A Sea Change

by Annette Reynolds

  “You mean tomorrow, because one more beer should pretty much shut down all your motor functions.”

  Another roar was followed by clapping. Danny’s voice rose above the rest.

  “Maddy! You’ve gotta come see this!”

  She turned and shouted, “What happened?”

  Danny appeared in the doorway. “Texas just walked in a run. Bases are still loaded with only one out. Come on!”

  Maddy looked back at Nick, who said, “Go.”

  “Why don’t you come, too?”

  “No, thanks. I’m pretty happy right here.” She smiled at him and started toward the doors. “Hey, Maddy?” He waited until he saw her face again. “I love you. And don’t forget the beer.” She good-naturedly flipped him off, entered the house, and was engulfed by the crowd’s wild yells.

  Grand slam. In his career he’d hit only three, and could still remember each one as if on instant replay. The thought poked a small hole in the pleasant aura the beers had formed, inviting the rest of the day’s garbage inside. So, when fifteen minutes later Maddy came out with a Heineken, followed by Danny and several of the Mariner’s fans, Nick was back to feeling plenty of pain.

  Nick drained the bottle and, holding the mouth by his fingertips, carefully set it next to its three friends.

  “Game over?” he asked, taking the next beer from a concerned-looking Maddy.

  “Pitching change. You’re not gonna have room for cake.”

  “Let me guess,” Nick said, ignoring her obvious plea. “The score’s ten to six?”

  Danny, who had hung back and was popping cherry tomatoes, swallowed and said, “You should’ve seen it. That thing went into the upper deck like a rocket. It’d be in a different area code if that wall wasn’t there.” Danny paused to toss another tomato in his mouth. “And then, in the bottom of the inning he…”

  Nick had raised an eyebrow in something resembling interest then looked up at Maddy, interrupting the play-by-play. “I know you think I’m – like – this macho stud and that I can take this cap off with my teeth, but really, I need a bottle opener.” He paused then added, “Please.”

  There was an almost frantic quality to her voice, as she said, “Danny? Can you get it for me? It’s on the counter by the sink.”

  “Sure,” he said around the tomato, and started back across the deck. “But he made this play from left field…”

  “Danny!” Maddy spun around to stop him, but she was a fraction of a second too late.

  “Kingston makes this sliding catch, and then throws the runner out at second from his knees.” Danny was shaking his head in wonder as he stepped into the house. “Amazing.”

  And there it was. The one name in baseball that had become Nick’s nemesis.

  Maddy looked at Mary Delfino. The older woman’s face was a panicked reflection of her own. When she turned back to Nick he was carefully getting out of the chaise. As he straightened up he swayed slightly.

  “I think I’ve had about as much fun as anyone deserves in one day,” he said. Then Nick leaned toward Maddy, and in a controlled whisper, said, “We’ve gotta stop planning these special occasions, babe, ‘cause every time we do they turn to shit.” He kissed her cheek. “Save me a piece of cake. Right now I can’t swallow anything else.”

  THE FALL

  “…and then as soon as the chill rains come,

  it stops,

  and leaves you to face the fall alone.”

  A. Bartlett Giamatti

  Journal Entry

  September 23

  Nick finally put a deposit on a house up in Bellevue. In the past three weeks I think we’ve looked at twenty rentals, but according to Nick they’ve either been too big, too small, too close to town. He doesn’t like the neighborhood, or there isn’t enough light inside. I guess the funniest one – coming from a man – was “it doesn’t have any personality.” (That’s what comes from living on Salmon Beach, where ‘personality’ is a synonym for quirky.)

  I think a lot of that was Nick being unsure about the whole thing. It seems like a small step, but it’s a big one for him in so many ways.

  We saw this place on Sunday. Becky was with us. It was one of the few times Nick volunteered to bring her up to Janet’s. I took one look at the yard and fell for it. The house itself was a bonus. It’s a classic bungalow. The owner – Bill Sandstrom – said it was built in the thirties. I said I couldn’t believe it was a rental, it was in such beautiful condition. Turns out it’s the house he grew up in, and it’s been in his family from the start. But his wife wanted a bigger place, so he kept it for sentimental reasons. He made sure to tell us how careful he was about the tenants.

