Luanne Rice

by Summer's Child

  But several of her friends were French Canadian, and Lily knew Jude had said it for them. She loved the Neill men’s kindness, and she was grateful her daughter—who had never even known her father—could experience it.

  As the girls went out on deck, Lily glanced at Marisa. Lily had started the Nanouk Girls out of a very personal, secret need; she recognized the exact same thing in Marisa.

  “Fine party, Lil,” Anne said, coming over to where Lily stood by the window.

  “She’s having a great time,” Lily said, watching Rose laugh with her friends as Jude gathered them on deck.

  “It didn’t hurt that Nanny showed up.”

  “How did that happen? It was almost as if Jude and Liam got together and planned it.”

  “It wasn’t Jude,” Anne said.

  “Well, Liam then. He’s always tracking something on his computer. I walk past his office and see it blinking, hear it beeping… .”

  “He spends too much time with sea creatures,” Anne said. “And not enough with humans.”

  “I’d spend time with him,” Marlena said, walking over with a glass of punch. “If I hadn’t sworn off men forever.”

  “Oh, c’mon now,” Anne said. “You don’t mean that. Just because Arthur was a louse doesn’t mean all men are.”

  “Hey, I know you’re married to a great guy, but when my Barbara was just five, her father up and left, moved in with a whole other family, forgot all about us. So I don’t know about all men, but I do know about one bad one… .”

  Marisa stood off to the side, as if wondering whether she should join in. Lily smiled, drawing her closer, knowing that this was what Marisa had come for, whether she knew it or not.

  “She missed her father so much,” Marlena continued. “She’d work herself into a fever, crying every night. I’d read her a bedtime story, and any time there was a daddy in it, she’d be just inconsolable. She’d fall asleep and dream about her father, and then wake up crying so hard she couldn’t get back to sleep. I had to keep her home from school a couple of days, because she was so tired.”

  “Do you think children can literally get sick from missing their fathers?” Cindy asked.

  “Depends on the children,” Jodie said.

  “No, depends on the fathers,” Marlena said. “When they don’t care enough to be a part of the kids’ lives …”

  “Come on,” Suzanne said, smiling. “You’re not still that bitter, are you?”

  “Trying not to be,” Marlena said. “I’m working through it, as they say.”

  “Just don’t let it eat you up, honey,” Doreen said.

  Lily listened with interest, but more for Marisa’s sake than anything else. She had spent long hours with her own demons, many years ago. The Nanouk Girls had helped her exorcise them for good.

  “I’d like it to eat him up,” Marlena said. “Maybe a nice big shark. If Dr. Neill could find a white whale for Rosie, maybe he could find a nice big great white for Arthur.”

  “Don’t joke about sharks with Liam,” Anne said quietly. Even as she spoke, Lily turned slowly, to look out the window. She saw the Zodiac moving in wide, slow circles around the whale boat. Liam was tall and rangy, and at the wheel of his boat he hunched his shoulders. His hair was dark brown, but where it waved slightly, it glinted silver.

  Lily stared out the window, watching Liam. There was another boat out there too. She squinted to see—Gerard Lafarge’s. There was something in his manner—his cockiness, the entitled way he walked around—that Lily didn’t like. Gerard was watching Nanny with binoculars, and the sight gave Lily a chill.

  “No,” Lily echoed. “Don’t mention sharks in front of Liam—after what happened to him and his brother.”

  “And Jude,” Anne said. “My husband was there too. They’ve never gotten over it, and I’m sure they never will.”

  “Some things are too terrible to get over,” Marisa said.

  Everyone turned and looked at her. Lily had introduced her when they first came aboard, and she knew they were all curious. But Marisa, as if she already regretted her words, was backing off, turning away. Lily glanced casually back at Gerard, and was relieved to see him turn around, driving the boat out to sea.

  “Marisa, wait,” Anne said. “Come talk with us.”

  “Yes—while the girls are on deck, tell us a little about yourself,” Cindy said. “What brings you to Cape Hawk? Is your husband a fisherman? Or oceanographer?”

