MILLION DOLLAR BABY

by Patricia Ryan

  "Mommeee."

  "'So you'll have to say goodbye to Janey for me. Tell her I think she's the greatest – smart and creative and with both feet on the ground, just like her mom. I'm so proud of her – and of you, for being such an incredible mother and helping her to grow up so great I'm glad she takes after you and n-not—'" Laura drew in a ragged breath as she skipped over that bit. "'If it's okay with you, I'd like you to tell Janey how much I l-love…'" Hot tears spilled from Laura's eyes; she dropped the pad onto her lap and buried her face in her hands, shoulders convulsing.

  "That's okay, Mommy," Janey said consolingly, patting her on the back as she wept. "You don't have to wead any more."

  Through an effort of will, Laura pulled herself together. "I'm sorry, sweetie. I hate for you to see me this way. I'm just…" She shook her head helplessly.

  "You're sad that he's gone," Janey said. "Me, too."

  Laura snatched a tissue out of the box on the night table and blew her nose.

  "But he's not like those dogs, though," Janey said.

  "What?"

  "Those dogs that can't be twained. He's like the dinosaurs in the Cwetaceous pewiod."

  Laura cocked her head. "The dinosaurs in the Cretaceous period."

  "The ones that turned into birds. Maybe some of them don't know they turned into birds. Maybe they still think they're dinosaurs."

  "Uh…"

  "It's a metaphor," Janey said, with that look of exaggerated patience she adopted whenever it fell to her to illuminate dim-witted grown-ups.

  Laura smiled. "I think I get it. So Mr. Kettering has gone and sprouted wings, but he just doesn't realize it yet?"

  Janey nodded. "Why else would he wite such a nice note?"

  Laura stared at the legal pad in her hands, a sense of epiphany glowing within her, like the sun coming out from the clouds. Why, indeed, would he write such a nice note?

  Why would he write a note at all?

  "Mommy? What's so funny?"

  "What? Oh – nothing."

  "You were smiling like something was funny."

  "Not funny, just…" Laura filled her lungs with air and let it out. She looked from her daughter to the note written by the man who had fathered her. I'd like you to tell Janey how much I love her. And if you decide to tell her – I mean, you wouldn't, I know that, but if you decide to tell her everything, that would be okay with me. More than okay. It would be great.

  What had Kay said? If you explain it right, she'll understand.

  "Hey, monkey?" Laura said, wrapping an arm around Janey and pulling her close. "I've got something to tell you – something pretty huge."

  *

  "Dean Kettering?" The old salt who looked like Popeye, but whose name had actually turned out to be Ernie, scrunched one eye shut against the afternoon sun beating down on Howell's Marina and peered at Laura out of the other. "He's gone."

  "Oh, no … I knew it." This was what Laura had most feared, that she wouldn't make it up to Portsmouth before Dean left. She'd had to put this trip off until Kay returned from vacation yesterday so that there would be someone to look after Janey while she was gone. She had been tempted to bring Janey along, but vetoed the idea, not wanting to inject a five-year-old into such a delicate situation.

  If only Dean had a phone, she could have called him days ago.

  "Yup." Popeye plucked his pipe out of his mouth to take a gulp from his coffee cup, which, judging from the smell on his breath, did not contain coffee. "Kettering was gone for almost two months there. Then he come back with one of them gay haircuts – I didn't ask no questions – and he starts workin' like a demon, fixin' up the Lorelei and layin' in food and water and fuel and whatnot. He had a bug up his ass, all right – paid me to help him get ready so's it'd go quicker, and he's the type likes to make do by himself. I bought him – let's see – sixty-one gallons of diesel, six gallons of kerosene, two cans of propane—"

  "Thank you, Ernie," Laura said morosely. "I get the idea. When did he leave?"

  "Let's see … that would have to have been last Wednesday. Wednesday, May twenty-third."

  "Five days ago," Laura murmured. "He said it would take him about a week to sail to Bermuda."

  "Well, that's countin' on fair weather," Ernie said. "My guess is it's gonna take him longer'n that, what with those storms they been havin' out in the Atlantic."

  "Storms?"

