Ted digested that for a moment and added, “Maybe Patty was obsessed to protect those kids because she knew more than most what drug addiction does to someone.”
“Could be,” I said. “I also think Buddy’s death pushed her off the deep end.”
Ted circled back to Calvin’s motivation. “So exposing Buddy would be a way for Calvin to get at Lester?”
“Sure. Lester was so proud of his grandson. Seeing Buddy in jail because he sold drugs to minors? You can imagine how that would hurt.”
“You have to wonder why Calvin didn’t just go to the police.”
“Yeah, another good question. Macomek’s a small island. The three of them may have ended up at the harbor together and it just happened. Apparently, Buddy could be a cocky jerk. Maybe he said something and that set Calvin and Patty off.” I leaned back in my chair and rubbed my eyes.
“One last question?”
“Hmm?”
“Do you think Buddy fell off the pier? That it was an accident?”
I shrugged. “A week ago, I couldn’t imagine Calvin or Patty harming one of their own. Now?”
“It’s amazing that Calvin circled back and dove into the water after you. Shows his real character.”
Unsure exactly what Ted meant, I asked him to explain.
“True character comes out when someone faces a dilemma. The greater the pressure, the stronger a person’s character when they make the unselfish choice.”
We stood in unison. Narrowed hipped and toned in jeans and a white T-shirt, Ted looked damned good. My desire to feel and smell his body was so fierce I hugged myself to keep my arms still. I got lost in the deep blue of his eyes before looking away.
Silence filled the room. Finally he said, “You’re okay and that’s what really matters.”
“Thanks for that and for stopping by.”
“By the way, there’s a party at my house tomorrow afternoon. Burgers, corn, potato salad, beer. It’d be terrific if you came.”
“Celebration of fall’s arrival?”
“That and Penny’s heading back to Wood Hole.”
“Ah. I should’ve asked about the submersible research.”
“Really exciting stuff. You’d love it. See you at the party?”
“Um…I’ll try.”
I closed the door behind Ted and fell into my chair. I was such a goddamned fool. He’d stopped by as a friend concerned about what happened to another friend. There was no romance between us and never would be. Ted and Penny were a unit. He was giving her a party for god’s sake. Again, I pictured the two of them in the close quarters of a submersible as they marveled at wonders they’d only seen in photographs or as pickled specimens. A marine biologist’s dream.
Embarrassed and angry with myself, I couldn’t share my misery with anyone, including Harvey. After all, Ted was her half-brother. Still, I really needed to vent and trudged down the stairs to the basement.
When the big open room was clean and put back in order, Homer had been transferred to his usual tank. On my way to it, I stopped at a large circular tank that held squid jet-propelling around. The otherworldly creatures led with their bulbous heads and trailed eight sucker-bearing arms behind. As a result of global warming, Loligo pealei could now be found all the way up to northern Maine, which spawned lots of local interest. Tackle shops sold squid jigs to anglers trying their luck with prey that looked nothing at all like fish.
Homer glided up to the glass as I looked in.
“Hey, buddy.”
Like a dog looking for his treat, Homer backed up and waved his antennae upward. I returned with some mussels, cracked them, and dropped bits of meat into the aquarium. He snatched each one before it landed on the bottom and shredded it. Bits of food moved toward his mouth like they were on a conveyer belt. Watching Homer do his lobster thing helped me remember the joy of simply observing animals with no expectation of what they might do.
Expectation takes you away from what’s really happening.
Finished with his food, Homer settled down on the bottom of his domain.
“I haven’t seen you since we went for that ride together during the flood. A lot’s happened, but mostly I need to talk about Ted.”
At the mention of Ted’s name, one of Homer’s antennae twitched. I believed, but didn’t know of course, that Homer especially liked Ted McNight.
“So after he said he wanted to get married some day, and I freaked out, we split up. Actually, he did the splitting because of the marriage thing and my reluctance to, you know, give myself to him.”
Homer kind of rolled his eyes.
“No, no. Nothing to do with sex. Actually, that part was incredible. I froze when he tried to hold me, that type of thing.”
Homer kind of tipped his head. To a lobster, I guessed, the concept of “hold” was only associated with fighting and eating one another. I didn’t try to explain.
“He invited me to a party at his house tomorrow. That’s nice, but he’s giving it for his girlfriend Penny. It’ll kill me to see them together.”
Homer jumped back like I’d hit the glass plate. He’d never done that before, and I didn’t know what to make of it. Finally, I gave up and left.
Ongoing work throughout the day—talking with Alise, a pesky water sampler that needed repair, a department meeting, and a newspaper reporter asking about eel biology—kept me from dwelling on Ted’s party.
Wing Point, a spit of land across the harbor from Seal Point where Angelo lives, has a little-used running path. During my sprint down to its end, I obsessed about Ted’s party. A worthy friend, he had been genuinely concerned about events on Macomek. How could I blow him off and not show up at a get-together he seemed eager for me to attend?
At the end of the trail, I stretched my legs on top of a boulder and watched waves smashing into rocks below. Ted’s reference to Calvin’s noble act haunted me. “True character comes out when someone faces a dilemma. The greater the pressure, the stronger a person’s character when they make the unselfish choice.”
