Fox Island

by Stephen Bly

  “What are you doing, Dr. S.?”

  “Looking for a word.”

  “What word?”

  “I’ll know it when I find it. Tony gets on a kick of using the same word over and over in a book, and he expects me to find a creative, dynamic synonym.”

  “What’s the word this time?”

  “Sylvan. Every other page mentions the sylvan island this and the sylvan island that. But I’ve already used up shady, wild, woodsy, pastoral, and provincial. I need another expression to get the point across.”

  Melody pried open the refrigerator and dug through the vegetable drawer. She pulled out a bag of peeled baby carrots. “Well, now you’ve seen my mother on one of her cranky days. Did she get mad at you for criticizing my writing?”

  “No, she was upset we’ve been agitating your grandmother.”

  “She said that?”

  “I think she blames us for this latest bout your grandmother’s going through.”

  “But this is mainly over that guy, Bennington. It has nothing to do with you. I was the one who told her about him.”

  “Well, your mom certainly thinks it’s our fault. She said she doesn’t want us visiting your grandmother.”

  “She’s just ticked. I’ll settle this down. This is what she’s like when she’s tired of drinking and has had no male companionship for a few days.”

  “Here it is.” Price pointed to a thick book bound in green imitation leather. “Arboreous: having many trees.” She punched the word into the laptop, saved the document, then shoved her chair back from the table. “I’m really sorry your mom lives such a miserable life, Melody. When’s the last time she had some fun? Other than alcohol and men?”

  “She’s always been kind of a negative person.”

  “I don’t think I helped things much.”

  “What did you tell her?”

  “Basically, I told her to snap out of it because God had a better plan for her life.”

  “Really? Oh, wow! What did she say?”

  “She said no one ever talked to her like that and stomped out the door.”

  “Don’t worry. Mom’s that way sometimes. You’ve just got to leave her alone for a few days. She’ll think about what you said, really. Mom’s a very thoughtful person. She relives every word of every conversation. Besides, following up with Bennington was my idea, not yours. I didn’t get a phone call from Maryland, did I?” She crunched into the carrots.

  “No.”

  “It’s been a week since I talked to his secretary. Do you think I ought to call back?”

  “Maybe he just doesn’t want to talk to anyone out here.”

  “I know. I’ve been trying not to think about that. I finally told Grandma about him leaving the flowers. That’s probably what put her in a tizzy.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She looked at the picture of the flowers you took, then glanced at the card and said, ‘Hah!’ and walked away.”

  “Hah?”

  “Yeah, and when I pursued it, she went into a tirade about how it wasn’t her fault the car crashed, that there was nothing she could have done.”

  “Maybe that’s what your mom was talking about. Melody, I’m really sorry your mom was so upset. It leaves a horrible knot in my stomach. I don’t know why I said those things!”

  “Hey, I’m going to Tacoma to clip some coupons and shuffle some stocks, so I’ll stop by Mom’s on the way home. Don’t worry. She’ll be all right. I’ll let you know how she is.”

  “Tell her I’m really sorry to have disturbed both her and your grandmother.”

  “Mom’s a good person, really. Life’s been such a disappointment. First her father’s gone, then her husband. It’s pretty hard not to blame yourself. She’s been lonely for so long.”

  “How about you, Melody?”

  “Me? Lonely? Not really. I get along just fine because I’ve never known anything else. This summer with you and Mr. S. has been one of the most fun times of my life. Thanks for letting me stay in the loft and bug you all the time. Did I tell you I applied for a teaching job?”

  “You did? Where?”

  “At a school up in Bremerton. I think maybe I’ve been too isolated the last few years to be a good writer.”

  “What grade?”

  “Junior high English. Isn’t that a kick?”

  “That would be a great experience for you.”

  “I knew you would say that. Anyway, they have to let me know by August 15.”

  “I’ll be praying for you.”

  Melody bit her lip. “Thanks, Dr. S. I’m beginning to count on your prayers.”

