B000FC1MHI EBOK (6 page)

“And your camera equipment,” he trotted on like a horse with blinders, “there was a
fortune’s
worth of equipment in that bag—all the gifts I’ve given you in the last three years. You were signed up for a course with that photographer Himmel.”

“Hammel,” she corrected quietly. She looked up when Zoe joined her with mugs of tea for them both.

“That’s why you went up there in the first place,” Monte went on, “to take his course, but even if it’s recovered, the Nikon is ruined.” His voice grew resigned. “We should have insured that equipment. You make a judgment call about these things. You weigh their value against the cost of insurance. Oh, boy, did I call it wrong.”

“Monte,” Julia cried in dismay, “they think nine people are
dead
!”

“Well, thank God, you’re
not
! And thank God you missed the car ferry. If we’d lost the car, too, it’d be bad.”

Quietly, factually, Julia said, “If I’d made the car ferry, I wouldn’t have been in the accident at all.”

“The car is insured. Isn’t it always the case? It’s actually too bad. If the car had gone down, we could have gotten a new one.”

Julia stared at Zoe, who sat on the porch rail leaning back against a post. Yelling and screaming wasn’t Julia’s style, but she was hard-pressed not to react that way now, her frustration with Monte was so great. Molly had felt the tragedy of the accident. Monte didn’t get it at all.

Julia felt distant and disconnected from him. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a new feeling.

He had been talking on through her musings. Now she realized he had stopped. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” she asked.

“I was wondering,” he sounded cautious, “if you were coming home.”

Had he said something sweet—that he missed her already and really wanted her home, even that he thought she would be better off in New York after what had happened—she might have been swayed. But there was nothing. So she said, “I want to wait here until the searching is done. There are families of people who died. I feel a kind of responsibility.”

“For what? You didn’t cause the accident. You had nothing to do with it.”

“Not responsibility, then. Connection.”

“Okay. That makes sense,” he said, sounding more upbeat. “As easy as it would be for you to run home, it’s probably better that you don’t. Kind of like getting back on the horse after it throws you. Getting back on the bike after you fall. So… do you think you’ll stay for the whole two weeks, like you planned?”

“At least,” Julia said. She sensed he wanted that.

“I’ll be fine,” he assured her. “The important thing is that you recover from the trauma. Zoe can help with that. I’ll overnight you more money and a credit card. And a new cell phone. I mean, hell, we’re paying for the service whether you use it or not. Do you want me to send clothes?”

She looked at her wedding band. It was an arc of sapphires and diamonds on a platinum band, and had a matching engagement ring, which she had left in New York. That part of the set was far too large for Big Sawyer, far more showy than Julia wanted to be here. But that was Monte—grand and showy. She shuddered to think which of her clothes he might pick from her closet.

“No,” she said. “I can always buy a few.”

“The car keys!” he exclaimed. “Where are
they
?”

“In my pocketbook.”

“On the ocean floor. Ah, Christ. Okay, I’ll send a set up with the cash. What else?”

Julia couldn’t think of anything. Her life in New York was far removed from this island, this porch, this rocker.

“Call your parents, Julia,” Monte instructed. “You don’t want them to read something about this in the news before they’ve heard your voice. Will you tell Molly?”

“Uh-huh.” There was no point in saying that she already had. Monte simply wanted to know that it was taken care of so that he didn’t have to do it himself.

“Good. Y’know,” he mused, “I’ll bet some of that camera equipment is covered by our homeowner’s policy. I’ll make some calls.”

“Fine.”

“So what you need to do is to sit in the sun and get some rest. It’s a shame about the photo stuff, but you can still salvage your vacation.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Okay, then. Be good.”

“Yes.”

“Bye.”