  "They were reportin' a Force 8 gale with twelve-foot seas yesterday. At least one boat's gone down already, is what I hear. I told Kettering it was a mite too early to be headin' out. I told him he should wait at least another week or two, but he was all fired up to get goin'." Ernie shook his head mournfully as he took another swallow. "If you're the prayin' kind, I'd do some prayin' for your friend there."

  "I am, and I will," Laura said. And that wasn't all she would do. "Um … listen, do you mind my asking where you got that coffee cup?"

  "Like it, do ya?" Ernie held up the thick stoneware mug to admire the Yankee whaler emblazoned on it above the legend World's Greatest Dad. "Happens I was haulin' them cans of propane up onto the Lorelei when I seen Kettering throw this here mug into a box of trash he was fixin' to heave. I fished it out and saw it was cracked, but he said it didn't leak none. Said I could have it if I wanted, so I took it. Them was fine boats, them whalers."

  "Did he tell you why he was throwing it out?"

  "Said he just didn't want it on the boat no more." Ernie lifted his shoulders in a "go-figure" shrug. "Said he liked it well enough when he bought it, but now he just can't stand the sight of it."

  * * *

  Chapter 14

  «^

  "Those of you seated on the righthand side of the airplane," the pilot announced in his good-old-boy pilot's voice, "will have a pretty fair view of Bermuda coming up soon."

  Breathe in, breathe out, Laura chanted to herself as she concentrated on staring fixedly at the seat in front of her.

  "It's okay, Mommy," Janey soothed as she pried Laura's rigid fingers off their shared armrest and wrapped her cool little hands around them. "They said we'll be landing soon."

  Landings and takeoffs, Laura thought, that's where all the crashes happen.

  "Look!" Reaching across her, Janey pointed out the window next to Laura. "There it is!"

  "I don't want to look," Laura said woodenly.

  "But it's so pwetty! Mommy, please look."

  Be strong for Janey. Don't let her think her mom's a world-class wuss, even if she is. Swallowing down the fear roiling in her stomach, Laura turned her head stiffly to look out the window. "Oh."

  Far below, resembling a blue-green jewel surrounded by the vast and shimmering Atlantic, was the duster of coral islands that made up Bermuda. This bird's-eye view drove home how small and remote Bermuda was. Sailors had to navigate hundreds of miles of ocean to find it. Only the most dauntless among them – like Dean – embraced the challenge.

  Upon arriving home Tuesday from her fruitless trip to Portsmouth, Laura had called a travel agent and booked two round-trip tickets on the first available flight to Bermuda, paid for by tapping into the joint bank account Dean had mentioned in his note. Janey had been more than happy to miss two weeks of preschool for the opportunity to see "Mr. Kettle-wing" again; that she would be visiting a new and exotic locale had not seemed to impress her in the least.

  Laura studied the close-set islands as the plane descended, making out scatterings of white rooftops shielded by tall palms. She could see cruise ships docked at the Royal Naval Dockyard, the city of Hamilton and the town of Saint George, although she knew from what Kay had gleaned off the Internet that Saint George's Harbour was the only permissible point of entry for private boats like Dean's.

  Today was the first of June, which meant that nine days had passed since Dean had sailed out of Portsmouth – and into Force 8 gales. Assuming he had weathered the storms and made it safely to Bermuda, he should be easy enough to find. Boats just arriving in Saint George's Harbour had to obtain cl
earance at the customs dock on Ordnance Island, an islet connected by a walkway to the town of Saint George. Afterward, sailors living aboard their boats anchored them off the north side of Ordnance Island. If the Lorelei wasn't there, Laura would assume the storms had merely thrown Dean off schedule, and that he would be along in a day or two; any other possibility didn't bear thinking about.

  For now, she would expect to find the Lorelei resting safely at anchor off Ordnance Island when she got there. She had enough to worry about, what with this plane about to—

  A series of hard thuds jolted Laura out of her reverie. She yelped – Omigod, we really are crashing! – only to feel Janey's little hand giving hers a reassuring squeeze. "That was just the wheels hitting the gwound, Mommy. We've landed."

  Laura slumped back in her seat, expelling a sigh of profound relief. They'd landed. It was over.

