time.
A man with his daughter, sitting on the last seat of the canoe just in front of where Blain was sitting, turned around, giving Blain that look of, “They hire crazy people here.”
CHAPTER 38
Broken Glass
Thursday, July 1st, 2010
2:30pm
For the first time in two summers working at Disneyland, Blain went home sick. Complaining of feeling nauseated, Blain talked to Jim Porter, his working foreman on the canoes that day, telling him he felt like throwing up.
“I could tell you weren’t feeling well when you came in,” Porter said, filling out Blain’s time card for an early release. “You just were not yourself.”
“Thanks Jim. I appreciate it.”
“Hey, I was going to ask if anyone wanted to go home early anyway. This weather seems to have kept a lot of people away. Not crowded enough to have all six canoes going,” Porter said, looking up at the few people in line. “Go home and relax,” Jim said, patting Blain on his shoulder.
As soon as Blain got to his locker he pulled out his cell phone and called Malaysia’s phone. Getting her recording, he left a short message: “Mal, give me a call at this number as soon as you can. I’m taking the rest of the day off. I think I know where it is.”
Blain decided to drive to the Honda Center. He wanted to talk to Malaysia personally. Taking the employee tram to the parking garage, Blain jogged over to where he had parked his Camaro.
Pulling up quickly as he approached his car, a frown creased his face.
Before him, on the driver’s side of the car, a pile of broken glass littered the concrete below his door. His driver’s side window was diminished to tiny little squares of safety glass strewn all around the side of his car. Blain slowly walked up and started to pull up on the door handle. He stopped for a moment, realizing his car alarm was set, wondering if maybe he might have forgotten to set it after he parked. Yet, even if his alarm was set, someone might still break into the car. Knowing how so many people ignore alarms, he could picture someone setting it off, and then walking away long enough for the alarm to stop.
Pressing the unlock button on his key fob and deactivating the alarm, Blain opened the door; he found more glass spread across the driver’s seat. Knowing his two-hundred dollar tennis racquets were in the trunk, Blain expected the worse. He popped the trunk open using the button located under the left side of steering wheel under the dash. Walking around to the back of his car, he expected to see his Dunlop tennis bag and racquets missing, and probably his jumper kit and his portable CD player he kept in the back as well. As he lifted the trunk hood he was pleasantly surprised to see the things of value still inside.
“Maybe the alarm scared them off after all,” Blain said to himself.
However, he became concerned when he saw that every zipper compartment in his tennis bag was open. He saw that the blanket he had from the night at the beach with Malaysia was haphazardly tossed in, as if it had been opened up and then simply wadded back up and thrown into the trunk.
He quickly went around to the passenger side and noticed the glove box was open and papers were strewn about the passenger floor.
What confused Blain was that nothing seemed to be missing. CD’s were still in the glove box, a flashlight was there, and even his container of chewing gum was still full and inside. He started to gather up the papers along with the owner’s manual and receipts for work done on the car he kept in a plastic folder the dealer had given him when he g
ot the car. Suddenly Blain realized one thing was indeed missing.
He looked again among all the papers and saw that it was gone: his insurance coverage document.
The one paper that he knew had his address printed on it.
Blain thought about calling security, but decided against it since it would take some a few minutes for one of the guards to make it over to the parking structure. And, since nothing of value was taken, he figured security would only file a report which would take some time too. Instead, Blain swept the pea-sized glass remnants of his former driver’s side window from the driver’s seat and got in.
Instead of driving to the Honda Center, Blain raced home. After quickly pulling into his carport and chirping his tires as he came to an abrupt stop, Blain hurriedly got out of his car and ran around to his ground-floor apartment. Behind him, unbeknownst to him, a large, older model car slowly cruised in the parking area, pulling into an empty space in the visitor’s lot.
Upon opening his apartment door, he found the interior of his apartment a complete mess: books on the floor, files from his small, two-drawer filing cabinet sticking out, the obvious result of someone looking through them haphazardly. The drawers were open in the kitchen and even the pantry looked as if it too had been thoroughly searched.
Like his car, there didn’t seem to be anything missing. The DVD player and flat screen television were still there, the stereo, speakers and his and Sal’s CD collections were intact.
Blain stood in the middle of the mess and scratched his head.
“I like what you’ve done to the place,” a voice came from the open door.
“Malaysia, what are you doing here?” Blain said, turning around then walking toward her.
