Mortal Remains

by Mary Ann Fraser

  “Mallory? Okay, yeah, so that’s too weird and potentially very messy. Ugh.” He shuddered. “Why’d you have to tell me that?”

  “Because I don’t want her to get hurt.”

  “O ye of little faith. By the way, did you hear? Adam quit this morning.”

  “He quit? Why?”

  “Ask him. He’s in his room packing right now.”

  He must have found out about my meeting with Devlin, but how?

  I hobbled back to the cottage and knocked on the door. When there was no answer, I shouted, “Adam. Adam, open up!” I raised a fist to pound again when the door flew open.

  Adam held a stuffed pillowcase in one hand. “Lily, what—?”

  “Evan told me you quit.” I barged past him and into the room. “Were you even going to tell me?” I wore my hurt like a suit of armor.

  “I did tell you.”

  “No, you didn’t. I think I would remember.”

  “The pansy? Think of me, as in when I’m gone?”

  “Is that what that meant?”

  “I thought it was obvious.”

  “Well, it wasn’t. And where exactly do you think you’ll go?”

  He shrugged. “Home?”

  “And what, sleep in the dirt? Are you serious? Adam, this is your home. I thought you liked it here. I thought . . .”

  I couldn’t bring myself to say any more because I saw now that I thought wrong. He didn’t care for me, not in the way I imagined. But at least here he had a roof over his head, a few dollars in his pocket, and people who cared. “Why would you leave us?” Why would you leave me?

  “I thought it’s what you wanted when you said it was time for me to move on.”

  I released the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. This had nothing to do with my meeting Devlin. “Oh, Adam, it never occurred to me you’d take it literally.” Although knowing him, it should have. “All I meant was that you need to look past all that’s happened and toward your future.”

  He dropped onto the edge of the bed and wouldn’t look me in the eye. If this were a game of Name That Expression, I’d have called it regret. “It’s more than that, isn’t it?”

  He nodded. “My father died protecting me, and you heard what Veronica said. Those two men who followed us to Oakland won’t give up until they have what they want. As long as I’m here, I pose a risk to your family.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I know.”

  “You’re safer here than out on the streets somewhere, and with Dad out of commission, we need you. I need you.”

  He lifted his eyes to meet mine. “It’s you I’m thinking of.”

  “But you promised to help me find a way to save the mortuary.” I saw from the way his face fell that he’d been hoping I forgot.

  “I will, but not from here.”

  “How ’bout this: you stay until the issues with the funeral home are resolved. I overheard Dad tell Evan this morning that he expected to hear something within a week or so. Deal?”

  “No deal.”

  “At least give us the weekend to work something out. You’ve never been to the ocean, and no one will bother us there. We’ll be safe. If you still want to move out when we get back, I’ll help you find somewhere to go.”

  He considered this for a moment, then upended the pillowcase, dumping its few items onto the bed. “Okay.”

  I’d take what I could get. Besides, if we lost the mortuary, we’d all be looking for a new place to live.

  Life was really weird. The family business was tanking. I was supposed to find and deliver papers to an ex-con. There was a good chance we had a pair of rogue ex-FBI agents on our tail. Adam wanted to leave. And yet here we were, crammed in the van with all our gear, winding our way through the Santa Cruz Mountains toward the coast, and all wearing matching flip-flops. Mallory’s big idea.

  Totally weird.

  Up front, Mal channel surfed the radio while Evan surfed the highway and rattled on about league standings. Beside me, Adam stared out the window, counting off memorial markers. One was surrounded by stuffed animals: Easter bunnies, reindeer, bears with flannel hearts—all tokens of holidays missed. Another wore wreaths of faded silk flowers. The third was a simple white cross. “Place markers or hazard warnings?” he wondered aloud.

  Once we exited the highway, we cruised past produce stands and artichoke fields to join a parade of cars heading to the state beach. Evan was lucky to snag a space in the parking lot next to the fenced-off revegetation zone. He cut the engine and we unloaded. Swarms of beachgoers trudged up the dunes, their pilgrimage to this mecca of sand and surf nearly complete. Soon they would all gather on the wind-swept shore, bow to the hovering sun, and crack open the ice chests. No parents, no work, no worries—well, almost. For some there were still the competitions. My worry was devising a way to save our family’s livelihood while convincing Adam to stay.

