A CRY FROM THE DEEP

by Unknown

  “Sorry,” he said, “I went to check. I was sure there was a cannon peeking out from the other side of the hull.”

  “Didn’t you hear me? God, Daniel…” Her heart was beating as fast as a hummingbird’s wings.

  “Are you okay?”

  “NO!” She steadied herself, as she slowed her breathing down to normal.

  “I had the volume turned down. I was getting some static, and it was irritating.” He made a production of turning up the sound. “I…, I didn’t think I was gone that long.”

  He looked genuinely apologetic. Maybe he was telling the truth. She couldn’t tell but she wasn’t going to waste any more time wondering. That could come later. Now, with him by her side, she swam back to where the spirit had motioned her to go. There, near the boards of the hull, she knelt down on what little sand there was. She peered around but couldn’t see anything other than some shells and stones. There was a piece of crockery, but nothing significant.

  Daniel hovered nearby. “Found anything?”

  “No, nothing.” Catherine began to dig in that spot, her fingers poking around the shells and stones. She managed to push away some of the debris, revealing something black. She dug down some more, exposing more of the object. It took a few more tries before she could see it was a woman’s black leather lace-up boot.

  Catherine suppressed a sob. “Daniel! The woman in my dream wore boots like this one.” The footwear was remarkably well preserved, but it showed the wear and tear of someone who’d worn it for years.

  Daniel knelt down beside her. “Extraordinary!”

  She pulled the boot out and held it in her hand. She then looked for the phantom to see if this was what she’d wanted her to find, but the woman in the white dress was gone.

  Daniel said, “We’d better go up. We’ve been down long enough.”

  Catherine could see Daniel’s mouth moving, but her mind was on what she’d found. She couldn’t move, her knees were rooted to the sea floor. Sadness over how Margaret had died flowed over her like water from a shower. Her eyes darted from one end of the barque wreck site to the other, as if the spirit might return at any moment. She had the sense that someone wanted her to stay.

  “Catherine,” he said, more loudly. “We have to go.”

  “I was hoping she’d come back.”

  “Maybe your work is done here.”

  “I don’t know.”

  He shouted that more time was impossible. She checked her dive table and her computer watch, hoping he was wrong. But both devices indicated she needed to rise and decompress. Her inclination was to stay longer, to see if there was anything else she needed to find. She could hear Daniel calling her name, as if from a distance. Her legs remained glued to the spot.

  Daniel was shaking her; his eyes looked fierce. “We have to go now! I’ll carry the boot for you.”

  He yanked her arm and reluctantly, she rose with him. The currents were strong and it took all her strength to swim back up. Daniel stayed with her every step of the way. She knew she’d been acting irresponsibly, but she also knew she’d never see what was left of the Alice O’Meary again.

  Once on board and in the fresh air, Catherine quickly regained her composure. It was as if she’d been slapped in the face. She was relieved that Daniel had pushed her to rise. She glanced over at him. He was peeling off his dry suit and talking to Olaf. Maybe she’d misjudged him. Maybe it was her love for him that had messed up her mind. But was that love? Or just lust? He’d saved her. He was the one who had encouraged her to leave when she was no longer making good judgments. If it wasn’t for him, she’d still be down there. Also, this time he didn’t scold her. It was as if he understood her business with the ghosts.

  As for Olaf, he showed no interest in the boot. He said, “Not much of a keepsake, but suit yourself. Did you find anything else?”

  Daniel said, “We left everything the way we found it.”

  Olaf’s face was enigmatic. Catherine couldn’t tell whether he was satisfied with the answer or not.

  She stood by while Daniel carefully washed the boot and then immersed it in a bath of glycerol and alcohol. Without this solution, the boot could disintegrate into a pile of dust within a matter of hours. To see Margaret’s footwear in real life—and not just in her dreams and imaginings—was overwhelming. Catherine’s whole being vibrated with the excitement of what she’d found. Once more, she was awed by the majesty of life, the stories that came unbidden.

  But soon her joy evaporated with the realization she was leaving with a number of unanswered questions. Why had Margaret’s spirit chosen her? Was it because she was Margaret reincarnated, or was the likeness only a coincidence? Catherine had figured out what’d happened to Margaret and the ring’s connection, but there was still something missing.

  The more she questioned, the more irritated she became. She’d spent enough time trying to help someone from the past. If the spirits wanted help, they should’ve been clearer. Catherine had been paid handsomely to work on this dive for Frank, not spend hours chasing some whim that a couple of ghosts had. It was the damn ring that had taken her astray. It was only when Daniel shouted, “Hey, Catherine, you better get out of that dry suit and warm up,” that she realized she’d been sitting on the bench shivering. Daniel had already changed into his jeans and t-shirt and was at the bow talking to Olaf.

  When Olaf went to lift the anchor, she started for the galley steps but stopped on the starboard side. Without thinking twice, she twisted the ring off her finger. Holding it in her right hand, she looked down at the sea and said quietly, “Maybe this is what you wanted all along, Margaret. Your ring where it belongs. With you and James in your final resting place.” She kissed it and threw it over the side.

