The Islanders

by Mary Alice Monroe

“I just don’t want to. Okay?”

  “You never want to get in the water with us,” she argued.

  “You scared or something?” I joked.

  Macon’s eyes narrowed. “Shut up!” he said, shoving my shoulders.

  The force of it knocked me flat on my butt. First, I was shocked. Second, I was mad. A rush of heat ignited inside me.

  “What’s your problem?” I yelled, jumping to my feet.

  “I don’t have a problem,” he said, standing chest to chest with me. “You’re the ones who won’t leave me alone.”

  “We just want you to hang out. But instead you’re over here… acting like a jerk!”

  “Just leave me alone,” Macon said through clenched teeth, and marched away.

  Lovie and I looked at each other, confusion in our eyes. We both heard it. Macon wasn’t mad. He sounded more… hurt.

  “Wait here,” I said to Lovie. I trotted to catch up with Macon, calling after him. “Hey, wait up!”

  Macon stopped short and spun around to face me. His lips were scrunched up, like he might cry.

  “Hey, bro. What’s bothering you?” I asked in a friendlier tone.

  “I can’t swim,” Macon blurted out.

  I blinked, not sure I heard him right. “Huh?”

  “I. Can’t. Swim.”

  My mouth dropped open.

  “There! You happy now?”

  “Hey, I… I didn’t know. I mean, who doesn’t know how to swim?”

  I was sorry the minute I said the words. I didn’t mean it the way they sounded. But it was too late. Words have power, and these hit their mark.

  “I’m outta here.” Macon turned on his heel and took off running. His bold blue sneakers flashed against the brown of the dry dirt path.

  * * *

  Lovie hurried to catch up to me. I could tell by her face she’d heard everything. All the happiness we’d felt earlier had fizzled like air from a balloon. When we turned around to walk back, I was surprised to find Honey standing nearby. She met my gaze and I knew she’d heard everything too.

  “If I heard correctly, Macon shared something that’s a very big deal for him.”

  “How were we supposed to know?” I asked defensively.

  “Why didn’t he just tell us he didn’t know how to swim?” Lovie asked.

  Honey gazed up to the towering pines as if the answer to the question hung from a branch. “We all have little secrets or fears that we don’t feel comfortable sharing with others… even our closest friends.”

  I understood what she meant. I didn’t talk about the worries I had about Dad. Honey didn’t share her secret of loneliness. And Lovie didn’t tell anyone about her biological dad in prison. I scratched my leg, trying hard not to scratch my ankle as I thought. The guilt I felt for embarrassing my friend itched my conscience every bit as much.

  “We didn’t know,” Lovie said. “It doesn’t seem fair that he’s mad at us now.”

  “Unintentional as it was, the fact remains that you two were being insensitive. Macon told you he didn’t want to jump in, and you kept pestering him. You wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

  “We just wanted him to join us,” I said, and kicked a pebble.

  “I know,” said Honey. “In times like these, you have to put yourself in the other person’s shoes. How do you think Macon felt?”

  “Embarrassed.” I knew the answer to that one.

  “Left out,” Lovie added.

  Honey looked into our eyes, one after the other. “So, what’s the solution?”

  That answer came quickly. “To apologize,” we both replied.

  “You three make great friends,” Honey said with a soft smile. “And sometimes, a simple ‘I’m sorry’ is all that’s needed to start anew.” She reached out to pat our shoulders.

  “Now go on. The truth shall set you free.”

  CHAPTER 19

  The Long Walk

  It’s never good for a secret to come between friends.

  WE WENT ON FOOT TO Macon’s house, walking along the lagoon path. Lovie toyed with her sea turtle necklace charm and chewed her lower lip.

  “You thinking about what to say?” I asked, trying to break the quiet between us.

  She shrugged without glancing at me.

  Snap.

  The loud sound of twigs cracking made us freeze. We scanned our surroundings. Just off the path to our left, we quickly spied a family of deer munching on leaves and twigs in a tangle of overgrown bushes.

  “They’re so close, I feel like I could touch them,” I whispered.

  “Never touch a wild animal, remember,” she whispered back.

