Luanne Rice

by Summer's Child

  “What about you? Will you wear one?”

  Marisa didn’t reply, concentrating on getting the bracelet into position.

  “Mom, you’re coming, aren’t you?”

  “Honey, I have things to do at home.”

  “Like what? Sleeping?” The words snapped out before Jessica could call them back—Marisa saw the regret in her eyes.

  “Don’t say that,” Marisa said, but Jess was right; since moving to Cape Hawk, Marisa had spent most of her time lying down. Depression did that to a person: sapped her strength, stole her hopes, made her feel like hiding in the darkness. And when she thought about the causes of her depression—the same reasons that had driven her to uproot herself and Jess, move hundreds of miles away—well, it made her feel so exhausted and helpless, sleep seemed all the more alluring.

  “If you’re not going, I’m not going,” Jess said.

  “Jess, it’s not the same thing. Rose is your best friend, and she wants you at her party. You’ve got a nice gift for her, and you made her a beautiful card. Her mother has all her friends, and I don’t know anyone … besides, I need to clean. You know I’ve let it get away from me… .”

  Just then another car drove into the parking lot, horn tooting. It was Lily and Rose, with huge, bright smiles on their faces, hands waving, Rose bouncing in her seat with obvious joy. Marisa’s heart skipped a beat, and she felt herself smile—a true smile, from inside. In that very same instant, tears popped into her eyes. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone other than Jess had looked genuinely happy to see her.

  Lily and Rose got out of their car and came over. Marisa rolled down her window.

  “You don’t have to wait in the car,” Rose said. “We can go on the boat right now!” She grinned through the open window at Jess, who glanced at her mother.

  “Please?” Jess whispered.

  “You’re coming, right?” Rose asked, now looking at Marisa.

  “Oh, you have to,” Lily said. “We made party favors for everyone—one has your name on it!”

  “Mom?” Jessica asked.

  Marisa felt the smile—not the one on her face, but the one inside—get bigger. Lily’s eyes were bright and shining, staring into hers. Marisa had the strangest feeling—that Lily understood the hesitation she was feeling. For an instant, she wondered whether Lily could read her mind, know what was really going on; she’d been feeling so raw and transparent for so long.

  “I can’t,” Marisa heard herself say, and suddenly tears began to flow as if someone had turned on a water faucet.

  Lily reached into the open window and put her hand over Marisa’s. Marisa felt electricity flowing right into her skin, and the look in Lily’s eyes was sharp and understanding. At that moment, Jessica got out of the car and she and Rose backed away, to look into the souvenir shop windows.

  “I’m only guessing,” Lily said. “But I think I know.”

  “I never tell anyone,” Marisa said.

  “We need to talk,” Lily said. “Not now, because of the party. But soon. Look, come on the boat with us. It’s just women. Come, for Jessica’s sake. She needs to see you strong, enjoying yourself.”

  “I just don’t feel like seeing people… .”

  Lily smiled. “Is that why you chose this place at the end of the world?”

  “How did you guess?”

  “I’ll tell you another time … right now I have to get onboard the boat, for Rose. Will you come with us?”

  Marisa’s palms were sweating, but she felt herself nod. Funny, her years of working as a nurse had taught her plenty about dissociation—how people who’d been traumatized could go through the motions of life and barely notice what they were doing. As she gathered her purse, Jessica’s present for Rose, and her car keys, she knew that she had been sleepwalking for most of the time they had been in Cape Hawk.

  But as she locked the car, and felt Lily take her hand, squeeze it, she knew she was waking up. She wasn’t sure she wanted to, but Lily’s smile was so bright and real, she thought maybe she’d give it a try.

  So together, two mothers and two daughters walked up the gangplank to the Tecumseh II and got down to the business of a birthday party.

  At eight forty-five sharp, Liam sat in his office, watching Jude check the birthday party aboard the Tecumseh II. The dock parking lot filled up with cars, and girls and their mothers walked up the gangway, loaded with wrapped boxes, warm jackets and fleeces, and binoculars—Lily and Rose among them, climbing aboard with another woman and Jessica, the little girl who had come to find him when Rose needed help. Anne Neill ran down the long green hill from the inn, kissing Jude as she climbed on deck.

