“Yes, I know. I’m real sorry about that, Johnny.” The sheriff looked through some notes on the pad in front of him. “Old Bud down at The Helm says you came back to the bar around 1:30. That sounds right?”
Jonathan squirmed in his seat and sat back, desperately trying to put the pieces of the night back together. He couldn’t remember ever going back to the bar. “Sheriff Potts, I must have had too much to drink last night, after my dad and everything. I remember taking my mother home, then… and then I woke up this morning sitting in a boat down at our docks with a bunch of empty beers all around me.”
“You don’t remember going back to Bud’s?”
“No.”
“You don’t remember sitting there with Catherine Hansen and drinking till Bud threw you out about 2:30?”
Jonathan couldn’t hide the expression of shock on his face. At first, he just shook his head slowly, trying to remember. “I haven’t seen Catherine since I got back to town.”
“Well, I got three witnesses say you saw her real good last night down at The Helm. You sat drinking shots and beers with her for some time. Then, about 2:30 or so, you walked out with her. No one saw her again till she was found this morning, naked and dead out on the beach.”
“That can’t be,” Jonathan said. “Why would I hurt Catherine?”
“I know you two were real close back in school before the War.”
Jonathan nodded.
“So, I hear she turned to Luke while you were gone. You come back from the War all torn up and pieced back together and find your brother’s been shacking up with your girl and turned her into a drunk and knocked her up. You think that might have something to do with your feelings about the girl?”
“No… no, Catherine and I were through a long time ago.” Jonathan couldn’t hide the panic in his eyes. “Ohmigod… you can’t think I’d do this?”
“Son, all I think is you better call a good lawyer. I’m gonna have to hold you ‘til we get this sorted out. We got the medical examiner coming down from Petoskey this afternoon to start their work on the body. You better start thinking real hard about where in the hell you were after walking out of that bar last night.”
An hour later, Jonathan was back in the room, this time facing George Hansen and Emily Compton. He was struggling hard to keep his composure.
“I keep going back through the night and what I can remember,” Jonathan said. “There’s this big black hole and I just can’t remember.”
Emily started, “Jonathan, we spoke to your mom. She said you brought her home sometime between 12:30 and 1:00. She said you grabbed some beers out of the refrigerator and walked out the door. She didn’t see you again. Did you just go down to the boat?”
“You really can’t remember going back to The Helm and seeing Catherine?” George asked.
Jonathan shook his head no.
“Jonathan, I called a friend of our family, a lawyer back in Detroit,” Emily offered. “I’d like to help you. He’s going to come up later this afternoon.”
Jonathan looked across at his friend George and the woman who kept coming back into his life. His world was spinning out of control, but they were still here to help. He just couldn’t get the doubt out of his mind. “Has it occurred to either of you I might have done this?” Just saying it out loud made him nauseous.
“I’ve known you all my life, McKendry,” George said. “I’ve seen you drink a few too many beers on occasion. I’ve never seen you anywhere near where you could do something like this.”
“The sheriff says that war can do some strange things to a man’s brain,” Jonathan said in a low, pained voice.
The door opened and Sheriff Willy Potts came back into the room. “We’ll have to wrap it up here folks. The people from the medical examiner’s office are here and they want to talk to Jonathan.”
George and Emily stood. Emily reached out and took Jonathan’s hand. “There’s just no way,” she said. “There’s got to be another explanation.”
Later the next day, Emily Compton was coming out of her house walking toward the car parked in the driveway. She noticed a car pulling up. It was a black convertible with the top down. Connor Harris was sitting alone in the driver’s seat. He waved and Emily walked down to the curb.
“Connor, how are you? You’re up for the summer, too?” she asked.
“Yeah, I just came up a couple of days ago. My dad wanted me to work in his office this summer, but I convinced him I needed a little R&R before getting back to school.”
“How have you been?” she asked. “I haven’t seen you since the Christmas party up here at your parents.”
“Just trying to keep the grades up so I can get into law school next year. Can I give you a ride somewhere?”
“I was going into town,” Emily said. “You’ve heard about the Hansen girl’s death? They think one of the McKendry brothers did it.”
“Yeah, so I hear,” he answered. “I also hear you’re helping with his defense. What’s that all about?”
“Jonathan was a patient down at the V.A. where I’ve been working,” she said. “I spent a lot of time with him during his rehabilitation. There’s just no way he could have been involved in this.”
“Emily, I can speak from experience. These McKendry boys are trouble. You know the older one damn near killed me that summer. I’ve still got headaches and a host of other problems from that sonofabitch,” Connor spat.
Emily stepped back. “Connor, that was a long time ago and Jonathan is nothing like his brother, Luke.”
“You seem to be an awfully good judge of his character. How well did you two get to know each other?” Connor asked in a sarcastic tone.
“We became good friends,” she said defiantly, “and frankly, it’s none of your business.”
“I really can’t believe you’re getting your family into the middle of this thing. Do you have any idea what people are saying?”
