Under the Ice

by Aaron Paul Lazar

  Maddy looked at me with soulful eyes. She blew her nose, nodded reluctantly, and pouted.

  “Okay. But enough is enough. That man needs help and I’m not going to sit by while he comes unraveled. Damn it, I love him. I’m nuts about him. I’m not giving up on him.”

  Tears threatened again, but she pulled herself together and touched a key on her keyboard. The screen blinked back to life.

  “Go on. Do it!” she gestured toward my phone.

  I dialed Doc Mattson’s private line. Although he saw patients all day, he usually accepted my calls at lunchtime.

  “Mattson here,” he said briskly. He sounded harried and I didn’t hesitate to spill it out.

  “Doc, it’s Gus. Listen, there’s something wrong with Joe.”

  There was a slight pause.

  “I know. He’s missed the last three AA meetings. I tried to stop by twice, but he called through the door to me, said he was sick.”

  “He is, Doc. But not the way you’d expect.”

  “Is he on the juice again?” Doc asked.

  “No,” I answered slowly, “he’s not. He has soft drinks in his refrigerator. I saw him recently and that’s not it, not at all.”

  Doc was nonplussed. “I was ready to go over there and haul him into a clinic. I was sure that was it,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Well, then, if that’s not the problem, what the hell’s going on?”

  I started to explain. He interrupted.

  “Whoa. Hold on a minute. You’d better come over here. Can you get away? I’m due for my lunch break, anyway.”

  I agreed, quickly explained to Maddy, and drove to his office.

  He was waiting for me when I arrived. He’d already made it halfway through his tuna on rye.

  “We’ve got twenty-eight minutes,” he said, gulping coffee and wiping his lips with a brown paper towel he’d ripped from a dispenser. “Shoot.”

  I started from the beginning, explaining Joe’s avoidance of Maddy, as the wedding announcement of Freddie and Adam had grown closer. We covered Joe’s behavior at dinner, before and after the announcement, and then delved into the calamity that had occurred at Mendon Ponds.

  Doc raised one bushy white eyebrow. “A body? Under the ice?”

  I grimaced. “Yeah. It was too much.”

  “Weirdest coincidence I’ve ever heard of. And too much for Joe to handle, that’s for sure.” He finished his sandwich, drained the last of his coffee, and stared at me.

  “We need a different kind of doctor, Gus. He needs to be seen by a good shrink.”

  “Talk therapy?” I asked.

  “Hell, no. But something’s come loose inside and he needs intervention. This kind of thing doesn’t usually just go away on its own. There are meds that can help, and therapy might do some good. Sure sounds like he has some issues with the whole commitment thing, letting go of Jeanne’s memory, and all. But we certainly can’t leave him in that trailer to climb the walls.”

  “Agreed. What do you think is wrong?”

  A nurse knocked on the door and poked her head inside. “Mrs. Brenna’s in room three.”

  He waved to her and pushed back from his desk. “Be there in a second.”

  I stood. He ran his hands through his rippled, white hair and looked out the window.

  “My first guess is trauma-induced anxiety, mixed with a hefty dose of agoraphobia.”

  “Agora what?” I said.

  “Agoraphobia. Fear of the outdoors. Fear of open spaces. The anxiety riddles him with fear of people and phones and doorbells. The agoraphobia kicks in and locks him away from the world. That’s my first guess.”

  I walked with him to the door.

  He grabbed his white coat and stethoscope from the coat rack in the corner. “Let me make some calls. I’ll see what I can do. Best thing would be if we could get him to a clinic.”

  “If he’s afraid to go outside, won’t that be tough?”

  “Indeed,” he looked at me soberly, “it’ll be a challenge. That’s why I need you to come along when I pick him up.

  Chapter 20

  The rest of the afternoon passed quietly. Maddy was placated for the time being, but insisted she accompany Doc and me to the “intervention,” as she kept calling it. I thought she’d watched far too much television. Just before we locked up for the day at three o’clock, I gently suggested she might want to leave it in Doc’s hands. She huffed, looked at me with determination, and proceeded to tear me down to size.

