by Luanne Rice
“What are the right things?”
“Oh, they’re different for every person,” Sam said, holding Dana’s hand a little tighter. “Gabriel was a poet, so Malachy learned to hear the poetry in everyday life. My dad was an Irish truck driver, so a lot of what I hear is kind of rough and salty. But with Lily …”
“It’s beautiful,” Dana said, hearing her sister’s voice. “And it’s sharp and it’s funny.”
“I used to listen for you,” Sam said. Glancing across the front seat, he caught Dana’s eye for just a second. There in his gaze she saw intense longing, and she had the feeling it went back decades, to the time they first met.
“What did you hear?”
“I heard waves,” Sam said. “That might sound strange, but that’s what it was. I’d lie in my bed and think of you, and I’d hear breaking waves, rolling over the shallows… .”
“You live on a boat.”
He shook his head. “On a boat, the waves are different. You’re in them, on them. The waves I heard were onshore. They were rolling in after being at sea, after years at sea—one last stretch across the sandbars, cresting white and breaking hard before washing up on the beach.”
“Waves …” Dana said, closing her eyes, knowing that Sam was right—she had always lived within hearing distance of the waves breaking onshore.
“They brought me to you,” Sam said. “After all this time.”
Dana said, her eyes flying wide open and gazing across the seat at this man who was taking her to find her nieces, “However it happened, whether it was the waves or Lily or both, I’m so glad they did.”
Sam nodded, but he didn’t speak. Maybe he didn’t have to. The dolphins sang on the tape, but the van was filled with other voices as well: Lily’s, Sam’s father, Sam and Dana themselves. Listening, Sam kept driving and Dana kept praying. They still had miles to go.
THE STORM WAS BAD. Allie kept them heading east, and Quinn did her best to hold the tiller straight. Her arms were getting tired, and she wished her eyes had windshield wipers. The visibility was terrible. The waves were huge. The life jackets were chapping their skin. Quinn didn’t get seasick, but if she did, now would be the time.
“Where are we?” Allie yelled.
“We’re almost there!”
“Really?” Allie cried with a sob of relief.
“I think so,” Quinn called back.
The truth was, she had no idea. The rain was falling too hard to see anything. The wind hooted around them, and the jib had finally bought the dust. It flew in tatters, like a torn white bedsheet hanging to the forestay. Quinn’s heart was in her throat. She sensed her sister’s panic. Allie was doing her best to stay brave, but it wasn’t working. Even Quinn was terrified.
“Oh, Quinn!” Allie screamed as the boat hit a big wave and nearly went over.
“Hang on, Allie.”
“I’m trying.”
Quinn’s hands hurt from grasping the tiller. Her skin had blistered, and now the blisters were breaking. The wooden handle was slippery with blood and rain; she wanted to let go, to push the water out of her eyes, but she didn’t dare. She knew she might not be able to grab on again.
The next wave came out of nowhere. Quinn had been pointing straight, taking most of the waves head-on, but this one smacked them broadside. Allie shrieked as the Mermaid shuddered with its force, heeled almost over, and righted herself.
“Kimba!” Allie screamed, lurching to the side.
“Hold on, Al,” Quinn demanded, too worried about her sister to care about the stuffed toy.
“He’s overboard,” Allie cried, holding the gunwale as she hung over the waves. “Oh, no. Quinn, Kimba fell in!”
“Jeez, Al. Get back in the boat,” Quinn yelled.
“Save him, please save him, Quinn.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“Don’t swear!”
“Goddammit, crap-shit!”
“It’s not his fault!”
Quinn knew they should keep going. Their only chance was to ride out the storm. If she stopped sailing now, they might capsize or start drifting. They were right on course—her father had taught her about dead reckoning, and the only thing she knew was that they’d been pointing ninety ever since leaving Hubbard’s Point. But Allie was leaning overboard in her bright life vest, sobbing her heart out.
“Okay,” Quinn said, gritting her teeth. “Coming about.”
“Thank you, thank you,” Allie wept.
