The She

  He knew something about the intrigue with Mr. Church's hands. As a kid I'd heard him mention it a couple of times with a hefty shrug. Every seaman in the Hooks seemed to come with his own little set of superstitions, and respecting individual beliefs is just part of doing business down here. I think if Opa was miffed, it was because I didn't stop over to see him on that trip. He didn't say that.

  He cast his twinkling, innocent smile over to Emmett. That's who he was trying to get even with, because Emmett wouldn't say grace. I guess he wanted Emmett to know that one person in the family still fit his version of somewhat spiritual. I just took the glove and put it under my napkin, which was a stupid thing to do, because it just made the whole thing look even more suspicious. Emmett quit chewing long enough to glance from my lap to my eyes, and I grinned a little. He didn't.

  "The widow Riley called just before you got here," Opa changed the subject. "Said she ran into you in the liquor store."

  "We saw her when we stopped to get the wine." Aunt Mel looked at him with a combination of affection and disbelief. "Dad, must you call her the widow Riley? It's just so ... vernacular so Mark Twain-ish."

  "Oh." His eyes twinkled more. "She'd be 'someone living with widowdom' or something like that up at the university, I suppose."

  "How about Kate?" Aunt Mel suggested. "It's a beautiful name, and it's hers."

  "Actually, she likes being called the widow Riley," Opa said. "She introduces herself that way."

  Emmett wiped his napkin across his beard, swallowed his food, and said, "Maybe that's because she still feels the constant suggestion might alleviate suspicion to the contrary." And he smiled in his politely amused way.

  Opa and Aunt Mel laughed. I said I didn't get it.

  "You don't remember when the Riley vessel went missing?" Opa asked me.

  I glanced at Emmett, who was trying to slip him the thumbs-down sign, but Opa laughed him off. "Come on, Emmett. He's a big boy now. Surely he can hear a little island scandal."

  "If it has to do with The She, I would prefer we skipped it." Emmett reached a hand out, rubbed my shoulder and looked at Opa. "He had some problems with memories coming back, and it's only been about a year."

  "Oh," Opa said, like this was news to him. "Why didn't you tell me?"

  "Because it was nothing," I said, dredging up some casual tone out of nowhere. If you referred to Opa's health as being a problem, he got indignant. He could refer to it, but nobody else could. "I can listen to island stories."

  "As you should!" he said, and an awkward smile crept across his face. "I'm not saying it was a bad idea for you boys to move away, live in a change of scene. But you can't spend too many more years pretending like the place doesn't exist. I'm not sure I've liked it going on for this long."

  Emmett took a long time swallowing his food, and Opa watched him thoughtfully. He washed it down with a hit of wine and managed to come up with a smile. "You're right, Opa. The island was a big part of our lives. If Evan wants to hear island tales, I have no problem, but I would appreciate it if we could steer clear of the Gormley boat and stories of that nature."

  "Gormley boat..." I laid my fork down and chewed, while the name and the circumstances came drifting close in some fog. "Come on. Don't mention a name and then leave me hanging."

  "You were seven," Emmett rolled his eyes. "I was trying to sandbag because a northeaster had sprung out of nowhere, and it was a full moon, which meant the tides were going to hit the yard. Now do you remember? Because if you don't, we're not going to discuss it."

  I let him think I didn't for a minute. Then I said, "I remember you whaled on my butt like some kind of savage."

  They all laughed, and Emmett held up his hands. "What can I say? I was fifteen and impetuous. And Mom was standing right on the porch, listening to you go on and on about that screech you used to swear you heard once in a while. Mom was never fond of that she-devil superstition. She thought it was sexist, and she had enough worries. If I hadn't tanned your hide, Mom would have, and then it would have really hurt."

  "I always believed you about hearing the noise, Evan." Aunt Mel smiled across at me. "I think it's fascinating. I wish science would hurry up with the explanation. I do remember hearing you cry about it once when I was there. I could see in your face that you were really frightened."

  Opa shifted himself in the chair like his leg was giving him some hell. Then he forked a lobster tail out of its shell, and changed the subject. I was glad. Emmett had never believed me about hearing the shrieking when I was a kid—which hadn't bothered me at all in Philadelphia, so long as the issue was buried in some dead zone of my mind. Now I didn't know what to say.

