Hawkes Harbor

  Jamie started when the office door opened. Grenville came out with another man.

  "You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Hawkes," the man was saying.

  "I'm sure this way is best for all concerned," Grenville said. It was probably best for Grenville. He liked making money. He liked having money.

  Jamie still wished he liked spending it a little better.

  "May I present my friend, James Sommers?" Grenville said. "Mr. Graystone."

  They shook hands.

  "Jamie is actually quite knowledgeable about shipping, himself."

  "Really?" Mr. Graystone said. "We must exchange stories sometime."

  Jamie nodded, thinking Mr. Graystone would drop dead at some of Jamie's stories.

  Yeah, I'm knowledgeable about shipping all right, he thought.

  He watched as Grenville made an appointment with the secretary. She gazed at him with rapt fascination. "I don't care how old he is I'll go out with him if he ever asks," was written all over her face.

  She didn't notice Grenville's eyes crinkle with amusement as he said good-bye.

  Damn old dog, Jamie thought. What is it with him and women? In the elevator lobby, instead of pushing the button, Grenville walked to the glass wall overlooking the city. Jamie stood beside him.

  Almost night now...

  "It anything like you guys thought it would be?" Jamie asked. "I mean, the government, elections, all that?"

  Grenville gave a short laugh. "Not at all. We envisioned nothing this vast, this invasive, this bloated ... and surely not this corrupt."

  "It's better than most countries."

  "Yes, yes. I mustn't be run away with youthful idealism at this age. I can still see our dreams under the patina, a pentimento of the vision. And I'll grant you, it's held up amazingly well."

  "So, at least there's been progress."

  "I'm afraid, Jamie, here as elsewhere, I see inventions, not progress."

  As they stood there, gazing out at the lights of the city, Jamie suddenly had a flashback so strong and vivid that he almost dropped to his knees.

  A black night, a shivering young man half dead with terror, shock, and loss of blood, and a Monster filled with the rage of two hundred years of confinement; both standing on a windy hillside overlooking the lights of Hawkes Harbor.

  It was so real Jamie could smell the sea air, the faint stench of the cemetery, feel the cold dew soaking through his socks, hear his own heart pounding.

  And once again a strong grip kept him from falling. Gradually the tightening in his chest relaxed a little.

  "Are you quite all right?"

  Jamie nodded. He caught his breath.

  Did Grenville remember that night? Absently, Jamie rubbed at his throat. The pain had long disappeared, but the scar was still there if you knew where to look.

  Abruptly, for no apparent reason, Grenville said, "Do you miss your old life, Jamie?"

  Jamie paused. He got nostalgic for it, sometimes. Always a new place to go, always looking for a big score, a little con, sometimes just the next meal. It had been exciting, even exhilarating at times ... but often not. And so damn aimless...

  If I had stayed in my old life, Jamie thought, I'd be dead or in prison most likely. The other side of the counter at a shelter.

  And even the part he missed most—being on a ship, headed for a strange port—maybe even that would be too much for him now.

  It was always the voyage he had loved, never the destination.

  Just as Grenville and the Vampire were always two different entities in Jamie's mind, the tough kid Jamie looked back on now no longer seemed like part of himself....

  No, the callous young sea tramp, the vengeful monster, were lost somewhere, years ago.

  He glanced at Grenville again. He was getting older, too, with aches and pains and fears, ebbing strength and faulty memory. Funny, to be cured into old age, pain, and death. But that's the way it was, if you wanted to live life.

  "No more than you miss your old life," he answered finally.

  "There is much to be said for peace, Jamie."

  Jamie had almost forgotten his youthful pondering on the why of it all—was it to help each other find peace?

  Grenville put his hand on Jamie's shoulder for a moment, and Jamie blinked back tears. He knew that Grenville remembered everything.

  "No, Jamie, not a tree. Not one tree of Hawkes Hall will come down. I like an atmosphere of gentle melancholy," Grenville said.

  Jamie sighed. He'd known his landscaping plan wouldn't go over well. "Just to open it up a little around the front? So it won't be so dark and gloomy?"