“Hard alee …”
The boom cracked overhead, the sail filling from the other side. The boat rocked on the big waves. Forward and back, sideways. Quinn scanned the waves for Kimba. She started swearing under her breath, then out loud. The sea was gray and black, and there was no way that dingy, threadbare, laundry-faded feline scrap was ever going to show up.
“Kimba, Kimba!” Allie called as if he could actually hear her.
“We can’t keep looking. We’ll get off course, we have to—”
“There he is!”
Quinn focused her gaze to where Allie was pointing, and damned if she wasn’t right! There, bobbing in the waves as if he belonged there, smiling up with his cute little lion face, was Kimba.
“I’ll get him,” Quinn said. She maneuvered over the best she could. Coming closer, ten feet, nine, eight … Reaching out, letting go of the tiller with one hand, leaning over the waves, she caught the soggy, sorry, soaked scrap of lint from the bounding sea.
“You’re the greatest,” Allie sobbed, reaching for him. “You’re my hero!”
And those were the last words Quinn heard before another wave caught the bow and flipped the boat upside down.
THE YACHT ENDURANCE, a forty-foot yawl out of Stonington, Connecticut, was sailing through the storm toward Newport, Rhode Island, when the owner, Crawford Jones, thought he saw a small sailboat go over just south of Point Judith.
“What’s that?” he asked his friend, Paul Farragut.
“What’s what?”
“Did you just see a sail over there?”
“All I can see is the future,” Paul said. “It’s warm clothes, a big steak, and a dry martini at the Black Pearl.”
“I’m serious. I think I saw a boat capsize.”
“Where?”
“Right there,” Crawford said, pointing southeast.
“Maybe it was an idiot windsurfer trying to catch the storm swells. Let’s see if he gets up again… .”
The two men were silent, sitting in the cockpit and trying to see something that probably wasn’t even there. The rain drove into their eyes, and the waves rose and fell, making visibility poor.
The Endurance had sailed to Bermuda and Halifax, had crossed the Atlantic in weather much worse than this. The men were best friends, expert sailors who had sailed together since childhood; they didn’t feel any danger for themselves. They were both hungry, and although they were dedicated blue-water sailors, they were eager to reach Newport.
“It was nothing,” Crawford said. “I’m ninety percent sure.”
“Ninety percent?”
“Shit.”
“Yeah,” Paul agreed. “We’d better check.”
Turning the wheel, the men brought the Endurance about and sailed southeast to investigate.
“HANG ON, ALLIE,” Quinn said as another wave broke over them.
The force smashed her head, filled her mouth with salt water, tried to pull her off the overturned boat. Allie was right beside her, clinging on to Kimba and the boat with the same tenacity. As long as they could see and hear each other, they were okay. But when the waves knocked them underwater, Quinn couldn’t see and she felt panic.
“Quinn, are you still there?”
“I’m here.”
The sisters talked to each other constantly. The boat had flipped at least twenty minutes before. Although the sea was summer warm, the waves were too big to withstand much longer. Quinn was nearly blind with terror.
She held the tackle box under her left arm. The
waves tried to rip it from her, but she wouldn’t let go. Although she knew money didn’t matter, she was on a mission for her parents. This whole disaster had begun with her wanting to repay their debt, and she couldn’t bear the thought of failing.
“Drop that box,” Allie ordered.
“When you drop Kimba.”
That made Allie cry, and instantly Quinn was sorry. She was too sarcastic. It was a bad trait, and she was really seeing all her bad traits just then. Her impatience, her freshness, her meanness. Her little sister was awash in sea waves, and now she was choking on tears too.
“I didn’t mean that,” Quinn said.
“You saved him for me,” Allie gulped. “I know you didn’t.”
“Then why are you crying?”
“Because I’m scared we’re going to die.”
Another big wave came, knocking them off the boat. Quinn held on to the box, grabbing for Allie. Dragging her sobbing sister back to the boat, she practically threw her against the side. She knew they had to hang on. That had been rule number one whenever their mother had taken them sailing: If you ever capsize, girls, stay with the boat no matter what, she had said.
