Dreams Adrift (A River Dream Novel)

by DW Davis

  My father pursed his lips and I could tell he was stretching his memory. “Yes, Michael, I remember Jill. She was that pretty blond girl who swept you off your feet when you first started at Laney. What made you think of her?”

  I pointed to the stars. “See that faint star there, about forty degrees above the horizon? That’s the star I bought for her. That’s Star Jillian.”

  Laughter shook my father’s shoulders. “I’d forgotten all about you buying Jill a star for Valentine’s that year,” he said. “Whatever happened to her?”

  “The last I heard she was living in Asheville with that artist fella she married,” I said. “I haven’t spoken to her since high school.”

  A cold gust reminded me I wasn’t in the Caribbean anymore. “Let’s follow the girls inside before we freeze,” I suggested.

  Bidding Mrs. Schultz good fishing as we went by, we returned to the pier house. Malori and Rhiannon had taken seats at one of the tables and were sipping hot chocolate. Uncle Lind brought my father and me some fresh coffee. To my surprise there was a dollop of maple syrup flavoring it.

  “Your dad comes for coffee just about every morning now after his walk,” explained Mr. Angevine, “so I started keeping a bottle of the syrup in the cooler for him.”

  Turning a concerned eye on my father, I asked, “Are you walking every morning too, Dad?”

  My father made a dismissive gesture. “My doctor said it would be good for my heart. Your mother rather insisted that I begin a routine. She walks with me in the evening.”

  “Is there something wrong with your heart?” I asked, worried.

  “No, no, there’s nothing wrong yet. The walking is a preventative measure,” my father assured me.

  Malori finished her hot chocolate. “We should probably be getting home,” she suggested. “Mom’s probably starting to wonder if we washed out with the tide.”

  “I think we can finish our coffee,” my father said. “Then we’ll go.”

  Something about the look on Rhiannon’s face caused me to say, “If you don’t think Mom will be upset, I’d like to stay for a second cup.”

  Rhiannon smiled and said, “I could use another hot chocolate, too.”

  My father smiled a knowing smile. “Your mother is a very understanding woman, Michael. I’m sure she won’t mind.”

  “Then I’ll stay too,” Malori said, starting to sit back down.

  “Mal, you better see that Dad makes it home okay,” I suggested to her.

  “Oh, I can do that,” Malori said with a smirk.

  “Thanks, sis, you’re my best sister,” I said. Malori hugged me before she left with our father.

  Rhiannon was giving me a funny look. “You are full of odd things to say tonight, Michael. You need Hans to mizzen the jib. Malori is your best sister. Does that make me your best friend?”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “Watch out or I’ll mizzen your jib. When I was leaving home to join the Navy, Malori told me I was her best brother. She was only seven at the time. Since then it’s been kind of our code for saying ‘I love you’ without being all mushy about it.”

  A warm smile replaced the funny look on Rhiannon’s face. “That is very sweet, Michael. It’s your fault, you know.”

  Wondering what I’d done now, I asked, “What’s my fault?”

  “It’s your fault that Malori can’t find a steady boyfriend,” Rhiannon informed me. “She compares the guys she dates to her big brother, and they always come up short.”

  Looking down into my coffee cup, I demurred, “I’m not that much to compare to.”

  “To Malori you are,” Rhiannon said. “And someday she’ll find the guy that measures up, and she’ll be glad she waited.”

  We finished our drinks and walked back to my folks’ house. I almost reached out to take her hand - almost.

  When we got to her car, Rhiannon asked me to say good-night and thanks to my folks for her. She gave me a hug, got in her car, and left. I went into the house. My mom and dad had already gone to bed, but Malori was up watching television.

  Looking up from whatever show it was she was watching, she asked, “Did you and Rhiannon have a nice talk?”

  Taking a seat in one of the recliners, I answered, “Yes, we did.”

  “What did you talk about?” Malori asked.

  “You, mostly,” I said.

  Turning around so that she faced me, Malori exclaimed, “Me! What did you talk about me for?”