Unlike Calvin, I didn’t have to choose between someone dying and my facing the police. I’d pushed away a smart, kind, sexy-as-hell lover who wanted to marry me—then was surprised when he wanted to be “just friends.” My behavior had been motivated by fear of abandonment, the aching loss of my parents, and stubborn individualism. Honest enough to acknowledge all that, I now had to choose between keeping my distance from Ted or becoming the noble friend who was happy he’d found another mate.
My psyche fought with itself. The generous part of me argued that I was quite capable of attending the party, enjoying the company of MOI scientists, and looking the other way when Ted pulled Penny close. My less charitable side said “No way,” and painted a picture of me leaving the party in tears, or worse, doing something obvious like staring helplessly at the happy couple. Back and forth I went. At home, showered and sated with dinner, I’d still made no decision.
Midnight found me half asleep in bed with a book. Too distracted to read, I flipped on the light and prowled the dark house in search of an answer.
21
The next morning, I overslept and nearly missed a prospective job applicant’s talk. Seymour would surely have whined about my absence, especially since the speaker was a female chemical oceanographer, something rare in the field.
I walked Harvey back to her office.
“It’s not like you to be late for an important talk,” she said.
I stood behind her as she unlocked her door. “I’m recovered from the Macomek business, if that’s what you mean.”
She pushed the door open. “Come on in. Sorry the place is a mess.”
Harvey’s version of “mess” was a desk where books and papers were neatly piled side by side. “I meant that Seymour uses every opportunity to go after you. The guy’s so petty and small.”
Driving home that afternoon, I couldn’t put Harvey’s description of Seymour out of my mind. “The guy’s so petty and small.” Co
uld I allow myself to be on the same low moral plane as a man I despised?
I ran through every excuse I could think of for not going to the party. It was a twenty-odd mile drive and my gas tank was low. I didn’t feel like talking to anyone. I’d already turned down my road when I came up with clothes as a pretext. Pulling over, I checked out what I was wearing—jeans (just washed), red turtleneck (ditto), and a flannel shirt that served as a jacket. Pretty much what I wore every day. I adjusted the mirror to check out my appearance. For a change, my hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail. I examined my teeth. No green bits marred my smile.
I turned around and took the nearest road west.
The party was well underway when I parked behind Betty Buttz’s truck. Looking for a way to delay, I peered through her passenger window. Like Harvey, she kept her shotgun on a gun rack in her truck, but Betty’s was overhead instead of behind her seat. Smart, I thought. Thieves wouldn’t easily see it up there. Since there was nothing else of interest in the truck, I slowly climbed the steep driveway. The aroma of grilled hamburgers wafting by made my mouth water.
Waving, Ted spotted me before I reached the lawn. He turned back to the volleyball game about to begin. I watched as he tossed the ball in the air and delivered a killer jump serve his opponents failed to return. Damn. Could he look a little less like a Greek dude from the first Olympics?
For the next hour I talked to every person I liked—and someone I really didn’t. Circling the classic New England house, I pretended to appreciate its architecture and examined the vegetable garden in the back. Beyond the garden, I watched turkey vultures circle overhead. Soon I ran out of things to occupy my time.
I was digging a beer out of the cooler when Betty walked up. We clinked beer cans.
“How’re you doing, Betty?”
“Better than you are, Mara, I’d guess.”
I swear the woman could read my mind. That had helped a lot when I was obsessing about Seymour’s treatment of me, and she’d correctly diagnosed his lack of confidence. Today it was just embarrassing.
“Um, what do you mean?”
“I’ve been watching you, and it’s almost funny. Every time that man comes near you, you’re off to find someone else to talk to or someplace to go.”
I took a slug. “You must be imagining things. Why would I do that?”
It was impressive eye roll. “You think I don’t know what’s going down with you? For Christ’s sake, go talk to the man. It’s his party, after all.”
I gave up the pretense. “Fish or cut bait?”
She reached over and gave my arm a squeeze. “You’re a lot stronger than you think.”
Even less touchy-feely than I was, that much contact for Betty was a big deal. At MOI’s founding, my father had lobbied for Betty’s hire, and she’d turned out to be a leader in the early days of physical oceanography after World War II. With his and my mother’s passing, Betty had stepped in as mother–father–mentor rolled into one. And every bit of advice she’d given me had been right on the money. But this was the first time she’d counseled me about Ted.
A slow smile brightened Ted’s face. “Hey. I thought you’d left.”
“I, ah, realized I hadn’t thanked you for the party.”
“Oh.”
I looked over his shoulder. “Where’s Penny?”
“Did you want to speak with her?”
“Um, well, I never talked to her about the submersible.”
“You’ll have to email her. She’s already left for Woods Hole. Then she’s off to Antarctica for a couple of months.”
My hand flew to my mouth, and I faked a cough. “Excuse me.”
Ted turned to see a couple of people who looked like they were on their way over to speak to us.
He gave them a quick wave and steered me in the other direction.
“I wanted to ask you something.”
“About today’s seminar?”
“I thought she did a good job,” he said. “But no, that’s not it.”
