“Kiss me, Nick.”
“I’ve never left without kissing you.”
“I know it,” she smiled. But there was hurt in the smile and for a second he thought he should ask her to go with him, then he pushed away the mosquito netting and sat down on the edge of the bed and kissed her. “Hurry back,” she said. And he left.
She lay there, still for a long while, then got up and put her bathing suit on and walked down toward the beach, mumbling to herself.
You leave it in the hands of God—God’s Hands, Hands of God, she mumbled.
God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Ghost.
The tide is coming in and if you cut the tide out about for a mile, and do another mile edging slightly in, you can get off the point of Sand Beach off Caxambas Pass and drift in with the tide. If you can’t there are several sand bars not far from here and with the tide low now you could stop and rest and if you cannot—then it is all in the hands of God.
She knelt in the sand and crossed herself, knowing for a second what a picture she made, and thinking how much more there was to this than to any movie she had ever seen, then she said the ‘Our Father’ out loud, then three ‘Hail Mary’s’, and mumbling ‘God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost’, walked down into the sea she was afraid of and began to swim.
The search lasted two weeks but no trace of her was ever found. A motel owner on the highway south of Naples reported a woman of her exact description checking out with a man early next morning. There were no license plates registered in Ohio as was on the registration card and no man by the registered man’s name in Lima. The F.B.I. came out and questioned Nick. There were rumors in Marco about what might have happened to her but no body was ever recovered and the Coast Guard checking on the tides were positive that if she had drowned her body would have to have been washed ashore by now unless earned out by one those rare under-currents or, perhaps, it had been washed ashore on some desolate Key and been devoured by turkey vultures. But the body was never found.
CHAPTER XLI
NICK had taken a very active part in the search; but his heart wasn’t in it. Somehow he could not believe she was really dead. Perhaps, if he had actually seen the body, he might almost have been able to believe it. But he couldn’t. He, probably more than anyone, he told himself, was aware of her extreme cunning—but somehow her being dead just wasn’t acceptable to him.
After two weeks of combing the Keys he took off for Miami. He exhaustedly searched all the places where he thought she might be, and notified the police, and finally went back to Marco. For weeks he could not work thinking about her. And during those weeks his attitude changed, his acceptance of her death became a reality.
Again it seemed to him that he was the destroyer—that all his life everything he had ever done had only ended in destruction. He thought, at times, that certainly it was his fault—if he had taken her into Naples with him that evening it never would have happened. Twice, Twice, he would rage to himself, Twice in one month, people I have loved have died because of me.
Then he began to delve into it deeper. There had been enough destruction in his life and his own could offer no possible salvation. He wondered if Nora’s own death weren’t a kind of ancient masochism—the tenet of the early Christian to endure suffering in the interest of eternal salvation, and at the same time making herself, as humans will, be punished for the sins they believed they have committed. Was that it, he wondered? Or was it something that was greater than that—that she had found a dignity and salvation, personal and on this earth, in believing she could only be of detriment to him. And had taken her life, not only in atonement, but out of a greater love and respect for his own life. It was a new thought to him, and he went back to work, but possessed of the new thought.
Work was now not only a pleasure but a salvation, perhaps even an escape, he realized. But a month and a half later he was finished, the manuscript shipped off. He made another trip to Miami hitting once again all of Nora’s old haunts, vaguely hoping she might, by some miracle, still be alive. Then he returned to Marco and began to write short pieces about the islands and the people of the islands. In May the galleys came. And in mid-June he received a letter from Old Gus saying that Marci had given birth to a perfectly normal man-child. And, finally, in the heat of late August the first advance editions of his book arrived. Proudly he took one of the books into Larry’s camps to show him:
Larry, The next week was a nightmare said: “Come on, youngin’, we’re going into Molly’s. I’m gonna show this book off.”
“Larry,” Nick started.
Crap, Larry said, “I suffered enough this last year. Lot of people laughin’ at you about that book. It damn near cost me a few fights.”
So they went into Molly’s. The word of the book spread quickly around the island and by five in the afternoon the place was crowded, everyone congratulating Nick, and examining the book, and drinking to its success. It was as if, now, they all had an interest in it.
Around eleven Nick and Larry left and went back to one of Larry’s fishing shacks and Larry got out a jug of real moonshine he had been saving. They put the moonshine on the floor between them and began to drink and talk.
“Well,” Larry said, “I suppose you’ll be moving on soon.”
“I guess so,” Nick said. “I mean I think I’ll go home. I really feel like I should.”
