“You’re a sick woman. No wonder Alex doesn’t want to hang out with you.”
Caroline got quiet a moment. “Hey, Alex? Can I ask you something?”
Alex looked up at her.
“Are you in some kind of trouble?”
Alex sat frozen; she could not speak.
“It’s just that . . . this is a small town, you know. We don’t have a lot to keep us occupied. And some of the people are talking.”
Alex could not breathe properly.
“I’m not trying to be nosy or anything. It’s just that . . . well, you showed up here, with that black eye.” Caroline’s voice went down a little. “And now . . .”
“Now what?” David asked.
“All the regulars at the bar are talking about it.” Caroline looked at Alex. “About what, exactly, you are running away from.”
David let out a long exasperated breath. “Caroline.” He shook his head. “As much as I normally love someone who speaks her mind, it now appears that you no longer have one.”
David leaned forward in his chair and put his hand on Alex’s knee. “Ignore her. But, Alex? If you need help, all you have to do is ask. You know that, right?”
Alex looked into David’s blue eyes. Kindness radiated from him. For a moment, it was on the tip of her tongue, to tell them what had happened. To tell them that she had never meant to kill Daniel, that it was all a tragic mistake. For a moment, she met David’s eyes, lost in the need to confess, lost in the need for refuge, for understanding.
At that moment, a huge gust of wind swooped down on the town. The rafters over their heads moaned, and all three of them looked up at the ceiling. They heard a branch hit the roof.
“I need to go,” Alex whispered. She stood and grabbed her coat, pulling it on as she walked toward the door. Her spinning wheel and fiber lay abandoned behind her.
She opened the door; wind gusted into the room. Outside, the storm screeched and thundered.
They all heard it, the sound of a large tree going down, somewhere north of town. It hit the ground with a crash, and the earth shook. And then they heard the sputter and fizz of the power lines. Main Street, with all the streetlamps and all the many strings of Christmas lights, buzzed for just one second before it blinked out. The entire town of Copper Cove went dark.
Alex turned and rushed up the hill, away from the Hadley house, away from David and Caroline, her head ducked slightly to try to avoid the rain, lashing at the sides of her face. It was coming in almost sideways with the wind. Her face, her glasses, even her eyelashes were soaking wet; she could barely see where she was going. She ran up the hill, into the darkness.
THIRTY-ONE
When Robin walked through the door, that first day of school in her junior year, she was wearing a black dress, a la Stevie Nicks, and singing “Rhiannon,” her absolute favorite Nicks song, since it was about a witch. Almost immediately, all sounds in the hallway went quiet; all eyes turned to watch her. Over the summer, she had changed completely. Gone was the little tomboy, rail thin and wearing jeans and T-shirts, replaced by a dark-haired beauty whose curves had shifted, like the sands after the tide. When Robin walked in the door, everyone, even the seniors who had never noticed her before, took note.
She shimmied down the hallway, swirling her skirts and singing her song, feeling a surge of power that she had never known before, one she immediately recognized as being related to the development of breasts.
Brian Carter, by then a senior and the captain of the football team, was standing next to Stephanie Spencer, both of them in front of Stephanie’s locker. Stephanie glared at Robin, but the look in Brian’s eyes was something completely different.
Robin stopped in front of them and looked directly at Brian. “Are you finished?” she asked, loudly enough to be heard.
He smiled. “Finished what?”
Robin reached a hand inside her own dress, between her breasts, and brought it back out, closed in a fist. “Here. Put your eyeballs back in your head.” She turned to Stephanie and asked, “What’s wrong, Steph? Never seen breasts before?” She flounced her dress and danced away, the chorus of “Rhiannon” filling the air behind her.
At lunchtime a few days later, she walked into the cafeteria to hear a group of girls, all clustered around Stephanie Spencer, singing “Ro-ah-bin” to the tune of “Rhiannon.” She stopped, walked right over to the table of girls, and leaned in to look at Stephanie. “Didn’t your mama ever tell you not to mess with the village witch?” Robin stood straighter and put a finger to her lips. “Let’s see. Shall I curse you with pimples? Or small boobs?” She glanced down at Stephanie. “Oh, wait. I see I’m too late. Someone has already done that.”
