September Song

by Jeanie Freeman-Harper

  She tried to form lucid thoughts, but with her core temperature lowered, she was panicked and disoriented. How could no one on board have seen her struggling at the side? Yet the vessel was almost the size of a yacht with a cabin where at least two might be lounging below, while one stayed on deck as skipper. But had not that someone pulled up the ladder just before she reached it? Why and who?

  You gave it a hell of a try, Emma. No one will know you fought to live. Old Moon Lake has beaten you.. Just as it took Ethan...so now it will take you. How easily , how quickly it all worked out.

  Yet, now near delirium, Emma heard a whisper outside of her head ...but it's not the same. Live to find truth. Live for yourself.

  8: Aftermath

  “A ll I'm saying is Emma can have a future right here in Texas,” Lucas declared. “She's secure here with me, Grace. If her father can’t keep her safe...then who can?”

  Yet little did Lucas know, at that very moment, his daughter was anything but safe. It was the time of day when deep discussions seem to begin, in that mellow half light called dusk. The sun was setting behind the hill on which stood the house of St. Claire. Guests were gone, the music had died, and the barn had become simply a barn once more. Inside the great room of the house, Lucas and Benjamin were at odds about Emma’s best interest. Theirs was a timed exchange to end before the subject herself returned from sailing. Grace St. Claire caught up on her reading but occasionally looked up to be sure all was well between the two men.

  After several tense-filled minutes, Benjamin threw up his hands in petulant impatience: “You don’t understand, Lucas. I have a plan for Emma. We have a first class art gallery in Boston. I’ve shown them a few of her paintings that were hanging in my office. They’d like to have a showing of her work. Talent like hers needs to be displayed...so she can build a reputation. ”

  “She can do the same thing in Austin or Dallas or Houston...if that’s what she wants.”

  “You can’t seriously think those cities can compare culturally.”

  “Have you ever been to those cities? Emma can do quite well right here in Texas.”

  The house phone rang just as the conversation was heating up, and Lucas was glad for the interruption. The elderly man on the other end of the line sounded both weary and relieved:

  “Lucas St. Claire?’

  “Yes?”

  “Virgil Spivey here... from down close to the marina?”

  “Yes, Virgil. What can I do for you?”

  “Try not to get upset, but I'm down at the hospital with your daughter...here in the emergency room. I pulled her out of the lake an hour ago...got her wrapped in blankets and brought her in. She suffered a fair amount of hypothermia. They’re giving her fluids and raising her temperature. They expect she’ll be fine, but she is going to need something to wear.”

  “Is she alert? Can I talk to her?”

  “She’s not in a room...so not yet...but they say she’s doing better, and she's going to be okay.”

  “I’m on my way!”

  Lucas was already hanging up when Emma's aged savior said good-bye; when he turned around, he found Grace at his side with eyes glued to his face in search of answers: “Lucas...for God’s sake, tell me what has Emma done to herself?”

  “I don’t know..but I need for you to go up and get her a change of clothes while I get my boots on.”

  Ben was fuming. “Are you even going to tell me what's going on?”

  “Not now. We'll talk more when I get back. Right now, I need to get to our girl.”

  Grace threw Emma's slacks and a blouse in a tote bag and rushed down to give it to Lucas .“Wait,” she pleaded. “Let us go with you.”

  “Please stay here, Grace. Just this once, please listen to me. It’s best you and Ben stay here. Most likely I’ll be bringing her home anyway.”

  “What do you think has happened?”

  “ I don’t know, and we can't speculate.”

  Without another word Lucas was out the door and into his truck, leaving Grace and Ben standing at the door. He sped to the hospital with mind racing:

  What was she doing in the water? Why was she not on the boat? God, don’t let this be what I think it is.

  The old man greeted Lucas at the double doors to the emergency room, and Lucas followed him to the desk and handed the nurse the bag of clothing. She informed him that if he would have a seat in the waiting room, he could go in to see Emma shortly.

