Music in the Night

  He kissed my hair and my forehead and I turned and reached up to meet his lips with mine. The sailboat twisted and we both screamed.

  "I better keep my mind on the business at hand," Robert said.

  "Just let out a little line, Robert, and she won't spill us into the sea."

  "Aye, aye, Captain."

  We sailed on, the wind whipping the sail, the bow cutting into the waves. We were going at a good clip and as we made the turn around another bend of shore the wind died a bit and the ride became slower, smoother. Robert grew more confident.

  "This isn't as hard as everyone makes it out to be," he declared.

  "Don't get too arrogant, Robert," I warned. "It takes a while to become as good a sailor as Cary. Cary says the sea doesn't easily forgive mistakes, either."

  "I know, but I do have a flair for it, don't I, Laura?" he asked, fishing for a compliment. "Well? Don't I?"

  "Yes, yes." I laughed. We kissed again and sailed on. Finally, I felt relaxed and happy.

  Perhaps all of our lives will be like this now, I thought. We'll round another bend and find sunshine and happiness. With the wind in my hair and Robert's arms around me as our sailboat sliced through the water, it was easy to believe in fairy tales. Cary and I had grown up with faith in the magic of the ocean. Who could blame me for wanting Robert to share it as well?

  Who would ever blame me as much as I would soon blame myself?

  9

  Swept Away

  .

  For a long time, I had no memory of that fateful

  afternoon. My mind locked it in a dark closet and threw away the key. As hard as it is to believe, I even forgot Robert's name.

  I was lying comfortably in his arms as he turned the sailboat toward the shore. The cove was small, with just a patch of beach, really, but he had discovered it and claimed it as our special place. When we drew closer, I sat up. The wind had grown a bit stronger and the clouds flowing in from the south now looked a bit darker and thicker. I should have said, "Let's go back, Robert," right then and there, but I didn't. I, too, was hungry for love and I, too, was titillated by the prospect of our own private little world.

  Robert leaped out of the sailboat and guided it onto the shore. Then he reached for my hand and I stepped out. He found a piece of driftwood nearby and planted it in the sand. Then he tied his handkerchief around it so it flapped in the wind like a flag.

  "I claim this beach for Laura Logan and hereby name it Laura's Cove," he said, standing proud and strong like some historic explorer. I laughed and clapped my hands. He took a sweeping bow and I laughed again. Everything made me laugh that afternoon. All of it, the air, the freedom, the renewal of love and promises had made me giddy. I was drunk on dreams.

  "We have to christen our piece of paradise," he declared and stepped up to me.

  He embraced me and kissed me full on the lips. The wind whipped my hair and the sea spray felt cool and refreshing on my arms and neck.

  "I missed you," he said. "Oh, how I missed you. I kissed you a thousand times in my mind, Laura. I held you every chance I could get."

  He kissed me softly on the tip of my nose and then my chin before we joined our lips again. After that, he reached into the sailboat and pulled out the blanket. He spread it out and we embraced and lowered ourselves onto the sand. I lay back against his chest.

  "We can't stay long, Robert," I remember saying. "Cary and May--"

  "I know," Robert replied and stroked my hair, running his palm over my cheek as if he were blind and committing every feature of my face to his memory forever and ever. I wanted him. Oh, how much I wanted him.

  He sensed my desire and began to kiss me on my neck. His hands moved to my waist and he gently pushed up my tank top. In moments we were both nearly undressed, embracing, clinging to each other as if the whole world had become water and we were floating on the surface.

  "I will not let anyone take you from me," he whispered, "even for a short time."

  His words filled my heart and drove away all the doubts about our love, about myself, about what and who we were. Yes, I heard myself begin somewhere deep down inside my very soul, yes, yes, yes.

  Our kisses were long and hard and hungry, the kisses of two loving people who had been locked away from that love for too long. I don't even remember how we became totally naked, but we were, and without hesitation, almost without skipping a beat, we were making love, throwing all caution to the wind that whirled around us.