“I don’t give a damn what people are saying. It’s the right thing to do!”
“I’m sorry. Sure, I can’t give you a ride,” Connor offered.
She just turned and walked away.
Chapter Twenty-one
She felt weightless, floating effortlessly in a gauzy light haze. There was no sound and nothing touching her body, but the air and a warm sense of peace. Her mind wandered through fragments of memories and glimpses of lost moments.
A soft pull on her arm seemed out of place and a hard focus began forcing its way back into her brain. She thought she was hearing a small voice, but couldn’t make out the words. It seemed just a whisper.
Sally opened her eyes and saw a low ceiling of wood paneling. Something pulled at her arm again and she turned to see Megan Clark smiling up at her.
“Good morning, Sally. Are you awake?” the little girl asked in a quiet voice.
Sally took her hand and smiled back. She remembered now she was onboard the EmmaLee and they were cruising south along the shore of Lake Michigan. They had been in Traverse City the past evening and were heading down to Leland for their next stop.
“Good morning, Megan.”
“Sally, I just had to wake you. Bobby the chef is making the most wonderful pancakes and I don’t want you to miss them.”
“What time is it, dear?”
“Oh, I don’t know. It has to be time to get up, don’t you think? The pancakes will be ready any minute.”
“I’ll tell you what,” Sally said, sitting up and looking out the small round window, “you tell Bobby to save some pancakes for me and I’ll be down as soon as I can splash some water on my face and wake up.”
“Do you like real maple syrup?” the little girl asked.
“You know, I love real maple syrup, so make sure you save some for me.”
Megan giggled. “I’ll try, but you better hurry.” Then she was out the door and gone.
Sally looked out at the morning again and could see the far shore of Grand Traverse Bay off across the lake, calm and shining a
bright blue in the early morning sun. The big boat rode smoothly over the soft surface of the lake and she could hear only a soft hum of the big engines far to the rear of the boat.
The events of last evening began to come back to her, being served dinner on deck with Alex and Megan, anchored offshore from the resort town of Traverse City. It had been a beautifully warm and clear night and as the evening went on the stars slowly made their way out from the day’s fading brightness. She and Alex had moved to soft lounge chairs on the foredeck as darkness fell and Megan went off to bed. With a bottle of wine between them on the boat deck they had talked until well after midnight. Every few minutes a shooting star would divert their attention and they would both point at the same time.
They talked about their childhoods and their marriages. Alex shared the story of his business and the incredible good fortune he happened into during the internet boom. As the evening continued, it was inevitable they would talk again about the losses in their lives, Alex’s wife dying much too young from cancer and Sally’s daughter and parents and their accident.
As Sally thought back now on the evening, she felt comfort in the sharing. It had been easier to talk about those difficult times. When the wine was gone they walked to the rail of the boat and stood together looking at the lights from the town, holding hands. Alex took her into his arms and held her closely. He whispered in her ear, “I love you.” They had stood looking into each other’s eyes and she remembered seeing the soft light from the stars shining back at her. She kissed him softly and put her head on his shoulder. She could still feel the warm comfort of him in her arms.
“I love you too, Alex Clark,” she said looking out across the lake. She had kissed him again, then said good night, leaving him there at the rail.
She got out of the bed and went into her bathroom to wash up. She looked at herself in the mirror and saw the familiar morning face of tousled hair and slightly puffy eyes, stare back at her. She ran cold water and leaned down to splash it across her face several times. The cool shock helped clear the last cobwebs of the night’s sleep.
She dressed and got ready for breakfast quickly. Opening the door to her cabin, she walked out into the narrow hallway, lit in the early morning light by small wall lamps along both sides. There were a series of closed doors to the many sleeping berths up in the front of the ship. She made her way back toward the galley and dining hall. She heard Megan’s delightful laugh and then Alex laughing with her.
Later that morning, they were all up on the foredeck, sitting in lounge chairs reading and enjoying the comfortable weather. A cooling breeze swept over the rail from the west and took the edge off the hot summer sun. The EmmaLee cut through the smooth even swells of the lake, barely lifting into the coming push of the waves. High dunes of white sand pushed up from the beach cutting into high rounded hills along the uninhabited lakeshore. Sally looked up from her book and off to the west she could see the low shadows of the Manitou Islands coming into view.
North and South Manitou Island rested over ten miles out from the small towns of Leland and Glen Arbor. Nearly uninhabited in modern times, they had once teemed with loggers, cutting and removing the valuable tall cedars. Now, hikers and campers trekked over the island trails, ferried out daily from the docks in Leland.
The calm waters around the islands on this morning were deceiving. Over the years of shipping history in this area many ships had been blown off course in heavy weather and perished on the treacherous waters surrounding the islands.
Sally felt a hollow ache in the pit of her stomach. She could only think of her parents with her young daughter, out on this water when the weather came up and her father no longer able to control the boat. She couldn’t stop the tears from welling in her eyes and she tried to put the images of her family who had perished off those islands on that dark night, out of her thoughts.
