Night Swimming (35 page)

“Your first name should be Lila.”

“Lila?”

“Yes, because Lila means ‘night,’ and your last name should be Nata because Nata means ‘swimmer.’ Night Swimmer—that’s what your name should be, Blossom, because that’s who you are.”

“I love you, Skip.”

“I love you, too, my beautiful night swimmer.”

He finally lifted her out of the pool, wrapped a towel around her and then around himself, and carried her upstairs to bed, where they tumbled under the white waves of sheets and down until morning.

CHAPTER 60

S
KIP AND
B
LOSSOM SLEPT
, two lovers tied together in a single knot of bliss. A sudden knock at the door woke them both. Blossom looked at the clock. It wasn’t yet six. She rose, threw on her robe, and walked, half awake, to the foyer. She opened the door to three people standing before her like Publishers Clearing House representatives.

Makley thought he might have the wrong person. In no way did this woman standing before him resemble the Charlotte Clapp in her pictures, the Charlotte Clapp who had made an indelible impression on him for months.

“Charlotte Clapp?” Makley asked tenuously.

Charlotte saw Makley and knew. He didn’t need to say another word.

“Yes.”

“We have a warrant for your arrest, originating in the district of New Hampshire, authorizing us to arrest you for a charge of bank larceny.”

Skip had gotten up by this point and was standing beside her, listening to the charge.

“What?” he asked, incredulously. “There must be some mistake,” he continued.

“No,” Charlotte said, turning to Skip. “I’m afraid there’s not.”

He stood there, staring blankly, too stunned to move from his spot.

“We’ll wait here, Charlotte. Please get dressed,” Makley said.

“Who is Charlotte?” Skip asked, confused.

Charlotte walked past Skip, who turned and followed her mutely back into her bedroom.

“I can’t tell you everything right now, Skip. It’s too long a story. Ask Dolly. She knows the whole thing.”

Skip watched Blossom hurriedly dress and gather some things up from her bureau. As she began to walk out, she turned to him one last time.

“Thank you for the most unforgettable night of my life, Skip. I was able to complete my list... more than complete it. So now you know. Now you know what the long-withheld secret remaining on my list was. It was to love you.”

She stood on tiptoes and kissed him. “And I do love you,” she said, as easily as if she were telling him a wonderful dream she’d had.

Two local FBI agents—one male and one female—and Makley all piled into a police car and headed to the federal courthouse, with Blossom in the back, staring forlornly out the window as Makley read her Miranda rights.

“How did you find me?”

“It took quite a while, Charlotte. We just pieced it together bit by bit.”

“What happens now?”

“Well,” Makley continued, “you’ll be arraigned in a California federal court and formally charged with bank larceny in New Hampshire. And depending upon whether you want to contest identity, you’ll either stay here and have a hearing, or agree to go back to New Hampshire, and plead guilty or be tried.”

“I’m guilty. I’m the one. I stole the money. I’m not going to put up any fuss about it. I don’t need a lawyer. Especially since I’ll probably be dead in a month anyway.”

“What?” the male FBI agent asked, turning toward Charlotte. “Are you planning to commit suicide?”

“No. I was given a year to live, and that was just about a year ago, so I’d say my time is almost up here.”

Makley cringed. Jesus! Charlotte was still laboring under the belief that she was going to die. Of course she was—no one had told her otherwise.

“Charlotte,” Makley said, adjusting his whole body toward her so that he could see her face. This was not news you delivered while looking away.

“Yes?”

“Your doctor was Jennings, as I recall. Is this correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“It seems he made a very large and serious mistake.”

“How do you mean?”

“When you went in for your routine physical, somehow, someway, your chart got mixed up with another woman’s, whose name was, coincidentally, Charlotte Clapp as well. She was from Durham, New Hampshire. It was this other Charlotte Clapp who was actually dying. Not you. So in fact, you’re okay... you’re going to live.”

Charlotte sat flabbergasted in the backseat. “I’m what?”

“Going to live,” Makley said again. “We thought you might have actually gone over with your car after hearing such awful news. We combed the river for months.”