  Mr. Spivey sat down with him and began to tell what he knew:

  “I spotted a loose dinghy bobbing out in the lake in some fairly choppy water. Couldn't see much else without my glasses...but I did spot a catamaran farther out...almost to the other side of the lake. So I figured someone had untied that dinghy and tried to make it to the boat...and for whatever reason, that person had fallen out. Believe me. I’ve heard of it happening when people try to grab a ladder to board a larger boat. The dinghy gets shaken by a wake, and they fall out face first. I suspect that’s what happened to your daughter. That water’s a good twenty degrees cooler than the air, and we just had a cool front come in. September is an unpredictable month... not the best time for sailing. At first I couldn’t see your daughter anywhere, but it’s a big lake, and I don’t see none too good. When I looked back toward the pier, a teenage boy was just standing there pointing at a space between the dinghy and the catamaran. That boy didn’t say a word...just pointed.”

  “What did he look like?”

  “Like a beach boy is the only way I know how to describe him...shoulder length blond hair...you know, like the kids used to wear fifteen or twenty years ago....medium height and strong, compact build. In fact he reminded me of that life guard down a the city pool years ago. What was his name....oh...that Abernathy boy. It couldn’t be him of course, seeing as he’s been gone a long time. The weird part was I could almost see straight through him, like he was almost transparent. My old eyes must be playing tricks is what I figured. I looked where he was pointing and saw your daughter break the surface of the water. I cranked up my bass boat and headed out to her. On the way back in, I turned to say something to the boy, but he had disappeared...as if he had never even been there. Don't tell nobody that though. My wife suspects I have dementia. She'll try to put me in the nursing home.”

  “Could you see far enough to make out who was on board the catamaran?”

  “Well, No. I can tell you it was the Walkers’ boat... a good sized sail boat...like a cabin cruiser. It was too far for me to tell much, especially without my glasses. I’m half blind you know.”

  Lucas rose as the doctor came out to report that Emma’s temperature was back up to normal. Although he wanted to keep her overnight, he said she refused and was getting dressed to leave. Lucas gave her some time before going in and holding her to him.

  “I’m alright,” she murmured. “ I just want to go home, clean up and rest.”

  As much confusion as there was in Lucas' mind, he was certain someone hadn't cared if Emma drowned—unless no one had seen her trying to come aboard. Out of a possible three people that seemed unlikely. He now knew his daughter had struggled mightily to survive. To him that was a sign of her sanity. After that night, he could no longer question his daughter's mental state or her preoccupation with death. She had fought to live.

  “I just want to go home,” she repeated.

  “Of course. I'll take you home,” Lucas replied. “You don't have to stay.”

  He helped her onto his truck and turned on the heater just long enough to take the edge off the chill. When at last she seemed comfortable, he opened the discussion of her struggle.

  “Emma, who did you see on deck... on the side where the ladder was?”

  “I don't know. It's all fuzzy. I was being tossed about in the wake of a ski boat that came in too close to the sail area. I fell out of the dingy. I was chilled and swallowed a lot of water and the dinghy drifted. My clothing weighed me down, and I struggled. I suppose I was disoriented when I came bac
k up and didn’t see the ladder any more. I could have sworn I was on the same side as the ladder... but it was not there, Dad.”

  “Who all was on the boat. Do you know?”

  “I know who must have been on board...Brad, Amy and Tommy. The others had gone ahead in other boats. Something didn't seem right to me...but I suspect I was still in shock from cold water and was disoriented and groggy. I should never have left without a life vest, but they had all been taken. I should have turned around and gone back to the house.”

  One thing you keep to yourself.. about Ethan being there underwater with you. No one will believe that... and you must never tell it.

  Lucas decided to change the subject when he saw the confusion in Emma's eyes: “Well...let's get you back. Your mother and Ben are waiting and wondering. We’ll check into what happened tomorrow. I’ll talk to Tommy. Let's get you some hot tea, eh?”