  “Will you be home for supper?”

  “Oh, I’ll nab a burger somewhere. You don’t have to feed me, you know.”

  Melody grabbed a handful of carrots, a big bag of com chips, a Diet Dr. Pepper and scooted out the door.

  Price completed a rewrite of the first six pages of chapter seven and rummaged in the kitchen for something for lunch when the telephone rang. “Shadowbrooks.”

  “I need to speak with Melody Mason,” a weak-voiced man replied.

  “She’s not here. Can I take a message?”

  “This is Lloyd Bennington. I was returning her call.”

  “Mr. Bennington? My husband met you when you came out to Fox Island. Melody really needs to talk with you.”

  “I’m afraid I’ve been a little under the weather. This is the first day I’ve felt like doing anything.”

  “Have you been ill?”

  “Perhaps your husband mentioned I’m fighting cancer. I just underwent some experimental treatments that supposedly gave me a few more weeks to live. But the ordeal left me so weak that quite frankly I don’t know if it was worth it. I don’t want to sound brash, but do you happen to know why she was so insistent on calling me?”

  “I’ll try to fill you in. Jessica Davenport Reynolds, that’s Melody’s grandmother, is having a difficult time with your showing up after all these years. Especially the visit to the house… and the flowers left at the grave. A psychologist at the place where she stays suggested if you were in the area still, it would be good to have you meet with Jessica one on one. Melody’s worried about her grandmother, and was just tracking you down.”

  “Oh… yes… well, I suppose it could help her some. At least she could visualize who it is she should hate.”

  “Why do you think she hates you? Did you even know her?”

  “No, we’ve never met. But it was, well, a long, long time ago. I’m afraid it was just on a lark that I flew west. Very uncharacteristic of me. I don’t expect to feel well enough to travel again. To tell the truth, Mrs. Shadowbrook, just making it to the restroom is quite a chore.”

  “I understand. I wonder if she might call you when she gets home late this afternoon? I think that might help Melody some.”

  “It’s not that easy. By necessity, I keep my number unlisted. I couldn’t give it out. I don’t mean to sound secretive or snobbish, but I receive a lot of calls from people thinking I should lend or give them money.”

  “Could we set up a time tonight for you to call back?”

  “As long as she understands I might feel too ill to do so. What time do you suggest?”

  “How about 9:00 P.M. your time? That leaves it 6:00 P.M. our time.”

  “Yes, I’ll call her back. Good day, Mrs. Shadowbrook.”

  Tony came home for lunch, then drove up the Kitsap Peninsula to Bangor for his scheduled submarine ride. Price spent the afternoon at the keyboard trying to punch in a second edit of chapter seven. The confrontation with Barbara Mason kept going through her head.

  After a walk along the shoreline, she called Melody’s mother. She attempted an apology to a groggy-sounding Barbara Mason and found out Melody left her mother’s headed back to Fox Island at 3:00 P.M. Price walked up the steep driveway to the road to watch for her car turning off Island Boulevard onto 3rd. This would be a delightful time for Melody to show up. Bennington would call
soon.

  The warm summer breeze made her think about relaxing in the chaise lounge and sunbathing. She didn’t feel good about the apology. Everything she did seemed to make the situation worse. Why couldn’t she delete today and start all over again?

  Price soaked boneless chicken strips in marinade, fried them in canola oil and diced vegetables. She heard a rap at the front door and hollered, “Come in, Melody, I’m in the kitchen.”

  A woman appeared, wearing cutoff blue jeans, olive drab t-shirt and hiking boots. Her earthy brown hair hung in a long, tapered braid down her back. A few wisps garnered her bronzed forehead. Oversized dark glasses covered her eyes.

  “Hello, Tulip. Forgive me for not coming to the door. I thought you were Melody.”