  Mallory flung out her arms and took a long drag of the briny breeze. “Yeah, baby, bring on the negative ions.”

  I did the same, hoping the ocean air would lift my spirits. “Yeah, this is the best,” I said, but I wasn’t feeling it. The day was warming up fast. I unzipped my hoodie and tossed it into the car.

  “What’s that loop thing on your shirt mean?” asked Adam.

  “The pink bow? Breast cancer awareness,” I explained.

  “Not very sexy,” noted Mallory, barging between us to retrieve a Sunbrella.

  “Neither is a mastectomy,” I pointed out, and handed Adam a towel.

  “That’s what I love about you, Lils,” said Evan with a fake punch to my shoulder. “Always a ray of sunshine.”

  Maybe so, but it’s hard to be sunny when you’re losing everything you care about.

  An El Camino squeezed into the sliver of space beside our van. Justin Blackwell climbed out from behind the wheel, followed by his sister, Dana, who was wearing these ridiculous rhinestone sandals and had a vibrant paisley scarf tied low on her hips. “Hey, guys,” she said with her signature fluttery hyper wave.

  “Oh, joy,” mumbled Mallory. “Look who’s here.”

  Dana sauntered over to Evan, doing this runway thing with her shoulders and hips. When Mal gave her the evil eye, Dana’s attention shifted to Adam. “And who do we have here?” she cooed, rummaging through her bag. Now I was the one wishing she’d take a long walk off a short pier.

  “This is Adam,” Mallory volunteered in a perfect imitation of Dana’s skanky warble.

  “Hey, Adam, do me a favor, will you? Rub some sunblock on my back.” She passed him a tube and peeled off her cover-up. Adam squeezed out much more lotion than he needed and began slathering it all over her pumpkin-colored, spray-tanned skin. She was too busy flaunting the Italian she’d picked up during her semester in Florence to notice. I swore if she giggled or said, “Oh, le tue mani sono così fredde, Adam, sono così fredde!” (“Oh, your hands are cold, Adam, your hands are cold!”) one more time, my cold hands would be around her scrawny neck.

  Adam stepped back to assess the results. Intentional or not, Dana looked battered and ready for the deep fryer. I suppressed a smile and gave him a thumbs-up.

  With gear loaded and van locked, everyone began the long slog over the dunes toward the beach—everyone except Adam. He was too busy testing the sand at the edge of the boardwalk with his toes to notice the others were leaving without us.

  “Come on,” I said. “There’s plenty more on the other side.”

  Together we started up the first set of dunes with only the sound of sifting sand under our bare feet to break the stilted silence. With his long, steady strides, he quickly outpaced me. Three-quarters of the way up, I stopped to catch my breath beside a patch of icicle plants. Hands on knees, huffing and puffing, I searched for our van to see how far I’d come. A familiar-looking SUV with no plates cruised through the parking lot.

  Did they follow us here? Or did they just assume we’d be at the beach bash like every other teen in town?

>   I sank to the ground behind my beach chair and prayed we hadn’t been spotted. Most likely they were searching for Adam. Why, I still didn’t know. Luckily he was already on the other side of the dune.

  The SUV trolled slowly up one row and down another. It passed the last two open parking spots and coasted to a stop at the base of the dune. I sighed a moment later when the vehicle moved on, leaving the lot. By time I caught up to Adam, he was already starting up the second and final set of dunes. I said nothing about the car. Why give him one more reason to leave if the danger had passed?

  “Beautiful,” he said from the crest of the second rise. Below us a carpet of sand rolled down the hill to meet the sea where breakers thundered through the arched rocks. Gulls reeled overhead, and colorful kites fluttered like confetti in the steady breeze.

  “It’s even better up close. Race you.”