She ended the call with a press of her thumb and dropped the phone into her lap. With the severance came a feeling of emptiness that was overwhelming. She didn’t understand how she and Monte could be at such opposite ends of the spectrum after living together for twenty years. Couples were supposed to grow more alike as time passed, not more different. But he had no idea what she was feeling, after surviving an accident like that. Worse, he didn’t seem to care. He was worried about the cash. She was worried about lives lost.

“What was that about?” Zoe asked softly.

Julia raised her eyes, then shut them and laid her head against the back of the rocker. “I’m not sure.”

“I was surprised you agreed to come for two weeks. I didn’t think Monte would let you.”

She pulled up her legs, tucked them under her robe, and rested the mug on a knee. “He was fine with it. The course was supposed to run for two weeks. He’s heartsick about the lost camera equipment.”

“Are you?”

Julia shot her a dry look. “It was his thing more than mine. I asked for a simple digital camera. He interpreted that as meaning I was interested in photography, with a capital P. I figured his heart was in the right place, so I thanked him when he bought me the Nikon, and then he bought me a tripod, and a zoom lens, and a macrolens, and before long I couldn’t tell him none of it was what I wanted.”

“He’s a self-centered man,” Zoe said.

Julia didn’t respond. Setting her tea aside, she rose quickly and went to the railing. “Where was the accident? Which direction?”

Zoe pointed off to Julia’s left.

Julia searched for an ocean view through the trees, but between leaves and the fog, she couldn’t see a thing. “Do you think they’ve found more?”

“They will. The water where it happened wasn’t very deep—only six or seven fathoms. That’s fortyish feet.”

Julia tried to picture the ocean floor at forty feet. What she came up with was dark and littered with grisly debris. “How did
I
escape it?” she asked in bewilderment. It wasn’t guilt she felt, so much as incredulity. Her being in the bow of the boat had been pure chance. Had she reached the pier ten minutes earlier and taken a seat in the stern, or had the water been a tad rougher or the oncoming boat a hair faster, the outcome of the accident might have been entirely different. “One of the fellows in the stern offered me a seat. He was the one with the wife and…” it hit her then, “… and baby.” She was stricken. “They had a
baby
with them.”

“Kristie,” Zoe admitted solemnly. “She just turned one. They have two others, ages three and five.”

Julia’s heart ached. “What about Artie Jones?”

“He had four.”

“Did any of the others have children?”

“Greg Hornsby, the captain. He had two.”

She was trying to process the idea of eight children whose lives would be forever changed, when the phone in her hand rang. Startled, she managed to pass it to Zoe.

“Hello?… Who is this?… What makes you think she’s here?” Zoe looked at Julia with dawning anger. “I’m sorry, she’s not talking to the press. If you have questions, give the police chief a call. His number is…” Her voice trailed off. She held the phone away from her ear, stared at it, lowered it to her side. “He hung up. There’s class for you. And from
The New York Times
.”

Julia caught her breath. She was about to ask how
The New York Times
had known to call here, when something in Zoe’s expression registered.

“Monte?”
Julia asked and, feeling a blow to her belly, let out a quick puff of air. “He didn’t waste any time, just turned around and picked up the phone! How
could
he? He
knows
how private I am.”

Zoe didn’t say anything, but the anger remained in her eyes.

“He wanted the publicity,” Julia decided. Monte was always angling for exposure.

“They’d have mentioned him in the piece.”

“That is
sick
!” Julia was shaking again.

Zoe was suddenly on her feet. She reached inside the kitchen door and pulled out a pair of garden clogs. “Put these on.” As soon as Julia had done so, she led her down the back stairs and around the side of the house toward the barn. The path was wide and well worn, though bordered by grass in need of a cut. The air was cool and moist, welcome against the heat of anger.

Julia didn’t ask questions. Nor did she balk when they reached the door to the barn. She wasn’t normally a barn person. She had been raised to believe that barn animals were dirty creatures who could pass on disease. In past visits here, she had been content to view them from afar and even that was more out of politeness to Zoe than true interest.

