by Randy Salem
"It's so beautiful," Carol breathed. She was standing by the windows gazing out to the lake.
"Yes, isn't it?" Chris said, corning to stand behind the girl.
They stood together looking at the night. Chris put her arms around Carol's waist and Carol leaned back against her. They did not move nor speak for many minutes.
"Honey," Carol said finally, "does Dizz know we're together?"
Chris pulled the girl closer against her. "Why do we have to keep talking about Dizz?” she said. "We came here to be away from all that for a while."
"You didn't answer my question," Carol said.
Chris turned away from the girl and went to sit on the edge of the bed. Her jaw was set in anger. "I think she guessed," she said. "What difference does it make?"
"Look," Carol said, coming to stand in front of her. "I want to say something to you. After this, I’ll never mention it again. But please hear me out."
Chris gave a resigned sigh. "Get it over with." She was in no mood for a scene, but too tired to fight it.
"I have to admit that this morning's episode upset me terribly," Carol said. "I had managed somehow to get that Dizz exists as a person. But seeing her this morning reminded me with a jolt." She paused. "And having to lie to cover up for us—well, that wasn't quite what I'd had in mind."
"Nobody asked you to," Chris pointed out to her.
"I did it to save your face," Carol said sharply. "Oh, Chris," her voice softened, "don't you understand? I love you with all my heart. I want you. But I want to have you all to myself. Dizz, even if it doesn't show, actually wants the same thing. You've hurt her, even if you're too thick to see it."
Chris wrinkled her forehead. "What do you mean?"
"You have given her a kind of security these past years. Do you think she's happy that she can't give you what you need? Don't you realize that she has no real basis for security with anyone?" Carol was exasperated. "Darling," she said, "I just don't know how to fight somebody who has nothing to fight with."
Chris shook her head sadly. "What, for Pete's sake, are you trying to say?"
"I don't know myself," Carol answered. "I guess I'm trying to say that you've got to make peace with yourself about Dizz. And soon. If you're going to live with her, then you’ll have to stop seeing me. She couldn't bear the thought of you having a mistress. That would make her as good as useless. And I won't tolerate sneaking around behind her back. I love you too much to let you do that because after a while you would come to hate me for it. And yourself."
"What do you want me to do?" Chris asked.
"Whatever will make you happy," Carol said. "Go back to Dizz or come home with me."
Chris looked at her. "Is that an ultimatum?" she said.
Carol hesitated just long enough to make Chris uneasy. Then she said, "No. A suggestion." She put her hands on Chris' shoulders. "Now, let's forget everything but us."
Chris smiled wanly and realized how sober she was again. "I’ll try," she said. She reached up and grasped Carol by the arms and pulled her on the bed on top of her.
Carol tenderly touched the eyes, the nose, the chin, the mouth with her lips. "We've got a big day tomorrow, honey," she said. "We'd better get to bed."
"That's one reason," Chris laughed.
There was a series of muffled raps at the door.
"Damn," Chris said. She kissed Carol lightly and rolled out from under her.
Chris opened the door to find Johnnie standing there with a pot of coffee and cups on a tray.
"Thought you might like some coffee, kid," Johnnie said. "I know how you are about it"
"Thanks, Johnnie," Chris said, taking the tray. "I'm sorry I barked at you awhile ago, mate."
"Sure, skipper," Johnnie said.
Chris closed the door with her foot and carried the tray to the bedside table. She looked down at Carol. She couldn't have been less interested in coffee.
"I don't want to sound morbid," Chris said. "But if anything should go wrong tomorrow, call Johnnie. He always knows how to handle trouble."
"I’ll remember that," Carol said. "But if you drown, I’ll never forgive you."
Chris lay down on the bed and pulled the girl to her. "Shut up, will you? If there's anything I can't stand, it's a lot of talk."
They didn't talk again that night.
CHAPTER 14
It was shortly after six when Chris turned off the highway just short of the bridge. She pulled up in front of a ramshackle building with the legend LUNCH-BAIT on an equally ramshackle sign above its roof. A trickle of smoke lazed upward from a stovepipe at the back. A gull perched on the edge of a creel, jabbing its beak through the cracks. There was no other sign of life.