  I rolled my eyes. “Duh. It’s not my first day on the…”

  Another movement in the bushes made us go silent again. In a flash, the deer bolted. Something new was moving from the forest toward the path. This sound was heavier, like something was dragging. Something big.

  Lovie linked her arm in mine, squeezing it. I leaned into her too, but I hoped she couldn’t feel my heart trying to pound itself out of my body.

  “What’s that?” Lovie whispered.

  “An otter, maybe?”

  “Maybe. My aunt said she saw two on the island.”

  We watched, not moving, not even taking a breath, as the tangle of brambles and bushes and weeds rattled.

  “Umm, that would be a big otter, then,” I replied, pulling back on Lovie’s arm. We took a few slow, cautious steps backward.

  The underbrush slowly parted and then, with barely a sound, a massive leathery brownish-black snout poked out. Its long mouth was in an upturned grin. Two big, sharp, upper teeth pointed upward.

  Lovie sucked in her breath.

  Another step forward revealed its massive head.

  “Big Al!” His name fell from my lips with a mix of wonder and fear.

  The alligator eased its impressive thirteen feet from the shrubs with a slow swagger, as if the creature knew he was king of the island.

  “He’s huge!” Lovie whispered, terror making her voice tremble.

  The gator paused, giving us a full view of his profile. I swear, he looked as long as a truck.

  “Let’s get out of here,” I whispered, tugging her arm.

  “Don’t run,” Lovie said in a shaky voice.

  Al began moving again. And again, we froze. The alligator looked away from us, as though we weren’t even there. Then with a step, he sauntered across the dirt path on his way to the pond.

  Lovie said in a low voice, “Just keep walking backward. Nice and slow.”

  I didn’t need any encouragement. We started inching our way back, lifting our feet higher so as not to make noise, our eyes peeled on Big Al. He’d already reached the pond and was slipping soundlessly into the dark water. I felt sorry for the birds wading there but didn’t shout out. Instead, we turned heel and took off running.

  “Feet don’t fail me now!” I called out, laughing in relief as we ran down the road.

  We were still laughing by the time we got to Macon’s house. We couldn’t wait to tell Macon about Big Al. He loved alligators. He even had a poster of them on his bedroom wall.

  When we reached Macon’s front door, Aunt Sissy answered the door. “Well, this is a surprise,” she said. She’d changed from her red shorts and white top and was wearing tan pants and a white polo. “Come in before we let all the air-conditioning out.”

  “Aunt Sissy, what are you doing here?” Lovie asked.

  She ushered us into the Simmonses’ spacious front hall. “I’m officially helping Macon’s mom now that she’s getting close to her due date.” She shut the door behind us.

  “I’m guessing you’re here for Macon.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Sorry to say he’s not here. He was here for a short minute, then he left again. Hold on a second. I’ll ask his mother if she knows where he was headed.”

  “Where do you think he went?” Lovie asked me when her aunt left the room.

  “Bea
ts me. It’s getting close to dinnertime. Not like Macon to miss a meal.” I looked over my shoulder, then said, “Is your aunt working for Mrs. Simmons now?”

  “Sort of. She checks in on her now that Mrs. Simmons is getting close to her due date.” Lovie looked up when her aunt returned to the front hall and waved us in.

  “Mrs. Simmons asked if she could speak to you. Do you have a minute?”

  The living room was up another flight of stairs, higher up where the windows overlooked the trees to see clear to the ocean. Honey once told me she thought the Simmons house had the best ocean views on the island. Boy, was she right.

  It was a big, sunny room in cheerful, bright colors, like the clothes Mrs. Simmons wore. She was stretched out, her head wrapped in a colorful scarf. Her belly had grown since the last time I was over. It looked like she had a basketball under her tunic.

  “Hi, guys!” Mrs. Simmons called out in greeting when we entered. Her smile was as bright as the sunshine.

  “Hi, Mrs. Simmons. How are you feeling today?” I asked politely.

  “Big!” she replied, and gave her rounded abdomen a gentle rub. “You’re here to see Macon? He’s not here right now, but I’m glad you came over. Could you come on over here please. I’d like to ask you a question about something while Macon is gone.” She gestured to the chairs nearby.