  Not able to resist teasing her a little, I said, “You are a very interesting subject. I’ve been thinking about taking some psychology classes just so I can figure you out.”

  She stuck her tongue out at me. “Fery vunny, Mike,” she said.

  “I haven’t heard that in a while,” I said, feeling a nostalgic twinge.

  “I picked it up from Rhiannon,” Malori said.

  “I figured,” I told her. Realizing I was exhausted, I decided to go to bed. “Good-night, Mal.”

  “Good night, Michael. I’m glad you’re home.”

  Thirty-five

  When I woke up in my mother’s music room the next morning, it took me a moment to remember where I was. I hadn’t slept that well, both because of all the coffee I had at the pier and because I wasn’t used to sleeping on solid land.

  Pulling on some sweats, I headed out to the deck for my morning workout. As I finished up, my dad came out on the deck dressed for his morning walk.

  “Do you mind if I join you?” I asked.

  “I don’t mind at all,” he said. “I’ll be glad for the company.”

  He did a few stretching exercises and commented on how he could see his breath in the cold air. The wind had changed overnight, and some clouds had moved in, but it was still brisk.

  “Did you and Rhiannon have a nice visit last night after Malori and I left?”

  “Yes, we did,” I said. “We talked about Malori.”

  “Really,” my father said, sounding surprised. “What about Malori?”

  I filled him in on what Rhiannon told me. “We talked about how she can’t find a boyfriend who measures up to the high standards we’ve set for male behavior. According to Rhiannon, we have ruined that girl for most men with our high level of morality and trustworthiness.”

  “It must be all that time we spent in Boy Scouts,” my father quipped.

  “It must be,” I agreed.

  Done with his stretching, my father headed for the steps. “As her dad, I rather like it that she hasn’t had a serious boyfriend.”

  “As her dad, you’d probably be happier if she decided to become a nun,” I joked as I followed him to the road.

  My father shook his head. “No, not really, though she is going to Notre Dame, so maybe there’s hope.”

  I’d been wondering how that was going for her. “How’s she done up there? Has the change been good for her?”

  “I think it has. She didn’t decide it on the spur of the moment. She researched it and thought about it for quite some time,” my father reminded me.

  “I thought she kept it a big secret,” I said.

  “She thought she did too. Parents know things, son,” my father said, giving me one of those looks.

  “I won’t ask what sort of things you knew about me,” I said.

  “It’s probably best you don’t,” my father said with such a serious expression that for a moment I was worried.

  “Hey, I never did anything that bad,” I protested.

  “No, I guess you didn’t,” my father admitted with a smile. He’d gotten me good. We neared the end of his walk. He did about two miles up and down the beach each morning. It always finished up at the pier where he would get his daily cup of coffee.

  Rhiannon’s uncle was at the counter. If I understood Aunt Cassie correctly, they traded twelve-hour shifts this time of year when business was slow. That’s quite a grind when you’re open twenty-four hours a day seven days a week.

  “Good morning Mr. Angevine,” I said as we walked up to
the counter.

  Rhiannon’s uncle stepped out from behind the counter to greet us, “Michael, good morning. Good morning, Owen.”

  “Good morning, Ed,” my father said, taking a seat on a stool at the counter. Rhiannon’s uncle’s name was Edmond.

  “Michael, what’s with the Mr. Angevine? It’s Ed,” he said, sounding disappointed I’d been so formal.

  “I’m sorry, Ed. I guess it’s just been a while,” I apologized.

  “It’s not a problem. Owen, coffee?” Ed asked, going behind the counter and picking up the pot.

  “Yes, please,” my father said.

  “Mike?” Ed asked, gesturing with the coffee pot in my direction.

  “The same, please,” I said as I sat down beside my dad.

  “Do you like yours the way your dad takes his?” Ed asked.

  Realizing he meant did I take mine with maple syrup, I replied, “Yes, please.”

  “Coming right up,” Ed said. “Mike, Lind told me that you and Rhiannon are going to spell us today. He said he didn’t know what time, though.”

  “Truthfully, I don’t think we thought about that, Ed,” I said. “What would be a good time?”

