by Kelly Utt
They had been truly content together. Their love was real.
Eve’s thoughts shifted from the rehearsal-dinner memory to the baby she hoped she was now carrying. She wanted nothing more than for her baby to enjoy the same happy childhood that she had. Maybe she could live vicariously through her child and get a little piece of that happiness back for herself. Especially now that Tim was gone. He would want both of them to be happy.
There. She’d finally admitted it to herself. Tim was gone. He had died in Islamorada on their happy trip that was supposed to have been nothing but good. Eve was still reeling from the shock, but she was beginning to accept what had happened. But only beginning. It was all still fresh and new, even though it had happened days ago.
Eve had been nearby when Tim’s jet ski was hit. She had been sunning herself on the beach and reading a novel on her smartphone. The novel was a romance about a winter trip to a tropical island, much like Islamorada. The story was getting good and Eve was thoroughly immersed in the characters, so she had opted to stay put and finish reading when Tim asked if she wanted to join him on a jet ski. Eve had never been on a jet ski, anyway, and wasn’t sure she’d like it. She preferred slower, smoother rides, so she had told Tim she’d go kayaking with him instead. She urged him to go ahead and jet ski by himself.
They weren’t scheduled to fly home for three more days. Plenty of time for finishing the novel. And for kayaking.
Now, Eve wondered if she had played a part in what happened.
If she had been on the jet ski with Tim, they would have been going slower. The collision with the boat wouldn’t have been as violent. Also, if Eve had been on the jet ski, she would have seen the boat approaching and could have warned Tim to steer out of its way. Or maybe they wouldn’t have been as far from the beach to begin with, and therefore not in the path of the boat.
Surely, Eve could have done something. At least, that’s what she told herself. She moved through a list of what-ifs, working her way slowly from denial to some semblance of acceptance.
If she hadn’t been so wrapped up in the damn book, she could have suggested they rent kayaks right then, skipping the jet ski entirely. Kayaks would have been kept closer to shore. In fact, there was a quiet cove across the road on the Gulf side of the island. No boats entered, and they could have kayaked there.
If they hadn’t been so slow getting out of bed and to breakfast that morning, they would have been eating lunch when the accident happened. They would have been safely tucked into a restaurant dining room instead of at the beach and in the water.
If they had gone to the History of Diving Museum like the concierge at the resort suggested, they would have been indoors and safely out of the water that afternoon. They could have been wandering hand-in-hand through SCUBA and diving equipment and talking about where they’d eat dinner that evening.
If they had taken a day trip to Key West like they’d considered, they wouldn’t have been in Islamorada that afternoon at all. They could have been safely touring the Hemingway House or the keeper’s quarters at the Key West Lighthouse. They would have been nearly two hours away from the boat that took Tim’s life.
If they had chosen to vacation in Cabo like they initially planned instead of the Keys, Tim would have been on the other side of North America, far from that boat and the accident that harmed him.
There were a million possibilities. A million different choices that would have kept Tim safe. The fact that he was in exactly the right place at the right time to be struck and killed by that boat seemed incredibly cruel to Eve. Tim could have swerved even slightly or deviated his path for just one minute, and he’d be alive right now.
It wasn’t fair. In fact, it was insanely unfair.
Eve wondered, sincerely curious, how something like this could happen. Tim was a good, kind man. One of the best Eve had ever known. He didn’t deserve this. Not that anyone did, but especially not Tim. How could it have happened? Why did it happen? Of all the ways the accident could have been avoided, why? She wanted answers.
Answers wouldn’t bring Tim back, but Eve thought they might help her cope. They might be a comfort to her baby someday. The child would eventually want to know what had happened to his or her father. It was only natural.
For a long time, it had been hard for Eve to believe that she deserved a man like Tim.
He was handsome, and strong. He was well liked by virtually everyone who knew him. He was intelligent, more so than many people could begin to comprehend. And he used his brilliant mind for good. Tim cared deeply about the environment. He had chosen to spend his life using science to restore and renew the Earth. He had fallen in love with Northern California before he had even met Eve. He felt passionate about protecting the region’s beautiful land.
You could see that passion in Tim’s eyes. He was a quiet guy, shy and reserved. But if you got him talking about the environment, it was hard to shut him up. Other people could feel his enthusiasm. It was infectious. It was one of the things that Eve was most proud of about him.
But it was more than just his good looks, intelligence, and passion. During the inevitable times when Eve felt low, Tim’s emotional stability worried her. He didn’t have the ups and downs that she did. Instead, he maintained an even keel.
At first, Eve feared Tim would grow tired of her mental health challenges. She feared that he would leave her for someone more like him. Someone who didn’t rely on medication for their wellbeing.
As for her own plight, Eve had gone as far as to think about what might happen to her if she were in a situation where she couldn’t take her medication on schedule. She felt vulnerable due to her dependence on the chemicals. If she ever found herself lost in the woods, for instance, she wondered how quickly her mind would unravel. Or if there was a storm and medication couldn’t be delivered to the pharmacy, she thought about how she would make it through.