This couldn’t be right. She’d robbed the bank because she believed she was going to die, and now she was going to live? Was this some sort of cosmic joke the gods were playing on her? Was this . . . destiny?

“Dr. Jennings tried to call you immediately when he was informed about this awful mix-up. He told me he rang you at four in the morning but there was no answer. We thought the worst.”

No, Makley.
This
is the worst.

“That’s impossible. I...I didn’t plan on this. I mean, I was feeling better and I thought maybe my good attitude was helping me beat it, but I never thought I’d actually live. Now what am I going to do?”

“Go to jail,” the mean-spirited FBI agent said, lashing out, her claws exacting their strike. “So are we still guilty?” Charlotte didn’t say anything. She had fifteen minutes to decide what she would say as they made their way to the police station.

A year. A whole year had gone by, and every day of it she had believed she was dying. How odd. How this had changed everything for her. If she had known the truth, she probably wouldn’t have left the safety of Gorham, and her lackluster life there. She’d probably still be sitting at her desk in the bank with some states calendar over her head, drinking coffee from an employee-of-the-month cup.
No regrets.
Yes, this is what Skip had said, what her mother said, and she knew they were right. She ruminated about something that Dolly had told her on more than one occasion.
Dying helps people live well.
It was so true, truer than she could ever have imagined. But now she was going to live, and she didn’t have a clue what to do about it.

She stood in front of the judge at the federal court and was formally charged with bank larceny. When the judge asked her if she wanted a hearing to contest her identity, it seemed like an obvious choice.

“No, Your Honor,” was all Charlotte said.

“Well, Ms. Clapp, since there seems to be no contest here, I am submitting an order that you be taken back to New Hampshire, where you will be formally arraigned and charged with this crime. However, for the time being, I am going to hold you here without bail until you can be moved.”

Makley, along with the two agents, escorted Charlotte down to a cell, where she would change her clothes, be fingerprinted, and pose for a mug shot.

“Can I see it?” Charlotte asked after it was taken.

“Sure,” Makley said, and showed her the picture.

“Not bad,” Charlotte gloated, her confidence returning by degrees. She just looked so good these days. Even if there was a number across her chest...

There were other people in different cells around her. She had never seen an actual jail cell before, especially not from the inside. It was nothing short of bizarre.

“I’ll come by tomorrow, Charlotte, just to see how you’re doing,” Makley promised.

Makley was nice, Charlotte thought. Nicer than that female FBI agent, certainly.

“Bring a cake with a file in it,” she joked. The situation called for humor or hysteria.

“Is there any money left, Charlotte?” Makley asked before turning to leave.

“No. It’s pretty much all gone now. How many consecutive lifetimes do I get for that?”

“Don’t know...Try and get some sleep.”

“Why? Will this all look brighter in the morning?”

Makley smiled as he turned to leave, but Charlotte had one more question.

“What did Jennings say about all this?”

“Jennings? Jennings could barely speak. He no longer practices in Gorham. In fact, we wondered if he was practicing at all. Before he left, he said something about becoming a golf pro. Probably figured he couldn’t kill anyone with a putter.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Charlotte said. “Young, single, handsome Dr. Jennings. What a putz.”

Makley tried to hold back his laughter, but he couldn’t; he just couldn’t. And as he left, Charlotte could hear a trail of titters.

Suddenly, she was alone, looking through the bars of her new world at another woman locked up in a cell across from hers.

“What are you in here for?” Charlotte asked.

“Murder. But I didn’t do it. And you?”

“Trying to live my life as well as I possibly could. But I got caught.”

“Did you do it?”

“Yes, I can happily say I did.”

CHAPTER 61

C
HARLOTTE HAD BEEN IN CUSTODY
for three days, and three times Dolly and Skip tried to visit with her, but they had not been allowed in. She appealed to Makley to let her friends visit. He explained that he didn’t make the rules here, but promised he would see what he could do.

“At least tell Skip I’m not dying, Makley.”

“All right. I’ll make sure to get to him and let him know.”

“Not that it matters anymore, but I want him to know something of the truth.” “I promise you, Charlotte, I’ll let him know.”

Charlotte was asleep when a familiar voice called out to her from the freedom beyond. It was Dolly.

