by Liz Adair
“Did you lose him in the Bering Sea?”
“No. He was out on the Red Swan.”
“The Red Swan? But . . .”
“I didn’t know he had taken it,” Amy continued. “I still had a set of keys that I had hung onto for sentimental reasons. I kept them in my top drawer, and he took them. Aaron had an inflatable dinghy that he towed behind, and Jared had that, too. The Coast Guard hailed him, on a routine stop. It was the beginning of boating season, and they were checking to make sure boats had all their safety gear. Jared took off in the dinghy, leaving the Swan drifting toward some rocks. The Coast Guard secured her and found a huge stash of marijuana on board, so they seized her and called in the Border Patrol. There were a lot of people who had seen Jared heading out in the Red Swan, so there was no mystery there. There’s a warrant out for his arrest, and no one has seen him since.”
“When did this happen?”
“Last March. The day after the Coast Guard incident, there came a gale that lasted a week. It’s possible that Jared could have been caught in it and lost, but I don’t know.”
“So it wasn’t Aaron who was smuggling drugs and lost the Red Swan?”
“Aaron?” Amy shook her head. “The man is incapable of doing something like that.”
“But your husband was a returned missionary!”
“Yes. He was always careful to have the outward appearance correct. And, I imagine the adventure was appealing to him. Go to a foreign country, learn a different language.” Amy looked at her watch. “I’ve got to go.”
“Wait a minute. What did Aaron say about losing his boat?”
“He was having his own problems right then and didn’t know about it until later. When I tried to apologize for what Jared did, he wouldn’t let me continue. He won’t talk about it.”
Amy stood.
“I still don’t know the reason you’ve told me all this,” Cassie said.
Amy sat down again. “Aaron told you my husband was lost at sea. He said that to protect me, but it’s not the truth. I needed you to know what really happened. It was important that you not picture me as some unfortunate widow grieving for a wonderful husband. The reality is that I made a poor choice and must live with that decision. On the outside Jared looked good and fine, but on the inside . . . ” She shook her head. “I chose flash over substance.”
Cassie frowned. “But why was it important that you tell me this? Who am I to you? I’m someone you saw once and will probably never see again.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Aaron seems taken with you.”
Cassie laughed. “That’s absurd. He’s still head over ears in love with you. It sticks out all over him.”
Amy shook her head. “He feels responsible. It’s a family thing. Besides, I don’t think he could ever trust me again. I hurt him so bad four years ago that he could never love me again, even if I were free, which I don’t know if I am or not. I don’t know if Jared is dead or alive.”
Amy stood. “I didn’t even offer you something to eat. Would you like something before you go? Cookies and milk, perhaps?” She walked over and opened the fridge. “Jello?”
“No. Really. I’ll walk down the hill with you and hang out in town until it’s time to meet Patty. It’s only a little while.”
“I see you’ve already been to the gift shop,” Amy said. “Mrs. Cheever is a sweet lady. She often comes and gets Jerry to spend an afternoon with her.”
They walked in silence down the hill, each lost in her own thoughts. When they reached the bottom, Amy said, “This is where we part. I go down the alley to the back door of the restaurant.” She gave Cassie a quick hug. “Thanks for coming over. I feel better, now that I’ve told you.”
“It’s certainly an interesting story,” Cassie laughed. “It was worth the trip, and I was very glad to hear that it wasn’t Aaron who lost the Red Swan.” She waved as Amy turned down the alleyway, then stood on the corner wondering what she was going to do for the next fifteen minutes.
She spied the Island Standard sign half a block down the street. Thinking she might do some research in the newspaper’s library, she walked down and pushed through the old-fashioned, glass-paned wooden door.
A slender young woman was standing behind the counter. She had straight brown hair parted in the middle and falling down to her ears, bright blue eyes that she kept cast down, and a cold sore on her lip.
Cassie waited for her to look up, but finally said, “I’d like to do some research in your back issues.”
