by ML Gardner
Claire wanted to deny it, but deep down she knew Maura was right. She had a working husband and yet her clothes were bordering threadbare, many times hand repaired and her cheeks showed the thinness of eating just enough. “He’s mighty fond of ye. I can see it in his eyes. He looks at ye much the way Ian looked at me, when I came out of my deep sadness enough to notice it.”
Claire shook her head with closed eyes, feeling scared, uncertain and traitorous to the memory of Aryl.
“I just don’t know, Maura.”
“Just…don’t close yourself off, love. Go over and paint his truck.”
“And his cows. He offered me to paint his cows.”
“Well, paint the cows. And the fields and the barn and whatever else strikes your heart.”
She nodded without meeting Maura’s eyes and gave her hand a squeeze.
“I’ll try,” she whispered. “For the baby.”
∞∞∞
The next evening, just as the brutal sun had dipped below the tips of the trees providing welcoming relief, Gordon knocked on the door. Despite the heat, he arrived crisp and clean in a thin linen shirt, his wet hair combed back.
He smelled of light cologne as he walked by and Maura smiled a tight smile, feeling much like a mad scientist whose experiment was going terribly well.
He was seated at the table with a glass of lemonade and a slice of eggless cake with a lemon drizzle frosting.
“Lemons are on the menu, Mr. Gordon. They’re cheap and plentiful at the market. We split a lemon herb fish with lemon rice this evening. Tomorrow we’ll have a lemon cucumber salad for supper with lemon pie for desert, should you feel like stopping by.”
“Thank you, Maura.”
“Claire will be down shortly.” She smiled and set an identical snack and drink for Claire right next to Gordon, and left the room. He moved the plate and glass across the table, giving her the space he knew she needed and improving his view.
She entered the kitchen nervously with a sketch pad tucked under arm and sat down.
Getting right down to business, she pulled out the pencil from her hair.
“So what type of new design were you thinking of?”
∞∞∞
Caleb settled down at his makeshift desk in the barn with his bottle, goat and pictures. He’d begun a collage in an old frame, arranging and rearranging the pictures, studying each one before he placed it. When he thought he had them just right and was ready to lay the glass, he’d see something out of line and that made him scoop up all the pictures and start over again. Over and over he arranged and scooped, getting quite drunk in the process, until he scooped the pictures one last time and hurled them out to rain down on the barn floor. He choked back tears with hard swallows from his bottle and stared out the small, dirty window.
Tonight the kitchen light burned brightly and he saw Arianna’s figure moving about inside. The twins would be asleep by now. He was foggy minded but he thought he might have promised her he’d help bathe them tonight and tuck them in. A few more drinks and he could convince himself that he hadn’t.
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
Caleb swung around and nearly fell off the barrel at the sound of Marvin’s voice.
“No, come in,” he said and struggled to stand.
Marvin took a few steps before he noticed the pictures scattered on the ground. He stooped to pick them up.
“Please leave it. I’ll get them later. Just don’t step on any.”
“Pictures of your friend?”
“Pictures of all of us. We had a hell of a life, you know? Before the crash…a hell of a life.”
“You had money?”
“We all did. More than we knew what to do with. Parties and dinners, trips to Paris and London, nice clothes and servants…Maura was Jonathan’s maid, did you know that?” He narrowed glassy eyes at Marvin.
“No, I didn’t. I haven’t had the chance to meet Maura.” Marvin walked carefully between pictures, catching glimpses of them in fantastic finery, in luxurious places.
“When we lost everything, she stuck around when no one else did. Pull up a barrel,” he offered.
“Tell me more about your life before,” Marvin said, having to heave his small frame up on the makeshift stool.
Caleb shook his head. “I will apologize for my wife’s behavior at dinner, Deputy.”
“Call me Marvin.”
“Well, Marvin, my wife can be a bit overwhelming at times. I’m sorry she got out of hand.”
Marvin’s serious expression softened into a smile. “Actually, I haven’t been that entertained since I went to a comedy show in Boston. And my wife can be a bit catty as well. She was just as much to blame. Arianna is a beautiful woman. She was just jealous. Don’t give it another minutes thought.”
Caleb smiled and took another drink.
“Speaking of that, I have something for you. Vincent told me to bring this out to you. Caught a small time runner the other night.” He held out two bottles of whiskey.
Caleb eyed it with restraint but held his hand out. “Thank you.”
“Listen, I’ve been trying to get ahold of Jon but can’t manage it. He’s busy, you know?”
“He is. What do you want to get ahold of him about?”
“Well, I’m worried, is all. Vincent told me that Jon is convinced that what happened to your friend was done on purpose. He’ll never come to terms with what happened if he’s chasing an illusion…trust me, I should know.”
“How would you know?” The barn began to bulge and sway around Marvin’s head. The goat’s noises seemed distant as Caleb became blissfully numb.
“I lost my brother in the Great War, you see. Everyone in our family was shocked, but then grieved and eventually returned to their lives. But not me. I insisted he had only gone missing and became obsessed with the idea. For months I believed he was alive because after all, there had been no body. But they found it, eventually, and sent home what was left of my brother. I had to face it then, and wished I had from the start. It would have been easier to get on with it, rather than dragging it out over months.”