“Don’t let go, Al,” she commanded.
“I’m getting tired, Quinn.”
The waves hit them, made Quinn see stars, and this time when she went under, her mother’s voice just kept going. Keep holding on, my love. Whatever you do, Quinn, don’t let go of the boat.
Mommy, is that you?
It is, Quinny. Hold on. Let go of that box. Drop it now. Tell Allie to let go of Kimba. She’ll be fine, you both will, but you need all your strength.
Was it possible? Quinn shivered with joy. She had just heard her mother’s voice, felt her presence in her heart. “Hold tight, Allie. Someone will come along and rescue us. Remember the mermaids? They’re coming, Allie.”
“There aren’t any mermaids,” Allie said. Quinn looked at her face. She was pure white, and her lips were blue. The tips of her fingers, clinging to Kimba and the boat, looked almost transparent, like little fins. Her mother’s voice continued: Give her hope, honey. Tell her to drop Kimba, use both hands. You too—both hands right now!
“There are, Al. They’re going to save us. There’s one here now, and I think it’s Mommy. Hang on.”
“Mommy!”
Allie’s hand slipped. She fell into the waves, and slapping the surface in an exhausted attempt to swim, pulled herself back. Quinn had a pit in her stomach, and her head was getting light. Were the words real? She had to do something.
Now, Quinn.
The tackle box was weighing her down. It contained five thousand dollars, and all she wanted to do was repay that old man, Jack Conway. This was for her parents, maybe the last thing she would ever do for them. The desire had driven her this far, through the storm, and she hated to give it up. But she knew, looking at her sister’s face, hearing her mother’s voice, that she had to.
“Oh, Mommy,” Allie cried.
“Allie,” Quinn said as a wave hit them both. “Listen to me.”
“I thought you said Mommy was here. But where, Quinn? Where is she?”
“Holding us up, Al. She’s with us now.”
“Why can’t I see or hear her?”
“I don’t know—listen to me. She says you have to drop Kimba.”
“I can’t, Quinn,” she said, hysterical.
“Allie—I’ll drop the money first, okay? Then you can let go of him. Mommy says so… .”
That’s it, my brave girl. Keep going… .
“I can’t …” she cried.
“He won’t drown,” Quinn said. “He knows you love him. He’ll go down to the bottom of the sea, to be with Mommy and Daddy.”
Yes, honey. With me. My baby’s toy …
Allie seemed to hear that. She kissed Kimba, still unable to let go. Quinn looked at the gray plastic box.
You too, Aquinnah. Let go now.
The box had caused her parents so much unhappiness, and she had believed the only way to give them peace would be to return it to its owner. But she heard her mother’s voice, and she had to save her sister, so she dropped the tackle box into the deep gray sea.
Wonderful, honey. That’s it. Now hang on. Watch your sister… .
Seeing Quinn drop the box, with a huge sob Allie kissed Kimba and let him go. She wept, holding on to the side of the boat with both hands. Quinn pressed up beside her. Their legs moved in the same rhythm underwater, trying to stay afloat. Her chest ached. From swallowing so much salt water, her throat stung.
“Oh, Mommy,” Allie cried, her head on the boat’s blue bottom.
Touching her head to her sister’s, Quinn rested there too. She imagined Kimba drifting far into the deep, and for some reason that made her cry almost as much as Allie. She felt so tired. The sea was pulling them down, and she almost couldn’t fight anymore. “Mommy,” Quinn said. “Mommy.”
Suddenly, she wasn’t tired anymore. She looked over at Allie, and she seemed to be holding herself up more easily. Quinn’s legs felt like sand; she stopped moving them, and now she knew for sure that someone was holding her up. The same was true for Allie. Resting against the boat’s bottom, her sister seemed to float easily.
My darlings, the voice came. I love you so much.
“Is it …” Allie began.
“Mommy?” Quinn asked.
Aquinnah and Alexandra.
“Where are you? We have to see you,” Quinn demanded.
“She’s here,” Allie cried, her face glowing. “I hear her!”