Eve’s therapist was a gentle woman with long blonde hair named Dr. Elaine Hubert. Their therapeutic relationship had begun when Eve’s symptoms first manifested. Eve had been a teenager then, still in high school, while Elaine was a newly minted graduate of the PhD program at UCLA. She had grown up in a neighboring town by the bay, so jumped on the opportunity when a mental health services group in Rosemary Run had been looking for an additional practitioner.
Working in conjunction with a psychiatrist who prescribed the meds, Elaine had done a wonderful job getting Eve on top of her bipolar disorder. So well, in fact, that Eve had been able to attend college in Los Angeles herself and return with a bachelor’s degree to show for her efforts.
Since Eve had been stabilized, and had completed several years of cognitive-behavioral talk therapy, she only saw Elaine once every quarter to check in.
But Elaine had given Eve strict instructions to call her if she ever had trouble. Elaine had also warned Eve that stopping her medication suddenly could cause symptoms to resurge, possibly worse than they had before treatment.
As Eve lay in the daylight, blinking her eyes and reminiscing, she thought about calling Elaine now. Elaine wouldn’t be judgmental like Eve’s parents and brothers. She’d want to help. And she’d understand what Eve was feeling.
If only Eve could remember how to get in touch with her. Elaine’s number had been saved in Eve’s smartphone, which was lost days ago.
Eve thought maybe she could borrow Saul’s phone.
Oh, Saul.
She had forgotten about him for a moment. She had forgotten what had happened to him. It was a tragedy, the same as Tim’s death.
Eve thought maybe she had been bad luck for the two men. Maybe both of their deaths were her fault.
Eve decided she’d try to reach Elaine and ask what she thought. She looked around the room, working to focus her attention and her eyes on the present moment. She’d need to use Saul’s phone.
She found herself on the familiar brown couch, but Eve couldn’t remember how she got there. She had been on the floor, last she knew. S
he had been beside Saul’s body. That was until her mind had played tricks on her, Saul’s face being replaced by Tim’s.
Eve rolled over to face the living room. She steeled herself for the sight of Saul’s body on the floor, vomit piled up beside his head. She knew it would be hard to see again.
To her great surprise, the floor was empty. And it was clean. Eve rose up on one elbow and scanned her surroundings. Everything was orderly. Saul’s body wasn’t anywhere to be found.
21
Within a few hours after leaving the police station, Holden’s search party was in full swing. As planned, he had set up a headquarters at Tim and Eve’s house. By lunch time, the place was buzzing with activity. Volunteers had answered the call to action. Their cars filled the driveway and hugged the curb in front of several houses in either direction.
Each of the Blackburns had their assignments. They were following directions to the letter. Lorelei and Imogen were keeping the kids busy as promised, and the staff members at Brambleberry Fields were holding down the fort and preparing for the inclement weather. Everyone was doing their part. It was a group effort, from a top-notch group.
Holden was in his element. He was a good leader. He wanted more than anything to help his sister and to help the rest of his family by bringing Eve home safely. He knew how to lead efficiently, and he put all of his leadership experience and skills to use for the search.
Margaret and Phoebe were still at the station, leaving the Blackburn men to their duties.
The guys stopped only briefly to eat food donated and delivered by Brick House Cafe. When management had heard about Tim and Eve’s plight and learned that they had met in the cafe a couple of years prior, they refused to accept payment for lunch. They insisted that providing food for the volunteers was the least they could do.
To the Blackburns' relief, local media had responded positively to their request for coverage. Media outlets wanted to do everything they could to get the word out about Eve, and they immediately got busy scheduling interviews and gathering information.
One of the TV news affiliates out of Sacramento was the first to arrive at Tim and Eve’s house. A pretty African-American reporter dressed to the nines and in full makeup knocked on the front door with a camera crew in tow just as Holden was finishing his turkey sandwich. She knocked hard, the sound echoing throughout the house.
“Knock, knock,” Holden said. “She’s here. And early. That’s got to be a good sign.”
Wilder and Jake chewed the last bites of their food, wiping the corners of their mouths with napkins and following Holden to the front door.
Ty and Marcus were away downtown distributing fliers.
The eldest Blackburn men put on their best welcoming smiles as they opened the door and led the news crew inside. They showed them to Eve’s office where the cameramen set down their things and unpacked their equipment.
“Hi, I’m Sharonda Vinson,” the reporter said. “Pleased to meet you. I’m just sorry it isn’t under better circumstances.”
“Thank you,” Holden said. “We’re getting a lot of that sentiment. And we appreciate it. We’re just glad you’re here.”
The same news station had done a feature on Brambleberry Fields a few years back, but that was before Sharonda worked there. She had come from Milwaukee, and Holden figured she had probably still been in Wisconsin when a different reporter came out to the resort. He wondered if Sharonda had done any research on the family and their business.
“We’re glad you called,” Sharonda said, placing a hand on Wilder’s arm. He must have looked like he needed a bit of comfort. “Mr. Blackburn,” Sharonda said, addressing Wilder directly. “I have three kids of my own. I can only imagine what you’re going through. I’m so sorry.”
Wilder sniffled as he tilted his head back, trying to hold in his emotions. He had been doing okay until Sharonda mentioned her kids.
