by Karen White
I knew that Marnie had heard it, too. Through half-closed eyes, I watched her as she gripped the steering wheel a little bit tighter. I kept smiling as I listened to the old story about how Peter Parts changed his name to Peter Payne until he became Major Payne and then eventually had to report to General Lee Asinine. I must have snorted, too, at one point, because Marnie elbowed me in the side of my arm, chiding me, I thought, for pretending to be asleep.
Marnie found a parking spot near the front entrance of the nursing home, and we all piled out of the car, each of us with a small stack of books in our hands. I led the way as Marnie followed with Gil, who, I was surprised to see, didn’t seem to be showing any trepidation about being alone with me for an hour.
Susan Goldsmith, the residential manager, met us at the reception desk and stood as I made introductions. She was a tall, slender lady about my age with a regal smile.
“Good to see you again, Diana. She’s been waiting all day. We had to give her something to sleep last night, because she was so excited about today that she couldn’t sleep. But she’s awake and alert now and expecting you.”
“Great,” I said, motioning Gil to come with me but being careful not to touch him. I indicated the plush sitting room near the reception desk outfitted with several comfortable leather couches and a few side tables scattered with magazines. A drink dispenser hummed in the far corner, disguised by a large ficus. “Marnie can wait here.”
Susan raised an elegant eyebrow. “Your sister won’t be joining you?”
I shook my head. “No. You know how she gets when she’s around strangers.”
I didn’t wait for a reply, as I added the books Marnie carried to my pile and then ushered Gil away from Marnie and into the familiar corridor I had been walking down for over a year. After carefully adjusting Gil’s collar so that I had limited contact with him, I knelt in front of him.
“Thank you for coming with me today. I like it that we’re together again.”
He stared solemnly at me with familiar green eyes.
“Don’t be scared, all right? We’re just going to talk for a while, and if she asks you any questions, I can help you answer them, so don’t feel like you’re being put on the spot.” I reached my hand up to brush the hair off his forehead and he flinched. I let my hand fall, angry at myself.
I straightened and brushed at the knees of my skirt. “She might want to talk about your pictures, okay? She really likes them, and I’ve put a few in frames for her. I thought you might like that.”
My palms felt sweaty and I rubbed them against my skirt. “Are you ready?”
He took a quick look behind him down the hall, and I knew he was hoping to catch sight of Marnie. Then he looked back up at me and nodded.
“Great,” I said. “If you get scared or nervous, just pretend you’re as brave and strong and smart as Private Parts.”
That got me a snort as I turned to knock on the door, and I suddenly felt better than I had in a very long time.
Gil
After I got back from the nursing home, I went straight up to my room and pulled out the box that I kept under my bed. It was like my mama’s box that had that label on it that read “precious things” because I kept all my important stuff in there—my favorite marbles, a shark’s tooth I’d found on the beach, a picture of my parents when they got married, and a few other things that I thought were pretty cool or important for some reason. I unbuttoned my shirt and pulled out a wrapped Twinkie that was only a little bit squished, and stuck it in the box.
I took out that piece of paper that I had taken from Mama’s arm-wore and looked at it closely. I stared at the writing at the top, and all of a sudden everything sort of made sense. It was like looking into the view finder on a camera and playing with the focus button until everything becomes sharp and clear.
I stuck the paper on top before closing the box and putting it back under the bed, knowing that I would probably be looking at it again just to make sure that I was right. Then I grabbed my sketch pad and pencils and went up to the orange tree on the hill and started drawing while trying to figure out why Mama had lied to the old lady about not bringing her Twinkies when I knew there was an entire box sitting out in the car.
And I was almost done with my drawing before I realized that I hadn’t remembered to be afraid of Mama once the whole time we were at the old people’s home. I figured that was a good reason to celebrate, so I took out the other Twinkie I’d hidden in my shirt and began to eat it, and wondered again why my mama would have lied.
CHAPTER 21
I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,
And a gray mist on the sea’s face, and a gray dawn breaking.
—JOHN MASEFIELD
Quinn
My brother, Sean, used to tell me that the tides were caused by the breathing in and out of a huge sea monster. I accepted this for a long time, figuring that was a lot more credible than believing that tides were caused by the gravitational pulls of the moon and sun dragging a bulge of water around the planet.
But I had also believed that Sean and I would be brothers forever, raising our families near each other and teaching our children how to sail on the same boat. Looking back, I wish that I had known then how quickly the unbelievable can become believable, and I would have learned that much sooner that the tides do move at the whim of the sun and moon.
It was damp and chilly in the jon boat as Marnie, Gil, and I maneuvered our way through the sleeping marsh toward town. An early-morning fog had begun to dissipate, already hanging filmy necklaces around the tops of the tall cypress trees. The sounds of our motor and the slapping water against the old oyster beds were the only noises as we made our way to the marina.
The large doors to Trey’s boatyard were propped open to allow in the colder air, but he’d taken off his shirt to work on sanding the hull of a twenty-two-foot Tanzer. I watched as Marnie paused beside me long enough to admire Trey’s exposed chest before turning her attention to Gil.