“Come this way,” the young woman said shyly, opening a gate. Cassie followed her to a back room with two tall windows in the wall and a huge, square table in the center. All around the perimeter were small cubbyholes with folded papers in them. “What time period were you thinking of?” she asked.
“Last March.”
“Of this year?”
Cassie said yes, and the young lady showed her where they would be found and retreated to the other room. Cassie brought the stack to the table and sat down. The paper was a weekly, and she started with the last edition in February. She opened the folded paper and turned the pages, scanning the headlines, looking for the announcement of a local boat seized in a drug bust, but without success.
She folded the paper back up, set it to the side, and opened the first issue in March. There was nothing there, either. Taking the next week’s paper, her eye caught the name Fletcher in a front-page headline the minute she opened it. But it was Aaron’s picture that was in the paper above the story about how he had been injured when a propane tank aboard a burning boat had exploded and sent pieces of red hot shrapnel flying. Aaron had been hit by several pieces. One embedded in his face, another pierced his canvas coat and hit him in the chest, and a third tore into his arm, severing an artery. He had been rushed to the hospital and was in critical condition. The paper called upon island residents to donate blood to replace the units needed to stabilize Aaron Fletcher.
What had Amy said? Cassie tried to remember. Aaron was having his own problems. That’s an understatement if there ever was one.
The chiming of an old clock on the wall indicating the quarter hour reminded Cassie that she needed to suspend her search if she was going to make it back in time to meet Patty. Hastily restacking the newspapers, she thanked the reclusive attendant and hurried out the door.
24
As she crossed the street, Cassie could see that Patty was already waiting at her boat and deep in conversation with someone. Something about the set of his shoulders was disquietingly familiar, and Cassie paused by an informational sign to watch. Patty was shaking her head while the fellow seemed to be pressing her about something. Patty shook her head again, checked her watch, and glanced around, saying something that caused him to turn and rake the area with his eyes. It was Luke Matthews.
Hating the sinking feeling she got in the pit of her stomach every time she saw him, Cassie stepped out of sight behind the sign and waited. Presently she peeked around and saw Luke stalk off in the opposite direction. She heaved a sigh, wiped her palms on her pants, and continued on her way.
“There you are,” Patty called from the controls of the already-idling boat. “Ready to go?”
“Yes. Want me to cast off?”
“Yep. How was your visit?”
“Good. Who was that I saw you talking with just now?”
As they pulled away from the dock, Patty repeated, “Just now? Someone asking for directions.”
The water was choppy when they got out into the strait, and as Patty opened her up, the bow went slap, slap, slap on the water. In spite of the sunshine, it was chilly, so Cassie put on her fleece and zipped it up.
As she sat close to the cabin out of the sharp breeze, she thought she heard a skip in the roar of the engine, just a momentary glitch. There it was again. Looking up at Patty, Cassie saw her frown.
Then there was a serious break in the steady thrumming. The engine faltered, revved, faltered, revved, then sputtered to a stop.
“What’s wrong?” Cassie asked. Standing up to look, she could see that they were about halfway between Cedar Cove and Quarry Harbor and there were no other boats in sight. The choppy waves were about a foot high, and the boat wallowed around as it drifted. Patty didn’t answer. She was in the cabin, and Cassie could hear her opening and closing cupboard doors.
The random motion of the boat was causing Cassie to feel queasy. She stood by the starboard gunwale just in case and tried to stave off the nausea, taking deep breaths and looking at the horizon. As the cruiser turned to face the mouth of Quarry Harbor, the sun reflected off the white cabin of a boat coming out and turning toward them. “I see a boat,” she shouted at Patty. “Maybe they can help.”
At that moment, the boat rocked violently to starboard, and as Cassie gripped the railing to keep from being flung over, she was hit from behind. An inarticulate, involuntary cry of pain was cut short as her knees buckled and everything went dark.