  It began with a maddening rush and then slowed to an undulating rhythm that took me up and down, to heights and ecstasy and moments of quiet when I could catch my breath; but soon the hunger for another taste of ecstasy overpowered me and I tightened my embrace around him, holding him, refusing to permit it to end.

  I remember hearing his small laugh of delight and seeing his face, his eyes full of so much love and pleasure. I told myself what we were doing couldn't be anything but good and beautiful. He smothered me in kisses; he chanted my name; he quieted my small cries and held me as tightly as I held him. We rode on each other's passion until we were exhausted.

  He slid off me and lay beside me, his face against the blanket, but his eyes on me. I turned and looked into his eyes, into his beautiful smile of contentment.

  "I love you, Laura," he said.

  "I love you, too, Robert."

  He put his arm over my shoulder, lay his palm against my naked back and closed the distance between us. We lay there, quietly, our eyelids fluttering, suddenly feeling heavy. We both decided to just rest for a little while, and then, like some magic spell, sleep washed over us and we both drifted.

  I was the first to wake up. The wind had picked up considerably, spitting sand and water over us. I turned quickly and when I looked up, I saw only low, dark clouds whirling toward us. Seconds later, I felt the raindrops, but the worst and most terrifying sight was the sailboat drifting away. In our haste, we hadn't beached it securely. It was a good ten to fifteen feet from the shore already.

  "Robert!" I screamed.

  He opened his eyes and sat up quickly.

  "Oh, no. The boat."

  "We have to get it before it gets washed out too far!" I cried. He leaped to his feet and dove into the water, swimming as hard as he could to the boat. The waves were already at least two feet high. He struggled and reached the side of the sailboat, heaving himself up and over. The sail was flapping hard, the small mast swinging from right to left. Robert struggled to get a good hold on the line, but when he tightened the sail against the wind, the small boat began to turn over and he didn't let go fast enough. It looked like it jumped out of the water, spilling him into the ocean as it capsized.

  "ROBERT!"

  I was a good swimmer, but not strong enough to battle those waves for very long. It took a monster effort, nearly exhausting me, but I managed to reach the boat quickly. I grabbed hold of the boat and called to Robert again. He surfaced on the other side of the boat, looking dazed. It wasn't until he swam toward me that I saw why. When he had tumbled into the sea with the boat following after him, some part of it had struck him on the head. A thin, but steady stream of blood trickled from under his hair, down his temple, and over his cheek.

  "Robert, you're hurt!" I cried. He nodded, but he still looked confused.

  We bobbed with the boat as the waves grew higher, stronger. The wind was intensifying, too, and the rain had become stingingly sharp and cold. I looked back at the shore. All our clothing, the blanket, everything was being washed by the tide and slowly sucked into the sea. The shock of it all happening so quickly panicked me. I struggled with the boat in a vain and fruitless attempt to right it. Robert was just bobbing, holding on to the side, either unsure of how to right the boat or so confused he hadn't even thought to try.

  "Climb over the hull, Robert, and start to pull the boat upright. Climb!" I cried. "Robert, do it now. We're being swept out farther and farther with every roll of the waves."

  Finally, he seemed to understand
. He pulled himself up and reached for the side of the boat, using his weight to turn it upright. He didn't weigh enough and wasn't strong enough, so I joined him as quickly as I could and both of us pulled desperately as the wind whipped against our backs like a cold, wet rope and the rain became a torrential downpour, blinding us.

  More desperate, frantic, realizing the danger fully, we gave it all our might and the boat began to turn over. Robert was too excited by our small success and jerked wildly at the hull.

  "Just let it turn, Robert," I screamed, but he continued leaping up and down, pulling and grunting, defeating his own efforts.

  Finally, the mast came up, the wet sail came out of the water. We were doing fine. We would get it upright, I thought. We'll be all right. Then, another heavy, fierce gust of wind lashed at us and I lost my grip, sliding back into the sea. The boat began to turn over again and Robert lunged with all his strength to prevent it from happening. I saw him fly over with the boat and disappear on the other side. We were at least another twenty feet from shore by now. The rain was falling so hard, I could barely make out the tiny patch of beach.

