Dead Reckoning_A Nantasket Novella

by Robert White

  Kounadis, the state police detective, had kept in touch with ever less frequency, and, eventually, he had to give the bulk of his time to other, more productive investigations. When I told him about Lisa Sheehan’s phone message he was silent for a moment, then asked me to tell him something that wouldn’t get him fired. Though he never said so, it seemed that both Eddie's and Sharon's murders had ceased to be priorities. Dunn, the DEA agent, came by once, late in the summer. He had a new partner; McKenna had retired. Dunn and the new guy claimed they were ‘just checking in,’ asked a handful of vague questions and appeared to be waiting for something from me. It was a much less antagonistic encounter than before, but I had nothing for them. Tom Evers seemed to avoid me, at least as much as a boss can avoid his only employee. We spoke minimally and stuck to work topics only. Every once in a while I would catch him staring at me, a combination of sadness and grief written on his face.

  Sharon had died in the intensive care unit without ever regaining consciousness; the driver of the stolen car that hit her was never found. Whatever she might have wanted to tell Kounadis that morning so long ago was lost. Danielle, orphaned so abruptly, went off to live with her grandmother in Florida.

  The rest of summer seemed to pass both gradually and suddenly. Long summer days seemed to drag slowly by, but sooner than I ever would have thought possible, school started up again. This was usually a favorite and exciting time for me: after all, what is a new school-year but a fresh start, the classic tabula rasa, and who doesn’t love that? Unlike in previous years however, that fall, when I needed to most, I could not seem to find or even generate my usual enthusiasm. I felt bad for my kids, but I was unable to shake the pall hanging over me. By the end of September I knew that it would be my last year of teaching.

  Lauren quickly got to work on our divorce, filing just a few days after our dinner together. We met with a mediator twice, emailed a lot and easily reached a settlement. A few months later I took a mortgage on the house, wrote a check and signed some papers, and with so little action, our marriage was dissolved. It seemed too easy to be real and unreal enough to accept easily.

  I spent the winter simplifying. I went through my tools and my hunting and fishing gear, my clothing, books and other possessions. I gave away much and threw away much more. Then I thoroughly cleaned and repainted the inside of the house, one room at a time, leaving the like-new, nearly empty rooms feeling sterile and cold. Eventually, I was living in just one third of the house. When spring came, early that year, I turned my attention and efforts to the outside.

  I also took up running, learning to love the cold burn in my lungs as I pushed myself up the various hills around town, trying to find out how much was too much. I did uncounted push ups and sit ups, and took every opportunity to stretch my constantly aching muscles. Physical awareness became my focus. Anytime my thoughts began to wander, I worked my body to reign them in.

  In April I gave notice of my resignation to my principal, effective at the end of the school-year. The relief I felt more than outweighed the regret. For years I had enjoyed teaching, but that had changed. It was best to get out before I became a jaded and cynical shell, a burden on my students and colleagues. It had been a good run, but now it was time for me to move on. The question being, of course, to what?

  The answer came in June. Andrea called from St. Maarten. Highlander was getting new electronics at a boat yard in the Lagoon there and it was taking longer than planned. Her crew, this one not a boyfriend, had to get north for his summer job. Would I be interested in helping her bring the boat to Maine? Could I fly down as soon as school let out? She was nervous enough already, just asking, she told me some months later, and the quickness with which I agreed simply added to it, making her hope she wasn't making a mistake.

  As the school year wound down, I packed my sea bag and put my last few possessions into storage. It was easy to find a renter for the house, as nice year-round rentals were somewhat of a rarity in the area. I told Tom I would not be available to work for him through the summer, apologized for the short notice. I suggested a few people he might consider for the job. He thanked me, said he would look into it. I had the feeling he was not that upset to be losing me. Something had definitely changed between us last summer. I put the blame on myself, as I had been effectively alienating so many in those days.

  Like Andrea, I, too, wondered about my decision; not the leaving part, that was inevitable, but rather about what I was getting into. For the first time in months, my mind was turning outward, toward another person, and I was afraid of where that might lead. But I was also curious to find out. Now, five years later almost to the day, I was back with a new life, looking forward to the future.

  Andrea came back to the cockpit and furled the genoa, then she took the helm. I headed up to the bow to prepare the anchor. Easing through the wind, the boat fell onto starboard tack and entered the quick pull of the gut, riding the last of the tide on into the bay. Twenty minutes later, as the sun was just setting, we were anchored off Bumpkin Island. I went below and got a bottle of water for Andrea and a beer for myself. Busy with the familiar chores of handling the boat, neither of us had spoken a word for the last hour. Now our comfortable silence continued a bit longer, broken only by Andrea kissing my cheek and whispering “I'm so glad you decided to be my friend.”