  That wasn't so bad, she thought, breathing deeply of the balmy, sweet-scented air as she ushered Janey down the stairway that had been rolled up to the door of the plane. It would have been about a thousand times easier if she'd just kicked back and not listened to every little sound the plane made, speculating on imminent disaster. She promised herself she'd do it right on the flight back. She'd play the grown-up instead of leaving that role to a five-year-old.

  Following the other passengers and the signs, Laura led Janey across the tarmac and into the terminal, where it didn't take long at all to be processed through the "Arrival Hall," collecting their luggage and passing through customs. Outside, she commandeered a taxi driven by an amiable fellow in shorts and knee socks appropriately named Gaby, who held forth on the flora, fauna and geography of Bermuda while transporting them to their lodgings.

  Laura had chosen their guest house, a charming little place ringed with verandas and nestled among drifts of hibiscus, oleander and Japanese pines, for its location overlooking Saint George. After checking into their room and changing into shorts and T-shirts, Laura and Janey made their way into town via narrow lanes lined with white-roofed homes painted butter yellow, periwinkle, shell pink…

  "Ooh, Mommy, do you hear that sound like thousands of little glass bells?" Janey asked excitedly. "Gaby said it's twee fwogs that make that sound! Can we twy and see one?"

  "Not right now, monkey. We didn't come here to find tree frogs, you know."

  "I know! We came here to find my daddy!"

  My daddy… "Please be here, Dean," Laura whispered under her breath. "And please, please want us to be here."

  She steered Janey into Saint George's quaintly archaic downtown district, which surrounded a bustling central area known as King's Square. Here, the locals were outnumbered by the tourists, several of whom were posing for snapshots with the antiquated stocks, pillory and whipping post at the north end of the square.

  "What are those?" Laura asked, pointing to the heavy wooden contraptions.

  "Um … those are old-fashioned instruments of punishment, sweetie. That one's called the stocks. People who did bad things would have their arms and hands locked into—"

  "Let me see!" Janey pulled frantically on Laura's hand.

  "Later. We're trying to find Mr. Ket – your daddy, remember? That's where we need to go," Laura said, pointing. "Ordnance Island."

  In addition to the customs facility and cruise ship terminal, the little islet turned out to be home to a replica of a seventeenth-century sailing ship, which Janey stared at in evident fascination. Scrutinizing the anchorage off the islet's north side, Laura counted ten boats of various types, three of which looked to have incurred severe storm damage.

  The Lorelei was not among them.

  "Is he here, Mommy?"

  Laura sighed. "Let's check the customs dock. Maybe he just got in."

  He hadn't.

  "Mommy, where is he? You said he was gonna be here."

  "I know, sweetie." Feigning a nonchalance she didn't feel, Laura said, "He's just a little late – you know, like you're always late for preschool? No big deal. Let's go get some lunch. I'm starving."

  "Can we look at that old boat first?"

  "We sure can."

  They explored the replica for almost an hour – Laura couldn't tear Janey away from it – then ate a lunch of spicy fish soup at a tavern overlooking the harbor. During another futile trip to the customs dock, Laura realized her anxiety was starting to rub off on Janey. They both needed to get their minds off Dean's absence, if only for a while.

  Map in hand, Laura guided her daughter back through King's Square – where Janey gaped at the stocks and pillory, still occupied by tourists – and north by foot along meandering roads to Fort Saint Catherine. They explored the four-hundred-year-old stone keep and battlements for most of the afternoon. By the time they'd walked back into Saint George, they were both hot and exhausted.

  "Look, Mommy!" Janey exclaimed as she dragged her mother by the hand through the tourists milling in King's Square. "Nobody's in the stocks. I can twy it out now."

  "I don't know, sweetie." Laura cast an uneasy glance toward the sky, which was rapidly filling up with dense gray clouds. "It looks like it's gonna start pouring any second. We should really check Ordnance Island first in case—"

  "Just for a minute?" Janey begged, pulling on Laura's hand. "I'll be quick, I promise."

  "Okay, monkey – just for a minute."

  The stocks, built onto a raised platform, had been constructed with a bench facing a wall of wooden panels that could slide up and down to secure a prisoner's hands and feet into appropriately sized holes. Since it had been designed with adult malefactors in mind, Janey was too small, when sitting on the bench, for her hands and feet to reach the holes. Her solution was to stand facing the wall and stick her hands through the top pair of holes.