It was odd how random things could catch them off guard. The distress about Eve’s disappearance and Tim’s death seemed to come in waves.
“That’s nice of you to say,” Wilder replied to Sharonda. “I hope the story you air will help us find my daughter and bring her home. I surely want this story to have a happy ending.”
“Me too,” Sharonda confirmed. “How about we get started right away?”
“Sure,” Holden replied. “What do you need?”
“To begin, I’d like to walk around the house and determine the best spot to set up cameras for an interview. Is that okay with you?”
“Yes, make yourself at home,” Holden replied.
“And if you don’t mind,” Sharonda continued. “I’d like to get some footage of family photos and mementos around the house. We want to appeal to viewers' emotions. If they connect on an emotional level, they’re more likely to take action that will help Eve be found. Do I have your permission to film items we find here in the home?”
Holden looked at Wilder to confirm.
“I’m sensing hesitation,” Sharonda said. She was quick. Nothing got by her and she moved along efficiently.
Holden shrugged, deferring to his dad.
“It’s just that Tim’s mother, Margaret Fischer, may have some legal say in what happens with Tim’s things,” Wilder explained. “And she’s not here. Last we saw her, a few hours ago, the detectives at the police station were taking her to speak with a grief counselor.”
“Ah, I see,” Sharonda mused. “I understand your hesitancy, but given the situation, I don’t think we should wait. If one or both of you are willing to sign a waiver, that will suffice. I’m sure Margaret would want everything possible done to help her daughter-in-law.”
Holden shrugged again, then looked out a window.
“What now?” Sharonda asked.
Again, Wilder spoke.
“Margaret wasn’t in the best of spirits, last we saw her,” he explained. “In fact, she seemed to have hostility towards Eve.”
“Yeah, that’s an understatement,” Jake added.
Holden shot him a look that said to be quiet.
Jake was new to this, but Holden had dealt with the media before. He knew how things could get twisted around in an attempt to garner higher ratings. Sharonda seemed nice enough, but Holden didn’t want the story to become about a squabble between the two families. That might make for interesting TV, but it wouldn’t paint the family in a good light. It also wouldn’t help bring back Eve.
This was a story about Eve being missing and Tim being killed, and nothing more. Holden wouldn’t let his family's situation turn into a public drama.
Sharonda narrowed her eyes, considering. She made her decision quickly and moved on. “It’s fine,” she said. She reached into her bag and pulled out a waiver. It was already typed up with details that included permission to film inside Tim and Eve’s house. Both Holden and Wilder signed as instructed.
Once the paperwork was out of the way, Holden and Wilder led Sharonda around the house. Two of her cameramen followed behind. Each time Sharonda saw something she thought might play well on film, she pointed it out. Most of the things she found useful were personal items. Deemed most compelling were photos from Tim and Eve’s wedding, a dish on top of their bedroom dresser with some of Eve’s monogrammed jewelry, and her pink silk robe that hung on a hook behind the bathroom door.
“Do you think showing this personal stuff will really help people connect?” Wilder asked. “Because it sort of seems like an invasion of privacy?”
Holden jumped in. “It will help, Dad. I know that much.”
Wilder trusted his son. He gazed into Holden’s eyes, searching for certain confirmation that they were doing the right thing. The Blackburn family had a responsibility to protect Eve’s privacy since she wasn’t able to do it for herself. Her mental health status made those concerns even more important.
“Okay,” Wilder replied. “I suppose the good outweighs the bad here. This TV newscast will reach more people than making phone calls and handing out fliers ev
er could.”
“Now you’re framing this properly in your mind,” Sharonda confirmed. “This newscast is a means to an end. Yes, we think about what our viewers want to learn and see, which is related to ratings. Ratings are, unfortunately, an inescapable part of what we do. But when a vulnerable individual like Eve is missing, our primary concern becomes how we can use the tools available to us to help find her. It becomes about community service. About humanity.”
“Right,” Wilder said.
“I know my audience,” Sharonda continued. “Showing these personal items along with footage of you talking about how much you miss her will pull on their heartstrings. It will motivate them to remember Eve’s face and think hard about whether they might have seen her recently. It will also motivate them to remain vigilant and watch for her. That’s what we need… thousands of eyes and ears on the lookout.”
Wilder nodded, accepting the process completely now. “Okay, I get it. Go ahead. Do whatever you need to do.”
Sharonda motioned for her camera guys to do another sweep of the house, this time focusing on the items she referenced. They obliged, trotting dutifully, cameras on their shoulders and battery packs strapped to their waists.
She stood with Wilder and Holden while they waited for that portion of the filming to be complete.
Her earrings clanked against themselves and her bangle bracelets rattled every time she moved. Sharonda seemed out of place in the house. She looked ready for prime time, like she should be seated behind a news desk with a serious man in a suit and tie beside her. It was odd to observe.
When the cameramen were finished, they signaled to Sharonda.
“Okay,” she began, speaking softly. “It’s time for you to appear on camera. Are you up to the task?”
“Yes,” Holden confirmed. “How many of us do you want to interview?”
Sharonda had already thought it through. “All family members who are here first. That’s the two of you, plus Jake Blackburn, correct?”