  Emma groaned. “ Dad, I drank enough hot tea in Boston to sink a ship—one of Mother's afternoon rituals was tea time. Never have cared for it. We Texans drink it cold and sweet, don't we?”

  “Then how about we sneak a slurp of your mama's Christmas brandy again? I know where she hid it." Emma nodded and smiled wanly.

  “A girl after my own heart. I forgot that it's your mother who loves hot tea.”

  So much he had forgotten about the women once in his life.

  “I tried to like the things she liked. I always wanted to please Mother...but I 'm no more like her than you are.”

  “I've always known that, but your mother loves you, regardless of your differences. Don’t be too hard on her. She just wants what's best for you.”

  “Does she? She wants to choose my husband for me!”

  “Well...Grace has good taste. She chose me to be her husband, right?”

  “You're right, of course. I'm too tired to argue.”

  “What's that old line? Father knows best? Joking aside, I do understand. Trust me on this. I wasn't impressed with your Boston beau...but if you decide he's the one, then I'll accept him. Best thing to do is ignore everybody's advice and marry the man who rings your bell.”

  “...and is it Ruby who rings your bell?”

  “Now you know I'm not discussing that.”

  “Well, neither am I.”

  Lucas chuckled. “I do have one question though...one that's weighing heavily on my mind after this incident with you floundering around in the lake...and I must have an answer.”

  Emma gave him a guarded look: “What's that?”

  “Do you think its too late for a refund on those swimming lessons I paid for when you were a kid?”

  He's trying to make you smile. He's trying to be lighthearted, but he's worried sick. Smile no matter how bad you feel.

  Lucas pulled up to the St. Claire house—that stone and wooden monument to both joy and melancholia. Brad's pickup was parked in the yard, and that in itself was a sign he knew something. As if of one accord, father and daughter stalled a few seconds longer in the cab of his truck. A light rain had begun to trickle down the windshield, providing a curtain of privacy in the graying light.

  As for the father, he thought of the little girl who once sat in his lap chattering merrily and compared her to the withdrawn, silent woman beside him. Where had time gone, and what had it taken with it? What had it taken from him that he could not retrieve? Lucas felt a tear slip down his cheek. He knew in his heart that the only way to resolve anything was with truth. The only peace his daughter would find was the knowledge of what really happened to Ethan. Finding the truth after all those years was the tricky part.

  Taking a slow, relaxing breath, Lucas turned to his wet headed, bedraggled daughter: “I hope the lions have been fed, “ he drawled. “ Let's go in and do battle.”

  Coming in the front door, the first person they saw was none other than Brad Caldwell, nose sunburned from an afternoon on the water.

  “Word spreads fast in a small town,” he explained, seeing Emma's puzzled look. “I was at Ruby’s getting a bite to eat after we docked, and a man told me he saw old man Spivey bring you in off the lake.”

  “And where were you when I needed you?” She pushed past a wide-eyed, seemingly clueless Brad, and she and Lucas went inside to face her mother and Ben.

  Grace stopped her short: “Emma, you’re in no condition to get into this now. You’re exhausted. I'll run you a nice hot tub. You've been through an ordeal and you're still disoriented.”

  Lucas placed an arm around Emma's shoulder. “Leave her alone, Grace...let her talk.”

  Emma spoke slowly and quietly, as if willing herself to string the words together: “I’m telling all of you that after what happened, I’m finished with the Walkers and several others in that group we once called the Invincibles. The only ones who seem invincible are Tommy and Amy. No matter what they do, they lead a charmed life.”

  Grace gave her daughter a hurt look. “Emma! I can not believe you would forsake the Walkers. Their parents were my friends for years when I lived here. Why Amy and Tommy come from highly respected families.”

  “By that you mean they're filthy rich and control everything that happens in Cobblers Cove.”

  “Don’t be so harsh. You would do well to emulate the Walkers’ success in their personal life...and at least Amy opted for motherhood and gave her mother four grandchildren.” Grace smiled as if giving a gentle jab, but her words had more the sting of a wasp.

