Sleeping Alone

by Bretton, Barbara

  But what kind of mans would he be if he saved his own ass and let his own grandfather die?

  * * *

  John rowed his way blindly through the dark, fog-shrouded waters. The flat-bottomed garvey moved noiselessly. The only sound was his heart double-thumping inside his chest. He could feel his pulse beating crazily at the base of his throat, in his ears, at the top of his skull.

  They’d tried to tell him something terrible was going to happen to Eddie, but he wouldn’t listen. He’d clung to Dr. Benino’s sleepwalking diagnosis as if it were a lifeline, clung to it for so long that it had managed to turn into a hangman’s noose.

  The fog clung to his skin like a damp spider’s web. He knew he couldn’t be more than a few hundred feet away from the end of the dock, but already the structure had disappeared into the darkness. He stopped rowing and closed his eyes, trying to regain his bearings. There was no moon, no stars to help him. No landmarks on shore. Nothing but his powerful, bone-deep need to save his father’s life.

  He wondered how long Eddie had been gone. If he’d left right after John went to the Save Sea Gate meeting, he could be long past Cape May, on his way down to the Chesapeake. John wouldn’t stand a snowball’s chance in the garvey.

  He’d told Alex to go back to the house and call for help. He should have told her to call the coast guard. The cops wouldn’t be able to help him out here. Why the hell hadn’t he thought of that before he jumped into the boat? All he’d been thinking of was Alex and whatever it was she wanted to talk to him about. She’d looked so serious... so sad—

  He pushed the image from his mind. He had to stay focused for Eddie’s sake. He had to try to think like Eddie, figure out where he would go. When John’s mother was alive, Eddie used to like to take her up to a little cove near Old Barney, the lighthouse on Barnegat Island. It was their spot, one of those Shore secrets that the old-timers knew about and refused to share.

  The last few days Eddie had been doing a lot of reminiscing about Rosie and the early days of their marriage. The cove near Old Barney was as good a place as any for John to start his search. Now, if he could only figure out which goddamn way was north, he might stand a chance. Based on the direction of the current, he made a calculated guess, and had rowed a good thirty feet when he heard a sound.

  He stopped rowing and listened.

  Nothing.

  He picked up the oars and began rowing again.

  “Help!” The voice was shadowy, indistinct. It could belong to anybody. “We need help!”

  John lowered the oars once again and cupped his hands around his mouth. “This is John Gallagher. Where are you?”

  He couldn’t make out the words, but the sound was coming from his left. A sense of foreboding snaked its way up his spine. He grabbed the oars one more time and prayed he wouldn’t be too late.

  * * *

  Alex locked Bailey in her house, then ran as fast as she could to the marina. She tried to ignore the tearing pain in her hip, but it put a hitch in her step that slowed her down even more than her growing belly.

  “Thank God,” she whispered as the flashing lights of a squad car cut through the fog.

  The car screeched to a stop a few feet away from the door to the marina office. Dan Corelli and a rookie leaped from the front, and to her shock Dee and Brian Gallagher climbed out of the backseat.

  Her shock must have been obvious, because Dee immediately came to her side.

  “I think Mark’s out there with Eddie,” Dee said without preamble.

  Alex grabbed her friend’s hand. “I thought he was on a field trip.”

  Dee’s lower tip began to tremble. “He was,” she said, somehow managing to keep her voice steady, “but it got called off. I think he saw Brian’s car in our driveway and got the wrong idea.” She stopped abruptly and looked down.

  Alex’s gaze strayed toward Brian Gallagher, who was keeping step with the cops as they strode to the end of the dock.

  “It’s not what you think,” Dee said. “I wanted to talk to Brian about Mark. My son deserves to know that Eddie is his grandfather, that John’s his uncle—all I wanted was to give Brian the opportunity to be part of my son’s life. You can probably figure out what he thought of that idea.”