  Opa went on. "Shortly before the Riley boat went missing, a couple of the coast's less-favored captains—those who ran drugs from Jamaica, that is—had tried to fake their own disappearances using the superstition of Ella Diablo, whom you used to call The She. They gave false Maydays, false coordinates, tried to make it appear they were foundering when, in fact, they had realized the feds were on to them and there would probably be arrests soon. The Coast Guard was too smart, both times. The captains were caught and prosecuted before they could, er, founder: As for the widow Riley—Kate—she's been fighting the same accusation about her husband ever since."

  I laid down my fork and slumped back, trying to think of this. I could remember Captain Riley and bits and pieces of my parents' conversations when his boat went missing.

  "I sort of remember Mom and Dad not wanting to talk about it. Captain Riley was their friend, but I don't remember them feeling sad like you do when somebody dies. It was more like they were ashamed of him. They must have thought the worst of him or something."

  "They had reason to believe the disappearance was a hoax," Emmett confirmed.

  "He used to play basketball behind the garage with you, and he taught me how to wing a Frisbee down on the beach," I said. "Captain Riley seemed like a very nice guy, didn't he?"

  "Dad always said he was lots of fun, and he was always very nice to me." Emmett turned and asked the server for another glass of wine. I watched Opa's eyebrows shoot up, but I didn't want to be finding fault with my brother for tying one on a little bit. He had gotten a seat facing the water; and I could see all this reminiscing wasn't sitting well with him, either. "But sometimes very nice men have women on the side."

  "He had a girlfriend? While he was married to Mrs. Riley?"

  Opa nodded, and Emmett patted me on the head. "Yes, O innocent one. She was on the vessel when it, er, went down. It was a big secret to no one, except Mrs. Riley, of course. She still insists they were just friends, doesn't she, Opa?"

  "Just friends."

  "Well, what was she doing on the boat?" I asked.

  Opa answered, "You mean, what was she doing on the boat with a captain and four crew members, all of whom were about to be charged with importing illegal substances with intent to distribute? Except the madam, of course. She was just along for the ride." Opa winked at me. "We certainly don't hold anything against the widow Riley around here, but come on. You're a big boy now. Figure it out."

  I thought about it for a minute, my jaw kind of hanging. I guess I was at an age where I would be figuring out that grown-ups I'd looked up to as a kid weren't actually so spiffy clean. But this one floored me. "Captain Riley? The one who made me into the best Frisbee winger in West Hook? You're saying he had a lady friend, he faked an encounter with The She, and now they're living in, like, Trinidad?"

  Opa laid down his napkin and applauded. Emmett was shaking his head, glancing at the water out the window, and drinking a pretty big gulp of wine.

  So I probably shouldn't have said it, but it was irresistible. "Okay, so ... he had a woman onboard. It wasn't his wife, but it was his lover. How do you know The She didn't get jealous?"

  Then I laughed, but it came out weird. It didn't last long enough. It sounded nervous, though there was nothing to be nervous about. I just found myself wishing I was up on Broad Stree
t, enjoying a meal at the Hyatt, and I suddenly couldn't fathom why I had agreed to stay here until Saturday without putting up a fight. Up in Philly, the conversation somehow always covered our stuff. Opa was a sucker for my class pranks. He laughed and laughed at my stories, and Emmett and Aunt Mel filled in with talk of tenure, teaching, departmental issues, etc. But now we were on Opa's turf. And I think conversations just naturally went to what was important around here.

  I figured I would park myself on the family room floor after dinner below the windows, and watch football until it got dark and I wouldn't have to see the water anymore. Or maybe I would start dialing friends from school to see if any were spending the holiday at their summerhouses, which couldn't possibly have as many views as this place.

  I shot a sympathy smile at Emmett, figuring he was thinking the same types of things. He was watching me, too intensely. He didn't smile back.