"We can get breakfast here," Chris said. She got out and came around to open the door for Carol. "Place belongs to Clem Saunders. He used to be a sea captain, he says. I think he had a tug or something."
Carol followed Chris into the shack. They sat down at a three-legged table covered with well-worn red and white checkered oilcloth. There were three other tables in the room and a six-foot counter with stools.
Chris tilted her chair back and let out a bellow in the direction of a curtained doorway. "Clem!"
Nobody answered.
"He's probably out catching some bait," Chris said.
"Well, you have to eat something," Carol said. "We'll just have to wait."
"Wait, nothing," Chris said.
She got up from the chair and went around behind the counter. She opened the door of a wooden icebox and peered inside. She pulled out four fish patties and slapped them on the grill. She added six strips of bacon. She set a half dozen eggs on the counter and slammed the ice box door.
"Scrambled," she said. "That's all I know how to fix." She broke the eggs into a bowl, added milk, salt and catsup and whipped vigorously. Then she dumped the contents of the bowl onto the grill and stirred it with a fork. She picked up a spatula and nipped the fish cakes, then set the bacon to drain on a paper towel.
Carol came to join her behind the counter. She set out two plates, then carried silver and two mugs of coffee to the table.
Chris slid the fish cakes, bacon and eggs onto the plates.
"You look like an old hand at that," Carol said.
Chris grinned. "Sure," she said. "Johnnie and I used to work here during the summers. It's the only greasy spoon in miles."
Chris set the plates on the table and sat down.
"You must be handy to have around the house," Carol said.
"Ha!" Chris said. "Dizz says I'm a monster. She won't let me near the kitchen. I wash dishes backwards, she says. I don't even boil water to suit her." She went at the food with vigor.
When they had finished eating Carol looked up at Chris coyly and said, "What does she like about you?"
"Let's not get started on that again," Chris said. The last thing she wanted from Carol this morning was another lecture.
"All right," Carol said. "But you started it." Chris was about to answer when the outside door banged open. They both turned quickly to face it.
A five-foot spider of a man in a hat, a slicker and hip boots stood poised on the steps, a bushel of paper shell crabs hefted up to his knee. He was looking at Chris and beaming toothlessly.
He shoved the basket into the room and trotted across the floor. He jabbed out a skinny claw of a hand.
Chris grabbed the hand and shook it hard. "Clem," she said, "you get handsomer every day."
Clem let out a cackle and slapped Chris heartily on the back. "Thankee, Chris," he lisped. "Glad to see ye made yerself to home."
"Clem, this is Carol Martin," Chris said, smiling at Carol.
Clem lifted his hat, then jammed it back on his head. He winked at Chris. "A pretty one, Chris," he said. "A right pretty one. You ain't changed a bit, I see."
Carol laughed. "Thank you, sir," she said sweetly.
The grizzled face grinned. Clem bowed stiffly, then turned to Chris. "You seen Johnnie yet? He's all
us askin' about ye," he said.
"Yes. We stayed over there last night," Chris answered. "I always get in touch with Johnnie when I'm down this way. But tell me, Clem—how's the tide running this morning? I aim to take a swim."
Clem frowned and clicked his tongue. "Yer a crazy kid, Chris," he said. "Ain't nobody but a damn fool would be goin' in that water today. Runnin' high the past week. Current's wild. Ol' Neptune's been spewin' his guts all over the beach. Never seen so much driftwood and stuff." He looked a little frantic about it, like it wasn't good for his rheumatism or maybe even his soul.
Chris took a gulp of the hot coffee. "I need practice," she said. "I've got a big job coming up and I've been loafing for the past two years. What can I do?"
Clem turned and spat a brown stream of tobacco juice into the bait basket. He pushed his hat back on his head and scratched where the hair used to be. "Best go back to the bay, fer's I can see," he said.
"Nope," Chris said. "That's like diving for sharks in a goldfish bowl. I need to feel the water trying to break me."