  THIRTY-SIX

  As the water ran down her body in the dive boat’s shower, Catherine considered all that had transpired. It was curious that Daniel had been there when she found the boot. She’d wanted to tell him she’d dreamt about the young man who’d been betrothed to Margaret. How the young man in her dream had looked exactly like him. How the more she had probed, the more she had come to believe that she and Daniel had lived in another time and were meant to be together.

  Not in this lifetime, though. Daniel was going to be a father. She’d sound desperate if she said anything now. It wasn’t how she wanted to say good-bye. Besides, she told herself there was a lot about Daniel she didn’t know.

  ~~~

  When she stepped off the boat, Daniel was there, extending his hand. “I’m glad we had a chance to do that.”

  His warm hand wasn’t enough. She wanted to know he was an honest man. She let go of his grasp. “Thanks, again. I know the boot’s not a valuable find, but I hope it finds its way to a museum.”

  He looked at her quizzically. “You were guided to it. It was meant for you.”

  She smiled. “I can’t wear it without the other one. Besides, I’ve never been good at taking care of leather.” She walked away feeling his eyes upon her.

  ~~~

  Her dive with Daniel to the Alice O’Meary turned out to be the last one they would have together. After that, the weather became abominable and further salvaging was again postponed. Daniel called her several times, asking if she wanted to meet for lunch or dinner. Every time, she made some excuse like she needed to review her photos, catch up on some email correspondence or shop for more souvenirs for Alex—even though she knew she could buy those at the airport. It was hard saying no to Daniel, but she’d made up her mind that seeing him only made things worse. She did however tell him on the phone she’d drop by before she left. That would be hard enough.

  ~~~

  Catherine said her good-byes the night before in the hotel pub. Most were sorry to see her go. The only two hold-outs were Hennesey and Raul. According to Joy, they had to fix something on the boat.

  “You know, those two,” said Joy, shrugging.

  Catherine wanted to say bullshit, but she was just as glad they were ab
sent. She wouldn’t have been able to hide her disgust. If justice prevailed, they`d get theirs soon enough,

  “Anyway,…” Joy said, throwing her hands up. “Wish you could stay one more week. There’s going to be too much testosterone flyin’ around for my comfort.”

  “You could always push him overboard if he gets too frisky.”

  Joy chortled. “You’re talkin’ the whole crew now.”

  After hugging the others—Jerry, Gabe, Olaf, Alfredo, Patrick and Tom—Catherine left with Daniel, who insisted on walking her back to her B & B. They were mostly quiet as they trudged up the road together. They talked about the charm of Killybegs and their plans to meet with Frank, but nothing personal. It was as if they both knew it was better not to bring up what had gone on between them. There was no way out of the conundrum. Like her mother used to say, You make your bed, you lie in it, or something like that.

  When he hugged her by the front door of Sea Breeze, she tensed up. It was her way of protecting herself, her way of parting with the man who had stolen her heart.

  ~~~

  The plane ride home was uneventful. She was glad she had a window seat and the female passenger next to her was asleep. She was in no mood for conversation. She read, slept, and re-examined her photos on her laptop. She lingered on a few of Daniel—showing off his lean muscular body as he pulled on his dry suit, posing with Alberto by the anchor they’d found, and laughing along with the crew down in the galley over lunch. Desire was awakened every time she zoomed in on his face.

  Her thoughts drifted to what she’d tell Barbara. She hoped her therapist could help her make sense of this otherworldly voyage she’d taken. She also needed help processing a love she thought she had and was now lost forever. That was the problem with love. It was heavenly if it was mutual, and hellish, if it wasn’t.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Alex was waiting for her at the arrivals area holding a mixed bouquet of asters, daisies and gerbera. She had on a pair of white cotton eyelet shorts and a turquoise halter top. Yelling “Mama,” Alex came bounding, crashing into her as usual. Catherine put her handbag down on her luggage, and picked her up in one fell swoop. Alex was heavy, but Catherine held her long enough to smell the cocoanut shampoo in her hair and give her a big kiss.

  “These are for you,” said Alex, handing Catherine the flowers. A few were bent, the result of Alex’s exuberant run and hug.

  “They’re beautiful. Thank you. You look as beautiful as the flowers. “ She held her daughter at arm’s length. Alex`s brown hair was now longer by a few inches and had gold highlights. From all the sun, thought Catherine. “You’ve grown.”

  Alex used her hand to mark where the top of her head came on her mother’s body. “Look, I’m now up to your boobies.”

  “Alex!” Catherine couldn’t help smiling.

  “Oops,” she said, with a mischievous look on her face and then giggled. “That’s what Kaitlin calls them.”

  “She does, does she?” Catherine grinned at Richard who was standing behind Alex. He said, “How was your flight?”

  “Good, but I could use a nap. You know me. I can never sleep on planes.”

  Richard looked older, but still handsome. What she liked about him, was she always knew where she stood. She wondered how she looked to him, if he still found her attractive. In the airplane bathroom, she’d applied soft coral lipstick and blush. The makeup helped some, but it did nothing to play down the circles under her eyes.