  "Robert!" I called when I didn't see him. "Robert, where are you? Robert!"

  He didn't respond and he didn't swim back to me. I kept my grip on the hull and fought my way around the boat. At first I didn't see him, and then I saw his head, just under the surface, his hand floating toward the mast. I moved as quickly as I could, taking hold of the mast and then his hand, pulling with all my might until his head appeared. His eyes were glassy, dazed. There was a wider, faster stream of blood now on his temple and cheek. I thought he mouthed my name and smiled, but it was hard to see clearly with the salt water burning my eyes and the rain pounding my face.

  I held on to him. He seemed incapable of moving on his own. His right arm never came out of the water and his head slowly lowered to his shoulder as his eyes closed.

  "ROBERT!"

  I tried pulling him closer, but I was losing my grip on the mast. The water had made it slippery and difficult to hold. If I didn't let go of Robert's hand soon, I might lose my grip completely and get washed out to sea with him, I thought. My shoulders ached, my neck muscles screamed, and my hand felt as if it were being torn off my wrist.

  "Oh, Robert, wake up. Help us. Robert!"

  He bobbed with the waves that took us up and down. When I turned and looked back, I saw we were out of sight of the shore. The ocean was sweeping us away.

  I remember thinking about Cary, expecting him to appear any moment in another boat, flying over the waves, coming to our rescue. He would be angry, but very, very worried. He would scoop us both out of the sea and wrap us in warm blankets and get us home.

  "Please hurry, Cary," I moaned. "Please."

  I held on to the mast and on to Robert's hand, but the weight of his body was pulling on my wrist and arm. His fingers lost their grip on mine and he started to slip away.

  "Robert. Oh, Robert, wake up!" I pleaded. I thought about shaking his arm, but I was afraid the motion might cause me to lose the tenuous grip I still held on the mast.

  The ocean water hit my face while I was calling to him and I swallowed too much. I gagged, coughed, choked, and felt myself losing my grip on Robert and I struggled to hold on to him. I couldn't let him go.

  New England weather, I thought, famous for its quick changes. I should have known. I should have known better. It's my fault, my fault.

  The ocean was relentless. It would not be denied its sacrifice. I made a desperate last effort to hold on to Robert and the mast and then I felt his fingers slide down over my palm. His body lifted in the waves as if he were rising up to say his last goodbye, and then he went under.

  I yelled his name as hard and as long as I could. I started to let go of the mast to search for him, but my own desperation to survive wouldn't permit my fingers to loosen their grip. I know I screamed and shouted his name until my voice gave out, my throat ached, and then I closed my eyes and turned to put my other hand around the mast. I pulled myself closer to it and laid my cheek against the cold metal. The boat continued to bob, to rise and fall in the wind and the rain.

  A deep and thick darkness fell over me. Even when I opened my eyes, I saw nothing. The last thing I thought was silly in light of what was happening and what had happened. I moaned and cried, "I lost that beautiful silk scarf Mommy gave me. I'm sorry, Mommy," I cried.

  My body shook as much with my own sobs as it did from the cold water and the freezing rain. I lay there with my head resting against the mast and felt the hull on my left side. It was reassuring. I remember thinking, I'll just sleep a moment and then, the storm will stop.

  The magic will return.

  The sun will warm us.

  We'll laugh again and make promises to each Other again. Won't we?

  We? I couldn't remember his name. I could see his face, see his smile, even hear his voice, but who was he?

  And then, the worst terror of all struck me.

  Who am I?

  I have put together what happened next, working over time on the events, the vague memories, the words I had heard as if it were all part of some grand thousand-piece puzzle. Some of it was told to me later on, but I always had to measure what I remembered against what I was told.

  The storm continued to build that afternoon, preventing any real search for us. The wind and the waves carried the overturned sailboat farther out to sea. A fisherman by the name of Karl Hansen was fighting his way back to shore. He had worked for Grandpa Samuel and Grandma Olivia for years, but was pretty much retired now, only venturing out now and again with his own net. He saw the overturned sailboat and drew close enough to spot me clinging desperately to the mast. He began to shout. I remember first thinking the wind had found a voice. I thought it was part of the magic and just listened with a small smile on my face, my eyes closed as he called and called. Then I felt something hit my shoulder and I opened my eyes to see a man tossing a net my way as his boat bobbed in the rough seas.

