On Little Wings (34 page)

“Who starts it?” I asked.

“The sun,” Nathan answered. “When she finally gives up and the sky is completely dark one of the fishermen will dare to be the first. And then they go. We’ll put out the fire before they start, to see better.”

The shadows were already deepening. We split a bag of potato chips and watched the silhouettes of men on the boats, until even those faded into the blackness. At last a lonely, foreboding whistle filled the air and my eyes scanned the sky, searching for the right spot to focus when a small pop produced a shower of red lights. They drifted toward the earth and extinguished in the silence. And with that, the disorganized skirmish began. Over the sides of ships came the screaming whines and bursts of light. Nathan used a water bottle to put out our fire and in the sudden darkness and hissing smoke the lights in the sky were more thrilling.

“Where’s The Misses?” I asked, trying to find something to distinguish the Jacks from the other boats.

“Just look for the boat all the other boats are launching smoke bombs at,” Hester said. “They used to shoot bottle rockets at each other but one year Bart Jenkins lost his eye. It hit him right in the face. Now the mayor fines them if they throw anything but smoke bombs.”

Sure enough, the air around the boats grew thick with colored smoke and it seemed to concentrate on an area toward the back of the cluster.

“It’s a guy thing,” Nathan said when he saw me looking worried as the outlines of the boats fluctuated in the thick cloud. “Male bonding. Just throw flaming smoke at the guys you like the most.”

“They said they had illegal rockets from China or something,” I said.

“Lord help us! Good thing there’s a lot of boats out there to save them if they sink The Misses,” Nathan said, squinting into the darkness.

“Would Glenn survive? If she really sank I think he’d go down with her,” I said.

“True,” Nathan’s eyes flicked to me. “A man’s no good without the girl, right?”

“That’s what I hear,” I answered as casually as my baffled mind allowed.

Hester looked up at both of us, but didn’t seem particularly interested in the conversation. “I’m getting cold, Nathan,” she said. “My clothes didn’t get all dry.”

Nathan rummaged in his bag and pulled out a thin, felt blanket. He reached behind me to put it around her shoulder, and then pulled it around mine.

“You’re wetter than I am,” I protested.

“I’m not cold.”

Hester’s warm head leaned against my arm and I studied her brown hair. Pulling her closer I adjusted the blanket and closed it around us. As the colorful fire rained down and the fishermen called out like little boys playing pirates, I felt a fraction of Nathan’s responsibility. Hester’s tiny pieces – her thin wrist wrapped around her ankles, her small face against my arm, her little noises of delight – made me feel very protective. I cradled her in the night and wanted what Nathan wanted – to be able to give her a father to tuck her in, to row her to the rock, to take her out on his boat. I gazed at the crooked part in her hair, not sure that I could leave her, either.

When my eyes wandered back to Nathan he wasn’t watching the show at all. He was watching me watch Hester. And he didn’t take his eyes away when I caught him. Instead, his expression seemed to ask,
see what I mean?

A thunderous crack broke through the night above all the other explosions and we all jumped, our hands flying to our ears. “What in the?” I asked and a commotion of shouts filled the air. Following the sound, my eyes locked on yellow flames leaping from the top of one of the boats.

“Oh, crap!” Nathan called, as we all rose in unison. We leaned forward on our toes, searching through the dark to make out what was happening. Hester grabbed my hand in a frightened clasp. The yellow flames climbed higher until a jet of water from another boat knocked them down. Laughter drifted through the air from the boats, but we weren’t close enough to hear the joke.

“I don’t think it did any real damage,” Nathan said, still trying to decipher what happened. “I think they lit their ropes on fire.” Over the water, volleyed from boat to boat, came the cry, “Jacks. It was the Jacks.”

We joined in the laughter, hearing the echoes of every spectator lining the water. “Russ’s wife will really kill him this time. She’s been threatening for years, but I think she’ll have blood on her hands tomorrow,” Nathan said.

“The show isn’t over. Maybe he’ll finish the job for her,” I replied. Hester giggled and sat back down. I put the blanket around her shoulders and sat a short distance away. At one point two rockets collided in midair and the crowds screamed out their wild approval. From our lonely spot on the rock it barely sounded like more than a happy whisper in the night.