  When Mr. Sandstrom took us inside I felt like I’d come home. I knew Nick felt the same when he took my hand. Like a lot of bungalows, it’s bigger than it looks. The floors are hardwood. The woodwork has never been painted over. There are built-ins in the dining room and living room. The “master” bedroom is downstairs, next to a big tiled bathroom. The other two bedrooms are upstairs, along with another half-bath. Becky had already picked out her room at that point. And while she was upstairs with the landlord, Nick pulled me into the master and said, “I don’t know about you, but I like the privacy factor.”

  He was really excited, and I was thrilled to see it – thrilled to be included. The M-word hasn’t been used, but Nick started asking me what I’d put where, and wouldn’t the back part of the basement work as a darkroom, so maybe it’s something we’ll be talking about soon.

  When Becky came back down she ran into the kitchen, saw the breakfast nook, and said, “Look! There’s a little place for us all to sit together. The way we do at restaurants.”

  I think that was the clincher for Nick. He told Mr. Sandstrom we were crazy about the place, that he’d do anything to be Number One on his list of applicants. He was writing a check for the deposit, all the while going on about references, and how handy he was, and how much I loved gardening. That Becky – who was now in the backyard checking out the big cherry tree – only spent every other weekend with him, but he was hoping to add summers to that. He even remembered Chloe, and said he’d pay any kind of pet deposit Mr. Sandstrom wanted.

  The one thing Nick never mentioned was his baseball career, so when Mr. S. asked, “Aren’t you the Patrick McKay who used to play for the Mariners?” and Nick admitted he was, Mr. S. said, “I always thought you got a bum deal – always thought you were one of the few honest-to-gosh real players left.” He shook Nick’s hand and told him the current tenants were moving out on October 1st, and he’d have it ready for us on the 3rd.

  Shock set in later, because Nick woke me up in the middle of the night and said, “Maybe it’s a mistake. What if I don’t get joint custody?” I told him it didn’t matter. He’d still have Becky every other weekend, and look how much closer he’d be. He didn’t say so, but I think he’s a little afraid to leave the beach. He hasn’t lived in the real world in a long time – a lot longer than me – and the people down here are his security blanket. The only person who knows he’s moving is Mary. She’s a big reason he’s dragging his heels.

  I like to think I have some influence over what Nick does, but I know – and accept – that he listens hard to what Mary has to say. And she’s been pushing him to get on with his life. The three of us had a discussion, with Nick arguing he didn’t want to leave her down here alone, and Mary trying to convince him she isn’t alone. He actually offered her a room in the house, and she looked at him like he’d lost his mind. Told him he was starting a new family, and why would he want someone intruding on that? And as much as she loved us, she didn’t want to leave her home, or the beach. He called her a “stubborn old woman” and she said, “It takes a donkey to know one.” We were all smiling by then, but I keep remembering something she’d said earlier: “The sooner you two get out of here, the better I’ll feel” – and I wonder what she means.

  Anyway, our wee-hours-of-the-morning talk ended up as a conference c
all to Jaed. It was Nick’s idea. He wanted to tell someone else about the house, and the only reason she was elected was her time zone.

  She was ecstatic, and taking most of the credit for getting our “two souls together.” I didn’t have the heart to tell her I wouldn’t be moving with Nick. I mean, I can stay up there for the most part, but on the weekends he has Becky, I have to vanish. The only thing that would change that is marriage.

  Anyway, I told Jaed I’d pack up the computer and work from up there, and if she wanted, I’d find someone to rent her place. (Surely I can find someone to bunk with for four days out of the month.) Jaed, who lives by the karmic law, said, “Whatever,” and I could picture her waving those purple fingernails and rings in the air.

  I haven’t said anything to Danny about the house. I don’t know how to break it to him. He knows Nick’s looking for a place, but I don’t think he: a) believes Nick is really serious, and b) understands that I’ll leave the beach, too.