  She told Alex about the tears she’d shed and Brian’s slick attempt at comforting her. “The bastard tried to put the moves on me ten seconds after he told me he didn’t want anything to do with my son. I was so shocked I stood there for a moment until we heard a noise in the rhododendrons by the side window. I think it was Mark, Alex. I think he saw me in Brian’s arms and lost it.” A grin pierced the sadness on Dee’s face. “Somebody smashed the crap out of Brian’s Porsche.”

  “You’re kidding,” Alex said.

  Dee shook her head. “Somebody pitched a rock through the windshield and did a number on the paint job.”

  Despite herself, Alex began to laugh. “Did he sign his name to his handiwork?”

  “My kid’s smarter than that,” Dee said. “You’ve got to admit he knows how to pick his battles.” Mark would be grounded big time for what he did, but there was a part of Dee that obviously wanted to send up three cheers for teenage rebellion.

  They joined the cops and Brian at the end of the dock.

  “John’s out there right now,” Alex said, ignoring Brian totally. “He took one of those little flat-bottomed boats.”

  “He won’t be able to do squat with a garvey,” the rookie cop said. “Better contact the coast guard for help.”

  “You do that,” Dan Corelli said, “and see if we can get anyone from the Beach Patrol out here.”

  It all seemed so primitive, Alex thought. Two men and a boy were out there somewhere in the dark, unforgiving sea, and none of the modern conveniences they took for granted could help them.

  “It’s bad, isn’t it?” Dec asked Corelli. “Tell me the truth.”

  “It’s bad,” Corelli said. “We’ve got a real nasty riptide going about three hundred yards offshore. They had problems up as far north as Brigantine and down by Absecon. That wouldn’t have been a problem in the old days. Back then Eddie could pilot the Kestrel through a gale.”

  Alex leaped on his words. “You mean the Kestrel is strong enough to survive a riptide?”

  “The Kestrel will outlive us all,” Corelli said. “It’s John I’m worried about. Superman couldn’t row his way out of the tide we’ve got going tonight.”

  A hand seemed to grip Alex’s midsection, and she doubled over from the waist.

  “You better go back home,” Corelli said, not unkindly. “It’s gonna be a long night.”

  “No.” She forced herself to straighten up. “I’m staying here.”

  He looked at her. “That baby of yours isn’t due yet, is it?”

  “No,” she said. “Not for a good while.”

  “You don’t look so good.”

  “I hurt my hip before,” she said, brushing away his concern. “I’m fine.”

  Next to her Dee lit a cigarette. Her hands were shaking, and the glowing ash moved up and down like a signal. How must it feel to know, Alex wondered, that your son, the child of your body, was in danger and there was nothing you could do to help? She wished she had some words of comfort to offer, but her mind was filled with nothing but terror.

  Only Brian seemed unconcerned. He stood near the end of the dock, smoking a cigarette and looking out at the ocean.

  Dee followed Alex’s gaze. “Next time anyone says blood is thicker than water, kick them for me. The guy’s father, brother, and son are out there somewhere, and all he can think about is his Porsche.”

  But Alex knew better. Brian was thinking about more than his Porsche.

  He was thinking about how to destroy the town.

  * * *

  Water was everywhere.

  Swirling black cold water pounding against him, trying to pull him down down down....

  Mark’s arms and legs trembled with fatigue. He’d done everything he cou
ld to save himself and Eddie, but it looked like it was too late. The tide had them in its clutches and was pulling them out beyond the breakers, and once that happened, they’d be goners.

  He could have managed to swim against the tide an hour ago, but that was then.

  He was even hallucinating—a while ago he thought he’d heard John’s voice floating toward him through the darkness. It was so cold... the cold was screwing up his brain... making it hard for him to think.

  If only he could concentrate, maybe then he could come up with the right thing to do, but the thoughts just wouldn’t come.

  Eddie sputtered, then coughed. “What—what the hell...?”

  “Don’t move,” Mark said in a hoarse voice. “I’ve got you, Eddie.”

  “Jesus... sweet Jesus...”