“You were right,” I told Nathan. “This is the best spot to watch. I don’t think the Fourth of July will ever be quite as exciting to me again.”

“Unless you come back,” he said. “It’s this good every year.” His cool fingers suddenly enveloped my hand resting at my side. I turned to him, but he fixed his face toward the water, refusing to meet my eyes. He never moved his fingers, never stroked mine, never gave any indication that he was aware we were touching. He just maintained his firm clutch on my loose fist, leaving our nested hands on the ground out of Hester’s sight. In those long minutes – I wonder how many minutes it was – I could not feel anything but his grip on my curled fingers. The wind stirred through the air, swept my cheeks, but it was the tapping finger of a child unable to get his mother’s attention. The lights spun and dipped and burst into the air, but I only acknowledged them out of courtesy. Not even the Jacks’ giant flares distracted me from Nathan’s touch.

With a final enthusiastic display of firepower, the show ended and the cheers from the audience resounded like ghostly voices from the night. Nathan let go and turned to me for a moment, with a look that I cannot categorize. The closest I can come is to say I saw a certain resignation in his eyes. A truce. An admission.

And as I tried to tell myself to keep moving, keep speaking, keep thinking, it didn’t seem that anything in the world really mattered anymore. If we rowed off the edge of the earth I’m not sure I would have noticed. If a yeti stuck its brutish head over the high sea cliffs I might have mistaken it for a white cat.

The lights inside Shelter cove were blazing by the time the old truck rolled into the driveway. Hester lifted her head from my shoulder and yawned. “Good night, Jennifer.”

“Good night, Hess. Thanks for sharing that with me. It was amazing.” I waved to her and gave Nathan a soft smile, trying to convey everything I felt in the subtle curve of my lip. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said quietly over her head and shut the door. I’m certain my steps swayed as I tried to walk to the front door, tipsy with the memories.

Sarah greeted me when I got inside and gave me a quick synopsis of her adventures with Darcy who managed to catch her hair on fire with a sparkler. “Don’t worry,” Sarah assured me. “Judith was fast. It only got a few strands.” She gave me a shrewd look and asked how our night had gone.

“It was beautiful. Really nice.” Outside a loud boom thundered through the air. I cringed. “Are they still going?”

“Sorry. The Jack’s do that. The bring their boat over to the cove and set fireworks over Little’s house just to get her riled up. Those four might be worse than school kids.”

Sure enough, another explosion sounded and white sparks fell over the trees. “How long do they do that?”

“Until their beer runs out. Last year it was about three in the morning. I’m afraid you won’t get your best sleep tonight.” I chuckled all the way up the stairs and once in bed I didn’t mind the glittering lights outside my window. I wasn’t counting on sleeping anyway. It was about two in the morning when the celebration dwindled to silence and I fell asleep, still feeling his fingers on the back of my hand.

As a result of the late night I didn’t finish showering and dressing until well after ten o’clock the next morning.

“We’re both behind today,” Sarah said with chagrin, looking up from her toast. “I was thinking of going to church, but I missed the morning service being lazy.” I sat down with a glass of orange juice and watched her tapping the table top. “Would you like to see your grandparents graves today? Does that seem morbid? It’s just that tomorrow is your last day …” Her voice faded.

“I would love that,” I assured her. “It’s not morbid at all. I want to see.” I shifted in my chair. “ I … I haven’t even started packing yet. I can’t make it seem real to myself.”

Sarah nodded and sighed. “I know.”

Tuesday night I would be at home, watching television or shopping with Cleo and Sarah and Nathan would be sitting outside in the cool wind. Without me. It felt so terrible that my entire body gave a great shiver, trying to shake off the sadness.

After we finished eating I wandered upstairs to organize my clothes, but when I pulled out my suitcase it reminded me of an animal carcass waiting to be stuffed. I couldn’t bear to touch it. I left it lying lifeless on the floor next to the bed and trudged down the stairs to find something to distract me from the looming good-bye. I gently took down the Tennyson I had recited from on our first night of lines.
I’ll have to leave you here,
I thought to the battered book.
The quilt. My grandfather’s picture. You all belong here.
And every tiny good-bye, even leaving the piece of driftwood with its silver sheen, seemed doubly cruel when I thought that Nathan would see it every day. Come back and back and everything would be what it had always been without me.