  Danny’s still doing odd jobs for the residents. I think he could fill Nick’s shoes as the local handyman if he wanted. And he’s still staying in Number 70. Nick got in touch with the guy who owns it and they arranged a loose rental agreement. This would be a good place for Danny to stay until he decides what he wants to do with the rest of his life. But I know I can’t have him following us up to Bellevue. He and Nick tolerate each other for me. I don’t see them ever becoming real friends. Danny’s very needy, and I’m the only person he seems to need anything from. Nick doesn’t need me in the clingy, in-my-pocket way Danny does. Sure, Nick and I need each other, but it feels healthy. Danny worries me.

  A few nights ago he showed up on my doorstep holding his backpack, saying he had something to show me.

  Nick was over and we were on the couch, half-naked, seriously getting into it, when the doorbell rang. Neither of us was willing to stop what we were doing, so we pretended we weren’t home, but it rang again, and the spell was broken.

  It was raining pretty hard – it has been for days – so I let Danny in. Nick wasn’t too happy to see him, and judging from Danny’s face, neither was he. But Nick backed down – said he had a couple of things to take care of at his place, and left.

  What Danny pulled out of his pack astounded me. There must’ve been over 100 postcards from all over the U.S and Europe. He’d written every one of them, but never sent them because he didn’t know where I was. They were all dated and in order. I read a lot of them that night, and the main theme seemed to be I was the only person he’d ever completely love or trust. Even the ones from Louisiana – when he was with Charles de la Croix – were desperate and pitiful. I didn’t know what to say to him. He already knows how much I hate what I’ve missed in his life, and what I’ve missed in mine because he wasn’t there. But those cards were almost scary. Anyone else reading them would think he’d written them to a lover, not his sister, but I know the truth. That his love for me is - was, I see now - obsessive and lonely.

  I can’t believe in all the years he spent with Charles, not once did the other man say to him, “It’s time to get some help. What happened was never your fault.”

  It’s what I wanted to say to Danny, but couldn’t bring myself to do it. When we’re alone and he lets me see how deeply he’s still hurt by everything that happened, I lose my ability to be straight with him. He becomes a little boy who just needs to be loved.

  The other thing he took out of his backpack was a beautiful figurine of a mermaid. I was amazed, and told him the reason. He seemed to take it as some kind of sign. I tried to discourage that kind of thinking. Told him it was just a coincidence. That the mermaid was pretty, and he thought I’d like it, so he bought it. But trying to convince him of that was impossible.

  I made the mistake of steering him onto another subject, which turned out to be just as rocky as the first. I showed him the book I’ve done on Salmon Beach. It’s full of photos of the people and their surroundings. Each person gave me an anecdote, and they’re all great. When he came to the photo of Nick, his demeanor changed from interest to anger. He asked me why Nick’s picture was in the book. I explained that everyone who lived on the beach was represented. Then he said, “How come I’m not in it?” I told him I didn’t think he’d want to be, especially since my original plan was to send it to Mom and Dad. “I’m family,” he said. “If he’s in it, I should be in it, too.”

  “So, you want me to send Mom and Dad a photo of you?” I asked.

  “I want one of the two of us together. Put that in the book, and send it to those people, so they can see how happy we are.”

  “And what if someone else sees it and recognizes you?”

  “You don’t need to put my name in it, Maddy.”

  I said, “Don’t you want to talk to Dad? Tell him how you feel? Get it out in the open?”

  Danny didn’t even stop to think about it. He just said, “Let him know it didn’t work. Let him know you know the whole story now. Make him sweat, Maddy.”

  I was watching him while he talked. His face turned to stone, and his eyes were so distant that I reached over and put my hand on his arm. And then he suddenly switched on again. Became the charming Danny he lets everyone see. He smiled at me. It was a startling transformation.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Maddy watched as Nick tied down the tarp.

  “You really do travel light,” she said.