“I think it would do you good. Maybe this time you won’t strangle yourself.”
“Maybe,” Nick said.
“Well, luck, youngin’. We’ve had some good fun this last year.”
“I’ve learned a lot here.”
“There’s just as much here as anywhere. I mean wherever there’s humans, families, everything’s there.”
“That’s something I think I’ve overlooked,” Nick said.
“A family?”
“Yes. I think I’d like a family.”
“That’s normal, ain’t it.”
“Well, it’s a funny time. Everyone I know seems burdened by one.”
“Well, I don’t know what for,” Larry said.
“I wish we had some of the innocence of your people up there.”
“What do you say we go get us a tarpon. Right now.”
“Let’s,” Nick said. “There’s a good moon. And we haven’t fished together in a long time.”
And they got up and started to put on their mosquito repellent and get their gear in order. It was one in the morning when they shoved off from the dock. Going out to the tarpon spot Larry asked, “You think you’ll be coming back?”
“I’ll be back,” Nick said. “But not for a while. I want to write of you people and I think I can do it better when I’m away. I mean see it better.”
“Maybe you’re right. Well, what will we bet on the tarpon,” Larry said. “Let’s make this a good bet.”
“A salt water reel,” Nick said.
“That’s a bet, youngin’, I can use a new reel.”
And fifteen minutes later they stood in the boat casting in the night.
So the second week in September Nick, after having made one final search of Miami, started home in a new Ford convertible. He drove leisurely, stopping at places of interest, and when he arrived in Chicago he went to a hotel and once again searched the places in Chicago for Nora. But no one had seen her and Hy, at the Four Winds, had heard she was dead.
It was crisp, cool, early fall weather in the midwest and the third day late in the afternoon he drove out to see Old Gus. There were tears in the old man’s eyes when he saw Nick and he tenderly fondled the book Nick had brought him.
Old Gus told him the news, how Old Pete had sold out his interest in Interstate the month before and then found out that the Stratos brothers had planned to get rid of him, and how Old Pete had gone up to the office with a loaded pistol and threatened to kill Charlie Stratos if he didn’t make amends for selling Old Pete out. And of how Charlie Stratos had given in, offered even to let Old Pete b
uy back not only his own stock but some of theirs but Old Pete was through with them and settled for an additional one hundred and seventy-five thousand and goddamn good riddance, he had said. Then Old Gus had told Nick, at Nick’s request, all the details of Pierro’s suicide and how Old Pete had taken over, practically, Marci’s son which had been named Peter in Old Pete’s honor.
Then told Nick how much Mary had missed him, and Yvonne too, though Yvonne hardly ever said a word. Then the Old Man asked,
“And you are going home now?”
“Yes,” Nick said. “As soon as I have a glass of wine with you.”
“And will you stay?”
“No, I don’t think I will stay, Gus. It would not be good for them. Or for me. I have things I must do, too.”
“Yes. I think you are right,” Gus said pouring the wine. Then: “God Bless You, Nickie mou.”
“And God Bless You,” Nick said. And they drank up and Nick went over and kissed the old man on the side of the cheek and said, “I will come see you. Soon.”
“As you wish, Nickie.”
So he drove home.
Yvonne and Mary both cried when they saw him Marci was there with her baby and had kissed him affectionately. Old Pete didn’t have much to say until he saw the book then he cried too and asked Nick a lot of questions about the publishing business and was there any money in books. Nick couldn’t get over how very much a Stratton was the baby and held it for a while.
But he only stayed a week. He was going on to New York for the publication of the book. But someday soon, he said, he would be back.
And his mother and his brethren came, and standing outside, they sent to him, calling him. Now a crowd was sitting about him, and they said to him, “Behold thy mother and thy brethren are outside, seeking thee.” And he answered and said to them, “Who are my mother and. my brethren?” And looking around on those who were sitting about him, he said, “Behold my mother and my brethren. For whoever does the will of God, he is my brother and sister and mother.”
MARK III: 31 to 35.
“To Nick,
All you ever need to know is here.
The Colonel”
REQUEST FROM THE PUBLISHER
Thank you so much for reading our book, we hope you really enjoyed it.
As you probably know, many people look at the reviews before they decide to purchase a book.
If you liked the book, could you please take a minute to leave a review with your feedback?
60 seconds is all I’m asking for, and it would mean the world to us.
Thank you so much,
Pickle Partners Publishing
Go Naked In The World Page 54