  “No, Gus. I’m not standing by while you men go over there and rip him out of his home. He’ll need me, once he realizes what’s going on. I’ll have to pack for him. He’ll need his pills. You don’t even know what he’s taking, do you?”

  “Huh?” I said, completely bowled over.

  “He takes stuff for his blood pressure and thyroid, plus his allergy pill, and the vitamins. I’ve picked up his prescriptions many times. I know exactly what he needs.”

  She seemed on the verge of collapse. Her voice shook, in blatant contrast to the words she spoke. The tone was angry, but her heart was shattered. It showed in her eyes. I walked over to her and put my arms around her.

  “Of course you can come, Maddy. You’re right. He’ll need you.”

  She wept for real this time. Deep, aching sobs poured from her. Finally, when she was done, she sniffled and thanked me. “You’re a good son-in-law. The best.” She smiled at me through glistening eyes. “But you’d better get home now. They’re expecting you.”

  I squeezed her hand and grabbed my parka from the coat rack. “Right. I’ll let you know if Doc calls tonight. Hang in there, Maddy. Call if you need us, okay?”

  We parted ways at the heavy doors leading to the quad and headed through the light snow toward our cars. I leaned into Siegfried’s Jeep and turned on the heat. After whisking away the hard snow pellets that had collected against the wipers, I jumped in and headed home. The roads were just wet, but hail pelted against the windshield.

  Now that plans were in motion to tend to Joe, thoughts of Greg Robinson began to plague me. I wondered if Camille had reached her lawyer today. I knew she had scheduled a day chock full of counseling sessions. It seemed the teens at the high school were falling apart in sync with my life.

  Camille had lamented about increased issues of suicidal threats, anorexia, and cutting. The latter had become an epidemic of late—she’d had four new cases in the last week. Two girls had been admitted to the psych ward at Rochester Memorial, and the school buzzed with the news. As soon as she’d taken care of them, several new cases erupted.

  I shook my head, trying to rid myself of these disturbing images. I needed to formulate a plan. We had to discuss Greg with Shelby. Together. Tonight. I breathed in deeply as my cell phone vibrated and then squawked a mechanical version of Für Elise. I swiped the screen to answer.

  “Dad?”

  My heart leapt. It was Shelby.

  “Shelby? What’s wrong?”

  I fumbled to sync the Bluetooth so I wouldn’t get a ticket. New York was very strict about no talking on cell phones while driving.

  “Nothing’s wrong. I just need a ride. Mom’s got some appointment up in Avon and she wants me to ride the stupid bus home.”

  The lawyer’s appointment. Good.

  “Okay, sweetie. I’m just getting onto Main Street. Meet me out front in two minutes.”

  “K, Dad. Thanks.”

  “Not a problem. See you in a bit.”

  As I turned left on Main, the newscast began. After unsettling reports about Iraq and the Middle East, the broadcaster discussed local events.

  “The body of the woman found frozen in Mendon Ponds has been identified as Lisa May Albertson, age forty-five, missing since Dec. 20th when she was last seen hiking in the park. Investigators suspect she was robbed and murdered while walking through one of the more desolate areas of the trails.”

  Visions of the body passed through my brain. I shivered. Lisa. Lisa May. I wondered what really h
appened to her, and turned down the hill toward the Genesee Valley Central School.

  Life is so ephemeral. So easily snatched from us.

  I wondered about Lisa’s life. Was she married? What about her mother? Her father? Was her family relieved to find out what had happened? Or were they destroyed because their hopes were dashed?

  As I pulled up along the curb, the last yellow bus chugged away from the low brick buildings and started up the hill. The timing was perfect. I found a spot between two minivans and parked. Shelby was not waiting on the curb. I couldn’t see her inside the double glass doors. I sighed and pulled up the parking brake.

  Twenty minutes later, Shelby waltzed out of the building on the arm of a boy I’d never seen. Tall, blond, and athletic, he whispered in her ear and nuzzled her neck. My anger built when they strolled toward the car. She raised her lips to his and kissed him, right beside the Jeep. She laughed. He winked at her.

  I froze.

  She opened the door and hopped inside. “Hey, Dad.”

  I didn’t move.

  “Dad? What’s the matter?”