Some of the boys at a nearby table snickered, and Robin blew them a kiss and waltzed away.
The night of the homecoming dance, Robin came in on the arm of Jim Butler, one of her pals from art class. He wasn’t much of a dancer and had always been considered something of a geek, but the fact that he was out on the floor with the dark-haired beauty was drawing a fair amount of attention. Apparently, Robin was good at more than just sketching and singing and swimming—her list of talents included moving across the dance floor as if she were destined to do backup for Madonna. There were a few of the boys on the football team who wanted to stand a little closer to that action, and they took turns cutting in. Jim spent more than his fair share of time at the side of the gym, drinking sugary punch from a plastic cup.
When Brian showed up and held his arms out for a slow dance, Robin met his gaze. “Does your bodyguard know where you are?”
Brian laughed. “She’s not my bodyguard. I dance with whomever I please.”
“Is that right?” Robin smiled. “Are you sure you’re willing to take the risk? I might put a spell on you.”
He pulled her closer. “I’ll take my chances.” He held her hand and inhaled the scent of her hair, a mixture of scents that all spoke of nature, like cedar and rosewater, a concoction that was twisting into his gut and swirling through his bloodstream. She was working a spell on him. He moved slowly from side to side and let his hand start to drift down her backside.
Robin stopped dancing, took a step backward, and slapped his face. “Watch your hands, Carter. I’m not a football.” She turned and flounced away, and he looked up to see Stephanie standing at the edge of the dance floor, glaring at him.
No one had ever talked to him like that. He could still feel the imprint of her hand against his cheek, and for a moment, that mark flamed red.
Brian had always been the star, at the top of everything he touched, the guy everyone looked up to. He was used to getting his way, having grown up in a home where his mother let him do pretty much as he pleased. She was busy with her work, and as long as he checked in at least once a day, she did not concern herself overmuch with his comings and goings. His father had stayed largely out of the picture since the boy was ten, coming to see his son once or twice a year. When he did come to visit, his father was usually accompanied by a younger female from the University, quite often much younger than the venerable Dr. Carter. Brian tried not to take it personally, but he resented the fact that his father never had time for just his son, as if he couldn’t make it through a weekend without the adoration of a girlfriend to keep him occupied.
His parents may not have given him an excess of attention, but on the other hand, they almost never told him no. He managed to get his own way, growing up, simply because they were too busy to bother. He learned the art of attracting attention from wherever he could get it: teachers, girls, the boys in sports.
Brian was the star athlete, excelling in every sport: quarterback of the football team, center on the basketball team, ace pitcher on the baseball team at Copper Cove High School. He loved being the center of attention. He relished being the guy they all relied on to pull them out of a hole, the guy who had all the answers. And he thoroughly enjoyed the female attention that came with that role. Stephanie Spencer was a cheerle
ader, always at every game, always right there, rooting for him.
Not one of his friends, not the boys on the team, or any of the girls, and certainly not Stephanie Spencer, ever said what they really thought. Being at the top had made everyone around him, male and female, into some kind of groupie, more interested in Brian’s approval, of being seen with him, than in any kind of real connection.
Robin was the first person he had ever encountered who said exactly what she thought, and to hell with the consequences. She didn’t need his approval. She didn’t need to be seen with him. Having survived her first sixteen years as the social outcast, she had learned to navigate her own waters, without help from the likes of him.
It drove him absolutely crazy.
Spring break came in March, and Robin went to work for Brian’s mother. She traded her Stevie Nicks dresses for coveralls and flannel and wool, and was out on the boat every time Maggie wanted to go, taking pictures, recording sounds on the new hydrophone, keeping records about where the orcas were spotted and when. Keeping records about the number of salmon in the streams, helping Maggie take water samples and record the results.