  "If you must dig in the dirt, widen the drive. And I asked you last year to enlarge the garden. But not a tree comes down." He emphasized each word in the last sentence.

  "Can't enlarge the garden, there's too much shade." Jamie muttered into his Bloody Mary. Just one, it was a long drive back.

  "You should have ordered the scaloppini. It's great."

  "You know I detest garlic."

  "Thought you were over that."

  "That has nothing to do with it. I simply dislike garlic. Many people do."

  Great, Jamie thought. He was planning on taking Chinese cooking classes in the spring. He remembered how good the food was, in the South China Sea, if you could keep your mind off what was probably in it. How'd he keep the garlic out of that?

  "Damn," Jamie said suddenly.

  "What is it?"

  "I meant to stop by the dry cleaners this morning. Well, if I go first thing tomorrow you can still have your tux back for New Year's Eve."

  Jamie got out his notebook, made a note.

  "Oh God. Don't remind me. The Hawkes Enterprises New Year's Eve Ordeal. I dread it. It's not as if we didn't get our fill of one another yesterday. And I assume Richard's invited a hundred people."

  "Two hundred, between him and Lydia. And that's not counting Rick and Barbara's friends."

  "Yes. Rick and Richard are already quarreling about the music. Both have hired bands. Of course, Lydia wants an orchestra ... By the way, I can't imagine how Richard felt this morning. Or Barbara, either. I'd forgotten how potent port can be.... What are you doing New Year's, Jamie? A party with the bowlers?"

  "Got a date. Dinner-dance at the inn. New first-grade teacher."

  "Surely not some child just out of college?"

  You're the one who likes chasing after young stuff, Jamie thought, but didn't say it. He would kid around with Grenville but was never disrespectful.

  "No, she's thirty, divorced, one kid. Just moved here. Miss Maples's younger sister."

  Grenville raised his brows.

  "Naw," Jamie said. "Emma's cute. Dark hair and eyes. Really built. Good sense of humor. It's not our first date."

  Jamie had gone ahead and booked the whole package at the inn, which included a room. It wasn't any sure thing ... just a feeling, a nice kind of suspense, like "Let's just see what happens."

  He knew she felt the same.

  "Grenville," Jamie said, "skip the party."

  "What?"

  "I mean, it's great you're so close to the family and all, but you just saw them. You're not a big party kinda guy, everyone knows that. Just take Louisa to dinner or something. Nobody'd mind."

  "Several of our business associates will be there. They'll expect to see me. Lydia's charity board members too. The Hawkes Foundation for the Homeless. I can't very well let Richard represent us. And everyone's made such of point of it...."

  It always pissed Jamie off, the way the Hawkeses had snubbed Grenville for so long, then turned to him for money, financial advice, and finally expected him to solve everyone's problems—running Richard to the detox clinic twice a year, handling Lydia's messy second marriage, helping Rick choose a college, and not only hushing up most of Barbara's scandals, keeping her from creating new ones. And now he was the one they wanted to uphold the "Hawkes image."

  Lazy snobs, Jamie thought. He didn't think he said it, even though Grenv
ille answered, "Well. They're my lazy snobs, and I must do what I can."

  "Okay, look, go to the party for an hour, shake hands, make sure people see you—make Louisa wear that green thing that shows her legs—you know which one I mean?"

  "Yes."

  "Then cut out. They won't care." Grenville looked thoughtful.

  "You see a glimmer of intelligence in my inept logic here?"

  Grenville was forced to smile. "I'll think it over."

  "You going to have dessert?" Jamie asked.

  "No."

  Grenville rarely had dessert. That's probably why he was still as lean as he'd been ten, eleven years ago, Jamie thought. His erect, commanding posture gave the appearance of being younger than his years. The lines in his face had deepened but not multiplied; in repose his face was grave, almost severe. His hair had gone a dark iron gray, with a strange sheen to it. Still a handsome man, formidable, aristocratic.

  Jamie ran a hand through his own hair. It had darkened to a caramel color but was just as thick and plentiful as ever—you could count the gray hairs on one hand. The mustache he'd grown a few years ago had come in one shade darker.