  I swallowed hard. “Shelby. I’ve been waiting for twenty minutes. Where were you? I told you I’d be here in two minutes.”

  She tossed her hair over her shoulder and smiled. “I know. I’m sorry. I met up with Rolf in there and we started talking, and before I knew it, I realized I’d forgotten you were out there waiting for me. He’s a foreign exchange student. He’s got the cutest little accent, just like Siegfried. He’s from Germany.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “Dad, I think he likes me.”

  “You kissed him, Shelby. And you just met him, for crying out loud.”

  “Oh, Dad. You’re such a prude. This is the twenty-first century. Get real.” She pursed her lips and buckled her seatbelt. I hardly recognized her. The facetious attitude, her mocking words... it was too much.

  “Home, Jeeves,” she laughed, elbowing me in the side. “Oh, come on, Dad. It’s not like I slept with him.”

  I blanched, shifted into gear, and drove in stony silence. The vision of my daughter lying in Rolf’s embrace hammered at me. It was too much for me. My stomach rolled. My heart spluttered. But I kept it in.

  Breathe. In and out. Just breathe.

  When we rolled into the driveway, I turned to her. “Your mother and I need to talk to you tonight. Can we set a time?”

  “Sure, Dad. What about? I’m free all night. It’s my last night of grounding, remember? Tomorrow, I’m free.”

  My stomach lurched. I pictured her with Rolf again. “I remember. It’s about the letter you wrote to Greg.”

  She looked down at her hands. “Oh.”

  “I’d rather we discuss it with your mom, so let’s put that one on hold. But you still have to stick to the rules tomorrow night. We have to know where you’re going and with whom, okay?”

  “Sure,” she said nonchalantly. She hopped out of the car and trotted to the porch.

  I watched her with dread. She was too trusting and far too eager for a boyfriend. I pocketed Siegfried’s keys and grabbed my briefcase. Sighing, I trudged to the house and walked inside.

  Chapter 21

  “Shelby, what were you thinking?” Camille yelled. We had gathered in Shelby’s room to allow some privacy. I sat on the desk chair and Camille faced Shelby on the side of the bed. The full moon shone outside our frosty windows.

  “Honey, let’s try to keep calm,” I said.

  Shelby looked at her mother in surprise, and then shrugged. “What’s the big deal? I told him I wasn’t happy and thought maybe he’d start to care about me.” Her voice cracked on the last word.

  Camille’s expression softened. I rose and joined them on the bed. We each took one of Shelby’s hands.

  “Honey. It’s okay. It’s just that we’re... ” Camille looked at me, unsure of how much to tell Shelby about her father. She took a deep breath and continued. “We’re concerned. Greg was not the best husband to me. I’ve told you why he’s in jail. But that’s going to be ending soon. He’s getting out this week.”

  The fear in her eyes was real. Her hand shook as she smoothed Shelby’s hair. I smiled reassuringly at her, but panicked inside.

  “This week?” I asked, trying to sound as if I wasn’t alarmed.

  She nodded. “Yeah. I meant to tell you earlier, but it was such a madhouse at dinner and—”

  “It’s okay,” I said. “I’m just surprised.”

  Shelby looked back and forth between us. Her forehead crumpled. “He’s getting out? Will he try to hurt you again, Mom?”

  “No. Now, don’t you worry, darling. Greg’s not allowed near me. But, when he calls on Saturday, we think it would be a good idea if you tell him everything’s okay. Tell him we’re good parents. That you don’t need to be ‘rescued’ any more. Could you do that, honey?”

  Shelby nodded quickly. “I’ll try. I’m sorry about writing to him, I just get so … so … ”

  “Frustrated?” I said.

  She nodded.

  “It’s normal, honey. It happens to everyone at your age. But our job is to help you stay on a healthy track. Know what I mean?”

  “You mean drugs and stuff. Right?” she said.

  I nodded. “That, and other stuff.”

  “Like having relations with a boy before you’re really ready,” Camille added. “You have to be so careful, honey. It’s really best to wait until you’re married.”

  Shelby looked at her mother. “And to marry the right man. Right, Mom?”