The girl was a hard worker, and won Maggie’s approval because of it. Maggie didn’t seem to mind at all that Robin was often singing as she worked, almost absentmindedly, as if she had a music track running in her head, a backdrop to the work she was focused on. She provided her own radio accompaniment.
Maggie had offered to help her find grant funding so that she could attend UW after she graduated from high school. There was no way Emmie could afford college for her daughter, and Maggie was willing to help, since Robin seemed so eager and capable when it came to watching the orcas.
Brian did not share his mother’s love of the orcas; he really did not want to spend any of his free time with his mother. But his attitude changed completely that spring of his senior year, when Robin Porter was showing up every morning to go out on the boat all day. Suddenly, he was more than happy to help. He was especially fascinated when Robin dropped into the water one day to retrieve a piece of equipment that had become stuck in brush. When she pulled herself back onto the boat, water dripping from her body and her clothes plastered to her frame, he nearly fell over backward.
He did what he had always done with the other females at Copper Cove High School. When they were pulling up an underwater camera, he managed to push up against her, his arms brushing against her breasts. But unlike Stephanie Spencer, Robin did not giggle.
Her voice was loud enough that even Maggie turned around. “Watch it, Mr. Hands.”
Brian held his arms out to his sides, putting on that innocent smile that never failed with teachers and certainly never failed him with females. “What? I didn’t do anything.”
“Like hell you didn’t. I say who gets to touch these babies and when,” she spat, looking right in his eyes but cupping her breasts in her hands. “Not you.”
His mother gave him a hard look through her sunglasses and returned to her work. Brian went to the front of the boat, back to the job of taking photos of their surroundings. But he had a hard time concentrating. He was absolutely smitten with Robin, with the way she looked, with the way she smelled, with the way she challenged and pushed. He couldn’t stop thinking about her.
When spring vacation was at an end, and they were docking and cleaning up equipment, Brian waited until his mother had started up the hill to the house. He sat down on the edge of the boat and reached for Robin’s hand.
She turned quickly, pulling her hand away.
“Robin.” He swallowed hard. “I can’t stop thinking about you. I dream about you all the time.”
Robin leaned back against the other side of the boat. “Stephanie know about this?”
He looked her right in the eye. “Steph and I broke up.”
“Oh, really? Since when? Does she know?”
It wasn’t exactly the truth, but Brian knew that he would break up with her, just as soon as he had the chance. Just as soon as he had Robin securely in his grasp. He reached for Robin’s hand again and rubbed his thumb along the top. “Can I take you out for a burger?”
She pulled her hand away and gazed at him, as if through looking she could see inside his mind and figure out what was going on. “Can you keep your hands to yourself?”
He smiled. “Of course.” He held his hands out in front of him. “Knife and fork, that’s it.” He took her to dinner at the Drift Inn, knowing that word would get back to Stephanie. Knowing that he was playing with fire. He wanted Robin, and he was determined to have her. Stephanie could wait.
On Monday morning, back at school, Brian was standing at his own locker, ten feet away from Robin’s, when Stephanie marched down the hall and stopped in front of him, her eyes red and bloodshot. “Go to hell, Brian Carter.” She threw his letterman jacket and his class ring on the floor at his feet and pounded off.
He looked up and met Robin’s eyes, held his hands out in his trademark stance.
Robin closed her locker and walked over to him. “I thought you said that you two broke up.”
He held up his jacket. “We did.”
She leaned in close to his face, her words hissed into the air. “If you lie to me again, Brian Carter, you will live to regret it.” She turned and headed to her first class.
Brian followed her, skipping up behind her and tapping her on the shoulder. “Will you go to prom with me?”
When they took to the dance floor, there was no question that Robin was getting lots of admiring glances from the males in the room. It made Brian feel even bigger, even more important. They all wanted this beauty, and now she was his. They may have looked like a fairy tale, Brian tall and athletic, Robin short and beautiful. But from the moment that Brian and Robin stepped out on the dance floor, trouble fanned out behind them, like the wake from a boat.