  “We went overboard,” Mark said, feeling his strength ebbing as he spoke. “We gotta keep afloat till someone comes to get us.”

  Nobody’s going to come, asshole. It’s over. You tried to save the old man and yourself, and now you’re both going to buy the farm.

  He should have used the radio on the Kestrel to summon help before he jumped overboard. Maybe then they would have had a chance.

  It was over ... over... over—

  “Mark, is that you?”

  A deep familiar voice penetrated the cold empty place where his brain had been. Don’t pay attention to it, jackass. It’s just your imagination.

  “Mark,” the voice called out again. “Can you hear me?”

  His eyes burned with tears. It sounded like John. But not even John could get him out of this mess. Good thing it was only his imagination talking. He didn’t want John to take the blame if he and Eddie drowned out here. It wasn’t John’s fault.

  Suddenly a garvey appeared from nowhere, its wide flat bottom bobbing in the choppy water. Garveys were weird boats. They were built real deep, and the seats were so low you were practically sitting on the floor. Duck hunters liked them because they cut through the water without a sound, and only the hunter’s head was visible above the boat line.

  From that angle, the garvey looked empty. He wondered if it had broken free of its moorings and been caught by the same squirrelly currents.

  He looked again, and his heart tried to punch its way out of his chest.

  A man stood in the prow of the boat with the fog swirling all around him like something out of one of those fantasy movies where the hero appears in a puff of smoke to save the day.

  Except this time it wasn’t a movie. And he wasn’t imagining it. It was really happening.

  John had come to save them.

  Twenty-three

  The coast guard said it would take them at least two hours to reach Sea Gate. They had other, bigger problems to deal with up and down the coast, and the problems of one small town on the Jersey Shore would just have to wait in line.

  Up until that point adrenaline had been holding Alex together, but the second she heard about the coast guard, she felt her tightly held control begin to loosen. They’re going to be all right, she told herself over and over, a mantra against her fears. John will find them. They’ll all be okay.

  But what if they weren’t? She heard them talking about the wicked riptide and the unpredictable currents. What if John couldn’t find them? He was out there alone in the fog in that strange flat boat—he wouldn’t stand a chance if the surf got rougher.

  Dee looked at Brian. “You’ve piloted a boat before, Brian. Do something.”

  “What’s there to do?” he asked. “You can’t see two feet in this fog. Let the coast guard handle things.”

  Dee’s voice was low and deadly calm. “Your son is out there with your father and your brother. Don’t you give a damn what happens to them?”

  Alex watched Brian’s face for any sign of human emotion, but saw nothing. He turned away from Dee as if she weren’t there and continued to look out toward the invisible horizon.

  “Go to hell,” Dee said, tears streaming down her face. “I’ll take a boat out myself.”

  Dan Corelli blocked her way. “Don’t do it,” he said, “We’re having enough trouble finding the three of them. Don’t make our job any harder.”

  “I don’t care about your job,” Dee said, her tears turning into gut-wrenching sobs. “My son and two dear friends are out there, and nobody’s doing a damn thing—nobody!”

  That sense of being powerless was worse than anything. Alex had spent most of her life in a position of weakness, and she knew exactly what Dee was feeling.

  “I’ll go with you,” she said. “I’d make a good second mate.”

  “You’re pregnant,” Dee managed. “You can’t take a chance like that.”

  “And you can’t go out there alone.”

  “I’m scared,” Dee said. She was a strong woman. Alex could imagine what that admission cost her.

  “Mark might not be out there, Dee. Maybe he went to a friend’s house.”

  Dee shook her head. “His shoes,” she said, her voice a whisper. “I found them at the end of the dock.”

  Alex’s pulse rate increased. “How can Dan Corelli just stand there waiting for the coast guard? He should be doing something.”

  Dee’s gaze drifted past Alex. Her eyes widened. “Alex,” she said, “look!”