  Was she being sarcastic? I looked into her sad brown eyes and realized that she was sincere.

  “Right. Sometimes it takes making a big mistake to get it right the second time around.”

  I leaned forward. “It’s not like we don’t expect you to make mistakes, either. It’s just that we want to keep you alive while you’re making them.”

  I smiled and she returned it with a squeeze of my hand.

  “I know, Dad.”

  “Okay. Then it’s all set. We’ll keep bugging the heck out of you and you’ll stay within the rules, right?” Camille said.

  Shelby nodded. “Right.”

  A troubled ache tugged at my insides. She meant it now, but would she mean it tomorrow night when faced with all sorts of temptations?

  I kissed her cheek, left her to talk with Camille, and went downstairs to practice the Debussy pieces I needed to perfect for tomorrow night’s taping of my radio show, Noteworthy. WRLN public radio was one of the most successful classical radio stations in North America, and my program was slotted for Sunday mornings at eight o’clock. I touched up Clair De Lune, the Golliwogs Cakewalk, and the Arabesque No. 1, pushing away the disturbing thoughts of Greg’s impending release. The beautiful, haunting melodies touched my soul, but the anxiety prevailed.

  Will he try to edge his way into our lives? Will he threaten Camille again? How dangerous is he now? I lamented the fact that Joe was emotionally crippled and wouldn’t be able to advise or help protect my family in the event Greg did show up on our doorstep.

  I sighed and pushed back from the piano, shuffling my sheet music into a pile. I needed my friend now, more than ever. Tomorrow, I’d bring Doc to the trailer and do my best to help Joe.

  Chapter 22

  The house was quiet at midnight. I’d been tossing and turning for two hours, but sleep eluded me. I padded down to the kitchen and turned on the light. As I peered out the icy kitchen window toward the carriage house, I noticed yellow light spilling from Siegfried’s apartment.

  Max had followed me downstairs and whined to go out. He danced by the door, tail wagging furiously. He cocked his head and whimpered again.

  “Sorry, buddy. Hold on a sec.”

  I set down the mug of milk I’d just poured, stashed the jug back in the refrigerator, and flicked on the porch light.

  A light dusting of snow had drifted onto the porch floorboards. The wind whistled and a cold breeze knifed into my pajama top, lifting it. I shiver
ed and crept out barefoot.

  I scrambled to reach for the end of the dog run. The clasp was frozen shut. After slamming it against a large chunk of firewood, the clip finally released and I snapped it to Max’s collar. As he streaked across the yard, I was surprised to see Siegfried staring out his window.

  He waved and within seconds had galloped across the snowy expanse toward the house.

  He arrived breathless. He’d thrust his bare feet into his galoshes and had pulled his parka on without zipping it. His long blond hair, normally confined to a neat ponytail, hung loose on his shoulders. “Professor, I am glad you are awake.”

  Inside, he peeled off his parka to reveal blue-and-white striped pajamas. He clutched an envelope in one massive hand.

  “Sig? What’s wrong? Can’t sleep?”

  Usually he was in bed by nine and up at the crack of dawn. I looked up at my behemoth brother-in-law with concern and took his coat.

  “Nein. And you cannot sleep either?”

  “Nope. Want some hot milk?”

  He nodded and pulled out a chair. “Ja, bitte.”

  I hung his coat on the back of a chair and took out another mug. He played with the envelope in his hand.

  I put both mugs in the microwave and punched the start button. “What’s wrong?”

  He handed the envelope to me. “This came to my mailbox by mistake,” he said.

  I accepted it from him. The large, manila envelope had been hand printed with red marker. Shelby’s name was boldly inscribed in the middle. In the upper left hand corner was the address of Greg’s prison.

  I froze, staring at it.

  Siegfried asked, “It is that man, Ja? The man who hurt Camille?”

  “Yes.” The microwave beeped, but I ignored it. I slid my fingers along the seam and broke the law with absolutely no twinges of guilt. What in the world could Greg be sending to his daughter from his prison cell?

  I had to know.

  I dumped the contents onto the kitchen table. A handwritten note was attached to several brochures about the New Dawn Church.

  Dear Shelby,