  “I’m … um, I’m divorced,” Marisa said. Lily’s full attention was on her now, and she seemed very uncomfortable—not quite embarrassed, but more as if she were safeguarding a secret and didn’t want to let any details out. Lily knew the dynamic so well.

  “Only three things would bring a person way up here,” Alison said. “Family in the area, an insane love of nature, or escape from a bad marriage.”

  From the way Marisa reddened, Lily thought Alison had guessed one of the reasons.

  “When you said ‘some things are too terrible to get over,’ ” Marlena said, “I thought—yep. Betrayal, beatings, and behaving like a four-year-old. The big three.”

  “I can’t,” Marisa began.

  “The girls are outside,” Anne said. “They won’t hear.”

  Lily edged closer to Marisa. She wanted to explain—or at least to give her the sense—that the group wasn’t about gossip. They didn’t need to know the gory details of each other’s lives.

  “We’re far from home, some of us,” Lily said. “We’ve become each other’s sisters.”

  “I have a sister,” Marisa said, her eyes starting to glitter. “Who I haven’t talked to in so long …”

  “Do you miss her?” Lily asked.

  “More than you can imagine.”

  “Why can’t you call her?”

  “Because he might have her phones tapped. He said he’d never—never—let us go.”

  “But you got away.”

  “We did,” Marisa stammered. “But instead, we feel trapped.”

  “Because you’re afraid?”

  “That, and other things … we can’t move freely. Can’t be ourselves …”

  “It passes,” Lily said.

  “I feel so lonely up here sometimes.”

  “You have us now,” Cindy said. “We just met you, but we’re your friends. We’re glad you’re here, Marisa.”

  Marisa tried to smile, but she couldn’t quite. Sensing that it was all too much for her, Lily took her elbow. “Let’s get some punch, okay?” she said, leading Marisa toward the buffet table.

  It seemed so casual, two women pouring paper cups of pink punch, taking small plates of cut-up cheese and fruit. Jude’s voice drifted in the open window, explaining to the girls about how baleen whales were filter feeders, eating four to five metric tons of krill a day, the weight of an adult elephant. The Nanouks were still talking, some of them embroidering or needlepointing as the stories poured out.

  “When you said you were lonely,” Lily said, “you meant for him, didn’t you?”

  “Him?” Marisa asked, looking shocked.

  “Your husband. Or ex-husband—that’s right, you said you were divorced. Is he Jessica’s father?”

  “He’s her stepfather,” Marisa said, the glass of pink punch halfway to her lips.

  “You finally left him … it took so much courage. You’re lonely for the dreams you had. The love you believed, right down till the last day, that was in him.”

  “How do you know?” Marisa whispered.

  “I could be a fortune teller,” Lily said quietly. “When it comes to this. Let me see. You loved him—more than you ever imagined possible. He swept you off your feet, right? He made you believe in love at first sight. You let him into your life. There were things, though.”

  “Things,” Marisa said. Outside, on deck, Jude was saying that a blue whale’s tongue weighed as much as a young elephant, its heart as much as a small car.

  “The lies. How you never knew quite whether you could beli
eve what he told you. And the way you were always wrong and he was always right. Scary things too.”

  “Yes,” Marisa said. “Very scary …”

  “You had doubts. You wondered sometimes, but you told yourself you were wrong. You loved him so much. Your poor wounded man …”

  “How do you know he’s wounded?”

  “They all are,” Lily said, smiling. “Terribly, terribly so. And it’s always someone else’s fault.”

  “It always is,” Marisa said, starting to smile for the first time.

  “Beginning with their parents. They always have the absolute worst childhoods. Straight out of Dickens, complete with utter poverty and someone who was horribly cruel and beat them black and blue… .”

  “Which justifies them being cruel to us.”

  “Of course,” Lily said.

  “Do you think they actually have awful childhoods? Or is that just another lie?”

  Lily took a slow, careful sip of punch. She closed her eyes and thought of all the very many times she had asked herself that same question, how many long-ago sleepless nights she had stared up at the moon and stars, asking them how such terrible things could be visited on human beings.

  “I grieve for any child who is hit,” she said. “Or hurt in any way. But you know, to grow up and use that as an excuse to hurt us—uh-uh. I don’t buy it. So, in that way, whether it’s true or not is beside the point.”