Nervous, I wet my lips and waited. Whatever Ted wanted to ask, it seemed like it was important.
“I’m taking a test dive in a new NOAA submersible off Schoodic Ridge to see the deep-sea corals. Would you like to go with me?”
“The coral hanging gardens?”
“Yeah.”
“In a NOAA submersible.”
“Yes.”
“With you.”
“That’s what I said, Mara.”
Tears flooded my eyes, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.
He put both hands on my shoulders. “Are you all right?”
“I’m good. Real good. Do you have any Kleenex?”
22
I dropped onto the bench at the end of MOI’s pier where RV—Research Vessel—Thalassa was tied up. A couple of crewmates wandered around her aft deck, but it didn’t look like the ship would pull away anytime soon. My dive watch told me only ten minutes had passed since I’d last checked the time. The boat that would transport Ted and me out to Schoodic Ridge, twenty-five nautical miles off Bar Harbor, would stay where it was for at least another half hour.
“Shove ovah.”
I slid my butt six inches to the left as Betty fell onto the bench.
“”So you’re goin’ down in a little sub to see the coral gardens,” she said.
“That’s right.”
“I’d imagine you didn’t sleep too well last night and not just because you’re excited.”
A gull hovering directly above released a mussel from its mouth. We watched as the bivalve smashed onto the pier’s cement edge. The bird’s snack cracked opened on impact.
“You’re right. Not much sleep.” I tried to think of something to divert the conversation, but Betty was too quick for me.
“You don’t have to do this, you know. They’ve got good video feed, so you can watch everything from the ship.”
“Might as well stay here if I do that.”
“Mara, cut it out,” she said.
“Nobody who’s gone down in Benthic Pioneer lost their parents in a submarine accident.”
I fixed on a distant buoy off the harbor. “I’ve run through the dive a dozen times in my mind—from when we climb in, slipping under the water, sinking down into the dark. All of it. I’ll be okay.”
“Sounds like you’re prepared as you can be. Just don’t try to be Superlady.”
“Superwoman. No, I won’t.” I changed the subject. “Hey, weren’t you in Woods Hole when the sub Alvin found those deep sea vents? What was it like seeing the first images of the greatest biological find of the century?”
The diversion worked. “I was a post-doc at the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institute. What was it like? Imagine finding animals—big, colorful, never-seen-before animals—on Mars. That’s what.”
Things were a little more lively on RV Thalassa, but not much. I leaned forward, arms on my thighs. “Why don’t you start at the beginning?”
As I’d assumed, Betty relished talking about the astounding discovery. “It was winter of nineteen-seventy-seven. Oceanographers were on WHOI’s RV Knorr off Ecuador studying deep-sea spreading zones. The top-notch team of geologists couldn’t have imagined they’d need biologists on the cruise. The bottom images they’d seen were from a camera towed behind the ship on a steel cable. The sled—that’s what they called the towed steel cage—had powerful strobe lights, the camera, and a very sensitive temperature sensor to detect thermal vents in the spreading zone.”
“So how deep was this towed camera?” I asked.
“Eight thousand feet below the ship. An incredible engineering feat.”
I tried to envisage a heavy—maybe a couple of tons—steel cage towed at that depth, close enough to the sea bottom to take photos and measure temperature but not so close as to smash into the lava-covered seafloor. “Wow. Keep going, Betty.”
“Well, around midnight, the sensor measured a spike in temperature. People got excited because
it seemed like they’d found what they were looking for—a deep-sea hydrothermal vent. Direct evidence of seafloor spreading and continental drift.”
“The idea that continents move. You forget how recently that was discovered,” I said.
She shook her head. “I remember when scientists who pointed out how neatly South America fit into Africa were ridiculed. So where was I?”
“Um, the temperature spike.”
“Right. Photographs taken right before and after that temperature spike showed what you’d expect—barren, fresh-looking lava. But in the dozen or so frames that coincided with the temperature increase scientists saw something they simply couldn’t believe.”
As if I were there, I held my breath.
“Clams,” she said. “Hundreds and hundreds of big white clams.”
“Clams,” I repeated. “Over a mile below the sea surface where it’s completely dark and near freezing. A deep-sea desert. Then what happened?”
“Within hours WHOI’s RV Lulu arrived with the submersible Alvin on board.
“I know Alvin is named after Allyn Vine, the engineer who designed it. But Lulu?”
“The catamaran that carried Alvin around was named after Vine’s mother. The brilliant guy could do whatever he damned well wanted to.”
“Hey,” I said. “It was just a question.”
She waved me off. “Two geologists and Alvin’s pilot went down in the sub. On the bottom when Alvin’s sensor measured water about ten degrees Centigrade, they knew they’d found the vent site.”
I did a quick calculation. “About fifty degrees Fahrenheit. In the deep sea. Astounding.”
“Yeah. Looking out his viewport, one of the scientists talked to his grad student aboard Lulu by acoustic phone.”
“What’d he say?”
“Something like, ‘Isn’t the ocean’s bottom suppose to be like a desert?’ When she answered ‘Yes,’ he told her there were big clusters of foot-long clams at the vent site.”
Secrets Haunt the Lobsters' Sea Page 20