“Oh, my God, they let you in.”

“Yes, darling. I pulled some strings. But they won’t let me stay long.”

The guard opened the door, and Dolly entered, arms outstretched. It was a much-needed hug, and Charlotte devoured the affection.

“Is Skip okay?”

“Yes. You know he’s come every day. He is so worried, honey. He had to do something about closing or selling his house. I can’t remember exactly what he had to do, but he’s coming over directly after. You’ll see him.”

“God, what must he think? First I tell him I’m dying; then I’m not. Then I’m arrested for robbery. Then he finds out I’m not Blossom McBeal from New Orleans but Charlotte Clapp from Gorham, New Hampshire. I can’t believe he’d even want to see me.”

“He fell in love with you. You,” Dolly said again, pointing to her heart. “The real you. It’s not about anything but that. That’s who he’s come to know, and he knows he’s not wrong about what he feels and what he sees in you. However, about the dying...I told you to get a second opinion.”

Charlotte sighed. “Don’t even go there. Luckily, they removed everything I can use to hang myself. But you know what the best part is, Dolly? I mean about Skip?”

“What?”

“He didn’t see me as the enormous bridesmaid in the purple chiffon dress. He didn’t see me as fat or ugly, Dolly. I was pretty and interesting and kind. I was funny and loving. I was someone, Dolly, and he saw that I was someone.”

“You
are
someone. This was the year you set out to find her. And you did. And I did. And he did.”

“And now it’s over.”

“Do you know what they have planned for you?”

“I go back to New Hampshire to stand trial.”

Dolly shook her head. “We’ve got to do something. Somehow, we’ll get you through this.”

“Thank you, Dolly. You know, I think I feel better already. So tell me, how are we going to do this?”

“I have no idea, darling.”

Charlotte looked at her as if she had just taken back the keys to the kingdom. Dolly saw her expression and punctuated her plan with a final positive. “
Yet,
darling, I have no idea
yet.
But we will; I know we will.”

The guard appeared at the cell door like an evil stepsister. “Time’s up.”

“But I just got here,” Dolly argued.

“And now you have to go,” the guard croaked sarcastically. Dolly gave Charlotte a mournful look. “I’m sorry, honey, but I’ll be back.” She exited the cell, looking back at her joyless friend.

“Dolly,” Charlotte piped up, “I almost forgot. How’s Dr. Cohen?”

“Fine,” Dolly said, not wanting to make it seem as if life was good for everyone else beyond the bars. But Charlotte knew better. “Oh, come on, Dolly. Just fine?” “Okay. Wonderful.” And they parted company with smiles upon both their faces.

Dolly had left before Skip arrived, and the guard would not let him in. Charlotte’s allotted time for having visitors was over. Charlotte was in anguish.

“Please. Just let him in for a minute. Thirty seconds. Please.”

But her words fell on deaf ears. Skip was somewhere upstairs less than a hundred feet away, but he might as well have been on the moon for the terrible feeling it gave her not to be able to see him.

If only she hadn’t opened the door that morning. If only she had stayed in bed with him and made love again. If only she had had some prior warning so they could have slipped away in the night. If only, if only, if only... She wanted to explain everything. It didn’t matter that he already knew, that Dolly had told him. She wanted to do it herself, to make him understand why she had done it. She needed to look him in the eye, take his hand in hers. She needed to kiss him. One night—they’d had only one night together. How could their joyous song end on such a sad note?

She lay back down on her small cot. Everything good was slipping away, as if the earth had slipped off its axis overnight. She would end up going back to New Hampshire without even seeing him. She would ask for the death penalty, she thought; it was easier than living with this loss.

She tried to think of other things to ease the pain of thinking about him. Like Tony Bennett songs.
Skip.
Like Jigsy and Pip.
Skip.
Like swimming at night in the rain.
Skip.
But with every distraction she could summon, her mind always seemed to wander back to the one thing that had made her richer than she’d ever thought possible.
Skip.

The day had come to go back to Gorham, New Hampshire. Charlotte sat in her cell, waiting for Makley and the two FBI agents. Finally, they arrived.