Zoe opened the door and pushed it wide to stay, but there was plenty of light without it. The openings where horses had once hung their heads out for fresh air were now covered by screens. Same with skylights in the roof. Both had shutters on pulleys, ready for closing in inclement weather.

“I shut the doors at night,” Zoe explained, “because, believe it or not, there are foxes in the woods. They’d make a tasty meal of my crew here.”

Her “crew” had started making little sounds, but it wasn’t until they got closer that Julia could see what they were doing. A large area in the barn, stalls included, had been taken over by cages. They were stacked two high in some places, three in others. Each looked to have a single rabbit inside, a good many of which were now pushing their noses against different parts of their cages—some against the wire, some against a crockery food bowl, some against the tubes of their water bottles.

Julia was startled. She had seen the rabbits before, but only from the door. A glimpse of fur, and she had conjured an image of the classroom rabbit Molly had brought home to care for one first-grade weekend.

Close up now, Julia wouldn’t have known these creatures were even rabbits if she hadn’t known that Zoe raised them. The traditional bunny ears, eyes, and twitching nose were lost in a cloud of fur. Most of those clouds were white, but others were beige, gray, or black. Some had a lilac tinge. Others were mottled.

“Good morning, little sweeties,” Zoe crooned and explained to Julia, “English Angoras are the smallest of the Angoras. They may look big, but it’s all fur. My largest rarely hits eight pounds.” She went to one of the cages, opened it, and reached inside. Slipping one hand under the rabbit’s belly and another over its ears, she lifted it out and cradled it against her middle. “They like the sense of confinement that comes when you put a hand on their ears this way. This is Gretchen,” she said, crooning again. “Gretchen, say hello to Julia.”

Gretchen said nothing, of course. Julia couldn’t even tell if Gretchen was looking at her, her eyes were so hidden in fur.

Zoe carried the rabbit to a grooming table. Its top was eighteen inches square and lined with carpeting. A raised compartment closed in one end. The other three sides were bounded by a three-inch-high lip of wood.

“Sit,” Zoe instructed Julia, hitching her chin toward a chair by the table.

Julia was no sooner in the chair when the rabbit was on her lap.

“I need to dole out food and put out clean water bottles,” Zoe said. “I want you to hold Gretchen while I do. Put one hand here,” she said, replacing her hand with Julia’s on the rabbit’s ears, “and the other here by her chest, so that she won’t jump off.”

“Does she nip?” Julia asked, feeling a little uneasy.

“Nope. She’s my therapy bunny. One of my friends here lives with her grandmother, who is ninety-two and suffers from severe dementia. She can be ranting and raving seconds before I put Gretchen in her lap. Then she calms. Instantly.”

“Maybe it’s sheer terror,” Julia said, only half in jest.

“Is that what you’re feeling?”

Actually, it wasn’t. Edging past the uneasy part, Julia was intrigued by the creature’s warmth and the softness of its fur. She saw nothing remotely related to dirt. There were no bugs, no matted parts, no smell, only a luxurious puff of fur. She found herself gently stroking the rabbit’s ears, which she could make out clearly now. The motion started small. When the animal didn’t seem to mind, it broadened.

“Is this okay?” she asked Zoe.

“Perfect. She loves it. You’re a natural.”

Julia didn’t know about that, but she was encouraged when the rabbit actually seemed to relax in her lap. She let her fingers sift deeper, until she was finger-combing the feather-light fur. After a minute, she tipped her head sideways and smoothed enough fringe away so that she could see the rabbit’s eye.

“Hello,” she whispered.

The creature looked at her, then away. The simple gesture reminded her of Kimmie Colella, but the memory didn’t start her trembling again. She did feel calmer, holding the small rabbit. So she kept at it, stroking the ears—first one, then the other—combing its fur with her fingers, and exploring its shape, all in smooth, gentle motions. She found herself breathing more easily, relaxing more completely, even shifting the rabbit sideways so that she could see its nose.