  “Here’s the deal.” Her thin lips shut tight between each phrase, as though to conserve energy. “There is absolutely no suitable location for the larger animals. According to government studies, it would be psychologically damaging to house any animal over seventy-four pounds in weight in any field less than five acres. I called Cascade KidsCan Pet, Inc. and instructed them that they might have to leave the larger animals at their wholly inadequate and life-endangering compound.”

  “I don’t suppose they were thrilled with that idea?”

  “They protested vigorously and demanded a special community meeting. So, I’ve prepared this report to take.”

  “What’s in it?”

  “If Cascade KidsCan Pet, Inc. does not intend to abide by the site committee’s recommendations, then their contract will be terminated. They threatened to sue, of course, but think of the media attention we can get with a trial. I’m sure the networks would pick it up.”

  Price tried to guess how old the petite lady was. A leathery tan face, a few deep wrinkles around her eyes, a tad of gray in her hair, yet she had vitality in her actions and a pixie cuteness in her face. She settled on fortyish.

  “The committee hasn’t made any recommendation, as far as I know,” Price pointed out.

  “That’s the thing. I need you and Kenny Mallard to sign on to this document. There’s a lot of legal jargon in it, but you get the gist of things.”

  “Has Harvey Peterson seen it?”

  “Yes, he has.”

  “And what did he say?”

  Tulip yanked the sunglasses off and rubbed her nose on the back of her arm. “You’re one of those born-again Christians, aren’t you?”

  Price crossed her arms in front of her. “Yes I am. What in the world does that have to do with it?”

  Ms. Tulip’s lips flashed in a sign of amusement. “You don’t want me to repeat what Harvey said.”

  “And you haven’t talked to Kenny?”

  “Nobody’s seen Kenny. What about it? Are you going to sign on or not?”

  “No, I’m not.”

  Tulip groaned a short croak of disgust. “Yeah, I sort of figured that. You’re just one of those do-nothing Christians who sit around in expensive churches isolating yourself from the real world. It’s people like you that…”

  Price’s right hand shot forward with the determination of a junior high teacher scolding a hyperactive boy in the back row. “Wait a minute. Don’t give me any of that Christians lack compassion garbage. I donate every Tuesday evening during the school year to teach English as a second language, free, in southwest Phoenix. I serve as an emergency counselor for a pregnancy counseling center. For eight years now, my family spends every spring break building orphanages and hospitals in Mexico, not to mention ten years as a Girl Scout leader, volunteer work at the Union Gospel Mission, or summers teaching reading at the Navajo, Hopi, Apache and Tohono O’Odham reservations.”

  Tulip rubbed the edge of her mouth with her fist, as though trying to erase it. “I was only trying to say…”

  “You were trying to enforce your own political persuasion on someone else by guilt and inference. Lady, it doesn’t work. If you want me to get excited about your cause, why not work with street kids in Seattle? Or run a home for people living with AIDS? Or volunteer to work for an adoptions agency so unwanted babies end up in a loving home? But don’t you dare question my faith because I don’t give a squat if a seventy-six pound pig has a five-acre play yard or not.”

  Tulip spun on her hiking boot heels and stomped toward the door.

  Tony stood there, eyes wide, mouth open. “Goodbye, Tulip.” He held open the door.

  “I don’t need some chauvinist, middle-aged hunk to open doors for me,” she fumed.

  Tulip drove up the driveway before Tony turned to Price. “Was that an insult or a compliment?”

  Tears swelled in Price’s eyes.

  “Wow, honey, what’s wrong?”

  “It’s been a lousy day.” She sniffled as she grabbed a paper napkin.

  “I heard your speech. I thought it was great.”

  “But,” she began, breathing deep to hold back the sobs, “I spoke in anger. I don’t know why some days are that way. I didn’t want to be this way. And it’s not the first time today.”

  “You had a run-in with Tulip earlier?”

  “No, with Barbara Mason, Melody’s mother.”

  “Whoa, stress city. Tell me about it.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “What do you want to do?”

  “I think I’ll go into the bedroom and cry.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Cook dinner.”

  “Are you kidding?”

  Price pounded through the living room toward the bedroom.

