Mackenna on the Edge

by Djuna Shellam

  Even my house guest is Alice’s sister, a wretched yet lovely reminder of Alice’s smile, her voice, her humor and even the way she walked. Everything reminds me! And here, on this very yacht, I am bombarded with memories shrieking from my past I just cannot escape. So I must look back. I am compelled to do so even though I fight against it knowing what it will bring. The truth is, I can only fight against it so long before I look. I look and my whole being fills with pain—and then I want to drown in the ocean of hurt where I have died before.

  TWENTY-ONE

  The Book

  Rain poured down steadily as Eve quickly paid the cab driver, tipping him handsomely for breaking every speed limit between the Los Angeles International Airport—LAX—and her final destination, Mackenna’s Bel Air mansion.

  The obvious presence of Mackenna’s green Jaguar, parked prominently in the driveway, immediately raised Eve’s hopes that she would find Mackenna sitting at her desk typing away, safe and sound. She threw her coat over her head, grabbed her suitcases off the ground and made a mad dash for the front door. It wasn’t far from where she was dropped off, but the rain was coming down in such a torrent she was soaked to the bone in a matter of seconds. Standing under the protection of the portico, Eve began rummaging through her bags for the set of keys Mackenna had given her shortly after she agreed to stay until her condo was repaired. Frustrated by her failed search and about to submit to defeat by simply ringing the bell, Eve was mildly startled when the oversized front door opened. She was warmly greeted by Izzy, who had been alerted of Eve’s arrival by the gate guard, and quickly ushered inside.

  Izzy relieved Eve of her drenched coat and instructed her grandson Ricky to take the bags upstairs. Eve didn’t wait to inquire as to Mackenna’s immediate location, but instead made a beeline for the library, expecting to find her there.

  Excited to see her friend again, especially after realizing how deep her own feelings were for Mackenna, Eve pushed open the oversized double doors and boldly strode into Mackenna’s sanctuary, heading straight for her desk, which was empty. She stopped mid-stride. Her shoulders drooped with disappointment. Mackenna wasn’t there. Suddenly lethargic, Eve crossed to the desk hoping to find evidence of Mackenna’s work, but there was nothing but normal desk things—certainly no sign of Mackenna.

  She sat heavily into the imposing chair behind the desk and swiveled back and forth—an anemic twist—almost as if she were rocking a baby, resting momentarily as she ran her fingers over the brass tacks and then lightly over the smooth green leather. She was deeply disappointed at Mackenna’s absence and tried to imagine Mackenna sitting in this chair, in this room, working on some secret project. She smiled weakly as she was able to conjure up her own recent memory of such a scene, but her smile was quickly followed by a deep frown. After a brief rest, Eve finally retreated from the library and headed for Mackenna’s room, taking the stairs two at a time, despite the wringing fatigue she felt. She was tired—weary to the bone from a lethal combination of a three and a half hour layover in Chicago, plus two hours sitting on the runway at JFK; a total of five and a half hours in the air, another hour on the ground at LAX with no sleep whatsoever. Eve wanted nothing more than to take a hot, steaming bath and then sleep about ninety hours.

  But she had to see Mackenna first. She had to talk to her—had to touch her. She had to tell her she loved her. Eve knocked on Mackenna’s door, first timidly and then louder, until finally, with some hesitancy, she opened it. Mackenna wasn’t there, either. Maybe Xavien drove her someplace, Eve thought. The grandfather clock began to chime loudly. Having left her watch in New York and lacking all sense of local time, Eve counted each of its mighty strikes as she stood staring into Mackenna’s vacant room. It finally stopped at twelve. Noon. Grief, she thought, was it noon already? She’d been awake in some form or another for nearly fifty-seven hours—no wonder she felt like hell. Eve decided she’d better have that bath and squeeze in a long nap before Mackenna came back from wherever she went. She didn’t want to look like something the cat dragged home when she declared her undying love.

  “Miss Eve,” Izzy said walking up behind Eve.

  “Yes, Izzy,” Eve replied, starting just a bit.

  “I thought you might like to know,” Izzy began tentatively, her face filled with worry.