Sarah found me sitting on the couch, the unopened book pressed loosely to my chest. “Do you want to walk or drive?” she asked. I felt so burdened and tired with the weight of parting that I chose the car. Even getting up to find my sandals had a weary tedium to it, my legs protesting with each step. “How often do you go?” I asked her as I put my phone in my pocket.

“Depends on my mood. The weather. Often,” her subdued answer was overlapped with the sound of a car in the driveway. It rumbled too loud, cut off too suddenly. Sarah and I both turned to the sound, but neither of us had opened the blinds yet so we couldn’t see who it was. I stood as a car door slammed and before I’d taken two steps the door shook with a single pound that sounded more like a battering ram than a knock.

Sarah whispered “What the?” as she hurried forward. In the next instant the door flew open so hard that it knocked into the wall behind it. I yelped and cringed

“Nathan?” Sarah and I both cried in unison. His face was an inscrutable mask and his eyes ripped over the room, obviously searching for something.

“Did Claudia sleep here?” he asked urgently.

“Claudia?” My face must have been a complete blank because he groaned and grabbed a clump of his hair.

“Nathan, what’s going on?” Sarah’s demanded.

“She never went to Amanda’s last night.”

“Nathan,” Sarah interrupted in a voice fighting to keep order. “Where is Claudia?”

“Somewhere with him!” He yelled. He spun around and threw the door closed with all his might, rattling the house.

Sarah flinched, but didn’t admonish him. “Are you sure? Absolutely sure?” the enraged look he threw at her quelled her words and she closed her mouth, convinced. “Did you go to his house yet?” Sarah looked frightened of the answer. Her voice trembled even though she tried to appear composed.

“I just got back. They said he stayed with a friend after the firework show. I thought maybe she … she would have come here. I went home to double check and I sent Hester to go ask Little if she saw her. I’m running out of ideas. Judith is calling people.” He grabbed his head and fell onto the couch looking like a man defeated.

“Nathan, we’ll …” I started to say ‘we’ll find her’, but he looked up in a rage.

“I told all of you! I told you this would happen. She’s run off with that stupid …” no word in his vocabulary matched the loathsome expression that crossed his face. “I swear I will kill him if he laid one hand on her.”

“Did you check his boat?” Sarah asked, her green eyes intense with worry.

A dangerous glint passed through Nathan’s eyes and I knew he was imagining what pull an empty boat might have for two young lovers. Sarah saw it, too, and hastily added, “I think you should let me handle it. I don’t think you’re calm enough.”

“She wouldn’t go on the boat,” I cowered at the sound of my own voice. “It’s Claude. She would never touch a boat.”

Sarah jerked her head in a nod. “So then?” She looked around the room as if she thought one of her books held the answer.

“Let’s check the boat,” Nathan said with a clenched jaw.

“But, Nathan,” is as far as I got.

“Do any of us really know what she would do? She lied to us. She spent the night with him. She made her best friend cover for her. I don’t pretend to know what she’d do!”

“Nathan, I don’t think you should come with us. I think you need to wait here,” Sarah repeated. His vehement glance made her sigh in defeat. He would not be deterred.

“Let me get my purse,” she said, pointing a firm finger at his chest. “Don’t move. Wait for me. I’m driving.” She left to grab her things from the kitchen.

I thought I heard Nathan swear but he was so distraught that I didn’t dare look directly at him. It wasn’t that I thought he would turn his wrath on me. It was more that I didn’t want him to associate me with the horrendous feelings ripping through him at the moment. Sarah hadn’t returned yet when a two slow, small knocks sounded on the door. I was closest so I gave Nathan the briefest look of relief and hurried to open it, sure it would be Claudia. I was so expecting her small frame that I opened the door with my eyes trained down where Claudia’s face should have been and found myself staring a grey jacket over a woman’s chest. I jerked my head up and looked into my Mother’s pale, quaking face.

I don’t know if I had been taking a breath in or out, but whichever one it was, suddenly reversed and I choked on thin air. “Mother!” I sputtered. I sensed people moving behind me, heard a strange, tight cry, but everyone other than her felt like shadows. Not real.