"Chris," Carol said. "Maybe he's right. It might not be safe." She put her hand on Chris' arm and looked pleadingly into her eyes.
Chris sighed. She had been counting on Carol to give her moral support, at least to behave as though she believed in her.
"Look," Chris said, "the day I have to do my diving in the bay is the day I quit. You can stay here with Clem if you're scared."
Carol shrugged. "You're the boss," she said. But her eyes said, "Please don't go."
Chris pushed back her chair and stood up. "Let's go, then," she said. She turned to Clem. "What do I owe you, old timer?"
"Looks like I oughta owe you," he said. "You done all the work. Let's make it on the house."
Chris grinned. "Right" she said. "I'll let you know if I drown."
"Ye won't need to do that, youngster," he said. "I’ll hear this one," he nodded at Carol, "hollerin'." He looked at Carol and winked broadly.
Clem walked with them to the door and stood looking after them, running his eyes over Carol's trim shape. He clucked approval, then turned back to the basket of bait.
Chris took Carol by the hand and led her over the sand to the bridge. They stood leaning on the railing, looking down at the swirling water below. The tide was out now, but the water stood high against the marker. It was murky black and it looked as if it would freeze the hide off a polar bear.
They crossed back to the car and got in.
"He's right, you know," Carol said.
Chris did not answer. She started the engine, then swung back to the highway. She turned left.
"You're going anyhow?" Carol said.
"Yes," Chris said. "I'm going anyhow. Don't you understand? I have to."
"What are you trying to prove, Chris?" Carol said. "Has anyone ever accused you of being a coward?"
Chris banged her fist against the wheel. "That's not the point," she said. "I'm scared. Scared as hell. It's me I've got to show, not anybody else. I've been diving under worse conditions than this. I have to know I still can."
She knew she could not explain to Carol the demon that was driving her on. Ever since Johnnie's words of warning, it had been creeping up on her, the fear. But every inch of the way she was fighting it, struggling desperately to kill the urge to back out and run away. It was no longer a simple rational thing, a desire to dive just to prove she still could. It had become a need that must be met. She knew she would be all right once she made this dive. And she knew it would not kill her to try. She just had to prove that she had the guts to do it.
Chris swerved the Thunderbird onto a hardpacked sand trail that ran over the dunes. She stopped at the dunes at the head of the beach.
"There it is," she said. She looked ahead to the vast expanse of ocean and at the waves curling up the sand. After a long silence, she turned to Carol. "Still scared?" she said.
Carol laughed. "No" she said. "No little old ocean can polish off a blockhead like you."
Chris smiled. "That's better," she said. It helped, having Carol believe in her. It helped, having somebody waiting for you.
"Honey," Carol said.
"What?"
"Hold me a minute," Carol said.
Chris twisted from behind the wheel and took the girl in her arms. She pressed Carol's face against her neck and squeezed her face against the soft dark hair. The smell of perfume rose to her nostrils. Not sexy, like Dizz's, but as fresh and tangy as the ocean air. It did not drive her wild, like Dizz's. But she felt the stir of desire deep within her and she wanted to hold the girl and caress her.
Chris slipped her hand under the girl's coat, over her breast, then down to her waist. Carol moaned in her ear, pulled her face back and turned her lips pleadingly to Chris.
Chris grabbed Carol and kissed her hungrily, deeply. She pressed her body against Carol and they fell together against the door of the car.
"Darling," Carol crooned. "Love me, darling." The throaty voice snapped Chris back to consciousness. She remembered what she was doing here and why she must make Carol wait.
"Not now, baby," Chris whispered. "I've got some business to attend to."
"I'm sorry, honey," Carol said. "I shouldn't have started it."
Chris sighed and disentangled herself. "But I’ll see you later," she said.
"That I know," Carol said. "I've got the shakes now."
Chris opened the door behind Carol and both of them got out.
“I’ll drag the gear down to the beach," Chris said. "You start gathering driftwood. I'll need a fire when I get out."
"Okay," Carol said. She turned and ran off down the beach.
