by Celia Jerome
The problem was, how could I leave? My head said start packing. My heart said hold on. Those ties to Paumanok Harbor I’d spent years unraveling had me by the throat.
Little Red went where I went. But what about the big dogs, and Mom’s house? Could I walk away?
Hell, yes. Uncle Roger knew what to do way better than I did. Susan was used to caring for Buddy and Dobbin. The house had survived since before I was born.
As for the professor, Lou would take good care of him. And of Grandma Eve, too. They could all go to higher ground, perhaps Rosehill. The village itself? If all the weather wizards in Paumanok Harbor couldn’t keep it safe from a hurricane, my presence meant diddly-squat.
It might mean something to Matt. I did not know if he’d prefer red or black lace, nightie or camisole and thong. I did know he would never leave the Harbor. He’d feel he had to be on hand to rescue animals, with memories of those dreadful New Orleans images in everyone’s heads when people had to choose between their own lives and their pets’. He’d want to believe I’d be at his side, helping, instead of tucked up safe a hundred miles away. And I cared what he believed. Except when he believed I was brave and brilliant and loyal and steadfast.
I might as well try to hold back the hurricane as try to be the woman he wanted. This could be a one-night stand after all when I told him I’d be leaving in the morning. I promised to tell him if I left, but maybe I’d wait till tomorrow to tell him I was going. Give the new lingerie—I bought both the red and the black—an outing, and give myself one more night to remember. A two-night stand sounded better.
It sounded like another heartbreak for me. Which is why I never wanted to get involved with Matt and Oey and the village and the kraken altogether. Dumb, dumb, dumb.
And dumb to think I could walk away from the sea dragon of my book. I didn’t have a chance in hell of affecting Desi. Professor Harmon might have a hair-thin chance of sending N’fwend back to hell or the center of the Earth, with my help.
Without us, and the Others we could try to call on for assistance, everyone I loved here could be washed out to sea.
The radios on in the stores spoke of storm surges. Twelve feet high, twenty feet high. They never said how far inland that surge could travel, at that height. Paumanok Harbor’s main street should not be in danger, a couple of miles from the bay, but the docks, the harbor, all the low houses with water views would be gone. And we’d be cut off from civilization if the roads flooded. The single highway to Montauk had washed away in the past, leaving it an island. Paumanok Harbor could be just as isolated, alone with a ravening water monster supercharged and intensified by the hurricane, determined to wipe out its enemy and steal the power. Or use the swallowed-up talent to get back to Unity, to wreak havoc and revenge there.
So I bought batteries for flashlights and radios, bottled water, candles, and chocolate bars. I figured I was as ready as I could be without Prozac for any eventuality, except the long lines of people buying batteries and water and candles and peanut butter and crackers. Uh-oh. I forgot the hurricane staple that never went bad, never needed cooking or refrigeration. I got out of line to add them to my cart. And bought more dog food. And cookies.
I wanted to hurry home so I could eat the ice cream in the freezer before it melted when the power went out.
Lou laughed and said we had days left to prepare, and did I have boards to nail over the windows. I tried to call my mother to find out. Then I had to worry she was in the Keys, helping with the evacuation there. I left a message that tried not to sound like my father with his doom-sayer worries.
Dr. Harmon wanted to see Rosehill through his new glasses, to see if there truly was room for him, without inconveniencing anyone. We all smiled. You could house Hannibal’s army in the place, and still have room for their elephants.
Cousin Lily welcomed Dr. Harmon like her favorite uncle, and offered to give us a tour. The professor did not wish to put her to more trouble. He said he’d be comfortable in the pool house where we’d found him. An electric heater, some blankets for the open-out couch and he’d be fine. The half-size refrigerator and the electric hot plate were all he needed. Perhaps he’d get himself a dog to keep him company on strolls about the lovely grounds. My mother had greyhounds, did she not?
Everyone vetoed that, the pool house, not the greyhounds, although Lily didn’t seem all too pleased about the dogs. The pool house had too much glass, was too unprotected, too far from Lily’s kitchen, too noisy when the pool was open.