* * *
Cassie came to as she was being hauled out of the water and up onto the deck of Patty’s boat. Disoriented, she couldn’t figure out where she was, why she should be all wet, or why Aaron Fletcher should be kneeling over her, holding her wrist and lifting her eyelids. Impatiently, she brushed his hand away.
“She’s coming ’round!” Patty exclaimed.
“Her vitals are good,” Aaron said. “Pupils are fine. I think she’s going to be all right.”
Patty picked up Cassie’s hand and held it tightly between her own. “Hello, Cassie. You scared me half to death. I don’t know what I’d have done if Aaron hadn’t come along.”
Cassie looked vacantly from Patty to Aaron. She still couldn’t put this experience in context.
“I snared you with the boat hook and kept you from going under,” Patty continued, “but I would never have been able to pull you aboard.”
“My head hurts,” Cassie murmured.
“You’ve got a pretty good goose egg back there,” Aaron said. “It’ll probably be sore for a couple of days.”
“What happened?”
“The davit swung around and hit you,” Patty said.
Suddenly the memory came flooding back. Cassie remembered the trip with Patty, her talk with Amy, the news article in the Island Standard office. She remembered Luke Matthews arguing with Patty Porter, and Patty shaking her head as though she were reluctant to do what he was asking her to do.
“Did you see the davit hit me?” Cassie asked Aaron.
“No. When I got here Patty had you on the end of the boat hook. She couldn’t let go and get to the radio and call for help, so she was waving frantically as I went by. I just happened to see her.”
“I think I can sit up now.” Cassie allowed Aaron and Patty to assist her, and she sat on the deck, resting on her forehead on her flexed knees. After a moment, she said, “I think I’d better sit up on one of the seats. I need to see the horizon or I’m going to be seasick again.”
When they got her situated, Aaron looked at his watch. “What’s the matter with your boat, Patty?”
“It’s got to be a plugged fuel filter. I thought I had one in the cabin, but I don’t. I was in looking for it when I heard Cassie yell.” Patty shuddered. “If I hadn’t heard her, I hate to think what would have happened.”
“I can’t tow you in,” Aaron said. “I’ve got to be in Seattle by four. You got someone you can call?”
“I can call my dad. He can come get me in the skiff and tow me home.”
“All right. Do that. I won’t leave until I know he’s on his way.”
As Patty disappeared into the cabin, Cassie forgot her queasiness as an idea popped into her head. “You’re going to Seattle?”
Aaron nodded.
“Can I go with you?”
He shook his head. “I don’t have time for you to go back and change. I’m going to be late as it is.”
“I don’t care. I’ll go like this. I’ve got to get to Seattle.”
“I’m not coming back tonight.”
“Me, neither. I’ve got an appointment tomorrow at one-thirty that I’ve just got to keep. If the ferry doesn’t come back into service, I’m dead in the water . . . which is an unfortunate expression for me to use right now, isn’t it? Please, Aaron. Let me go with you.” Cassie didn’t add that she didn’t feel completely safe alone with Patty. The story about the davit may have convinced Aaron, but she couldn’t forget that image of Luke arguing with Patty and Patty shaking her head again and again.
“Please, Aaron,” she begged. “I’ve just got to make that appointment.”
He sighed. “All right. Climb aboard.”
Patty emerged just then. “Dad’s on his way. What’s happening?”
“Cassie needs to go to Seattle. She’s going to ride with me.”
In the safety of Red Swan’s back deck, Cassie remembered her manners and thanked Patty for taking her to Cedar Cove. “I’ll see you when I get back,” she promised.
Patty handed Cassie’s things to Aaron and watched from her drifting boat as he cast off and the Red Swan pulled away.
The faint diesel smell in the cabin, the regular pulse of the engine, the rise and fall of the bow were all familiar and welcome to Cassie, and she stood for a moment beside the captain’s station, savoring it all.
“How’s your head?” Aaron asked.
Cassie touched the tender place about two inches above her barrette with the tips of her fingers. “It hurts. I could use some aspirin or something.”
“Hold the wheel.”