  “Yes, of course, Izzy, what is it?” Eve answered wearily.

  “She’s not here, Lass,” Izzy said with reluctance. “She’s still on the boat.”

  “Oh?” Eve could barely hide her disappointment.

  “Aye. She dismissed the Katie Mac crew and sent ’em home—until she calls for them she says.” Izzy seemed almost on the verge of tears. “They didn’t want to leave her what with this weather, but she insisted they leave her alone.”

  “But her car…”

  “No lass, it’s waitin’ to be picked up for routine maintenance. Xavien drove her down. And, I have to tell ya, that’s odd in itself,” Izzy admitted, wringing her hands.

  “Why?”

  “Well, y’know, Mary-Mackenna won’t let anyone drive her. Oh no, not even Xavien. ’Bout drives him mad, ’cause it’s his job, y’know. And he used to take that child to school every single day. But that girl won’t hear of it. Not since her accident, anyway. Poor child… still traumatized, she is.”

  “No kidding.” Eve’s heart broke just a little at the thought of Mackenna still being so distressed over the accident that she wouldn’t even ride in the back seat with her chauffeur. What other demons might she be harboring, Eve wondered.

  “Naw. No kidding. None a’tall. Why, they even had a go-around about her ridin’ up with him in the front. Seems she climbed right in the front seat, and I know he wasn’t likin’ that too much.” Izzy shook her head with disapproval. “Oh Lord, it’s his space he says and it makes him nervous. Well, anyway, he let her have her way seein’ how he was finally gettin’ to take her someplace, but he was none too happy about it, I can tell you that.” Izzy shook her head again. “She’s a stubborn one, that Mary-Mackenna.”

  “Hmm… Well, when did she send the crew home?” Eve’s mind was going a mile a minute.

  “They just called from The Marina a few minutes ago,” Izzy said. “She sent ’em home last night, but it was too foggy for ’em to get back ’til this mornin’.”

  “Oh god,” Eve murmured between her teeth. She was beginning to panic. “Where’d they leave her?”

  “I don’t know for sures, but I know it was someplace by Catalina.” Izzy waved her hand in the general direction of the coast.

  “Well, hell, I didn’t really need any sleep anyway,” Eve said with resignation and then hugged Izzy. “Thanks, Izzy, I owe you one.”

  “Just bring her home, Lass—and make her happy. She’s been a sad one for too long now.”

  Eve sprung into immediate action as warning signals went off in her head. While she hurriedly changed clothes in her own room, Izzy told Eve who to contact down at The Marina to get her out to The Katie Mac. Eve’s car was still in the shop, so Izzy made arrangements for Xavien to take Eve down to the Marina just as soon as she was ready. Eve dumped the contents of her suitcases onto the bed, purging unnecessary items, and quickly re-packed considering the possibility she might be gone for a few days or more depending on Mackenna’s condition—when and if Eve found her.

  Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the sudden and unexpected rain continued to pelt the area mercilessly, further complicating Los Angeles’ recovery from the earthquake less than a month earlier. She gazed with great concern out her bedroom window, which faced the ocean, and imagined where Santa Catalina would be were it not for the low storm clouds hiding it from view. She tried to envision a yacht she had never seen before, anchored somewhere off its coast. She couldn’t, and worse, what she could imagine was unsettling. The storm worried her for many reasons, but two were paramount. Was Mackenna all right out there by herself? It was driving her mad with worry not knowing. And how the hell was she going to
get to Mackenna in these conditions without getting lost at sea herself, or worse, without puking her guts out the whole way there?

  Her unpleasant thoughts were interrupted by Izzy who informed Eve that Xavien was ready to go whenever she was. She wasn’t, but she grabbed her bag and made a swift descent downstairs and out to the waiting Rolls Royce.