  Lovie and I looked at each other warily. I had a sinking feeling we were going to get in trouble for pestering Macon. We obliged, each slinking onto a chair. Lovie sat straight and held her hands in her lap, real tight. Her aunt stood by her side.

  Mrs. Simmons smiled again, and I could tell she was trying to make us feel comfortable. “Happy Fourth of July,” she said. “Macon told me you had a real fine parade. I peeked out the window, but I couldn’t see much. But I heard you!” She laughed lightly. Then she looked at her hands while we sat quietly. “Macon also told me about what happened at the creek.” She looked up at us. “He told you that he couldn’t swim.”

  I squirmed and nodded my head. Here it comes, I thought.

  “That was a big secret for him to share,” she told us.

  “We didn’t mean to make him mad,” Lovie blurted out. “We didn’t know.”

  “He wasn’t mad,” Mrs. Simmons said kindly. “He was more… embarrassed. He knew you both loved swimming. He didn’t want you to find out.”

  “I’m sorry for what I said to him,” I said.

  “I know you are, Jake,” Mrs. Simmons said kindly. “The thing about secrets is that they can be difficult to keep. Some secrets are good, like surprises or gifts. Some secrets are not so good. No adult should tell you to keep a secret if you think it’s wrong or it makes you feel uncomfortable. Trust your instincts and tell your parents.” She paused and looked out the window a moment. When she turned back to us, she smiled sweetly.

  “And then there are the secrets that hide something we’re embarrassed about. You didn’t know why Macon didn’t want to go in the water with you. This was a secret that was Macon’s decision to share. And I’m glad he did. It’s never good for a secret to come between friends.”

  “I’m just glad he told me,” I said.

  “Exactly. Now, since we’re confessing secrets,” Mrs. Simmons said, “here’s mine. I don’t know how to swim either.”

  I looked at her, surprised. I didn’t know anyone, grown-up or kid, who didn’t know how to swim. Now I knew two people.

  “Swimming wasn’t important in my family,” Mrs. Simmons explained. “My mama and daddy didn’t know how either. I grew up in these parts, near the water. I love the ocean, the rivers, and creeks. I can look out this window all day and my heart just sings,” she said, staring out at the brilliant ocean shining under the blue sky. “South Carolina is home for me. Water is a part of the landscape I grew up with. But swimming?” She shook her head. “To be honest, the water scares me. I don’t even like getting in the shallow end of a pool.” Mrs. Simmons readjusted herself gingerly in her recliner.

  “When Macon was four years old, I wanted him to learn how to swim. I overcame my fears and signed him up for lessons at our local pool. He liked to swim. I was so proud of him. He could blow bubbles and was a strong kicker.” She smiled. “You know how strong he is.”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “He was doing really well. Jumping in and getting to the side of the pool all by himself. Truth is, I thought he could swim better than he actually could.” She smoothed her hand over the rim of her belly. “And I let down my guard.”

  Her voice grew soft and I leaned in to hear better.

  “It all happened so fast. It was a crowded day at the club,” Mrs. Simmons continued. “I was sitting outside the pool, talking to a friend. Macon was beside me sitting on a towel, playing with a toy. One minute he was there. And the next minute, when I looked up, he was gone. I was frantic. I leaped from my chair, calling his name. I’d never been so afraid.”

  She paused to rub her belly again and took a short breath.

  Aunt Sissy drew close to her. “Are you okay?”

  “Just a twinge,” Mrs. Simmons said. She took another short breath and exhaled. Then she returned to her story. “It couldn’t have been more than a minute or so, but it felt like forever. When I spotted him, he was in the pool. Underwater. Struggling.” She shook her head. “I couldn’t even jump in to save my own baby.”

  “What happened?” Lovie asked, at the edge of her seat.