  It was nice to have something left to be vain about. He was well aware he was putting on more pounds each year, he'd needed glasses to read the menu.

  Sighing, Jamie ordered coffee instead of pie.

  "Grenville?"

  "Please, no more landscaping talk."

  "No, not that. I just liked the way you introduced me to Mr. Graystone."

  "Jamie, I know of no more appropriate appellation than 'my friend.'" Grenville signaled for the check. He glanced around the room. Nervously, he drummed his fingers.

  Jamie stirred the second spoonful of sugar into his coffee.

  "Meant the 'James' part."

  "Oh," Grenville said.

  Jamie kept his eyes down. Grenville hated to be laughed at. There was only one thing he dreaded more...

  "Don't worry," Jamie said. "I'm not going to cry."

  It was silent on the way back. A peaceful silence. Once they got off the interstate onto the two-lane highway to Hawkes Harbor, they rarely passed a car.

  The clouds had parted—the light of the half moon reflected from the snow. Between the dark fells of woods, the drifts of white snow were oddly reminiscent of the ocean, like swelling, immobile billows.

  It made Jamie remember nights, far out to sea, standing at the railings, smoking, feeling the wind, watching stars, sky, waves, listening to the pulse of the engines, the rhythm of the water. It was like that now. Grenville, going over his contracts in his mind, would probably not say a word until they reached Hawkes Hall.

  Jamie thought briefly of the book, gift-wrapped, in the trunk, then started planning how he'd insulate the pipes tomorrow ... he'd start in the kitchen...

  The windshield suddenly went black and shattered like a bomb had hit it. Badly startled, driving blind, he lost control of the car and felt it shoot off the road. He knew they were headed straight for the tree line ... he made a desperate stab at the brakes—

  The goose-down quilt was surprisingly heavy. It weighed down on him so much it almost hurt.

  Jamie turned his head, trying to see the time.

  Grenville was looking down at him. Jamie just stared back, surprised.

  "Please lie still, Jamie. Another driver stopped a few minutes ago, he's gone for help. There should be an ambulance soon."

  Jamie realized the weight was Grenville's heavy coat. And somewhere, Jamie was in pain. For a moment, he almost panicked.

  Jamie was still terrified of pain; he couldn't tolerate it in the least. But this was different. More like a heavy pressure, really, like being caught in a giant vise.

  Damn, he thought, if I've messed up my other shoulder...

  "We're not near the shoreline, here?"

  "No, it's miles away."

  "Funny. I thought I heard ..." Jamie tried to figure out what had happened.

  "You hurt?" he asked, pulse jumping—there was a trickle of blood on Grenville's temple, another on his chin. "No. Just shaken."

  Slowly, the world took shape. The winter night, the snow, the cold. The car, crumpled into a tree, the driver's door thrown open, the body of the deer limp across the hood.

  The massive oak he lay against. Stars. Lots of stars.

  Jamie shifted, feeling a pain somewhere.

  "Jamie, you must be still."

  You don't control me anymore, Jamie thought. I'll do what I fucking want.

  But he lay still.

  Jamie could remember cold like this only once before—lying on the floor of a secret room in a long-forgotten cave ... But this time he wasn't afraid.

  This time there was a source of warmth somewhere. He realized Grenville was clasping his hand tightly. He tried to return the pressure. "Your hands are warm these days, Grenville."

  "Yes."

  It seemed impossible that the dark eyes that met his could be the same ones that had glared up at him from the coffin....

  "It's been a strange trip, huh?" Jamie said drowsily. Maybe he could sleep until the ambulance got here. "A long way from where we started."

  "Yes."

  Jamie looked at the car. It hurt to see that car like that. Totaled. Grenville would finally have to spring for a new one. Bet that would piss him off...

  "Look in the trunk," Jamie said suddenly. "Before it gets towed. There's a book ..."

  "Yes. I will."

  (But he didn't. Grenville forgot all about it. When the auto-salvage delivered it to Hawkes Hall one week later, he stared at it for a full minute before he realized what it was. When he read the inscription, he cried.)