  21.2

  Mackenna sat at the massive bar, alone, staring at the shelves and shelves of liquor bottles, alternating with shelves and shelves of sparkling glasses—all secured by guy wires—almost daring them to seduce her. The sky brightened with the flash of lightening, immediately followed by a violent crack of thunder, startling her only momentarily. The first night she was alone on the yacht, the air was void of sound but for the rhythmic sloshing of water against the hull and an occasional foghorn warning of the creeping early morning shroud. It was relaxing and exactly what she wanted. This night, however, the yacht rocked from the storm, and rain battered against the ship first from one direction then the other. As the full impact of being completely alone on the yacht in a raging storm hit her, Mackenna began to experience a mild case of anxiety. Immediately she regretted not anchoring on the leeward side of the island where she could ride out the storm with much less trauma to her and the yacht.

  The vessel was without its crew, who were sent ashore by her the night before and instructed to return to the mainland by ferry until called to retrieve her and The Katie Mac. They were reluctant to leave her, begging her to let them stay to take care of her and the yacht, but she wouldn’t budge. They had to leave. When they were to return, she didn’t know, and she didn’t. In her mind, she thought maybe never—that she would be aware of, anyway—but she wouldn’t know until she and The Demon were alone on the water. She wouldn’t know until a winner was declared and that could take days—or weeks. So far, after one whole day she was winning, but not by much—and she was still stuck, sitting right smack in the middle of the powerful storm.

  She got up and ventured behind the bar, steadying herself against the sometimes violent to-and-fro motion of the yacht, and touched each bottle as if it were electrified by the storm and alive, wondering which one would finally choose her. Her finger lingered momentarily. Ah, Dewers. Perfect. Mackenna picked up the bottle, grabbed a glass from the middle of the lower shelf, picked up the full ice bucket and made her way around to the patron side of the bar. She gingerly placed three ice cubes in the glass with silver ice tongs, then poured slowly until the ice became weightless, floating gently in the liquor.

  As she carefully set the nearly full bottle into the well on the bartender side of the bar, she stared at the glass sitting on the rubber counter and watched the liquor slop from side to side in the half-filled glass before picking it up. She held the drink in her hand, swirling the alcohol which allowed its vapors to reach her nostrils and then her brain in short order.

  “…I want you to take it with you. You don’t have to read it, but if you want to… please at least look at it before…”

  Mackenna quickly put the drink down, splashing liquid onto the counter and her hand. She shook her head to clear it.

  “Just don’t do anything drastic before at least looking at it.”

  Eve’s voice filled Mackenna’s head with such a rush she felt a dizziness overcome her, grabbing onto the edge of the bar just to steady herself. She looked at the drink and it seemed to be taunting her, willing her to pick it up and slam its contents into her body like a violent, crashing wave. She reached out and grabbed the glass, quickly lifting it to her lips but stopped when her head again filled with Eve’s pleading voice.

  “This book is really important to me—and I think it could be to you, too—and I’d like you to read it before… Well, maybe it can help you somehow… I don’t know. I don’t know. It just occurred to me you might find something in it and… just please, read it—if you want. Okay?”

  The glass slipped out of Mackenna’s hand, fell to the counter and landed on its bottom edge, spilling scotch all over the bar. The glass rolled gently to the edge of the counter and finally over the side, splintering into a thousand shards upon contact with the hardwood floor behind the bar. Mackenna didn’t even notice as she sat staring into the recent past, trying to remember Eve’s exact words.

  “This book is really important to me—and I think it could be to you, too…”

  The book. The book she hadn’t even bothered to look at since Eve begged her to take it in New York, but at the last minute was compelled to toss it into her bag before leaving for The Marina. What on earth is it with that book, Mackenna wondered. She was oblivious to the mess at the bar, forgetting it completely as she rose from the bar to make her way back to her room—her parents’ room—to find Eve’s book. She smelled of scotch, but when she raised her hand to taste the remains, she stopped as the fumes reached her senses, afraid Eve’s voice would again fill her head.

  Back in the master stateroom, she opened her bag, still unpacked at the foot of the large bed, and carefully pulled out the black leather-bound book that held Eve’s mysterious secret.

  “I know, I’m sounding somewhat cryptic and maybe I don’t even know what I’m talking about, but I’m just asking you to look at it. Please.”