  Liam’s stomach jumped. Was it from thinking of the birthday party? Seeing Rose looking so happy? He held in his mind’s eye the picture of her yesterday—crouching by the statue, such fear and exhaustion in her big green eyes.

  He tried to look away from the whale boat, but found he couldn’t. There was Anne standing with Jude, talking, seeming to cajole him, arm around his waist—Liam nearly smiled in spite of himself; his cousin’s MO was to take weekends off, no matter what. Anne was just trying to smooth the fact that he was on duty on a Saturday. Liam could see the affection between them, and for some reason that gave his stomach another lurch.

  Liam had spent the morning so far tracking various sharks, whales, and dolphins via transmitters attached during catch-and-release programs or ongoing tracking projects. He had lots more data to record, but now that it was nearly nine, he switched his program from the desk computer to his laptop. He could do the work later, from home. Grabbing his sweater and duffel bag, he shut the door behind him.

  The crew cast off lines, Jude sounded a long blast from the wheelhouse, and as the Tecumseh II pulled away from the dock, the whale-watch cruise got under way. The whole party had gathered on the upper deck, facing seaward. All except Rose. Liam saw her standing in the aft section of the deck, smiling back—at him.

  Liam gave her a big wave. He made his way down the pier, past the few fishing boats that hadn’t left on the dawn tide. Gerard stood on deck, glaring as Liam walked past. They ignored each other—the battle lines had been drawn the minute Liam had spotted that dolphin fin, sliced off and lying among garbage in the bottom of Gerard’s boat.

  Climbing into his flat-bottomed Zodiac, Liam started up the Yamaha 150 and backed into the harbor. The Tecumseh II had a good head start, but Liam followed in its wake—a pale green swath of foam cutting a trail through the calm blue bay—just like kids in the fairy tale, tracking dropped bread crumbs. The thing was, he could find his way blindfolded. He knew that the whale boat was making for the feeding grounds—the best place to find whales.

  Liam told himself he was on a research mission. He had positive transmission from at least seven migrating marine mammals, all scheduled to arrive in Cape Hawk waters sometime today. He had data coming in from a whale shark as well as a great white, not to mention the whales and dolphins that had already arrived from southern waters. He had himself practically convinced that his trip to the feeding grounds had nothing—or at least, very little—to do with Rose Malone’s ninth birthday party.

  The day was clear and beautiful. He told himself that he could follow the signal for MM122 (marine mammal 122, a nineteen-year-old Beluga whale) and greet her as she returned to her spawning grounds. MM122 was a local favorite, and summer wasn’t summer until she arrived. Unlike other whales, she was coming from the north—she migrated in the opposite direction, loving and craving winters of ice and snow and northern lights. He knew by the beeps of her transmitter that she would appear on the scene today; whether it would happen during Rose’s birthday cruise, he wasn’t positive.

  But if she showed up, and if he picked her up on his laptop, maybe he could radio Jude to send him in the right direction.

  He pounded across the water, following the boat. Off in the distance were seven fine spouts—a pod of fin whales, reliably feeding on krill and small fry, detr
itus churned up by the flume coming down the fjord and upwelling caused by the wave action on the peninsula’s west coast. As the Tecumseh II neared the whales, a great cry went up on deck—all the girls pointing, sighting the whales, laughing with excitement.

  Liam pulled out his laptop, tapped in a password, pulled up the transmission screen. Okay, there it was—MM122. According to his data, she should be in the bay now—out by the headlands, swimming fast toward the feeding grounds. Liam flipped on his radio, called his cousin.

  “T-Two, this is your Marine Bio Cuz—do you copy?”

  “That’s a roger. What are you doing out here?

  “Tracking belugas. If you steer due west one hundred meters, you should meet up with MM122 when she comes up for air.”

  “You’re kidding me. You’re deigning to share reallive scientific data with us money-grubbing whale watchers?”

  “It’s a one-shot deal. What are you waiting for? Change course now.”

