Backcast (40 page)

Kate gave Shawn a dubious look. “Do I want to know why?”

Shawn beamed at her. “She's the one driving the boat.”

“So have you asked her?”

Barb didn't have the first idea what Page was talking about.

“Have I?” She cleared her throat. “Have I asked who about what?”

Page sighed and pointed at Mavis. “Have you asked Mavis about staying on an extra few days?”

“Say what?” Mavis lowered her Collins glass.

“Page thinks we should stay on a few extra days.”

Page nodded. “So she can rest. She's been pushing too hard.”

“You'll get no argument from me about that.”

Mavis watched Doug Archer cross the room. He was carrying a pitcher of the blue-black cocktails. Apparently, mixing them one at a time was becoming impossible to keep up with. She drained her glass and gave the rock candy garnishes a shake.

“Will there be plenty more of these on hand if we stick around?”

“Of course.” Page reached out for Mavis's empty glass. “Starting right now.”

“Then I say why not?” Mavis looked at Barb. “The rest would do you good. You look like shit.”

Barb sighed. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“For the record, Mavis was talking about your
appearance
—not your work.” Page held up Mavis's glass. “I'll be right back with your refill. And Barb?” She gave her cousin a good once-over. “She's right. You
do
look like shit.”

Page strode off to find Doug before he ran out of refills.

Barb watched her go. “Well, damn.”

“Don't get your panties in a wad.”

“Me?”

“You see anybody else standing here?”

Barb sighed. Then she noticed something that made her brighten up.

“What is it?” Mavis sounded suspicious. “You've got that look on your face.”

“What look?”

“That one you always get when my luck is about to take a nosedive.”

Barb smiled at her. “Time to tend your own panties,
Marvin
. Your understudy is headed this way.”

“What?” Mavis turned around just as Montana reached the spot where they were standing.

“Hi there. Is it okay if I join you two?”

“Of course.” Barb grinned at the younger woman. “Mavis and I were just talking about you.”

Mavis muttered something beneath her breath.

“I thought my ears were burning.” Montana regarded Mavis. “Please tell me it wasn't anything about that centerpiece.”

Mavis held up a hand. “I had
nothing
to do with that.”

“I didn't even know that thing was still on the boat. I wonder why Quinn didn't liberate it at the same time she let Phoebe go?”

“Who knows why that woman does anything she does?”

Barb was looking back and forth between the two of them. “I think what Quinn did was profoundly unselfish and shows great depth of character.”

“Saving the dildo? I think Viv would agree with you on that one.”

Barb swatted Mavis on the arm. “You know what I mean.”

“I guess I agree with you.” Montana was taking her time picking her words. “At first, when I saw her leaving the marina on the boat, I was pretty steamed. We'd all worked so hard to get there—and I
know
we would've won—or come darn close. And I knew right away when I saw her leaving what she was going to do. I knew she was headed out to let her go.” She slowly shook her head. “When she got back to pick us up, she didn't say anything. Not even to the guy
who checked us in. He came running out to the boat to find out what happened. I think he knew what we had. I think he knew it was Phoebe.”

Barb was interested in Montana's take on what had happened. She'd tried to get Mavis to talk about it earlier, after they returned from their final outing, but Mavis just shrugged it off like it wasn't an unexpected outcome.

“Why do you think she did it?”

Montana faced Barb. Her blue eyes were open and clear. Honest. “At first, I had no idea. But then I thought that probably she just didn't want to expose her.”

“Expose who?”

“Phoebe.” Mavis took up Montana's narrative. “She didn't want to hold her up in front of all those people who didn't give a shit about what she represented. To them, Phoebe was just another roadside attraction—like a bearded lady at the circus, or the asshole who climbs on a motorcycle and jumps thirty cars.”

Montana agreed. “I think that's exactly right. I didn't realize at first that finding Phoebe was like a religious quest for Quinn—I thought she was just a big fish that nobody'd ever caught. You know—the ultimate prize. But when I saw the way Quinn picked her up—like she was some kind of holy relic—I knew that wasn't it.”

“Well, that part is sure true. While you were driving us down to Plattsburgh for the final weigh-in, she sat on the floor of the boat beside that cooler like she was watching over the damn Ark of the Covenant.”

“Maybe she was.”

Mavis looked at Barb with narrowed eyes. “Don't start with that metaphorical bullshit.”

“I don't have to.” Barb smiled at her. “You've already taken care of it.”

Mavis grunted.

“You know?” Montana gave Mavis a sad look. “I just wish we'd taken a picture of her.”

“Why?” Mavis scoffed. “You think the world really needs another picture of a butt-ugly bass?”

“No. I mean—it would just be nice to have it. You know? So we could remember how it all happened, and what it was like to be a part of something so—I don't know. So magical.”

“Magical?”

Barb elbowed Mavis in the side. “Be nice.”

Mavis sighed. “Look, little girl. The only thing that makes any experience ‘magical' is the way you remember it. If what happened out on that water today has real meaning for you, you'll always be able to see it—every time you close your eyes. You don't need a photograph for that. In fact, a picture would just make it—ordinary.”