  “We were blessed,” Mrs. Simmons replied. “The lifeguard heard my cries, and in a flash, she jumped in and grabbed him. She lifted Macon out of the water, and I will never forget the sound of that huge breath my baby took, his mouth wide open, like a fish. I wrapped him in a towel and hugged him to within an inch of his life. We got there just in time. He didn’t swallow any water. But…” Mrs. Simmons shrugged. “Another minute and it could’ve been a very different story. That incident confirmed my fears of the water. We left the pool that day and never returned. Macon never took classes again. Never entered a pool. Never swam. He never said he didn’t want to, but he never said he did, either. I never encouraged him.”

  “Didn’t you go to the beach?” Lovie asked disbelievingly. I knew she couldn’t imagine a life away from the beach.

  “Sure we did. We traveled to islands on vacations. We just did things other than swim. We played on the beach, and there was golf, tennis. In the city, swimming isn’t a big deal. It’s not a sport Macon’s ever been interested in.” She paused. “Until this summer.” She looked out the window again. “I suppose I should’ve seen it coming, living on an island.” She laughed lightly.

  “Do you think he wants to learn how to swim now?” I asked.

  “Yes, I think he does. Especially with you two as his friends. He feels a bit left out.”

  “He could take private lessons at Huyler House,” said Lovie. “That’s where I learned how to swim.”

  Aunt Sissy added, “That’s a little community center here on the island. It has a nice swimming pool. And I know an excellent instructor I can ask.”

  Mrs. Simmons smiled. “That’s a wonderful idea. I’d feel safer knowing that he could swim.” She looked again at me and Lovie. “I knew you two would have a good idea. Why don’t you go talk to him about it?”

  “Where is he?” I asked.

  Mrs. Simmons smiled. “He said something about a stakeout.”

  * * *

  Aunt Sissy prepared sandwiches, drinks, and cookies for us to take with us, reminding us that there would be free hot dogs at the creek if we wanted more.

  “I’ll call Honey and let her know what’s happening. Have a good time, children!”

  The gazebo was empty when Lovie and I arrived. We picked up our pace as we walked toward the beach and the turtle nest. The sun shimmered off the ocean water, making me squint beneath my ball cap. A woman with her dog on a leash trotted by close to the tide line. It was late in the afternoon, and everyone had packed up their towels and headed home for barbecues and fireworks.
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  We found Macon sitting alone on the sand near the nest. His knees were bent, and he had his arms wrapped around them as he looked out at the sea. His backpack was beside him. I thought he looked sad and lonely, and that made me feel sad too.

  “Hey, Macon!” I called out.

  He spun around at my call, surprised to see us.

  “What are you guys doing here?”

  “We came looking for you,” Lovie said.

  We reached his side and let our backpacks hit the sand.

  “Anything happening?” I asked.

  “Nope,” he replied.

  I spread out my towel beside Macon. Lovie did the same. We joined him at the nest, legs crossed. It felt good for the three of us to sit together again, side by side.

  “I’m sorry, man,” I said.

  “Me too,” Lovie said.

  “It’s okay,” Macon said.

  “No, it’s not,” I said. “I pushed you to admit you couldn’t swim. I’m sorry, But… I’m glad you told me.”

  “Us,” Lovie chimed in.

  “Right. Us. We’re a team. The Dawn Patrol.” I let my fingers drag the sand. “What did you think we’d say?”

  Macon picked up sand and let it trail through his fingers. “I thought you’d laugh.” He looked at me and there was accusation in his eyes. “You did laugh.”

  I jerked my head over to look at him. “No, I didn’t.”

  Macon’s eyes flashed. “You said you couldn’t believe anyone didn’t know how to swim,” he fired back.

  “Oh yeah,” I said, ashamed. That did sound mean. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “Whatever.” He looked at his shoes.

  “I’m glad we know,” Lovie said. “A lot of things make sense now. Why you didn’t want to kayak or go in the waves.”

  “I didn’t want you guys to think I was, you know… weird. Besides, it just seemed easier not to tell you.”

  “I don’t know,” Lovie said softly. “Sometimes secrets are the hardest thing to keep inside.”

  I looked at her, knowing she was talking about her dad.

  “I guess I was embarrassed I didn’t know how,” Macon said. “I mean, I’m almost twelve.”