  “It's always about you, isn't it Mother? Your every scheme regarding my life has been about either making yourself look good or shielding yourself from embarrassment. Now I’ve gone and embarrassed you again by nearly drowning. The entire town of Cobblers Cove will know about it tomorrow...if they don’t know already...and I can imagine what they will think, considering my so-called disorder.”

  “Come and lie on the sofa and rest. You’re in no condition to be upsetting yourself.”

  “I don't seem to be in any condition well enough to deal with the lies and pretense in this town any more...and don't throw Amy's motherhood up to me. The first time around, Amy may or may not have chosen to get pregnant...but then I realized something today. She was given what should have been mine: Ethan’s son. Can you not look at Jacob...her oldest... and see whose son he is? “

  Then she turned toward Brad: “That is the truth you dreaded telling me, isn't it?”

  Brad nodded. “Tommy confided to me that Amy had become pregnant that summer of '96, while you were on vacation. She took a pregnancy test about the last month of summer vacation, around August. Tommy wasn't sure if the baby was his or Ethan’s, and they broke up over it...for a little while.”

  “So Tommy knew? And he married her anyway?”

  “I know he did catch onto what was going on. Amy taunted him about Ethan. She loved making that boy jealous. But his family wanted to believe it was their grandchild, and they forced the marriage. Her family didn’t want a scandal on their hands and agreed to it. They would never have dreamed the baby might belong to anyone else. Just the same...Georgia Abernathy stated several times she believed the boy was her grandson and all that was left of Ethan. She knew what had happened that summer. Mother’s always figure those things out somehow.”

  Grace shook her head solemnly: “On the boy's paternity we can agree, Emma. I don't doubt it. Even I could see the boy is the very image of Ethan as I remember him. Brad, do you think Tommy resented Ethan for that?”

  “Oh yeah. There was some bad blood that summer.”

  Emma felt both tired and uncomfortable with the subject: “Brad, can you come upstairs with me for a few minutes? I need to discuss this in private...about today and what happened on the lake, but there are other things just as important.”

  Benjamin came out of his chair. “What is there that you can’t say in front of me? I need to come up with him. Do you think its wise for you to have a man in your bedroom?”

  “You are a proper Bostonian, aren't you? I don’t think of Brad as a man. Brad and I grew up togeth
er, Ben. You don't know how it is.”

  “I believe I can see how it is with him. Maybe you can’t see it.”

  “Nevertheless, you’re not in charge of a board meeting in Boston here. You’re on my turf.”

  “Have it your way,” Benjamin snipped, with eyes following them as they ascended the stairs..

  Once in the privacy of her room, Emma sat on the edge of her bed next to her old childhood friend and explained what had happened in the lake earlier: about her fear and confusion and the terrible moment when she reached for the ladder that had suddenly disappeared. Brad could only repeat over and over, swearing on everything sacred, that he had not seen her...nor had he been involved in any way. Finally, she let the subject go, realizing of the three on-board the catamaran, it was unlikely that anyone would have admitted anything.

  “There’s something else I wish I had an answer to. How could you tell me you knew Ethan loved me? How could he betray me with Amy if he loved me?”

  “What happened between him and Amy doesn't mean he wanted her. Amy threw herself at him. She had a thing for him all the way back to grade school. Everyone could see it but you. She took advantage of your being away and pushed until he crumbled. She had to run her game before you came home in September. No matter what finally happened, it was always you Ethan wanted. And I don’t know why I feel like I need to defend him.”

  “Because he’s not here to defend himself,” Emma whispered.

  Brad laced his fingers together palms up and stared down at them before speaking:

  “Remember what you said one time about the 'other girl' winning every time. That kind doesn’t win, Emmie. They may conquer the boy for ten or fifteen minutes in a moment of recklessness...and even if the boy is forced to marry them, they seldom win. They live the rest of their lives disillusioned because they try to force love by seduction. They end up divorced or living in mediocre or downright miserable marriages.”

  “How did you learn so much about it...from your own short marriage?”

  Brad shrugged. “Maybe.”