The guesthouse also got voted down. That was being converted to administration offices and small classrooms, weeks from completion, and out of sight from the main building. Lou insisted the professor be close to help, in case of an emergency. No one wanted to say that our new friend had too many candles on his cake to live alone, but we all understood Lou’s concern.
The apartment over the garage was also rejected, already being divided into separate suites for resident staff.
Plans were to make the two main floors in the mansion itself into lecture halls, study centers and conference rooms, with the third floor bedrooms divided smaller and reserved for junior instructors and visiting lecturers.
No way could our gentleman live there. I’d already worried how I could get Dr. Harmon up the three flights to my NY apartment. But up Rosehill’s grand arching staircase several times a day? There had to be an alternative. I knew Cousin Lily’s apartment behind the kitchen had no extra bedroom, but surely in this vast complex there was a private spot, safe and secure, for their esteemed, elderly resident consultant?
Cousin Lily grinned and told us to follow her. Lou helped the professor up the stairs and I followed, wary of his eyesight and stamina. We all moved down the hall to the master suite.
The professor took one look inside the door and went no further. “But they must have designated this for someone really important, like the Duke of Royce when he comes.”
“He can stay in a hotel,” Cousin Lily said. “I am not keeping this whole apartment clean and aired for someone who might never appear.”
I’d been in the rooms, searching for the green bathroom, but Lou and Dr. Harmon went slowly from the vast bedroom to the vaster sitting room with a corner dining area and a tiny kitchen nook, to the dressing room and the walk-in closet and the bathroom with a tub big enough for an orgy. Lily was already planning on having her helpers turn the dressing room into a spare bedroom for company, and moving the furniture to make half the sitting room into an office more conducive to meetings.
“But … but I am used to a bed-sitter flat at Royce. I’d get lost here with all this space.”
“Nonsense, you’ll fill it with books and students and new friends.”
“But the stairs …”
Lily smiled again and took us back to the hall to another door I never noticed. “There’s an elevator left from when the estate had scores of servants to serve the family. They used the elevator to bring food from the kitchen, so it arrived hot, or drinks cold. That elevator is how we’re getting approval from the building department for being handicapped accessible. And it’s been inspected and maintained, so you do not have to worry about the mechanics of the thing.”
“A lift of my own? I cannot—”
“Professor, come look at this,” Lou called out from the sitting room. He’d pulled floor-length curtains back from the windows and stepped out onto a wide balcony, complete with hot tub, that looked out over the lawns and gardens the estate encompassed, to the wooded areas left undeveloped. Over the trees glistened a postcard view of the water. “I bet you can see Connecticut on a clear day.”
Dr. Harmon seemed more interested in the manicured grounds and the woods. “Oh, my, how positively beautiful. I’ve always wished for a rose garden. Can you imagine a greyhound or two running through the trees?”
I pictured Oey flitting through the branches, ducking into the hot tub. “I have a feeling you’ll have lots of company. And remember, you’ll have a whole batch of R
oyce personnel here soon, perhaps friends from your teaching days.”
“No, they are all gone. The new ones are dunderheads.” Then he must have realized how alone he’d be up here in his private turret. “You’ll come visit, won’t you?”
“Of course. And Grandma Eve will, too. The whole family will come.”
“I like the sound of that. Yes, at my age, a family.”
I warned him that I might go back to the city, but I’d always come visit. From the look on his face I realized I’d disappointed someone else. “I intend to come out most weekends,” I blurted from the back of my mind, where I’d been trying to figure how to make a relationship with Matt work. I’d come out here, and Matt could come in to visit me on alternate weekends when he had no sick boarders. Maybe he’d take an occasional Monday off so we could do Broadway, the museums, even the dog show, walks in Central Park.
With Moses. In my apartment. Red would get trampled, eaten, or have conniptions. So would the management. I’d get thrown out. Damn.