  “I never thought of it that way,” Marisa said.

  “Is that one of the things that makes you lonely for him?” Lily asked. “Remembering how you used to hold him and comfort him? Are you wondering how he’s surviving without you?”

  Marisa nodded, and the smile was gone. “I’m a nurse,” she said. “He told me I was healing him.”

  “While he was destroying you?”

  “He never actually hit me.”

  “No, neither did mine,” Lily said. “There are worse ways to destroy a person. I’m glad you got away. It had to be bad, for you to have come so far away. Away from your friend. I think what you’re actually missing is not him.”

  “But there’s such a hole in my life,” Marisa whispered, her voice so hoarse, it sounded like bark being torn from a tree.

  “You miss love,” Lily said. “You miss the dream. You miss the dream of love you thought you had with him. That’s why I started the Nanouk Girls of the Frozen North.”

  “The Frozen North. Canada,” Marisa said.

  “Oh,” Lily said. “Did you think the name refers to geography? It doesn’t. It’s here—” She touched her own heart. “The Frozen North is where we lived, loving them, for so long. You’re free now, Marisa. Welcome to the thaw.”

  On deck, Rose believed she had never felt so happy. Her birthday party was a crazy wonderful success—all her friends were having the time of their lives. Captain Neill had showed them fin whales, humpbacks, minkes, one blue whale, and of course, Nanny. He had told them how Nanny and other belugas are born light brown, but molt every year, until turning white at age six.

  He brought all the girls into the wheelhouse and let them take turns holding the wheel, reading the compass, watching the radar, and tuning in to Dr. Neill’s reports on where Nanny and the other whales were.

  “Would you like to talk on the radio, birthday girl?” Captain Neill asked.

  “Me?” Jessica asked.

  Rose laughed at her friend’s joke, watching Jessica blush.

  “I’m just kidding,” Jessica said.

  “You’re a regular comedian,” the captain said. “My wife runs the inn, and we could use you on Friday nights. We’re always looking for a good act. What’s your name?”

  “Jessica Taylor.”

  “Ah. ‘Jessica Taylor, the Birthday Girl,’ ” he said. “Not!”

  All the girls laughed, as if he was the comedian. He was tall and ruddy, with dark brown hair like his cousin, Dr. Neill. He had lots of lines in his sun-and wind-weathered face, and a wide grin, as if he enjoyed joking and making people laugh. He drove the boat over the waves here at the mouth of the bay, with a sort of gentleness that Rose appreciated. Her chest hurt today. She felt breakable—as if the impact of going over the open water could crack her open, so everything inside would spill out. But somehow the salty air felt so fresh and cool going into her lungs, it soothed her into forgetting.

  “What is your birthday, Jessica?” Allie asked. “Your real one, I mean.”

  “Today,” Jessica said, laughing. “And tomorrow. Oh—and the next day too!”

  “Come on, real birthday girl,” the captain said over the giggling, tapping Rose on the shoulder. “Get on the radio and ask my cousin where the whales have gone.”

  “I don’t know how,” Rose said.

  “You go like this—” the captain said, showing her how to lift the mouthpiece and push the button on the side. “Push to talk, and then say ‘over,’ and listen. All twelve-year-olds should know how to talk on the radio.”

  “But I’m only nine!” she said.

  “You’re kidding.”

  She shook her head.

  He rolled his eyes and shook his head, as if he couldn’t believe it. “Well, you had me fooled. I could have sworn you were twelve. You’re such a big kid.”

  Rose liked the way he made a half-circle with one arm, for her to stand in. She also felt proud, listening to what he’d said about her age. She was so much smaller than her friends—with her heart condition, she had never really grown right. Some boys at school called her “midget” when she walked by. Captain Neill had just made her feel both normal and special at the same time. And now she was getting to use the radio.

  “Dr. Neill,” she said, pushing the button. “Over.”

  “Rose, is that you? Over.”

  “It’s me. Thank you,” she said.

  Now, looking out the wheelhouse window as she held the mike, she saw him in the orange Zodiac, making wide circles.