  "Look at me!" she squealed. "I'm a cwiminal!"

  "That's great, sweetie," Laura said, wishing she'd thought to pack a camera. "You look really … uh-oh."

  "What?"

  "Feel that? It's starting to rain." Just random droplets right now, but it wouldn't stay that way. The other sightseers were already starting to scatter to the edges of King's Square. "Come on, sweetie, let's…"

  Laura stilled, her gaze drawn to a tall man in a baseball cap and sunglasses standing on the other side of the square, in front of the Town Hall, motionless amid the tourists swarming around him. He reached up to pull off the shades just as the skies opened up.

  "Mommy!" Janey shrieked.

  Turning, Laura saw her daughter standing at the edge of the platform, arms outstretched, panicked from the sudden onslaught of rain. "It's okay, sweetie." Lifting the child down, Laura grabbed her hand and sprinted with her toward a nearby building whose second-floor veranda produced a sort of ground-level portico, beneath which about a dozen others had already gathered.

  In the few seconds it took for Laura to hustle Janey to shelter, they were both soaked through from the driving rain. It swept in sheets across King's Square, now empty except for the last few stragglers seeking a haven from the deluge.

  Was it Dean? Laura wondered as she gazed through the curtain of rain toward the spot where she'd seen the man in sunglasses. Had he seen her?

  Janey tugged on her hand. "Whatsa matter, Mommy?" she asked over the dull drumming of the ram.

  "Nothing, sweetie. I just … I thought I saw…"

  A middle-aged couple in matching plaid shirts darted under the portico, nudging Laura and Janey back into the crowd and cutting off Laura's view of the square.

  "’Scuse me." Still gripping Janey's hand, Laura muscled her way to the front again, even though it meant being more exposed to the rain. "’Scuse me."

  "Mommy, is something wong?"

  "No. Yes. I don't know. I think I'm seeing things. It's just…" Laura raked a hand through her sodden hair as she stared out at the rain-bleared Town Hall. Her throat felt dogged; she admonished herself not to cry in front of Janey, not again. "It's just so maddening not knowing whether he's here yet, if he made it through the storms okay,
or … or…"

  Janey squeezed her hand. "I'm sowwy I made us stop so I could twy out the stocks. You were wight. We should have looked for him first."

  "Oh, sweetie." Turning to her daughter, Laura squatted down and took her in her arms. The crowd shifted, jostling them. Laura ignored the distraction as she blinked back impending tears. "You have no reason to be sorry. You didn't do anything wrong. We can come back tomorrow to look for him."

  She gave Janey a consoling hug, thinking, God, please let him be here by then. Please let him be okay. If anything's happened to him…

  "Laura?" A man's quiet, incredulous voice came from behind her.

  Dean.

  Laura spun around as she bolted to her feet. She breathed his name, reached for him.

  "Oh, my God – Laura!" Dean whipped off his cap, gathered her up and kissed her, long and hard, his arms banded tightly around her, his hands gripping her almost painfully.

  Over the murmurs and chuckles of the people around them, Laura heard Janey gasp and then let loose with a shrill, delighted little burst of laughter.

  Dean clutched the back of her head, prolonging the kiss, deepening it. Drunk with joy, weak with relief, Laura returned it with equal fervor, thrilling to the warmth of him through his sodden clothes.

  Janey yanked on Laura's T-shirt. "Mommy, everybody's looking."

  That prompted a ripple of laughter from the crowd. Opening her eyes as the kiss gradually ebbed, Laura saw that the people huddled under the portico with them, having backed away to give them room, were watching the ardent reunion like it was television.

  Dean wiped his thumbs gently over her cheeks; only then did she realize she was crying. With astonishment she saw that his eyes were shimmering, too. "Laura," he whispered. "God, I can't believe it's you." Looking down, he smiled and brushed a hand over Janey's damp hair. "Hey, monkey."

  "You kissed my mommy!" Janey giggled.

  "Yeah, and I think I'm gonna kiss her again."

  He did, more softly this time, but with just as much lingering passion. By the time they drew apart, the rain had tapered off almost completely and the tourists sharing the portico with them were venturing out into King's Square once more.