  There was a twitch at the corner of his mouth—my only warning—and then he was off in a mad sprint down the dune. “Hey, not fair,” I shouted and gave chase, careening over clumps of sea grass and dodging the catawampus fence posts that dotted the slope. He sailed across the rock-and-shell-cobbled sand and bounded straight into the foaming brine. Teeter-tottering his arms to keep his balance, he waded in up to his chest, oblivious to the wave surging toward him. Did he know how to swim? How could he?

  The swell crested, curled up and over his tawny head, and swallowed him whole.

  Galloping toward the water, I left a trail of clothes, towels, and sunblock in my wake. I leaped in up to my thighs and scanned for any sign of Adam. I was about to hail a lifeguard when he rose from the sea like Neptune.

  Amazing what a few weeks of healthy eating and digging dirt can do for a body, I thought as he splashed toward me. I was so mesmerized that I was completely unprepared for the force of the next incoming wave. It swept my legs out from beneath me and took me under. Turning and rolling, I couldn’t tell which way was up. Finally my head broke the surface. I gulped in air and struggled to my feet.

  Those onshore gawked and pointed at the spectacle. Nearby in the surf, Evan cupped his hands to his mouth. “Hey, Lily, I’d think twice about thrashing around like that. You’re liable to attract sharks.” Dana burst into spastic laughter and together they swam off.

  Ouch.

  Adam flipped back his dripping hair and strode right past me as I limped onshore, briny and bedraggled. “I thought you were in trouble,” I explained.

  “Do you even know how to swim?”

  I didn’t appreciate his condescending tone. “It’s more like a flounder. I missed swim lessons at summer camp. It’s a long, sad story not worth repeating.” He turned away to face the seemingly endless Pacific. “Wait. Are you mad at me because I embarrassed you?”

  He looked at me sideways. “What do I care what people think? Why do you? I don’t understand why you let him bully you.”

  “It was a joke.”

  “You let Evan make you the joke.”

  “It’s what brothers do. No big deal. It’s that whole ‘sticks and stones’ thing.” He stared back blankly. “You know, sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.”

  “But they do hurt you.”

  “Okay, yeah, sometimes they do. So? I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”

  “You deserve better.”

  “Thanks.” But it wasn’t gratitude I felt; it was failure. Already this day seemed doomed.

  Despite my warnings about treacherous kelp beds and red tides, the undertow and great whites, Adam went back into the water. I gathered the items I’d littered across the beach and plopped onto my towel beside Mallory to brush off the sand now plastered to my legs and arms. Mal wasn’t faring much better. She twisted and fretted at a loose thread dangling from her swim top as she watched Evan instruct Dana on the finer points of bodysurfing. Apparently a lot of hands-on help was required.

  “How does she do it?” Mal asked.

  “What, bodysurf?”

  “No, monopolize his attention like that.” She pulled her hat down over her ears and jammed her sunglasses onto her nose. “I’m going to get a corn dog, maybe three. You want one?’

  “It’s not even eleven.”

  “Yeah, well, I need a carb fix.” She flung her beach bag over her shoulder and marched to the snack shack, kicking up sand the whole way.

  I buried my head in a book, while Adam took the ocean head-on, distracting a lifeguard cruising by on her ATV. She bowled over a Styrofoam ice chest, squashing it like a bug.

  She wasn’t the only person watching him; he’d managed to catch the eyes of girls up and down the beach. But I knew his weaknesses. He may have been fearless out there, where the walls are made of water and sky, but ask him to fetch a vase from the confines of a dark closet and he melted to mush. Strange boy for a strange girl?

  Up the beach a gaggle of tweens erupted into squeals. My eyes followed to where they pointed. Strolling down the dune with guitars, coolers, and a posse of blonds in tow were several members of the Jaded Corpses. And there in the middle of the pack strutted the golden boy with the Midas touch, Hayden Jornet. Thankfully Mallory was off at the snack shack, tripping on carbs with Melissa and Vega. They were laughing so hard that Mallory was wiping her eyes.

  I couldn’t remember the last time we laughed like that. Had we ever? Did we call ourselves friends because that’s how others defined us? Lily and Mal. Like Jefferson and Adams, Simon and Garfunkel, Lassiter and Devlin. None of those ended well, I noted.