“Look, Gil,” she said, leading him over to the side of the building where the Highfalutin sat on her jack stands, her fresh coat of paint gleaming under the fluorescent lights. “It looks like the outside is just about all ready to go.”
“Just about,” said Trey as he approached. Thankfully, he’d thrown on a T-shirt, and he wore a healthy layer of sawdust in his hair and face, the outline of his goggles giving him a surprised-chipmunk look. From the appreciative look Marnie gave him, it didn’t seem that she’d noticed.
“Hey, big guy.” Trey tussled Gil’s hair, and Gil smiled up at him, creating an irrational pang of what I could only describe as jealousy. Trey was an okay kind of guy for his type, I guess. I was grateful to him because of how he’d gone out of his way to work with Gil and include him on lots of the little projects involved with repairing the boat. It was only that I knew he was the one Diana had turned to after our divorce, and I couldn’t get that out of my head. And the way that Marnie looked at him sometimes didn’t help, either.
“Well, we were able to get a lot of painting done on account of that bit of warm weather we had last week. Otherwise, it would have had to wait until next spring. But before we can do the interior painting, I’ve got to remove all the teak trimming from the cockpit and around the cabin, get it sanded and revarnished. I’ll definitely need a hand with that, and I was thinking of Gil because he did just a great job with the toe rail.”
Trey walked over to a cardboard box sitting on the floor next to the wall. “Look what came in this week.” He stuck his hand in, pulled out a layer of bubble wrap and foam peanuts, then lifted something out of the box using two hands. “We got our new tiller. I was able to find this and a few other parts from a guy I found on the Internet. All came from another Tartan 30 he’d gutted.” He winked at Gil. “Gotta have a shi
ny new tiller to match the shiny new varnish, don’t you think?”
Gil’s eyes widened as Trey held up the object for Gil to inspect.
“If you help me attach it, I’ll let you show me some of your sailing knots. Your dad said you’re a real pro.”
Gil glanced at me, then back to the tiller, and I knew from the expression on his face the exact moment that he realized that to attach the tiller he’d need to get up onto the boat, since its location sat on the stern portion of the deck.
Marnie stepped closer to him. “We can go check it out first, if you like. See how you feel on board, right here in this building without any water anywhere. And I’ll be with you.”
Gil glanced at me, and I recognized the look in his eyes he’d had when I’d allowed him to man the jib sail all by himself for the first time: a look of fear mixed with hope and excitement. It was his nature to be cautious; he’d learned that from me. Why else would I have climbed a thirty-foot tree that I had no idea how to get down from if I hadn’t taught him that? Because it was also in my nature to challenge whatever limitations I had.
I touched his shoulder. “I have two minor surgeries scheduled this afternoon, and if you agree to help Mr. Bonner with the tiller, I’ll let you scrub in and watch.”
He rolled his eyes at me as I’d known he would and then focused on the boat again. Bribery had never worked on Gil, even as a baby. I could almost hear his mind working him past whatever barrier had imposed itself there. I knew that there were several for him, and that he could only hurdle one at a time. But here was a place to start, and I knew that he recognized it, too.
Marnie’s eyes met mine for a moment, and it occurred to me that her thoughts had probably very closely mirrored my own.
“I’ll go first,” she said and I looked up, startled to realize that she hadn’t been on the boat yet, either. I suppose I was so focused on Gil that I hadn’t noticed, although of late I’d been very aware of her whenever she was near.
As if to move before her body changed its mind, she walked toward the stationary boat. Even without its mast, it looked huge out of the water, overwhelming Marnie as she stood next to it. Without looking back, she used the ladder Trey had temporarily mounted onto the back of the boat to allow for easy access, and hoisted herself up.
Peering down at us, she wrinkled her nose. “Smells like new carpet up here.” Despite the lightness of her tone, her voice came out in a slightly higher pitch.
Trey put his hands on his hips and smiled up at her, and I thought he looked like the Jolly Green Giant on a can of asparagus. “Nope—not new carpet. New upholstery in the cabin. I know it’s a bit premature, but the fabric came in early, and I figured I’d get it done to surprise you. Guess it won’t be much of a surprise now.”
“No, I guess not,” she said absently as she looked around, her hands gripping the newly polished handrail. Her knuckles appeared white in the fluorescent glow.
She stood still, her hands not moving from their spot on the rail, and closed her eyes. It seemed like she swayed for a moment, as if waves gently prodded the bow in the age-old rocking movement mimicked by mothers everywhere.
Gil was watching her, too, and I had a sudden flashback to when he was four or five and we’d been out on the Highfalutin all day. His nose and cheeks were pink despite the sun block I’d continued to apply, but he kept resisting my suggestion that we turn back and go home. Diana had been restless and morose, staying in her studio much of the time, and Gil hadn’t really seen her in a week. I remembered him telling me, in his sweet young voice, that he missed his mother the same way the tides miss the moon.
The only thing that would make him think of anything else was sailing, so we took the boat out every day. My shoulders ached and my skin was blistered and peeled, but none of it mattered if it meant seeing my son smile again.