  SIX

  We had brandy with dessert, which is the drink of natives and summer wanna-bes in the Hooks. Opa always got me a snifter of that at our Hyatt dinners, just to "keep me a Starn," though I rarely drank any. After watching Emmett hit the wine so heavily, I decided there must be some value in numbness when you've got all these windows to deal with. I drank it, and it did me in. I kept to my game plan of crashing out on the floor of the family room and watching Thanksgiving football. But being that I hadn't had a drink since Grey Shailey nailed me at that party a year ago, I was whizzing a little, enough that I thought it would be funny to let Emmett see me crawl into the family room on my hands and knees to avoid any sight of the whitecaps.

  Instead of laughing, he asked me, "Want to go for a walk on the beach?"

  I collapsed on the soft rug, thinking of some thirty-seven fucking degrees outside and a lecture that was probably coming my way, now that I'd been busted for seeing Edwin Church. "Why in hell would I want to do that?"

  "Because I'm going."

  I figured he just wanted to sober up. I gave him the thumbs down and collapsed, my head on an overstuffed pillow I pulled off the couch. I was asleep ten minutes later When I woke up again, it was because a telephone was in front of my face.

  Opa was leaning over me and saying, "Evan, your girlfriend is calling you. Collect."

  I didn't have a girlfriend at the moment. And I could see Opa's eyebrows shooting up as he handed me the phone. He had this thing about people taking advantage of him because he was wealthy.

  "I'm sorry," I told him. "I'll pay you back."

  "No, no, not to worry," he said, but he retreated quickly back to the dining room, and I could hear him giving Aunt Mel the lowdown on his latest ship model. I just knew he wasn't tickled.

  "Hello?"

  "I thought maybe after that vulgar spread I'm sure your grandfather laid out for you, you might be feeling a bit more charitable about how you spend your time tomorrow."

  "Grey, could you not call here collect, please? You've got a cell phone, and it's a holiday."

  "They took it at the entrance gate. I'm in the nuthouse, don't forget. Cut me a break. I get one call a day. I'm calling you instead of Happy and Smiley."

  "Chandra and Bear?" I asked sleepily.

  "Not quite. Happy is passed out on the couch by now, and Smiley's probably talking to his little button on the side and telling her how much he loves her."

  "Oh." I woke up more, remembering that she was in a pretty bad way. "You didn't go home for the holiday?"

  "Hell no. I'm coming to see you tomorrow instead."

  I sighed. "Grey, listen to me. I just can't go. Believe me."

  I heard something like a combination of sigh and groan. "I've never driven an outboard before. Is it hard?"

  She was only used to driving yachts and Jet Skis. I rolled my eyes. "It's very easy, Grey. I did it last year after seven years away from the water. It's like riding a bike."

  "Yeah, try doing it when you think you're fainting," she mumbled, and I got a little more awake, remembering this panic disorder thing she had. But she went on without any more appeals to my emotions. "I'll still need you to make a phone call for me. I only get one call, and I was imagining myself calling that outboard rental place and getting an answering machine on the holiday."

  "You want me to call The Docks over in West Hook?"

  "Yeah. My dad used to rent boats from them when he had parties at the house. You need a credit card. Do you have one?"

  I was a second cardholder on one of Emmett's cards, but I didn't exactly want that charge to show up on his bill. I rolled over and sighed. "I think that's only in the summer when there's a line of tourists out the door" I told her. "I don't exactly think you need to make a reservation this time of year."

  "True ... and they'll be able to give me directions through the marshes?"

  "It's not hard. You can see his little place almost as soon as you cross the bay. There's only one turn you have to make off the main trail through the mudflats—"

  "Well, what about the tides? You can't get back there at low tide, right?" She sighed. "Never mind about that part. I'll look on the Internet."

  I could have gotten up on my knees and looked to see where the water was hitting the cement blocks that held up the bridge to West Hook, but I decided I'd do her one betten I could hear her trying to figure all this out herself, from Saint Elizabeth's, on Thanksgiving, when her parents were passed out and/or cheating on each othen It did things to my heart like make me want to be normal toward her.

  "I think Mn Shields will probably take you out there himself. He owns The Docks, but he's got nothing to do this time of year probably, except watch television—"

  "That would be so cool." She sounded relieved. "What do you think he'd charge me to take me out and pick me up again?"