While Cassie kept the boat on course, Aaron opened a galley cupboard and took out a plastic bottle. He emptied two capsules into his palm, gave them to Cassie, and got her a cup of water.
“Better get that last pair of sweats out of the cupboard,” Aaron suggested, taking over the wheel again. “You know the drill.”
“Does that include a shower?”
He laughed. “If you like.”
Cassie got the clothes and a towel from the cupboard. As she passed Aaron, he handed her a plastic bag. “For the wet clothes.”
Twenty minutes later, she was seated on the high jump seat beside him. They rode in easy silence, enjoying the sights: four seagulls lined up on a drifting log, a tall heron standing on the shore, a sailboat that looked like a pirate ship, sea lions churning up the sea as they played off a rocky point, an eagle roosting on the limb of an old snag.
It was Cassie who finally broke the silence. “I’ve been thinking about what I’m going to do,” she said. “Where will you tie up? Will I be able to call a taxi from there?”
“You won’t need a taxi. The dock is right by downtown Seattle, just blocks from restaurants, shops, you name it.”
“Hotels, too?”
“Yes. Though you can stay on the Swan. I’ll be over on the fire boat. I work a twenty-four hour shift.”
“So, you’ll be here until after my appointment tomorrow? I can come back with you?”
Aaron nodded.
Cassie smiled. “You are such good luck for me, Aaron!”
As Aaron returned the smile, his face creased into those familiar rectangular lines, and Cassie didn’t see how she could have thought the smile was like Chan’s. Maybe it was because of Aaron’s scar, or because it didn’t come so easy for him, or maybe it was because she couldn’t remember Chan’s smile so clearly. She was frowning at the thought when Aaron claimed her attention.
“Hold on,” he said. “You don’t want to miss this.”
“What?”
They were just coming around the edge of a point, and suddenly the city of Seattle came into view.
“Oh, my!” breathed Cassie. “It’s even more beautiful from the sea.”
A huge tanker was plowing across the Sound, away from the piers.
“Wow, that’s a big ship! Do you ever worry about colliding with something like that?”
“No. There’s no danger of that. You can always stop or turn around. We’re heading over
there.” He pointed to a busy waterfront.
Cassie watched with wonder as Aaron steered through a maze of docks and piers, packed with boats of all sizes and uses. Cruising between pilings that supported structures high overhead, they came to a short dock tucked back under the street. Aaron pulled up to an empty place on the end and went outside to tie up. Then he came back in and switched the batteries. “She’ll be on shore power,” he said. “That means that you can use the lights, and you’ll have plenty of hot water. There’s a small electric furnace that will keep away the chill, too. If you want to go uptown, go out along that dock and keep turning left. That will bring you to a set of stairs that goes up to the city.”
“Where will you be?”
Aaron pointed. “Over there, in that brick building, the one with the flagpole on top. I’ll meet you here at four tomorrow.” He set the keys on the cupboard. “If you leave, lock the door.”
“Aye, aye, sir!” Cassie saluted and watched him leave.
Feeling suddenly very alone, she said aloud, “Well, Cassie, my girl, you can either cower here, or you can get out among ’em.” She put on her still-damp shoes without socks, and mindful that she presented an odd appearance in her baggy sweats, she shouldered her purse and locked the door behind her. Stepping over the gunwale, she walked to the end of the dock and followed Aaron’s directions to the foot of a tall flight of stairs. She looked up and muttered, “Every journey begins with the first step.” As she began to climb, she added, “et cetera, et cetera, et cetera,” with each ascending step until, breathing heavily, she finally stood at street level.
The city certainly didn’t look very beautiful right there. In fact, it was downright seedy. But, crossing the street, she headed uphill, thinking she would certainly come to some sort of commercial district.
A pair of policewomen came through on bicycles, and Cassie hailed them. “I need to find a store where I can buy some clothes,” she said.
“The Salvation Army thrift store is about eight blocks that way,” one of them said, pointing.