  His possessions fit neatly in the truck bed, with room to spare. They hadn’t even had to use the QVII. On this Friday morning their friends each carried one box up the two-hundred steps. They’d moved Nick out in one trip. It had been their farewell present to him. The only things left in Number 74 were his suitcase and a few odds and ends he’d need for his last night down on the beach.

  There had been a party the night before. The outpouring of friendship and gratitude had left Nick feeling humbled. Sleep had been almost impossible. He’d gotten out of Maddy’s bed, and under the cover of darkness sat in the living room with his eyes and throat burning. So many emotions fought their way to the surface that the tears finally came. When he’d crawled back into bed, Nick wrapped himself around a sleeping Maddy and breathed in deeply, her familiar scent consoling him.

  Now, Nick looked at his watch.

  “We need to hit the road if we’re gonna get everything done and back down here before traffic reaches critical mass.”

  Maddy tossed her purse on the seat and climbed in. “Have you got the directions?”

  Nick fished a scrap of paper out of his wallet and handed it to her. “The plan is: keys, unload, lunch, and Becky.” He started up the winding road out of the parking area.

  “What about the bed?” she asked.

  The electronic gate eventually swung wide enough to let them out.

  “I don’t think we have time for that, babe.”

  Maddy eyed his preoccupied face and smiled to herself. “I mean, when are they delivering it?”

  “Oh.” He grinned. “Sorry. The mattresses’ll be there tomorrow between ten and noon. The antique place isn’t delivering the bed until Wednesday. I forgot to tell you.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I probably won’t be up there until then anyway.”

  “Five nights apart?” Nick stopped at the red light and gave her a sidelong glance. “If I’d remembered that I would’ve done things a little differently last night.”

  “Don’t worry. The things you did were just fine.” Maddy pushed open the vent window. “God, it’s hot for October,” she muttered. “And besides, you’ve got Becky for two of those nights. And I’ve got a lot of work to do, and you’re very distracting.”

  She silently waited for him to notice the light had changed, then said, “It doesn’t get any greener.”

  “And she says I’m distracting,” he said, putting the truck in first. “Who’s really bad idea was it for you to move in gradually?” Nick commented, knowing full well it had been his own.

  *****

  From inside Mary Delfino
’s bone-crushing hug, Nick whispered, “I’ll ask you one more time – come stay with me.”

  “You know my answer.” Mary pushed him away. “Where’s that daughter of yours?”

  “She went to say goodbye to the mermaid. She woke me up at six-thirty to tell me that was her plan for the morning.”

  “Yes, she was over here at seven. We said our goodbyes.” She paused. “She tried to talk me into moving in with you, too.”

  “C’mon, Mary – this just doesn’t feel right. You’d be better off up there.”

  “I’ll be happier here.”

  “How can you be happier without me? Who would you boss around?”

  “Hopefully, no one.” She smiled then placed her cool palm on his cheek and gazed into his eyes. “I’ll miss you, despite all your annoying ways.” The tease left her voice. “I love you very much, Nick. I’m so grateful for the unfortunate circumstances that brought you here, that I feel a little guilty. You’re a very good man.”

  “It was easy with you around,” he said.

  “Get out of here before I start crying.”

  “Yeah.” Nick took a step backward. “I’d better go round up Becky.”

  Mary could see his reluctance to leave. “Bellevue isn’t Outer Mongolia, Nick. We’ll be seeing each other often enough.”

  He nodded.

  “Be good to each other,” Mary said. “Remember how priceless love is.”

  “I will. I promise.” He turned away.

  *****

  Danny sat on a water-polished log in the dappled sunlight. A heron stood in the shallow water of the tiny inlet, posing for him as he sketched. Indian summer brought the temperature into the seventies, but here in the woods it was still cool. And very quiet.

  With the commotion over Nick’s move, he’d purposely stayed away from the housing area. He was surprised McKay was actually moving. But more than that, Danny was glad. Things had settled down nicely for him. He was doing more jobs for the residents with plenty of time left over to work on his drawing. And with Nick gone, he’d have more time with Maddy.