  Mackenna sat down on the edge of the bed and ran her hand over the cover, afraid to open the book, yet strangely filled with excitement. It had an energy of sorts, though Mackenna couldn’t explain what it was. Was it merely from Eve’s insistence she read it, or that it was actually radiating energy? As she examined the book, she experienced a strong sense of familiarity, as if she’d seen the book before—even before Eve gave it to her. She closed her eyes and tried to let the memory come back to her, but it was hidden someplace deep and dark—someplace completely inaccessible.

  The ship swayed violently as the storm continued to pound away, but Mackenna was mentally traveling thousands of miles away in time and space and quickly became oblivious to the ship’s motion. She was in an altered state of consciousness and completely involved with the mystery she held in her hands. Fully trembling by the time she carefully opened the book, she gasped audibly when the contents became clear to her.

  Mackenna slammed the book shut and immediately pulled it to her chest. It was as if all the air was knocked out of her, causing her to hyperventilate as she tried desperately to catch a breath. She wanted to cry and wretch all at the same time, but could only shake from deep within. Eve should have warned her—should have given her a clue before giving her the book. She should have warned her!

  Mackenna kept the book clutched to her chest and rocked slightly as she attempted to recover from the initial shock. Eventually, though completely consumed with angst, she was again able to face opening the book. An hour had already passed from when she first poured the ill-fated drink, the passage of time marked by the ship’s chimes announcing twenty-two hundred hours, or ten o’clock at night. Mackenna climbed up onto the bed with resolve, drew her knees close to her, took a deep breath and slowly opened the book. Her lips moved slightly as she read the neat handwriting: Property of Alice Irene Hollywell.

  Why had Eve insisted she read this, Mackenna wondered as she laid her hand with reverence over Alice’s looping cursive. The first page was blank but for a stern warning to trespassers who dared to read her entries, and instructions to Eve Marie Hollywell to keep it safe and out of enemy hands for her until her return. The warning was almost adolescent in tone. Mackenna smiled as a lone tear slid down her face. She turned the pages gently while she quickly scanned the dates of Alice’s entries.

  A folded sheet of paper slid out of the diary into Mackenna’s lap. She closed the book and gently opened the paper, folded in quarters, to reveal a letter to Alice from Eve dated 1 May 1976. She set the letter aside and turned her attention back to the diary, turning pages until she came to one in particular and stopped. She closed the book over her finger to keep the place and pondered if she should even be reading any part of Alice’s diary.

&n
bsp; Closing her eyes, she remembered the many times she would walk in on Alice who would be furiously writing in a book—maybe even this one—only to quickly close it and pretend as if it didn’t exist, even though Mackenna could see it clear as day. What in the world did Eve hope to accomplish by having her read it? Mackenna didn’t know and could only guess—and even that presented hazards. Just holding the book in her hands was taking her away, whisking her back to a time and a place that held so much joy and innocence—and so much pain. Unfathomable pain.

  Mackenna was afraid, excited, filled with apprehension and overwhelming guilt—but as the minutes, then hours passed, she realized she wanted to read it. She needed to read Alice’s diary in the worst way. Surely Eve had the right to give it to her or she wouldn’t have insisted she read it. Mackenna suddenly realized Eve must have read it herself and found something of significance, or she wouldn’t have been so insistent that Mackenna read it as well. But did that make it right?

  Almost delirious from lack of sleep, emotional exhaustion and stress, Mackenna was beginning to have visions; vivid memories of her days in the Air Force—of Alice and Mitch, Texas, Dot and Billy Boy… Her mind was literally swimming with images. The Demon, for the time being was forgotten, and all Mackenna wanted to do was return—back to Alice and their past. Filled with trepidation, Mackenna hesitantly opened the book to the entry marked by her finger and began to read.

  ~/~/~/~/~

  Eve tossed and turned, unable to sleep, aware of every hour that passed by the now familiar chimes reverberating through the otherwise quiet house. The rain had let up some, but the wind still blew ferociously and an occasional thunderclap would jolt her from her fitful slumber. She was so concerned about Mackenna, out on the yacht by herself, but there was nothing she could do but return to Mackenna’s mansion and wait for the storm to even out, because no one would take her over to the island in such inclement weather. The ferries had stopped running and she had been unable to convince anyone to risk their life and hers taking her out in the storm.