Dr. Harmon was having second thoughts, too. “I never—”
“You will,” I answered for him. “You deserve it for your years of service and after almost drowning. And if we manage to defeat the dragon, you’ll have earned it ten times over.”
He stood taller. “We shall, my dear. We shall.”
CHAPTER 30
I WENT HOME AND WATCHED SEVEN stations hype Desi into the storm of the century, any century. I got so nervous I ate half my hurricane supplies.
My mother called. Uncle Roger knew where the storm shutters got stored; she was not in Desi’s way but in Arkansas, shutting down another puppy mill; the greyhounds had all been adopted; don’t I dare mess up her good relationship with the vet; and why were people calling me speedy? If I got too many tickets in her car, they’d impound it.
“Gotta go, Mom, getting ready for the storm, you know.”
Matt called. He invited me and my grandmother and Lou and Dr. Harmon out to dinner with his guest Gina and her partner.
“Research partner or life partner?” I opted for the life partner.
“Both, it seems.”
Good. “And they’re both staying at your house? Without telling you there’d be two of them? You okay with that.”
“Sure. She’s nice.”
“Of course she is. She’s your friend.”
“No, I mean her partner, Vicki.”
“Oh. You okay with that?”
“Hey, who am I to cast stones? My lady friend talks to creatures that don’t exist. Vicki and Gina try to save the dolphins. You try to save the world. No big difference, right?”
That’s why I lo—liked Matt so much. He could laugh at the small stuff and take the big stuff in stride. “Are you worried about the hurricane?”
“I’d be a fool not to. I’ve got a guy coming to cut down some big old trees too near the clinic. And we’re almost at capacity for boarding animals people can’t take with them to the hotels or relatives inland where they’re going to stay. My head kennel guy lives in a trailer park that’s bound to be evacuated, so he’s planning on bringing his wife and kids to stay at the clinic to keep the dogs calm. I trust him implicitly, so I can be with you, wherever you want me.”
Yup, he’s a keeper. “What about your company?”
“Gina and Vicki will be leaving before the storm gets close. They’ve got some injured dolphins at Woods Hole they need to secure before Desi gets there. Right now they’re out in a spotter plane off Montauk looking for those new dolphins.”
The whale-watching boats used planes. So did so-called sport fishermen, though how sporting was it to have someone in the sky direct you to exactly where a swordfish or marlin or shark was sunbathing?
“They’re not going to find them, are they?” he asked.
“Nope.”
“That’s what I thought. Anyway, I want to take the two of them and the rest of you to dinner tonight before they leave.”
“Sounds good to me.” Matt and dinner out and his old friend was gay. Woo-hoo.
Grandma Eve called. She’d spoken with Matt, what a fine young man he was, but she and Lou weren’t going with us to the Breakaway. They were headed to Shelter Island to have dinner with Doc Lassiter, to try to convince him to leave his home before he was trapped there when the ferries stopped running.
“You think he’ll be safer in Paumanok Harbor?”
“I think he’ll be among friends. And we might need him here.”
A shrink whose touch could calm an entire village? Grandma Eve’s tea leaves must be showing that bad moon rising, too. Dr. Harmon, she told me, did not want to ride the ferries to Shelter Island, not even with one of her composers or a bottle of blackberry brandy, so he’d be delighted to dine with Matt and me. I needed to pick him up at six-thirty.
Chief Haversmith called. He was at the police station, even though it was Sunday. Had I seen any more of that suspicious character, Axel Vanderman? Uncle Henry finally had an hour to look into my warning, between meetings of the emergency preparedness task force.
I hadn’t thought about Axel in days, it seemed, and never saw him after that once. I told the chief I’d check with Susan at the restaurant later, to see if he’d showed up there again.
My father called. Look out for the backside, he told me. I put down the chocolate chip cookie. Nope, he wanted to remind me that hurricanes spiral. If the front side doesn’t get you, the back side can be worse. “Don’t go out when you think it’s done. That’s just the center passing over. It’s the eye you have to watch out for. I saw it in the shower.”