  Catherine sat with Alex in the back seat of Richard’s BMW on the drive back to the apartment. Alex chattered non-stop, and for the most part it was a relief to hear how well she’d done in her absence. What Catherine didn’t enjoy was Alex’s anecdotes about Monique, especially the one about shopping. Catherine felt more than a pang of envy. Shopping was the ultimate outing for Alex and it seemed Monique knew exactly what her daughter liked.

  “Mama, are you listening?”

  “Absolutely. I’m so glad you’re telling me everything you’ve done.”

  Alex babbled merrily on. Catherine knew her lack of sleep was affecting her ability to concentrate. She covered up by smiling and going uh-huh every so often and hoped Alex didn’t see her zoning in and out.

  Once in the apartment, Catherine crashed on the living room couch while Alex ran to get the things Monique had bought her. Richard sat on the wing chair beside her.

  Catherine turned to him. “I see Monique`s a big hit. You’ve been seeing a lot of her. Is it serious?”

  Richard regarded her for a moment, then said, “It’s coming along.”

  Catherine made a face. “Alex can’t stop talking about her.”

  He snorted. “Take Alex shopping and she’ll be your friend for life.”

  “That’s true.”

  “Catherine, you’re her mother. No one can replace you.”

  She met his gaze. “I know. Still…”

  He crossed his long legs. He was taller than Daniel, but not by much.

  “So, was everything the way you thought it would be?”

  “That, and more.”

  “But you managed? The diving?”

  She stretched her arms with satisfaction. “Yes. I did.” If only her heart had done as well. She wondered what he’d think if he knew she was broken-hearted over a man who was about to become a father.

  The evening passed in a blur. After Alex went to bed, Catherine unpacked and only sat down when she came across her notebook. She flipped through the pages, stopping on the one where she’d written look up magpie. That was when she was with Daniel at the folk museum. Remembering the black and white bird, she booted up her laptop and searched the phrase. On the net, she found it was still considered an omen by many, as expressed in the British folk rhyme: One for sorrow, two for joy; three for a girl, and four for a boy.

  There had been only one on the cottage roof. Did that mean she was destined for sorrow? Or did the second one showing up change her destiny?

  She searched the net again and found a site saying the Chinese viewed two magpies as symbols of marital bliss. Well, that didn’t seem to fit her life’s plan. There was no hope of anything with Daniel and if there was a glimmer with Richard, it was now dashed with Monique on the scene. Or was it? She tried to tell herself that what she was reading was only folklore, that there was nothing to this magpie business, that it was only superstition. But try as she might, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the one magpie was going to be her story.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  When Catherine had finished relating her diving successes and ghostly business, Barbara pushed her reading glasses down her nose and said, “You’ve had quite the experience.”

  “I feel like I’ve entered cuckoo land and can’t find my way out.” She stroked her finger, the one the Claddagh ring once encircled.

  Barbara gazed at Catherine’s hand. “I have to admit, I’m surprised you threw away the ring.”

  “It gave me nothing but trouble. I never did figure out what Margaret wanted. Every time I wore it, I had some weird dream or episode underwater that distracted me from my work.”

  Barbara crooked her head. “And yet, her spirit guided you to discover a story that for all intents and purposes was never finished.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What do you think I mean?”

  Getting a question in response to her question was annoying. “I don’t know what else there is. Margaret died along with her husband in a shipwreck caused by a storm. There was a curse, but that coastline has always been plagued by rough weather, so I can’t put much stalk in a curse.” Catherine sighed. “There doesn’t seem to be any loose ends.”

  “You think it’s as simple as that?”

  Catherine knitted her brow. “Isn’t it?”

  “It seems to me the spirits went to a lot of trouble to show you otherwise.”

  “Show me what?”

  Barbara took off her glasses and put them in her lap. “Tell me again about your first dream.” />
  Catherine groaned.

  “What? You don’t remember or you don’t want to tell me?”

  Catherine looked at the water color painting of rhododendrons behind Barbara’s chair. The blues and mauves reminded her of her garden in Provence. “I don’t know what the point of all this is.” She tried to contain her annoyance but it was coloring her speech.

  “You’re upset.”

  “I don’t want to keep going in circles.”

  “Is this what you think this is?”

  Another damn question. She was wasting her time. Exasperated, she said, “What the hell. The young woman was frantic, searching for someone on a wet deck of an old sailing ship. An old man with a beard reached out to her. They were both caught in a wicked storm.” She then folded her arms and stared at Barbara. “End of story.”

  “Okay.” Barbara checked her notes. “So, since then, you’ve established that the woman was Margaret O’Donnell, the old man, her father, Martin, and her newly wedded husband was called James.”

  “Hallelujah! Now, I have names.”

  Barbara ignored her sarcasm and pushed on. “Margaret couldn’t find James in her dream. Would you say she’s still looking, trying to find him.”

  “Well, she’s not going to find him in my head.” Catherine played with a jagged fingernail. “They’re both dead. What does she expect me to do, bring him back to life?” Barbara let the question hang in the air. Frustrated, Catherine said, “Look, I’m getting it. It’s a tragedy. Margaret was robbed. That still doesn’t tell me what I’m supposed to do about it.”

  “Didn’t you say she looked like you?”