  "Take hold. Wrap it around you," he ordered, yelling through his cupped hands. "Take hold!"

  He threw the net again and again. Each time, I looked at it but didn't move. I couldn't let go of the mast. My hands had locked around it, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't will my hands to reach out for the net he threw.

  Finally, Mr. Hansen brought his boat closer until he was able to leap into the sea. He had a thick rope tied to his waist and when he reached me, he quickly untied himself and wound the rope around me.

  "You've got to let go," he said. "Don't worry. I'll get you on my boat."

  He was a short, stout man with a full gray beard and gray hair. I should have recognized him, but I didn't. He recognized me.

  "Laura Logan?" he cried. "Mrs. Logan's granddaughter. Sweet Mary and Joseph. Let go of the mast when I tell you, girl."

  I remember I screamed and screamed and tried to resist his effort to pull me away from the mast, then finally he got me free and swam back to his boat, towing me along behind him.

  The wind was furious; the rain unrelenting. The struggle was getting to be too much for him. His own boat was in danger. I'm sure he questioned whether he could continue the effort, but continue he did. Finally, we reached the boat and Mr. Hansen was able to lift me up quickly and swing me on board.

  I was naked and freezing, my teeth chattering so hard, I thought they would shatter against each other. The waves were tossing Mr. Hansen's boat mercilessly. He had to get back to controlling the roll. He found a blanket and threw it over me first and then he attended to the boat. We went farther out until he found enough calm water to give him a chance to tend to me. He returned and helped me into the cabin, where he set me on a small cushioned bench.

  "What happened to you, girl? How did you get caught out here? Was your brother with you?"

  Brother? I thought. I have a brother?

  I didn't respond. I lay there, going in and out of consciousness. I don't remember how long it took for us to rea
ch shore, but he made a tactical navigation decision and brought us to Grandpa Samuel and Grandma Olivia's dock. The wind had let up some and the rain had slowed.

  The next thing I knew, Mr. Hansen was running for help. He returned to get me up and out of the boat, and then literally carried me into the house. A small, angry woman greeted us and directed him to bring me to a guest room downstairs, where he set me gently on the bed. The elderly lady stood behind him, waiting. I didn't know who she was then. All I saw was her face of rage as she glared down at me. It all seemed to be happening to someone else. It was as if I were watching a movie.

  "Where did you find her?" I heard her ask.

  "She was clinging to an overturned sailboat about a mile and a half off Dead Man's Cove," he replied. "Those things are too small for weather only half as bad as this."

  "You found her by herself, then?"

  "Yes, ma'am. I hope her brother wasn't out there with her," he said. "No one could survive that," he added.

  "It wasn't her brother," she said. "She was naked when you found her?"

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "Disgusting," she muttered.

  I was still so cold I couldn't move my arms or legs. I lay curled up in a ball, breathing heavily, my body shuddering. She drew closer.

  "What were you doing out there, girl?" she demanded, glaring at me with cold eyes of steel.

  I couldn't talk; I couldn't even shake my head.

  "Something sinful, just as I predicted," she concluded, nodding.

  "I'll get a search party up after this dies down," Karl Hansen said.

  The old woman spun around.

  "You'll do nothing of the kind, Karl," she snapped at him. "You won't mention a word of this."

  "But . . . surely, there was someone else on that boat, Mrs. Logan."

  "I know there was someone else. I'm sure he was naked, too," she added disdainfully. "It's not something I want anyone else to know," she said, nodding at me. "The both of them were caught in some sinful act."

  "What sinful act?" I wanted to say, but I couldn't.

  She turned back to him. I saw the look of surprise and confusion on his face, but I didn't understand why. I didn't know where I was and I had forgotten how I had gotten there. All I knew was I was very cold and no one seemed to be paying much attention to that.