“But you’ll never find Aryl’s body.”
“No, but Vincent mentioned foul play and if I can rule that out, then Jon will have no choice but to face the grief. I understand the Sheriff is too busy to chase down leads to nowhere. I have some free time and connections. I could look into it. I just can’t seem to get a minute with him. I thought you might tell me what Jon thinks happened.”
With a long sigh, Caleb began. “He thinks it was supposed to be him. He thinks Victor Drayton somehow came here, damaged the boats, rigged the Ava-Maura in order to kill him and got out before sun up.”
“Victor is an acquaintance of his?”
“I wouldn’t say acquaintance. They go way back with nothing but trouble. Jonathan was smarter in the apprenticeship, and quicker to jump on opportunities and a hell of a lot more charming. He stole Ava right out from under Victor’s arm.”
“I guess that would give him reason to hate Jonathan. Sounds humiliating. How did that play out?”
Caleb drank, scowled and nodded. “That’s a whole other story.”
“Right. So, Vincent checked into Victor’s whereabouts when the accident happened, I’m sure.”
“He did. And he has a punched train ticket heading south.”
“And that wasn’t enough to convince Jonathan that Victor had nothing to do with it?”
“Just the opposite. He’s more convinced than ever. Seems too convenient that he would be on a trip in the opposite direction when this happened. I don’t know if any of this helps you at all.”
“It does and I’ll do what I can. What about the night of the accident—”
Caleb’s face hardened. “You’ll have to read the police report. I won’t relive it again.”
August 26th 1930
Claire sat bolt upright at the first light of dawn. Shaking and sweating from a nightmare, she tried to slow
her breathing and reestablish the world around her. For all the nightmares she had, she often found it was easier to get past it by going over it in her mind. But she didn’t want to go over this one. She moved the kitten, who was snuggled close by her side, swung her legs over the side of the bed and walked quickly to the bathroom. Splashing cold water over her face and willing the dream away, her hands shook with the realness of what she saw and felt. Small segments forced their way to the front of her mind.
She was eating dinner with Gordon and suddenly a flash of lightning blinded, followed by a swallowing darkness. The front door swung open slowly. Aryl stood at the threshold, soaked to the bone. Seaweed clung to his shoulders and legs and water dripped from his hair, running in small streams down his face. He stared at Gordon with a dark hate, leveled a gun and fired. Then Maura. Then Ian. They all three lay in a bloody heap, with blank, lifeless eyes. Then, swinging his head slowly toward Claire, he smiled. “I would have never given up on you, my love.”
Her dream ended with the next flash of light from the gun, aimed directly at her.
There was no going back to sleep; she dressed, still shaken from the nightmare, and went downstairs.
Ian had left for work, Maura, Tarin and Scottie still asleep. She started a pot of coffee, making it weak for the sake of extending their supply, and leaned against the counter, holding her head. This morning she had arrangements to paint Gordon’s truck. She tried to tell herself this was just business. She was earning money. Five dollars is what he insisted on paying. She could buy things for the baby with that money. She couldn’t go on forever living on charity. Maybe, if she could get back into the swing of it, she could paint…something, and set up a stand near town to sell her work. It was just business, but no doubt the guilt of being the slightest bit interested in Gordon—even just for practicalities sake, brought on her nightmare. And she couldn’t get Aryl’s livid expression out of her mind.
She set out mid-morning, not having said a word to Maura, or anyone, about her dream. The kitten, which she had named Kitten for lack of any better ideas, followed her. Walking slowly, she swung her basket of paints and brushes at her side and enjoyed the cool morning air. Kitten looked up at her every now and then, as if wondering if she knew where she was going. She told herself that she wasn’t procrastinating, but saving her energy for the baby’s sake, and walking slowly for her little furry friend. Her thoughts darted from one thing to the next, wondering if Gordon would mind if the cat had come with her, and thinking she might be looking forward to painting again. She was still sorting out the business of feeling, distinguishing what emotions to let in as the numb wore off. Painting would be relaxing for her, as it always had, so long as she didn’t paint anything regarding oceans, lighthouses, boats or sea life. A dairy farm, she supposed, was safe enough. She turned up the dirt road and saw the large, red barn in the distance. Split rail fences lined the long drive, leading to a good sized white house, built and painted in simplicity. Several cows bellowed in the pastures on both sides and began lazily making their way over to investigate the visitor. Kitten ran ahead as if recognizing him, as Gordon stood on his porch. When she caught up, he was holding it and welcomed her inside for a moment before she set to work.
∞∞∞
Jonathan unrolled a map on the hood of his car and felt a nauseatingly strong feeling of de ja vu as he assigned search areas to friends and neighbors. The sun was setting and the last of the heat stung his back through his thin cotton shirt. It had already been a long day working and he was tired and sunburnt. This search was on land, not on the sea, and it wasn’t for Aryl but for his wife, Claire, who hadn’t yet returned home. By dinner, Maura became alarmed and sent Ian to Gordon’s to fetch her. Gordon said she had left a few hours earlier and no one along the path home had seen her. Maura sent for Jonathan and an emergency search began.