Barb was moved by how intently Montana was listening to Mavis. It was clear to her that, somehow, these two had formed a connection that was every bit as murky as the one Quinn had developed with the elusive fish.

“Besides,” Mavis was still talking. “I'm just glad there isn't any documentary proof of my presence on that redneck barge.”

Barb rolled her eyes. “You
had
to ruin it, didn't you?”

Mavis smirked at her.

Barb could tell that Montana was fascinated by the interaction between them. It was clear that she was trying to figure their relationship out.

That didn't make her unique. Barb figured that most of the women at this retreat were trying to do the same thing. Hell. It wouldn't have surprised her to find out that Viv was taking wagers.

She wondered if Cricket was holding?

She smiled at Montana. Part of her wanted to take the young woman aside and explain to her that sometimes the best relationships in your life were strange, quirky, and unexpected things that came at you out of nowhere. They were impossible to predict, and even more impossible to define. But in the end, you were a lot better off if you didn't ask questions, and simply gave yourself permission to enjoy the ride.

She understood that Montana was searching for connection—for belonging—in a world that had always treated her like a misfit.
They all were
. It was the biggest part of what drove them each to weave their fantastic tales about women and themes that were larger
than life. The perversity of it all had been the revelation that their interior lives were deeper, richer, and more multifaceted than any of the stories they published under the various banners that defined traditional lesbian fiction.

Like most things in life, it was a paradox.

She looked over at Mavis.

One of many.

Quinn was holding Junior's map up in the blue-white light of the full moon, scanning the night sky for any pattern of stars that matched the one created by the sequence of X's marking Phoebe's favorite spots.

So far, she wasn't seeing anything that came close. But it was really hard to tell. It was clear tonight, and there were stars out all over the place. Some of them were bright, white dots, rounded and clear. Others were more like tiny pinpricks. Whatever their shape, they were clustered together in great bands that spread out across the dark sky like currents in the water. But as hard as she tried, she couldn't see any combination that looked like the outline of a fish.

She was standing out at the very end of the dock, surrounded by the water on three sides. As was usual for this time of night, the lake was calm—almost glasslike in its stillness.

She wondered where Phoebe was right now? Whether she'd tarried in the waters near the shoals, or made off for some other special place? Quinn was pretty sure she was tired from the ordeal of hanging out in the cooler for so long. When she stopped the boat just off Bixby Island and carefully lowered her back into the lake, Phoebe didn't seem eager to leave. She just sort of hovered there near the surface of the water, slowly twitching her tail fin. At first, Quinn worried that maybe she was stunned or sick from being in the live well for too long. But when she reached into the water to check on her, Phoebe appeared to rouse from her stupor. She flipped her fin and took off like a shot. Quinn stood watching the water until her wake disappeared.

She knew she'd probably never see her again.

And in some ways, she understood that she didn't really need to.

Still. Standing around at the party and having everyone ask her over and over about what it had been like to catch her—to hold her—had been tough. She didn't really want to talk about it. She wasn't ready to. Not yet.

When Barb showed them the sculptures and Quinn realized that all those little fish replicas had been arranged just like the pattern on her Pisces map, she thought she'd sneak away and come out here to look for the constellation. The stars up here were brighter and more visible than she had ever seen them. Back home in Batavia, there was just too much ambient light from businesses and subdivisions to allow the night sky to reveal any of its mysteries. She'd be leaving Vermont tomorrow after Kate and Shawn's wedding, so she understood that tonight might be her last chance to get a good look at the cluster of stars that bore Phoebe's likeness. Maybe one day, after she fixed the Panhead for Big Boy and Junior, she'd have an excuse to come back. And maybe Junior would take her out on the water again—just the two of them this time—so Quinn could maybe catch another glimpse of her. If not? She always had her dreams.

Sounds of laughter kept drifting down from the restaurant. The party was still going strong. Quinn knew she needed to head back inside and spend a bit more time with the rest of the group. Already, the tournament and the days of preparation leading up to it had kept her from connecting very well with the other authors—except Montana. And Mavis.

Although Mavis would argue that she wasn't an author. But when Quinn counted up the tiny sculptures, she noted that there were thirteen of them. That meant that Barb had coerced her into participating.

Quinn wondered which one of the fish had been hers?

Her own had been pretty easy to pick out. At least she thought the fish outfitted with razor blades as fins was hers. But she knew she couldn't really ask. Not tonight. They'd all find out soon enough.

She scanned the sky again. No dice.

It was disappointing. She decided to give up on her stargazing
for the evening and was halfway through folding up the map when she heard someone approaching. She was surprised to see Gwen coming toward her. She was wearing a loose, white shirt and it seemed to glow and float on the air as she drew closer.

“Here you are.” Gwen joined her at the end of the dock. “I saw you leave the party and I wondered where you went.”

Quinn gave her a shy smile. “I thought I'd come out here and see if I could find those fish stars.”