  Three long shadows passed over my legs. I squinted up toward the sun to find Shep Bramstead peering down at me. He was in the company of two girls I didn’t recognize, but between the pair they had more curves than a BMX raceway. Shep was wearing his usual smug mug with the addition of a spectacular black eye that even his Ray-Ban rip-offs couldn’t hide.

  “Well, well, look who crawled up from the crypt,” he drawled.

  Normally I’d have ignored him, but Adam was right. I didn’t deserve to be the joke. “Nice shiner. Your brother give you that?”

  His escorts laughed off my pathetic attempt at a comeback, but Shep looked stricken. It was a horribly mean thing to say. I’d heard Grant had a temper. I figured it probably explained Shep’s bullying me all those years, but if I’d struck a blow, it was purely by accident—and it was short-lived.

  “Yeah, well, I heard the crematorium deal went up in smoke. Get it?” he snorted.

  A slap would have stung less. “How do you know that?”

  “You kidding, Mort? Sturbridge told Jornet, who told me.”

  “Jim Sturbridge knows Hayden?”

  “Yeah, Sturbridge is his uncle. Who do you think is renting Hayden his new studio?”

  Someone ran up to announce that the skimboard contest was getting underway.

  “Now for some real sport,” said Shep, and he escorted his arm candy toward the judges table.

  The reminder of my failure was too much. My lower lip began to quiver, and my eyes were threatening to release an ocean’s worth of salty tears when Dana and Evan, along with several of Evan’s teammates, returned to dry off. I pretended to wipe sand from my face so I could borrow a few seconds to regain my composure.

  “Hold my keys for me, will ya?” said Evan, tossing them at me.

  “What do I look like, a coat check?” I snapped.

  “What’s with the serotonin suck?” I heard someone say.

  Evan and his buddies passed around a few drinks before migrating to the water’s edge to join the others. Mallory had disappeared with Melissa and Vega, and the lifeguard had captured Adam’s attention with an up-close-and-personal look at the workings of the ATV. There was no one to see me rise on shaky legs and follow the trail of flotsam that divided land from sea.

  I walked past tide pools lined in a rainbow of anemones and starfish, past shuttered lifeguard stations and driftwood lean-tos, until I came to a jetty jutting into the tide. I scaled the closest boulder. A passing couple cast doubtful looks m
y way. I ignored them and continued inching my way toward the lonely point where waves battered boulders in suits of musseled armor. The shells, I noted, were sealed tight against the pounding; I envied their resilience.

  There was a whoosh, and all the water drained from between the boulders. The horizon grew noticeably higher. A massive swell was building, and at any moment it would crest and strike the jetty.

  I took one step back. The lip of the wave curled. I braced.

  They don’t call them breakers for nothing.

  RULE #27

  GET COMFORTABLE WITH DEATH, BUT NOT TOO COMFORTABLE.

  I was jammed upside down in a narrow cavity between two of the jetty’s boulders, and the water was rising. Another wave surged between the rocks, temporarily submerging me. I squeezed my eyes shut against the briny torrent. When the water retreated and I opened them again, a rock crab the size of my hand was skittering over the anemones not two inches from my nose. I screamed and tried to wriggle free, but only slid deeper in the hole.

  I was going to drown, and it was my own fault.

  “HELP! He-e-l—” I gurgled. The next wave hit and sucked me down, wedging me even more firmly. The blood ran to my head, my eyes burned from the salt water, and sea foam filled my ears.

  Through it all, I imagined I could hear Adam calling my name. “Lily!”

  “Adam, I’m here!” I cried through chattering teeth. “D-d-down here!” I listened for the telltale scraping of feet over rock and barnacle, but only the slapping and sloshing of surf made it to my ears. Hope floated out of reach.

  Without warning a pair of hands clamped around my ankles. “I’m going to pull you out,” shouted Adam from above.

  Praise Fortuna. I clenched my teeth against the pain I knew was coming. He pulled, but the craggy stone wouldn’t release me. He tried again, harder this time. Barnacles, limpets, and jagged rock grated my skin. I bit down harder, stifling a scream. The next wave crowned the jetty and surged into the space. His hands slipped away.

  “Adam?” A dreadful moment passed. “ADAM!”