It started shortly after that first dance. Brian made his way to the punch bowl, leaving Robin standing at the edge of the room. Stephanie Spencer sidled up next to him, pouring herself a glass of punch and leaning against the table as Brian poured two cups.
“I see the witchy woman has worked a spell on you,” she whispered, her eyes on the dance floor behind him. “I guess I thought you were smarter than that.”
“I’m the one working the magic, Stephanie,” he said. “I seem to remember it worked pretty well with you.” He smiled.
Stephanie smiled back. “Hmm. Well, be careful. Because your magic seems to wear off very quickly.” She flicked her nose toward the dance floor, and Brian turned around, two cups of punch in his hands, to find Robin gyrating across the floor with the Thomas kid, the voice of Madonna belting out “Like a Virgin” through the speakers.
Brian’s jaw clenched. He turned and put the punch on the table, then leaned closer to Stephanie. “That’s our song, isn’t it? Like the very first time?” He slipped her punch cup out of her hands, and they swung out onto the floor. Brian made sure to move the two of them as close to Robin as he could, just to make sure that she noticed. He elbowed the Thomas kid, and the two of them switched partners. With Robin back in his arms, Brian smiled and whispered, “That’s more like it. You’re mine now, you know.”
For once, Robin didn’t argue. Instead, she let herself relax into his arms. The outcast, the daughter of the witch, in the arms of the most popular boy in school.
Prom happened the first weekend in May. Robin turned seventeen right after that, and for the next few months, she and Brian were together almost constantly. She stood at his side for all the graduation hoopla at the end of May. They both worked on the boat with Maggie throughout the summer months. Maggie moved into the cabin, intent on closing up the big house as soon as Brian left for college.
It was mid-August; Brian would be leaving for Seattle over the weekend. They pulled up to the dock and began to stow equipment; Maggie headed up the hill to the cabin. Brian waited until his mother was out of sight, and then he stood behind Robin and wrapped his arms around her, his
nose in her hair. “I love you, Robin. You know that, don’t you?”
She turned and lifted her face to his. Later that evening, she called Emmie and told her not to wait up. And then she and Brian climbed the stairs to his room, and she lay down with the young man she had grown to love. The next day, he left for Seattle and the University of Washington. And she didn’t hear from him for four months.
When he came home, at Christmas break, nothing was quite the same. He’d been home for two days before he showed up at the cottage Robin shared with her mother, knocking on the door. Robin opened it and leaned against the doorjamb.
“Hey,” he said.
“You must be lost. Your house is over there”—she tipped her nose toward the trees—“on the other side of the road.”
A smile flashed on his face. “I missed you, Robin.”
“Yes, I can tell. By the way you came right over to see me. By all the phone calls that I didn’t get while you were gone.”
He reached for her wrist, and she jerked it away. “I live in a dorm, Robin. There aren’t any phones.”
She laughed. “No pay phones anywhere in Seattle? Huh.”
“You don’t understand. It’s not that easy.”
“Sure it is. You put money in the slot and you punch in the number.”
They stood slightly apart, tension vibrating between their bodies.
“Let me start over,” Brian said softly. “You look beautiful.”
Robin smiled and cocked her head to one side. “Yes. I know.”
“I’ve missed you, Robin. I really have. Can I take you to dinner?”
She waited a moment, weighing her decision. She was furious with him; she was desperate to see him. Her toughness had faded, somewhere along the way, about the same time that she had fallen in love with this man.
Robin turned from the door to get a coat, and Emmie looked up from her spinning. “Are you sure about this, Robin?”
“No. But I guess I’m going to find out.” When she left and they walked down the hill to the Drift Inn, she was determined that she was only going to dinner. That’s it, nothing else. Just dinner. Afterward, they left the café and strolled down the street, down to the sea wall park, just below the businesses, at the water’s edge. Reflections of Christmas lights danced on the water. They could smell the salt in the air.
The Music of the Deep: A Novel Page 23