  “You got it—and hey, thanks. I think.”

  Liam didn’t even reply. As the big whale boat turned west, Liam gunned the engine, slicing over the Tecumseh II’s wake and around her starboard side in a big S. He drove alongside, guiding his cousin to the spot where MM122 was most likely to surface. One eye on the water ahead, one on his laptop, Liam slowed down. He heard the waves lapping the sides of his inflatable, as well as the disappointed voices of the girls and their mothers. They had seen the whales feeding—now about two hundred yards behind—and couldn’t understand why the boat was turning away.

  As the boats slapped over the small waves, Liam glanced up on deck. Rose and her mother were standing at the rail with several others. Lily had her arm around Rose’s shoulders. She stared straight ahead—not back at the whales—as if she was ready for whatever would surface in her path. The morning sun hit her dark hair, making it look as sleek and glossy as a seal. Liam nearly couldn’t look away, but he had to glance at his computer screen.

  He saw that the depth of MM122 had changed; the whale was coming up for air.

  “Rose,” he called.

  She looked down from the deck, shielding her eyes against the sun. She waved, seeming excited to see him. Lily looked down now, not even taking her arm off Rose’s shoulders to wave or block the sun from her eyes. She just squinted hard, looking straight at Liam and sending a depth charge into his heart.

  “Dead ahead,” he said, letting go of the steering wheel to point with his good arm. Lily didn’t ask questions, and if she had any doubts, they didn’t show. For some reason she just trusted what he was saying to her—without even knowing why, and it was that fact more than anything that moved Liam to the core. He watched Lily shepherd Rose toward the bow, away from the other mothers and daughters. The Tecumseh II was fitted specially for observation, with a bow pulpit that extended ten feet over the open water. Lily held tight to the stainless steel rail and guided Rose straight out.

  Liam gave Jude the signal, and he throttled back. The two boats waited, their engines idling in near silence. Liam’s heart pounded with anticipation, scanning the open water. He imagined Jude doing the same thing. They had whale-watching in their blood; back when they were Rose’s age, they would do this for fun, every day, every year, competing for who would see the whale first. Connor always won.

  This time, Liam felt her before he saw her. Maybe it was the tension coming from Lily and Rose—he saw them gazing intently, their muscles tight, their eyes alert. Liam felt their energy—or was it that of the old whale, having made her mystical journey home, south from the frozen sea at the very top of the world, yet again?

  What had she encountered along the way? What sharks had she dodged? What ice had she broken with her dorsal ridge, needing to breathe just as vitally as Liam himself? What fishing nets had she avoided? She was old now, and Liam had the passionate wish that he could understand her will to keep living, her desire to return again and again to this bay where she had been born. She was here—he felt it.

  “Nanny!” Rose cried out.

  And there she was: the white whale, the St. Lawrence beluga. She surfaced glinting brilliantly in the sun, white as ice, lifting her head as if to survey her surroundings. Four meters long, pure white, with no dorsal fin, but a thick dorsal ridge, running the length of her back. Her spout shot three feet in the air—hardly visible, compared to other whales. Liam heard her breathe once, twice. He wondered whether Rose and Lily could hear, all the way up on the big boat; he wished they were in his Zodiac; he wanted Rose to feel Nanny’s great life force.

  Just then he caught Lily’s eye. Rose was still staring down at Nanny, reaching both her arms out, as if she could somehow embrace the old whale, take hold of her and go for a ride. But Lily stared at Liam. Her eyes were so big and round, wide with both wonder and something hidden, a shock of pain, he’d always thought, that she carried with her all the time. It was Rose, he thought … loving her girl so much. Living with all that worry.

  “She’s going to be fine,” Liam said out loud, looking straight at her.

  Lily cocked her head. Of course she couldn’t hear over the low engine noise, or the excitement of everyone at Rose’s party. He saw her mouth the word “What?”

  The wind blew his hair into his eyes, and he had to let go of the wheel to brush it back. He didn’t want to break eye contact with Lily. But in the instant he looked away, he heard Nanny take one deep breath and then sound. After up to ten breaths at the surface, she’d be down below for about fifteen minutes. Lily and Rose had turned away, inching down the bow pulpit, joining the others on deck.