  I started to say fifty bucks, but I stopped myself. My heart was doing even weirder things inside of me, like going out to her.

  "Probably nothing," I lied. "I'll call him for you. I'll set it up."

  I pulled my wallet out of my back pocket and eyed up this credit card of Emmett's. I figured I could say I bought a jacket in Mr. Shields's bait and tackle store if Emmett asked me any questions.

  "Just show up an hour before high tide, which would be..." I actually got up on my knees, looked out the picture window facing the bridge, and saw where the waterline was. "Show up around nine A.M. Looks like low tide was at four by where it's hitting the pilings under the bridge, which would make high tide ten. Is that too early?"

  "I can leave anytime after seven. And you sound like a real sailor."

  Suddenly I could see Emmett walking across the bridge with a very red face and a package in his hand, a white bag with red lettering. I figured he'd walked to the West Hook CVS and bought himself something instead of walking the beach. I collapsed back on the floor, laughing at everything.

  "Yeah, I'm ready for my longshoreman's test. Look, I've got to go. I'll set the thing up for you, but I've got to do it before my brother gets back in the house, and he's coming across the bridge right now. I told you he's not into Mr. Church."

  "Evan, thanks."

  "No problem."

  "Evan?"

  I really just wanted to get off the phone, make her phone call, and forget the whole thing. "Yeah?"

  "I got Soundra McLelland second on my list. After you."

  I just smiled, shaking my head.

  "I just wanted you to know that," she said. "I'll call her tomorrow from my cell phone, when they give it back to me on the way out the door."

  "That's good, Grey," I said, and my voice sounded a lot warmer than I really wanted it to.

  "Actually, don't get too excited. She might be skiing. It seems to me that sometime last year I heard her telling a couple of people loudly that her family goes up to their chalet in Vermont over Thanksgiving. Hey, does it cost less to buy your skis if you only have to buy one?"

  "Grey?"

  She shut up kind of fast.

  "You want me to make that call or what? Because my brother's coming."
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  "Yeah, Evan. Thanks. Really. I'm grateful. I'm ... really, supremely ... grateful." She sighed a long one, then muttered, "Oh, fuck, I'll never get it right," and just hung up.

  I dialed information and got the number for The Docks. Mr. Shields answered on the first ring, and the television was blaring in the background. I could hear little kids' voices shrieking, too, which meant he had picked up from his house. I remembered it was Thanksgiving, and in Philly, people wouldn't have picked up at all.

  "Mr. Shields, hi. My name is Evan Barrett. You wouldn't remember me, but—"

  "How would I not remember Wade and Mary Ellen's kid?" he asked in a friendly way that kind of stunned me. "I ask for you and your brother every time your grandfather comes in the tackle shop. I guess he doesn't tell you, since everyone's always asking."

  He asked about school and the city, and I answered all his questions while hazily realizing he hadn't recognized me last year. I'd rented the outboard to go see Edwin Church from Mr. Shields. I'd gone in there wearing a hat, sunglasses, and a wool scarf, and I'd paid cash. Now he was giving me the impression our names were still household words down here. I felt shocked and guilty for not having been a little friendlier.

  "So what're you going to do with your life? You going to come back, drive your own freighter someday?"

  "No..." I stumbled, wondering if I needed to sound apologetic. "I never had that urge. Sorry."

  "Mmmm ... that's quite a long tradition you're breaking there, kiddo. We don't get either of the Barrett boys back, eh?"

  I didn't know what to say. It felt eerily cold in here all of a sudden. I tried to shake the nap out of my arm while I hunted for words. He finally went on himself.

  "Well, guess I can't blame you. Freak accident with your parents. Maybe one of these days your grandfather will hire one of my diving crews. I keep telling the old man, a big part of closure for your family in this case would be to find the wreckage."

  There was a silence, and I sat up, trying to conceive of how superstitious people could be down here. I remembered Grey reading the day before, reminding me that The She sucks everything down into her hole beneath the canyon floor. In other words, to find the wreck meant, in his mind, that the ship had foundered in some more natural way.