It was only after the third day that I realized what it was that had so pacified Gil. Whether we were zipping through the waves or biding our time with slack sails, the water held us and the boat in its maternal arms, rocking us in its watery rhythm and perhaps even reminding Gil of his mother as she had rocked him as a baby, or even before that in her womb. The sailboat had become like a mother surrogate to him—something I could never tell Diana. There was nothing she despised more than sailing, and to have her son cling to it in her absence would have done more harm than good.
But as I watched Marnie’s face and then Gil’s, it occurred to me that maybe that was what sailing was all about: the going back to the place you came from. Maybe that was what made great sailors. I enjoyed sailing, but mine had been a methodical learning of it. Gil’s skills came all from instinct, from knowing the wind before it blew and understanding the temperament of the waves beneath the hull. I imagined it was this way with Marnie, too.
That was why when he took a step forward, I didn’t move. Purposefully, he strode to the stern and climbed the ladder as he’d seen Marnie do. He paused at the top and looked at his aunt.
She held out her hand to him as he stepped onto the deck of the boat and moved to stand beside her, clutching her hand. They both gave such triumphant smiles that it almost made me want to let out a loud whoop. But I stood still, watching in awe as they both seemed to adjust to their new position.
“Looking good, you two,” said Trey. “I’d say you’re ready to hit the waves.”
A matching look of utter panic swept over their faces and stole their smiles.
Marnie forced her lips to curl upward. “I think you’re being a little premature.”
Gil had backed away, heading for the ladder that would take him off the boat. Nobody tried to stop him.
Trey approached the boat and looked up at her. “Bull, Marnie. Anybody who could ever sail a boat like you should never be away from one.” He faced me. “You ever seen her sail?”
I cleared my throat. “Not exactly,” I said, watching as her eyes moved to my face. “But I’ve seen the trophies.”
“There you have it, Marnie. Two people who think you should be under sails again.”
I wasn’t sure where he’d reached his conclusion, but I did agree that she needed to be back on a boat.
Marnie moved to follow Gil off the boat.
Trey said, “How about I take you out on my boat? She’s not as grand as the Highfalutin, but she’s a great little twenty-two-footer. Get your feet wet again, so to speak.”
She turned to face Trey, and I could read the word “no” on her lips, but he interrupted her.
“Think what a great example you’d be for Gil, here. Maybe if you went first, it would be easier for him to follow in your footsteps.”
I admired Trey’s brilliant mind for a moment. Marnie and Gil looked at each other, and I was caught again by their similarity, which had nothing to do with coloring or the shapes of their noses but everything to do with great loss and the will of a soul strong enough to fight back. “I could go, too, if that would make it any easier for you.”
Trey gave me a sidelong glance. “Actually, three people crewing her would be a crowd. But the two of you are more than welcome to take her out.”
I found myself liking him a little bit more. “If you can trust us with your boat, that might be a really great idea.”
“I’ve never seen you sail, Doctor, but I’d trust Marnie in my boat with a blindfold on. She’s a little crazy when there’s a wind chasing her, but she knows what she’s doing.”
Marnie blushed and looked down at her feet. “You wouldn’t say that now. I don’t think I could tell the difference between a jib sail and a mainsail anymore.”
Trey snorted. “I don’t believe you. Besides, sailing’s a lot like riding a bicycle—you just don’t forget how. Especially you, Marnie Maitland. I bet you still pee salt water.”
She looked at him with a shocked expression before laughing. “I can’t believe you still remember that.”
“Remember what?” I asked.
Sheepishly, she explained, “Before a junior regatta
, I was being teased by the crew of a competing boat. I’m not really sure why, except that my boat wasn’t as nice as theirs and because I was small for my age. They asked me if I’d need floaties on my arms and if I’d ever actually been in the water before.”
Trey was laughing out loud now and Marnie grinned reluctantly.
Smiling back, I asked, “So what did you say to them?”
Her cheeks and the tip of her nose reddened slightly. “I told them that I’d been sailing so long that when I peed, it was salt water.”
Trey wiped his eyes. “You should have seen the looks on their little snooty faces—it was priceless.”
I laughed. “So did you win?”
“Damn straight I did,” she said, smiling up at me and making me remember what her lips tasted like.
Impulsively, I asked, “So do you want to go sailing with me?”
I held my breath while I waited for her answer. The light faded from her eyes. “No,” she said after a moment. “It’s one thing to stand on the boat in here. But it’s a whole different world out there on the Atlantic.”
“That’s the whole point of sailing,” I said softly.
“Stop it,” she said, keeping her voice down to avoid alarming Gil, who was studying an assortment of winches and rigging that Trey had accumulated on shelves in the corner. “You don’t understand what it’s like.”
“Maybe I do,” I said before turning away from her, as eager to leave her to her thoughts as she was. I knew my anger was irrational; what had happened to her on a sailboat was beyond comprehension. Yet when I’d seen her face as she stood on the deck of my boat, all arguments were moot. I had seen that face before, of course. It had been a long time ago, but even time can’t erase the memory of two elements captured together that seemed to belong together like the sun and the sky. The Marnie she was trying to be was an awkward fit, like a young girl trying on her mother’s shoes. Yet Marnie seemed blind to it, and I was at a loss as to how to make her see.