She rose to go below and be away from everyone. Alex reached out and grabbed her arm.
“Please don’t go. I know…” he paused.
“Why did you bring me here?” she asked, trying to hold back the sobs building in her chest.
He stood and walked with her to the rail of the EmmaLee. They looked out across the barren stretch of water to the Manitous.
“I had hoped we could help you bring some small bit of closure to this,” he said, as he held her hand.
“You don’t expect me to just forget about what’s happened here and put it behind me?” she said, pulling away.
“No, of course not,” Alex said. “I struggled with this, Sally, but in the end, I thought it would help you to confront this.”
“No, this is…”
“Sally, the morning my wife died, she had been unconscious for several days, heavily medicated for pain. I always thought she would come back, even for just a short while so we could say goodbye. But she never came back. That morning, I watched her breathing grow slower and slower. I held her hand all morning as the family came to see her for maybe the last time. Megan came again with our nanny and I watched her hug her mother as she had done for so many months. I prayed she would get to say goodbye to her mother, too.”
“Oh, Alex…” she turned to him and went into his arms, putting her face against his.
“Later that morning, I was alone with her. I may have been dozing, but I suddenly sensed she had squeezed my hand, ever so lightly. When I looked up, I saw her take one long slow breath… then she didn’t breathe again. She never came back.”
Sally was unable to hold back her tears and now cried unashamedly. When she looked up again, she saw Alex’s face also streaked with tears.
“For months, I was haunted by the fact we had never talked really at the end about her leaving. I always thought there would be more time.”
“Alex, how could you have known?”
“I don’t know. I really don’t know.” He looked over the water toward the islands. “She had asked to be cremated and she wanted her ashes to be released in the wind off a high cliff in the Blue Ridge Mountains where we used to camp. It was three months after she passed before I was able to get myself together and go up there and honor her request. As I opened the canister that morning and watched her ashes blow out over the valley, I was finally able to say goodbye in a way that gave me some sense of peace. As I walked back down the mountain trail that morning, I felt such a huge burden begin to lift.”
Sally pulled away and placed both hands on the rail of the ship, looking again at the Manitous, growing closer on the horizon. She didn’t notice, but Alex had signaled the Captain of the EmmaLee. After a few minutes, she turned and saw the man walking up to them across the deck. He had a large bouquet of flowers under one arm and a book in his other hand. One of the crew was coming behind him with Megan holding his hand.
“Sally, forgive me, but I thought if we could have some kind of final service for your family out here, it might help you.”
Her first emotions touched on anger and then a deep sadness again as she resigned herself to the terrible loss she had carried on her heart all these years. She looked into the kind face of the ship’s captain and then down to little Megan, with tears she couldn’t wipe away fast enough. She reached out and took the flowers in her arms. They were yellow and red roses with stems held together by a silk bow. She looked at Alex, then just nodded without speaking.
The Captain moved with everyone to the rail of the EmmaLee. The Manitous loomed even larger now. He opened the Bible in his hand and as he read a passage about life and death and resurrection, she opened her heart to his words. She closed her eyes and tried to remember the faces of her parents and her young daughter, Ellen. She tried to remember the many times they had shared laughter and love together. She felt Alex’s arm around her shoulders. Megan came up beside her and took her hand, looking out at the lake.
When the Captain finished, she opened her eyes and threw the flowers out into the air and watched them float down gently and land on the blue waters of Lake Michigan.
&n
bsp; “I love you all so much,” she said softly, looking down at the water and the flowers moving off now, as the ship slowly passed on. Sally knew in her heart she would never overcome her grief and sense of loss, but she began to feel there was some hope of controlling the darkness that had overwhelmed her for so many years.
They all stood together on the deck of the EmmaLee for some time, until the flowers could no longer be seen in the swells of the big lake.
Chapter Twenty-two
It was a week before charges came down. The sheriff and the county district attorney felt they had enough evidence against Jonathan to proceed. I remember how hard those days were as I struggled to believe my best friend could have been involved in the terrible fate of my sister, Catherine. I was not only overwhelmed with the grief of our loss, but also wracked by the guilt of allowing myself to think Jonathan may well have been her killer. The more it ate into me and the longer I stayed away, the more the guilt consumed me.
Emily followed the deputy back through the dingy hallway. The cold gray walls closed in around her. Their footsteps echoed loudly as they approached a large steel door with a small window the size of a shoe box at eye level. The deputy peered through and then pulled the large set of keys on the chain at his side. After sorting through half the keys, he found the right one and unlocked the door. He continued on ahead of Emily. There were three cells down the left side of the hallway with two bare bulbs for light. Another light was on in the far cell.
As she got closer, she felt a dread that frightened her. All she could think of was how could anyone stand to be locked away in a place like this.
The deputy stopped at the side of the last cell. Emily moved past him and turned to her left, looking through the bars. The scene before her caused her to let out an involuntary low moan, “Oh, Jonathan…?”
The Seasons of the EmmaLee Page 21