  Alex spun around, and the sight she saw made her spirits soar. It seemed like half of Sea Gate was running toward them. Vince Troisi and Nick Di Mentri. Rich and Sally and Dave. Scores of people she knew from the diner and others she’d never seen before but who would now hold a special place in her heart. The old and the young, come together to help their own.

  “How did you know?” Alex asked as they crowded around her and Dee.

  “Police band radio,” Vince said. “I called Rich, and he called Nick—you know how it goes.”

  She didn’t, but she was learning. This was what it meant to be part of a real community, a family that went beyond connections of blood to include everyone who needed to know there was a place for them in the world.

  “We’re going to find them,” Vince was saying. “You can bet the farm on it.”

  They began untying boats from their moorings, setting up searchlights to cut through the fog. Dee seemed to be everywhere. She knew what needed to be done before anyone had a chance to bark out an order.

  Alex sat near the Kestrel’s empty slip, hands cradling her belly. Sally Whitton came and sat down next to her. For once Sally didn’t talk. She just reached over and patted Alex awkwardly on the shoulder, and that simple touch was all it took to release months of pent-up emotion. Alex lowered her head and started to cry.

  “There, there,” said Sally, putting an arm around her and pulling her close. “You cry all you want. It’s good for you.”

  Nobody had ever said that to her before. Her mother had used tears as a weapon in the war between the sexes, while Griffin had considered them a lower-class affectation. Tears were normal and natural to Sally, same as they were to Dee and everyone else gathered there on the dock.

  Sally patted her on the back from time to time, and after a while Alex’s tears subsided. Sally had done more than just comfort a crying pregnant woman—by sitting down with her, she had officially acknowledged that Alex was one of them.

  They were a family, all of them, joined together to help their own.

  Only Brian stood apart from the rest. He looked out of place in his expensive suit and handmade shoes, like someone from her old life. He smoked one cigarette after another, alternately looking bored and annoyed, as he scanned the horizon. Nobody spoke to him. Nobody tried to include him in the rescue operation. He had been born and raised in Sea Gate and yet he was a stranger to everyone there.

  He turned slightly and met her eyes.

  You lost, she thought, not turning away. Even if he managed to turn Sea Gate into the world’s biggest parking lot, he would still be the loser. She almost felt sorry for him. He’d isolated himself from everything that really mattered and he didn’t even kno
w it.

  “I see something out there.” Nick trained his searchlight at a point north of the marina.

  Dee grabbed his binoculars and peered out through the fog. “I don’t see anything.”

  “A little more that way,” Nick said, angling the searchlight.

  “Oh, God!” Dee’s voice went high with excitement. “It’s a boat—I think it might be a garvey!”

  Alex rose to her feet, then drew in a sharp breath as pain radiated across her belly from hipbone to hipbone.

  “What’s wrong, honey?” Sally took her by the elbow. “It’s not the baby, I hope.”

  “I’m fine,” Alex assured her. “I slipped before and must have twisted something.”

  Sally looked as if she didn’t quite believe Alex, but there was no time to quibble. They hurried to the end of the dock where everyone had gathered to wait. Dec stood next to Nick. They made way for her as Alex approached, patting her on the shoulder, murmuring words of friendship and support, making sure she was here at the edge of the dock with Dee where she belonged.

  Let them be safe, she prayed. Let them all be safe. She knew that John had a score to settle with himself, a very personal score that had to do with the deaths of his wife and sons. She’d seen it in the way he took care if her, the way he shouldered burdens another man would have turned away from. He showed his love for her in everything he did, and yet he had never once said the words.

  I love you, she thought, letting the words cut deep into her heart. Not just sexually, although that was a big part of it. Not just because she prayed he was the father of the child she carried. She loved him in a deeper way, spiritually, physically, emotionally. Sometimes she thought she’d been born loving him and it had taken her twenty-eight years to figure it out.

  He deserved to be happy. He deserved a woman who came to him without entanglements. He deserved children. He could give so much to a child, she thought. He knew what was important in life. He could teach a child the things Eddie had taught him, about honor and courage.

  About love.