“You saw the eye of the storm?”
“No, just an eye, full of evil and malice. Be careful, baby girl. And don’t worry about me if the phone lines go dead. I’ll be in the clubhouse. We’re going to have a marathon Scrabble tournament.”
“Anything more about the skunk?”
“Funny you should ask. You know how sometimes you think you see something out of the corner of your eye? A shadow or a flicker? That’s what I saw last night, a skunk, real quick. Only you weren’t in danger, so I forgot about it until now. The skunk was in a trap, not you. Now that I think about it, though, it would be just like you, baby girl, to try to save the critter. Just like your mother would, ignoring the danger. Don’t do it.”
“I won’t, Dad.” I couldn’t if I wanted to. There weren’t any skunks in Paumanok Harbor. And if there were, and it was caught, I’d send Matt to get it out. Wild animals were his department, weren’t they?
Someone else called, without caller ID. Not even a “number unavailable” message. I seldom answered those, usually telemarketers or charities. This time I picked up. “Hello?”
No one was there.
“Hello,” I said, louder.
“It is a hard rain that is going to fall.”
“Who is this?” It sure as hell wasn’t Bob Dylan. He didn’t have my number.
The caller repeated “hard” three or four times.
I knew. “Thank you. You be careful, too.”
Before dinner, I tried to work on my book a little. The sketches of the sea monster were scarier than I’d intended, now that I knew it existed. The eyes, especially, all whirlpools and flickering lightning, could give a kid nightmares. Hey, I was a good illustrator, maybe too good for the YA readers. I thought about changing the eyes, but they fit the character. Now that the chief had spoken about Axel, those swirling eyes brought him back to mind. They fit him, too, how his glittery stare fixed on me, as if they wanted to suck me into his realm, or suck away my will, vampirelike, sea serpentlike. I felt the hairs on my neck raise, just thinking about him and N’fwend in the same picture, as if they were two embodiments of the same evil, one mortal, one made of water and magic.
No way could the two be related, except in my imagination. I’d check with Uncle Henry about Vanderman in the morning.
Instead of frivolous nightwear that was bound to come off almost instantly, I should have invested in a new outf
it for dinner. Matt’s company was dressed to kill—Gina’s shoes alone cost more than everything in my closet combined—and the women were mad enough to do it, too.
First, they couldn’t find the new dolphins. Second, the people in charge of righting the cruise ship had decided they couldn’t wait for the proper winds and equipment and full moon tides, not with the massive storm predicted to arrive during that same full moon. Which was the worst possible scenario for the shorefront.
The tugs and barges and mini-subs had to get to safe harbor themselves, not to mention all the personnel in the storm’s possible path. So what the idiots, Vicki’s word, not mine, were going to do was blow up the reef the ship rested on, then hope the Nova Pride was still seaworthy enough to float.
I said that sounded like a good idea, if they could do it right, like how lumberjacks knew where to make the cuts so the tree fell exactly where they wanted it.
“But what about the dolphins?” Gina demanded, as if I’d suggested using them to carry the dynamite. “Do you know what a depth charge can do to a dolphin’s sonar? What the percussion can do, the water displacement, the disturbed sediments? The jerks could be murdering a completely new species, purported to be the most intelligent sea mammal yet, before we’ve done any research on them.”
To me, if the dolphins survived the kraken, a few small explosions in a newly made underwater mountain wouldn’t faze them one bit. If they were still around. Then again, if they were what we all—we being Paumanok Harbor’s insider espers—believed they were, nothing could hurt them.
Vicki and Gina were so aggravated and agitated, not even Susan’s incredible feel-good food could appease them. Of course Vicki’d ordered shrimp, Gina’d ordered salmon. The only two things on the menu that couldn’t be fresh because they weren’t caught in local waters. The other food was amazing, as always. Matt kept smiling and Dr. Harmon kept looking skyward, as if thanking heaven for dropping him and manna in this wondrous place.