Chris pulled the key out of the ignition and walked back to the trunk. She lifted the lid and propped it open. She took out the air tanks and set them on the sand.
Well, kid, she thought, this is it. In a half hour you'll be up to thirty feet over your head in sea water, out where nobody can see you or hear you or help you. What happens then? Do you lose your nerve and just stay down there? Or do you take a little swim and come back to shore?
She shuddered and turned her eyes again to the sea, her first and only enduring love. It rolled on, heedless of her and the terror inside her. It did not tremble in fear of mortal combat.
Slowly she climbed into the scuba suit. She carried the rest of the equipment down to the edge of the water and called to Carol to help her with the air tanks.
“There," Carol said, adjusting a strap and pulling it tighter. "You look just like a fish."
"Let's just hope I swim like one," Chris said. "Wish me luck."
"I do, darling. But I don't think you'll need it."
"Hmm. But if I'm not back in fifty minutes," Chris said soberly, "drive back to Clem's place and call Johnnie. He'll know what to do."
If I'm not back in fifty minutes, Chris thought, neither Johnnie nor anybody else can help me. But it'll do both of us good if we can convince ourselves it isn't true.
"All right, honey. But you wouldn't do that," Carol teased. "You owe me something."
"Right," Chris smiled. "I do."
Chris kissed Carol tenderly on the lips, then turned away. She took a deep breath and said a silent prayer. Then she walked toward the waves.
CHAPTER 15
Like an eerie monster from the murky depths, Chris went down to the sea.
She stopped knee-deep and bent to rinse the face plate of her mask in the water. In the rubber suit, the flippers, gloves and mask, she was completely covered. The tide was on the ebb. Water swirled around her, knocking her gently from side to side. But there were no waves breaking over her. And here on the shore, it was as quiet as a summer's morn. There was nothing sinister on the face of the ocean, certainly nothing to aggravate her fear.
She turned her eyes toward shore and saw Carol standing in the early morning mist, waving to her. Directly overhead and far back over the dunes the gulls were mewing and wheeling, searching for scraps. Carol had noticed them and for a second
terror had shown in the lovely dark eyes. For gulls on shore meant one thing: rough water at sea. And rough water could play havoc with a diver, even one as experienced as Chris.
Chris raised a hand to Carol, then turned again to the ocean. She was about a hundred yards up from the mouth of the river. Even in a strong current, that was a pretty safe distance from the pilings which jutted far out into the deep, marking the mouth of the channel and the pathway up the river. She checked her position again and, satisfied, headed north, cutting across the current.
As she waded ahead, Chris had to admit to herself that she was afraid. She hadn't felt this way since that first time, so many years ago. Johnnie had been with her then and Johnnie had taught her how. He had led her down to the sea and taught her to swim with the fish. And it hadn't been long before she had left Johnnie far behind and headed alone for the deep water.
And she had done a lot of diving in her day, in places nobody else had dared to swim. She had grown confident and maybe just a little bit cocky. She had forgotten that the sea demands respect even from the creatures who roam its depths, and even more so from the ones to whom it did not give birth.
Chris knew, though she'd never said it even to Dizz, that her bout with the barracuda was no accident. It was plain carelessness. She'd been so intent on finding a certain relic that she had forgotten to remain alert to danger. She had not kept an eye on her partner or seen him signal. And the barracuda had struck. If she had been alone that time, she wouldn't have come out alive.
Many a night that barracuda had cut across her dreams and brought her awake in a sweat. But she had learned her lesson. She had learned respect, and a caution that at the moment amounted to cold fear.
Chris knew that she had to put her fear where it belonged—behind her. She knew that she had to make this dive. If she couldn't do it today, she would never have the nerve to try it again. And once she was in the water she dared not be afraid. For fear could bring on cramps and panic. And panic meant certain death.
She set the mask carefully over her nose. She put the mouthpiece between her teeth and adjusted the line to the double tanks strapped to her back. She turned the valve on the right tank and tested it. She eased the canvas straps between her legs into a more comfortable position.