  Liam had done what he’d set out to do. He knew the party would go on without him. Revving his engine to return to the dock, he heard voices rising.

  “Thank you, Dr. Neill!” Rose called. “For taking us to Nanny!”

  “Happy birthday, Rose,” he called back.

  Lily didn’t say anything, but she was staring at him again, those huge eyes so full of questions. He knew they had nothing to do with him, but he wanted to answer them anyway. He gazed back at her, letting certain realities shimmer between them. Rose had a big surgery ahead of her next week. This was her ninth birthday. Lily was as fierce as a mama bear, and she’d do anything to make sure her daughter stayed safe.

  Liam and she were cut from the same cloth—he knew it. He had taken them to Nanny because it was Rose’s heart’s desire, and because he wanted Nanny’s power to flow into her, take hold of her, fix her heart so she would live long. He was a scientist—he had gone to McGill University, and then to graduate school at the Marine Biological Lab in Woods Hole, Massachusetts. But he was also born by this northern bay and knew the force and magic that came from nature, from things unknown and unseen.

  Just then another boat steamed away from the dock—it was Gerard Lafarge, coming closer to see what everyone was looking at. Liam’s blood felt cold in his veins. He felt danger coming from the man—he knew that anyone who would do what he’d done to the dolphin would hurt other unprotected creatures. Liam kept the Zodiac between Lafarge’s boat and Nanny; but even more so, between Lafarge and Lily and Rose. He saw Lafarge pick up his binoculars and train them on the white whale. Then he put them down and looked over at Lily—just stared at her for a long time.

  Turning his boat around, Liam made a wide circle around the Tecumseh II, not unlike the way a male osprey will circle the nest, keeping an eye on things before flying off to fish. Liam’s laptop was blinking with all the marine mammals returning from their long migration home, but for the moment Liam ignored them, driving his boat in wide, slow circles, just doing his job while his heart beat faster and faster.

  Chapter 7

  They had come from all over, some driving a hundred miles, to gather together, to celebrate Rose Malone’s ninth birthday. There were mothers and daughters, sisters, aunts, grandmothers, old friends, and new friends. Over the years, they had met in some pretty odd places—starting with In Stitches, Lily’s needlework shop on the harbor, where their club had
been born. They had met at the inn, people’s homes, the visitors’ lounge at the hospital, and, one summer evening, in a sunken garden. But this was the first time the Nanouk Girls of the Frozen North had ever met at a birthday party on a boat.

  Rose sat right in the middle of the circle, Jessica by her side. The other young girls pushed in close, to watch her open her presents, and the older women stood back slightly, watching and talking. Lily felt her own heart beating, steady, steady… . She gazed at the daughter she loved so much and thought of every single birthday she’d ever had. They had streaked by, faster than a comet.

  It touched Lily to see Rose surrounded by so much love. Every single person in the room cared about her and would be rooting for her when they went to Boston. The sound of Liam’s engine came through the open windows; it kicked Lily’s heartbeat up a beat, but she stayed focused on the girls and women inside the cabin: the Nanouks. Glancing around the circle, Lily knew every woman but Marisa so well. She knew all—or almost all—the thrills, joys, heartaches, sorrows that had made her friends the amazing women they were. This moment of celebration belied so much; life went on, it always would, but Lily knew how important it was to stop for moments like this.

  Rose opened her packages—she got books, a watercolor set, modeling clay, a silver bracelet, a wallet, two CDs, and a sweatshirt with a beluga whale on the front. Lily could almost feel her daughter’s delight. Sometimes it was as if they had one skin; was it because Rose had been sick for so long, or were all mothers wired into their children? But Lily just felt the joy pouring through her, straight from Rose.

  Just then, the loudspeaker crackled, and Jude’s voice filled the room: “Calling the birthday girl … you and your friends are wanted on deck. We have a few lessons for you, regarding les baleines… .”

  “That means ‘whales’!” Rose translated for Jessica.