Sheriff Vincent looked over his shoulder, nodding with approval as Jonathan sent each person with an assigned area. Ava clung to his other side, nervously chewing on her nails.
Caleb stepped up to be given an area to search and Jonathan considered him up and down with uncertainty.
“Can you drive?”
He smelled of whisky, as he did on any given night, but didn’t seem unable to function.
“I’m fine.” He seemed particularly antsy—angry even. Even in the absence of slurred speech, Jonathan was hesitant to put him behind the wheel of an automobile.
“I’m going to be searching downtown. Why don’t you come and help me.”
“Why don’t you give me a real area to search. I don’t need to be babysat.”
“I’m not babysitting you, Caleb.” He sighed impatiently. “There is a lot of area to cover in town. Lots of shops to duck in and out of. I genuinely need help.”
“Why can’t she help you?” Caleb gave a hard nod toward Ava.
“Because she is going to go home.”
“What—? Hold on, Jon, I want to help!”
“You can help by going home. I’ll let you know as soon as we find her.” He gave her a quick kiss and led her by the arm to the car. “Ian will take you home.”
“But, Jon!”
“Ava.” His tone and look made it clear that this was not open for negotiation in any way. She sat down in the car with one hand on her stomach and slammed the door as hard as she could.
“C’mon, Caleb. Let’s take your truck. I’ll drive.”
∞∞∞
It was a tense, quiet ride and for Jonathan and it felt like it was taking forever. Only a sliver of the sun remained and Jonathan wondered what would really be accomplished when all the small business that dotted the downtown area would be closed soon. He’d go door to door all night long if he had to…till he found someone that had seen her.
“Why’d you make Ava stay home?”
“She’s tired. She’s pale and isn’t eating right. This pregnancy has been nothing but stress and fear and…potatoes.” He laughed without humor. “This baby is liable to be born a nervous wreck.”
“But she’s going to worry at home.”
“I know. But I’m not going to drag her all over town.”
Caleb shrugged indifferently and gazed out the window for the rest of the drive.
∞∞∞
“No, can’t say that I’ve seen her. You say she disappeared today?” The owner of the small hardware store shook his head. He returned her picture to Jonathan, removed his hat and rubbed his skinny bald head.
“Earlier this afternoon. She left Gordon’s dairy about two in the afternoon. I know the picture is small, but…could you take another look? Are you sure you haven’t seen her?”
“Well, now, I’ll take another gander.” He adjusted his spectacles, squinted, then shook his head. “Nope. Sorry.”
“Will you let the Sheriff know if you see or hear anything?”
“Certainly.” He saw them out, then locked his door, closing for the night.
They walked from shop to shop, then house to house, talking to everyone on the streets, too. After two hours, they turned back toward Caleb’s truck, frustrated with a complete lack of progress.
The streets were near empty, most folks at home with family and most shops closed for the night. They stopped in front of an odd place with trinkets and charms in the window. Their eyes followed a scruffy black dog as it trot across the street toward them, panting with its tongue lolling out one side of its mouth. It circled Jonathan twice, as if reuniting with an old friend, then rolled onto its back, legs splayed open. He leaned over and scratched its belly, causing one leg to shake madly.
“You need a dog for you farm, Caleb?”
“Nah. Why don’t you take it home for Jean?”
“Can’t have the extra mouth to feed,” he said, saddened at the fact. Jean would love the fuzzy old beast.
“You’re looking for the girl?” A woman’s voice came from behind, scratchy and tired. Turning toward it, a woman dressed in colorful layered skirts, a mass of unruly bla
ck, wavy hair, and Indian feathers and charms around her neck stood with a wry smile. “She is not on land, but mourns on the sea.”
Jonathan blinked, glanced at Caleb and back at her, warily. “What are you talking about?”
She turned slowly toward Caleb, eyes narrow, swaying slightly as she studied him.
“You stand to lose everything. There will be a man…a strong fearless man, you will be indebted to him…he will take everything…if you let him.”
Jonathan pulled at Caleb’s shirt. “C’mon. Let’s go,” he said quietly.
“Wait, Jon. What man, lady? What does he look like?”
“He has two faces. You will not see his true nature until he chooses to reveal it. Be wary of your friends,” she whispered.
“Let’s go, Caleb.” He pulled at his arm, forcing him from his hypnotized stare at the gypsy.
“You come see me, I’ll tell you more,” she called out after him.
“Don’t you dare waste money on that nut, Caleb.”
He put Caleb in the truck, slammed the door and walked around the side, angry at the distraction.
“She mourns on the sea.” Caleb repeated out loud. “What do you think she meant by that?”
“I have no idea.” Jonathan rubbed his face with his hand, frustrated at the fruitless search.
“You think she knows something?”
“No, I think she was fishing. She’s a scammer, Caleb.”
“But she knew we were looking for a girl. And she said something about her mourning.”
Jonathan gripped the steering wheel, trying to muster patience. “We’ve been walking around for a couple hours asking about a girl. And everyone knows who she is and that she’s a widow. Trust me. She was fishing for a paying client.”