  Tony guessed she wasn’t kidding.

  Lord, the woman’s almost fifty. Doesn’t this every month moody thing ever come to an end?

  Maybe he should have stayed and chowed down with the Navy.

  Tony finished cooking supper when the phone rang. He left the receiver on the counter and tiptoed to the master bedroom. “Hey, babe?”

  “I’m in the bathroom washing my face.”

  “Mr. Bennington’s on the phone. He said he was supposed to call Melody at this time, but Melody’s not in her loft. Do you know what’s going on?”

  “Oh no!” She cried again.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “I don’t know where Melody is,” she wailed.

  “Is she lost?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you want me to tell Bennington?”

  “I don’t know!”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”

  When Tony hung up, Price emerged, eyes red and puffy, hair damp, no dimples. “Did you fix things with Bennington?”

  “It’s all set. I persuaded Bennington to give me his number at the hospital. Melody can call him tonight or tomorrow. How are you doing?”

  “Better. A good cry and a face wash can help almost anything.”

  “Do you want to tell me about your day?”

  “Not really.”

  “Are you hungry?”

  “What did you cook?”

  “I slaved all afternoon over your favorite stir-fry.”

  They ate at the counter as Tony related his experiences at the Acoustic Lab and aboard the U.S. Navy submarine.

  “They really are developing cloaking devices to throw off the sonar?” Price asked.

  Tony’s waved his hands in a big circle. “Yeah and working on machines to pick up sound when the cloaking devices are on. It’s incredible. Sort of like Hunt for Red October.”

  “How much of that can you use?”

  “All of that is public knowledge. But it makes me wonder what they’re keeping secret.”

  Price cocked her head. “You think it will fit into the flow of the book?”

  “Don’t know. Most of it sounds too technical. But I was able to pick up declassified Navy info from the 1940s that includes proposed defense plans for the possible invasion of Puget Sound. The data has been cleared by the Freedom of Information Act. It’s all cataloged and computerized. I was able to pull out everything that menti
oned Fox Island.”

  “You mean stuff like checking out Harvey Peterson’s Japanese invasion claims?”

  “Exactly. I haven’t had a chance to look through it yet, but isn’t that great? There’s got to be something in there that will make the book really zing with authenticity. I don’t even think old Harvey has seen some of this yet.”

  “I’m glad one of us is having a good day.”

  He touched the chin of her drooping face. “How you doin’, babe?”

  “Oh, I’m all right, except for spending most of my time trying to keep myself under control. All of a sudden this stuff spews out. It’s extremely humbling.”

  “Which reminds me, I had another idea about how to handle chapter five. But maybe now isn’t a good time to talk about it.”

  “I’m fine, really. What’s your idea?”

  “How about you editing it down to twenty-five pages?”

  “You’d let me edit it, my way?”

  “You work on it, then I thought we’d take a look together.”

  “Are you doing this because I’m on a crying jag?”

  “Probably.”

  “Then I’m glad it has at least some minor, redeeming value. I’ll start tomorrow.”

  “Meanwhile, what should we do about Melody?”

  “Her mother said she left her house about 3:00. She thought she was headed back to the Island.”

  “Maybe she had car trouble. Should we go looking for her? She is a grown woman. She could call if she had car trouble or something.”

  “What would you do if she were one of your daughters?” Price asked.

  “Go look for her.”

  “Maybe I should stay here, in case you miss her. I could tell her to call Bennington.”

  “I’ll drive toward her mother’s at Gig Harbor. That VW should be easy to spot.”

  Price let out a deep sigh. “Thanks, Tony. Sorry I’m having such a bad day.”

  “Babe, you on a bad day beats any other woman I know on a good day. And, lady, when you are having a good day … wow! You make my whole life zing.”

  “You always were the absolutely craziest guy I ever dated.” She gave him a full dimple smile.

  “And you’re the prettiest one I ever dated.”

  “I’m the only one you ever dated.”

  “That, too.”