  “You saw Nanny on your birthday,” he said. “How about that? She knew, and came back just in time.”

  “Do you think she really knew? Over.”

  “I do. I think she sensed that we wanted her here. Whales are very intelligent, Rose. Especially Nanny. She’s been around a long time, and I think she knows the people who watch out for her.”

  The people who watch out for her … Rose heard him say those words, and she saw him in the Zodiac, and then turned to look at her mother in the main cabin, just through the wheelhouse door. The people who watch out for her …

  “I want Nanny to watch out,” Rose said in the lowest voice imaginable, without pushing the button, “for my mother.”

  “What’s that you say, sweetheart?” the captain asked. “You’ve got to speak up—and don’t forget to press that little button there. That’s it. Talk into the mike—there you go.”

  “Thank you again, Dr. Neill,” Rose said.

  “Ask him where the whales are now,” Captain Neill reminded her. “He’s the expert.”

  “Where are the whales now?” Rose asked.

  “Just east, a few hundred yards,” Dr. Neill said. He was holding the mike in his good hand, so he pointed with his prosthesis. Rose followed with her eyes. She saw spouts, the vapor iridescent in the sunlight.

  Behind her, Britney and Allie giggled and whispered; Rose felt a pang when she heard someone squeal, “Captain Hook!”

  It felt like a punch in the chest.

  She turned around, saw Britney imitating a person with a hook for a hand. Her hand bent sharply at the wrist, fingers extended and held tightly together, stiff as a paddle. Their eyes met, but instead of stopping, Britney waved with her claw-hand. That made Allie shriek with laughter. Rose felt Captain Neill’s eyes on her and her friends, and her shoulders pulled together in front, with shame. She handed him the microphone, sure he wouldn’t want her to use it anymore—not with friends who made fun of his cousin.

  But the captain just patted her head, told her she was doing a great job. He was saying so
mething about asking Liam where Nanny was, but just then Rose felt the leak get bigger. It was like a bicycle tire that has a tiny pinprick … the air just hisses out a little at a time, till the little hole becomes a tear, and then it starts to rush.

  Rose swayed—bumping against the hard steel wheel, and then against the captain’s arms. She heard Dr. Neill’s engine idling—such a comforting sound, to know he was right there. She had to turn around, had to see Britney. Jessica stood between them.

  “What’s wrong, Rose?” Jessica asked.

  Rose opened her mouth. She knew she didn’t have much time.

  “Rose—it’s like what happened on the way home from school, right?” Jessica asked, but she didn’t even wait for Rose to answer. Rose knew she was running for her mother.

  “Britney,” Rose said, staring into her friend’s brown eyes. “Don’t call him that … please? He’s my friend. He wanted me to see Nanny for my birthday.”

  “I know, I’m sorry,” Britney said, looking stricken—was it because of what Rose had said, or the fact that she was turning blue? Rose had seen that look in the eyes of so many of her friends when she started having a spell.

  The dizziness flooded up, surrounding her like waves, pulling her under the sea. Her thoughts were crazy. She remembered her two wishes: one of them had come true. Nanny was back, and Rose had seen her. But her other wish—even greater, more urgent—came upon her now. She wanted it with such passion, she thought she would die of it, and she knew she might. Rose had never been intimidated by that thought—her heart was working so hard to keep her alive, but Rose knew it might not forever.

  “I want my father to be,” Rose mumbled, her legs giving out. “I want him to be, I want him to be …”

  “What, sweetheart?” Captain Neill asked, grabbing her hard, lifting her up in his arms.

  “I want my father to be a good man,” Rose said. “A good daddy who loves me …”

  And then she went away.

  Chapter 8

  The first Liam noticed that there was some kind of problem was when he saw that the Tecumseh II had stopped and was drifting.

  He had been heading east, following the undersea ridge—he could see it on the sonar, the geological phenomenon that created upwelling, attracting the whales with a rich food source. He had several screens going at once—sonar, radar, and tracking. There was MM122, dead ahead—right at the blue surface, glistening bright white in the sun. That’s when Liam turned, to make sure Jude was steering in the right direction.