  Setting our cups down on the counter, Ed said, “We usually go twelve to twelve. If you and my niece were to come on at six tonight and work through to six in the morning, Lind could get to spend some time with the Missus, and I could get a good night’s sleep.”

  The way he said the last remark made me think it had been a while since he’d had a good night’s sleep.

  “I’ll call Rhiannon and let her know,” I said.

  We finished our coffee and headed to the house where my mother had prepared us a hearty breakfast of bacon and scrambled eggs. Malori was gone to the aquarium by the time we got back. She’d told me that so many of the volunteers from the college were away for Spring Break that the volunteer coordinator had practically begged Malori to work extra shifts.

  I spent the rest of the morning with my father, going over business stuff. He insisted it would be a good idea if I had at least some understanding of just what was going on with all those investments. I was glad when lunch time finally arrived as I was picking Rhiannon up for lunch.

  We were going to Dupree’s. It had been a long time since I’d eaten a good Dupree’s pizza, not since the day we helped Rhiannon move from Greenville. I decided I wasn’t waiting any longer.

  “Well, well, well, if it isn’t my old friend Michael,” Alfredo said as Rhiannon and I walked in.

  Smiling at his boisterous greeting, I embraced my friend. “Hello, Alfredo,” I said. “How have you been? How’s business?”

  Slapping me on the back, Alfredo assured me, “Business has been good, Michael, and I have been good, too.”

  He ushered us to a table. His restaurant on the island was quite different from his place in town. The atmosphere was much brighter, and there were plenty of windows.

  “Rhiannon,” Alfredo said to her, “what are you doing hanging around with this character?”

  “In a weak moment I agreed to let him buy me lunch, Alfredo,” Rhiannon said smiling. “Then I couldn’t find a good excuse to get out of it.”

  Alfredo laughed and said, “Well I, for one, like seeing the two of you together. It reminds me of when you were kids.”

  He left on that note and sent a waitress right over to our table.

  Taking out her order pad she said, “The boss said to take good care of you guys, that you’re old friends of his.”

  “We’ve known Alfredo a long time,” I told her.

  “That’s cool,” she said, sounding impressed. “My name is Bella, short for Isabella, and I’ll be taking care of you. What can I bring you to drink?”

  “I’d like some sweet tea,” Rhiannon said.

  “The same for me,” I told her.

  Jotting down our drink order, she said, “Two sweet teas coming up. Are you ready to order some food?”

  I looked at Rhiannon and she shrugged to indicate that she would eat whatever I ordered.

  “What I’d like is a large pizza with pepperoni, peppers, and onions,” I told Bella.

  “All right, anything else?” Bella asked.

  Before I could add anything, Rhiannon said, “I think that will be plenty. After all, I have to watch my figure.”

  “I’m sure we can find plenty of volunteers to watch your figure for you, Rhiannon,” I quipped.

  “Brat,” Rhiannon retorted. Bella laughed and went off to place our order.

  The pizza was as delicious as I’d been anticipating and, despite Rhiannon’s doubts, we, mostly me, managed to finish off the whole thing. I was stuffed and figured it would take a couple of miles up and down the beach to work off our lunch, but I didn’t care. It had been months since I’d had a Dupree’s pizza, and I enjoyed every bite.

  After lunch we drove down to the aquarium at Fort Fisher to see Malori at work. My father had dug out my membership card and given it to me that morning. It was a Founder’s Membership card. Those cards were reserved for patrons who made donations of at least six digits.

  Rhiannon knew about the Lanier Marine Science Foundation and that through it my family was a founding member of all three North Carolina Aquariums. I didn’t know if the person responsible for hiring Malori knew it or not. I supposed it had probably come up sometime during the application process.

  Not that Malori needed the money. I’d set her up with a trust fund that would provide for her for life should she need it. Our mother and father had raised her the same way they did me, though. She would rather earn her way than have it paid for her. In most ways she was better about that than I was.