I’m always here. Whether you can see me or not, whether you can hear my voice or not.
“You saved us!”
Your love saved each other. Remember that always, children. The love of sisters is even more powerful than the love of mermaids.
“But what about mothers?” Quinn asked, holding her sister’s hand.
Oh, that’s the most powerful love of all. It lasts forever. Remember that, Quinn and Allie. Whenever you feel alone, remember: I’m your mother. For ever and ever.
“I tried to make everything right,” Quinn said. “To pay the man back. I wanted to do it for you and Daddy.”
Thank you, sweetheart. My good, loyal child.
And suddenly, they heard the sound of wind, but it was actually a big sailboat coming at them. Quinn knew she should yell and wave to attract its attention, but she didn’t want her mother to leave. Neither did Allie; her sister had her face in the cloudy water, looking into the waves for the source of that voice they both loved so much.
“Don’t go,” Allie called.
“Mommy!” Quinn yelled.
The big sailboat bore off the wind. Quinn could see that the mainsail was reefed, but now it came down entirely. The motor started. Driving closer, the captain peered over the side.
“Are you both okay?”
“Yes,” Quinn said, her teeth chattering.
“It’s just the two of you? Was there anyone else aboard?”
“Not aboard,” Quinn said, answering as honestly as she could. The man wore a white slicker, and as he leaned over, Quinn pushed her sister up into his arms.
She wanted to stay in the water as long as she could. The waves pushed her legs. She felt the force against her ankles, her knees—or was it something else? When she was very little, she had loved to play in the bathtub. Her mother would hold her feet, teaching her how to kick.
I want you to be a strong swimmer, Quinn. We live by the sea, and I know you’re going to grow up to be a beach girl just like me and your aunt. When the tides are strong, or you find yourself far from shore, just kick your legs and get yourself back to safety. Kick, kick, kick. That’s my girl.
“Kick, kick, kick,” Quinn said out loud now, just as she had then.
Sisters, her mother said. Love your sister, Quinn, the way I love mine.
“Aunt Dana,” Quinn said.
The water surged with more force than ever before.
“I love her t
oo, Mommy. And so does Sam. You don’t know him. He’s kind of young, but he’s wonderful… .”
I do know him, sweetheart.
“Sam helped me know that you didn’t leave on purpose.”
Never, Quinn. Never would I leave you on purpose.
Quinn’s voice caught in her throat. She could hardly speak for joy, and for all the love she felt for her mother.
“Okay, now you,” the man said. Reaching down his arm, he waited for her to grab hold. She hesitated, looking around.
Just to the west, a wave rose. The water spread thin in a long green curl, as if it were about to break. Transparent, the crest was filled with fish. Quinn saw them all—blue, red, orange, looking like a school from the tropics, like the tiny fish in the mermaid’s globe.
On deck, Allie was waiting. She was wrapped in a blanket, and she opened it up to let her sister inside. Quinn huddled against her, and together they stared over the rail into the sea.
The men were on the radio. Quinn heard them calling the Coast Guard, the airwaves crackling with static, to say they had pulled two young girls out of the water, right at the mouth of Narragansett Bay.
“Not the Vineyard?” Allie asked.
“Not quite,” the captain said. “That’s where you were going?”
“Yes,” Quinn said. “We had an errand.”
“In this storm?”
“It was important,” Allie said sadly.
“Well, we’re taking you into Newport,” the other man, tall and blond with a Navy haircut, said. “If that’s okay with you. Your aunt will be waiting for you there.”
Quinn remembered what her mother had said about sisters. She had a lot to tell Aunt Dana. Nodding, saying it was okay, she held Allie’s hand. The men turned the boat around, and the two sisters stared off the stern.
“Are you looking for Kimba?” Quinn asked.
Allie shook her head, her eyes shining. “Mommy has him,” she said.
Quinn nodded. She didn’t have to say anything because she knew Allie’s words were true. But she couldn’t stop scanning the sea, watching for another clear wave, as if it were the mermaid’s globe. The girls stood together, holding hands, not saying one word about what had just happened.