  The vise seemed to tighten a fraction, and Jamie caught his breath. The handclasp tightened, too, and Jamie thought: I'm okay. It don't get any worse than this, I'll be fine.

  Then, for the first time in many years he had a memory of his childhood. He and Colleen, they were on the ferry to Stanton Island, just to ride it. It must have been his birthday ... yeah, it was June, they were eating ice cream. He remembered her flat white shoes, polished carefully over the scuffs on the heels and toes. He was jumping around, pointing at the different boats, the ones he'd like to sail on.

  "You mustn't go off and leave me, Jamie."

  "But I'll be back."

  "And you mustn't make promises you can't know you'll keep."

  He'd looked up at her, puzzled, she so rarely scolded ... he saw it different, now. And not long after she'd broken a promise of her own ... how angry it had made him...

  Then it seemed like his life collapsed like a folding telescope, from that moment to this, there were only seconds in between....

  It goes so fast, he thought, they don't tell you that, how fast it goes...

  He seemed to see Grenville in a rising mist. He blinked, felt the hot streaks on his face turn to cold. He saw him so clearly now. "No regrets, Grenville," he said. Grenville didn't, or couldn't, speak.

  A twisting pain shot through Jamie's arm, exploded through his chest. Before he could cry out, he felt a finger brush his forehead ...

  "Jamie!"

  Jamie realized he should have been surprised to see Kellen Quinn, but somehow, he wasn't. "Kell?"

  There was Kellen, tall and jaunty, looking like he had in the old days, full of energy and plans and the promise of great things just around the corner.

  He was happy, brimming.

  "Yes lad, it's me, I've come for you. There's extraordinary places waiting, a fortune beyond explaining."

  He reached for Jamie's hand, and pulled him to his feet.

  Jamie braced for the pain but felt none. In fact, even the small ripping pain that had plagued every breath he'd taken for the last few years was gone.

  He and Kell hugged each other tightly for a moment.

  "So you finally made it big?" Jamie laughed.

  Kell looked great, entirely without the shifty, hunted look he'd sometimes worn before.

  Kell's face sobered for
a minute. "I went through some perilous times, lad, very dark weather indeed. But somehow, love of God, I made it through. And now I've come back for you."

  "I appreciate that, Kell, but..."

  As good as it was to see Kellen again, Jamie would not get mixed up in more of his scams. He was through with that stuff.

  "No, Jamie, no cons this time, no tricks, it's the real thing. The real, legitimate thing."

  "Yeah?" Jamie said, wonderingly.

  He could see Kell was telling the truth. It felt natural to fall in step with Kell, felt good to hear his voice.

  "Yes, the candles in Hawkes Hall worked fine, lit with a sincere prayer, they were just as good. It was clever of you to think of it, lad, I owe you."

  Jamie felt a tug of some kind; he turned to see Grenville kneeling in the snow beside a body.

  Not another one, Jamie thought in dismay.

  "And I've come on a fine ship, Jamie, the best you've ever sailed. We'll pull anchor soon. Come, Jamie, it's time."

  Jamie looked forward and saw what Kell had promised—a clean ship anchored on a gently rocking ocean, light glittering on the water.

  "A schooner, Kell?"

  "Yes, and I believe you know our captain. We're promised smooth voyages, the wind at our backs all the way. You've had your stormy weather, Jamie. It's clear passage for you."

  The ship was a beautiful sight, and Jamie picked up his step. The sunlight was pleasantly warm, and he shrugged out of his coat. He didn't need it now.

  I bet I can swim to that ship, he thought, with overwhelming joy.

  From far behind him, he thought he heard a strangled cry. "Jamie!"

  He'll have to do without me, Jamie thought, not looking back. And then clearly, as if he'd been told, he knew Grenville could do without him. There was somewhere else he had to go now, somewhere else to be.

  He had never seen such a soft golden light.

  It lay like a path on the sea.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  S. E. Hinton was the first author to receive the Young Adult Services Division/School Library Journal Award for Life Achievement, and has received numerous other awards and honors. Her gritty and powerful novels have also inspired four major motion pictures. She lives in Tulsa, Oklahoma.