  When the young lady - her name was Lydia according to the name tag pinned just above the North Carolina Aquarium logo on her aquamarine golf shirt - working at the aquarium’s ticket window looked at my membership card, her lips curled into a puzzled smile. I realized she’d probably never seen a card like it.

  “Sir, could you wait just a moment?” Lydia asked. “I’ll be right back.”

  Thirty-six

  I shrugged, smiled, and said, “All right, I’ll wait right here.”

  Lydia went out the door at the back of the ticket booth and over to the information desk.

  Rhiannon nudged me and said, “What’s the matter? Has your membership expired?”

  Before I could reply that my membership never expired, Lydia returned with an older lady wearing a similar aquamarine golf shirt. To my surprise, the older lady was Mrs. Watson, my high school biology teacher.

  “Mrs. Watson, is that you?” I asked as she walked up to us.

  Not recognizing us right away, she replied, “I am Mrs. Watson, yes.”

  Then, as recognition set in, she exclaimed, “Michael Lanier, Rhiannon Angevine, well, well, fancy seeing the two of you here, together. It’s all right to let them in, dear,” Mrs. Watson said Lydia. “Michael and his family are founding members of the aquarium.”

  Rhiannon and I went inside, and Mrs. Watson met us in the lobby.

  “Michael, I was so sorry to hear about Maeve. She was a dear friend and a fine teacher. We really miss her at Laney.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Watson,” I said.

  She hadn’t meant to hurt me. Rhiannon saw the look that started to come over me and gently squeezed me hand.

  “It means a lot when I hear she’s remembered fondly by her friends and colleagues,” I was able to say.

  “Yes, yes, well, what can I do for you today?” Mrs. Watson asked, becoming very businesslike.

  “I’m back in town for a few days, and thought I’d come see what’s new here at the aquarium,” I said. “I haven’t been here in some time.”

  “Well, I know just the person to give you your tour. Let me see if she’s available,” Mrs. Watson said.

  I thought for a minute that she might be calling Malori to come and act as our tour guide, but I was wrong. At first, I didn’t recognize the young lady that came forward. When I saw th
e name tag ‘Emily’ I realized it was Beth Bosworth’s little sister, only she wasn’t so little anymore. I’d heard she’d graduated from the marine science program at Duke about the time I finished up my degree at UNCW.

  “Hello Michael, Rhiannon. How are you today?” Emily asked.

  “Hi Emily, it has been a long time,” Rhiannon said. “How’s Beth?”

  “She’s doing very well. She and Eric just had their second child, a little boy,” Emily said.

  Beth had married Eric Simpson, a guy she met at East Carolina. When Emily mentioned their new baby, I remembered, vaguely, that Beth had been pregnant at Maeve’s funeral. Her oldest was a girl named Michelle. Eric coached football and taught physical education at a high school out near Winston-Salem. Beth was the band director at a middle school in the same district.

  “Yes, I got an announcement in the mail,” Rhiannon said. Turning to me, she said, “They named him Eric Michael Simpson.”

  “Really, so he’ll be a junior,” I said. “That’s great.”

  “Not exactly,” Rhiannon said, “Eric’s middle name is Lawrence.”

  She let me hang for a minute before laughing and saying, “Eric’s father’s name was Michael.”

  “Fery vunny, Rhiannon,” I said.

  Emily gave us a confused smile. “Would you like me to show you what’s new at the aquarium?”

  Giving Rhiannon a scathing look, I said to Emily, “I would like that very much, thank you. We can leave the jolly joker to wait here.”

  “Oh, no you don’t. I didn’t come all this way to sit in the lobby,” Rhiannon said, still chuckling.

  Emily gave us another funny look and started to lead the way into the aquarium. Then she turned around suddenly.

  “Malori Lanier works here. Isn’t that your sister, Michael?” Emily asked.

  Trying to be patient, I admitted, “Yes, she is.”

  “Would you rather she gave you the tour?” Emily asked. She looked almost afraid that I would say yes.

  Truthfully, I assured her, “Actually, no, I’d rather you did.”

  “Oh,” she said with a very pretty smile, “Okay then, we’ll start over this way.”