Dark Beach

FIVE





The black-handed clock on the tackle shop wall read twelve-thirty. She was late, and she knew it. She didn’t care. She was alone in that cramped fisherman’s heaven; not a single customer was in sight. How does Kurt make any money in this sleepy town?

Jenny snooped about. Fishing lures in all shapes and sizes hung from the walls. He doesn’t seem like the stalker type. She examined the barbed hooks, the sharp stainless steel gaffs. Well, maybe.

The longer she waited the more her anger dissipated. Maybe it was a coincidence? Kurt appeared nice, friendly—perhaps overly so—but Jenny wasn’t sure about him. Usually she had good gut instincts about people, but this fisherman was a mystery to her.

“Where is he?” She looked at the clock again and examined a fish size chart on the wall.

A chime rang out as the front door behind her opened. A tall man, dirty in tired blue flannel, blue suspenders, and big heavy boots took off his faded red ball cap and scratched one hand through his hair. Jenny couldn’t tell if his face was filthy too, or if he was just unshaven.

“I need five hundred yards of thirty-pound test, multi-strand or multi-fiber. Oh … Where’s Kurt?” He looked her up and down, his eyes skipping over red loafers and denim to pause, chest height, at her white tank and grey zipped hoodie. He made absolutely no eye contact. “Never mind … I’ll get it.”

The fisherman went behind the counter and took what he needed, scrawled a note on the notepad on the counter, and left with a disinterested, “Excuse me.”

Jenny craned her neck across the counter. The note just listed the items and finished with the man’s name. “Dan Town,” she said, guessing he had a tab or something.

Another fellow entered, this time baby-faced, thin and pale—obviously a tourist. “Nice shop you have here.”

“Uh … I … don’t work here.” Jenny tried to act natural, all the while knowing she looked like a fish out of water.

“Why are you behind the counter?”

A tourist and a smart-ass. “Er … I was looking for the owner. I needed to get something.”

“What are you going to get?” he asked, in a tone that said it was obvious to him she had never fished a day in her sweet life.

“Tape. I need some tape, but no one is here. I was just looking for the owner.”

Returning to the front of the store, she tried to act as if nothing was going on. The newcomer raised an eyebrow that implied he had rightfully put her in her place, but left her alone.

“Some freaking people,” Jenny said under her breath.

“Excuse me?”

She whirled around. The young man was right behind her.

“Did you just call me some f*cking person? Who do you think you are, lady? You living in some fantasy world where you can just walk around insulting others and waltzing into stores to steal shit?”

“Steal? I wasn’t going to steal anything.” She took a step back and made a fist behind her back. “I was looking for the owner—Kurt. Honestly I was,” she stammered, stunned by the confrontation. “And I said freaking, but I didn’t intend for you to hear. I’m sorry, truly I am.”

The young man just glared at her for a moment, and then went on with his own business.

She backed away, closer to the door. Maybe it was time to leave, but where to go? Kurt sure isn’t here. She slipped her hand into the pocket of her hoodie, where the note was tucked away, and went back to browsing the lures. After a few minutes, she sighed and headed for the exit, taking one last glance at the counter. No one was there, not even that bastard tourist.

Where did he go? Jenny stood completely still by the door, and listened. There was not a sound in the shop. Not a breath. Nothing. The kid had not passed her, so he had to still be around. The aisles were all empty. This was crazy. Did she imagine the whole thing? Where was this joker?

“Hello? Anyone here?” She took a few steps back toward the counter. Kurt? Anyone? You—freaking a*shole kid?” That would surely get a response.

“A*shole? Is that any way to greet someone who has been making you a magnificent lunch?” A gruff but cheery voice issued from the back of the shop.

“Kurt?” She blushed.

“Sorry I’m late. We got in late to shore this morning, and the catch was big. Took longer than I expected to unload and—”

“It’s fine,” Jenny interrupted. “Did you see a young man in here?”

“No. But there’s a note here on the counter.” Kurt picked up the notepad, tore off the page and added it to a file behind him.

She noticed that Kurt too was dressed in flannel and jeans.

Jenny frowned. “No, a kid. He was here but I didn’t see him leave. I figured he went in the back or … somewhere, I’m not sure.”

“The only person I see here is you.” Kurt looked at her, his glance appreciative. “Are you hungry? I’ve got soup on getting hot, and I picked up a fresh loaf of bread. Come on.” He gestured toward the back door of the store. “Don’t worry. Folks come in all the time and leave just like that. Most of my customers are regulars and have tabs. I usually have Hal here on the counter, but he called in sick. He’s probably not, though. He’s got a new girlfriend. Thinks he has me fooled, but shouldn’t be out getting Chinese food when his workplace is just across the street.”

Jenny eased up a little. “I am hungry. Soup sounds good.” She began to follow him, but then stopped when she reached the counter. “I got your note.”

“My note?” He kept walking, his back to her.

“Yes. The one you left in the lantern.”

Now he turned to face her.

“I got it this morning. I can’t believe you had the gall to come back, even after the police. You should have just told me it was you. I was terrified.”

“Police? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Oh, he was smooth. Jenny folded her arms across her chest and took a step back. “You left me a note.” She pulled it from her pocket and held it out for him, reading aloud, “What are you looking for?”

Kurt put his hand out. “Let me see it.” He read it, squinted at the handwriting. “I didn’t write this. This is not my handwriting. What happened?” He seemed genuinely concerned. “Follow me, we’ll discuss it over soup.”

Jenny shook her head. “How do I know you’re not lying? I can’t go with you, wherever it is you want me to go. You might be a psychopath.”

Kurt shook his head and ran his hands through his hair. “Boy, you’re trouble, aren’t you? And feisty, too. I like that. I like that.”

Jenny rolled her eyes. “You make me sound like some sort of horse.” She kept her arms folded.

“I was thinking more like a fish—some big unyielding fish.”

She couldn’t help but smirk. “So what is it? What do you want from me?”

“Nothing.” He sounded genuine. “Just your company, a little chit-chat. Where are you from? What do you like to do for fun? All the boring, yet simple stuff.” He fixed her with a gaze. “I didn’t write that note.”

“I don’t know, Kurt. I just don’t know about this. I’m married.”

“So I’ve heard.” He grinned. “And … I’m not looking for that. I respect you there. Here…” He thrust a ledger toward her. “Take a look at my log. This is my handwriting. Compare the two. I’m telling you the truth.”

Jenny took the ledger. Coffee rings stained the pages and it reeked of fish. After examining it carefully, she passed it back to him and nodded. “I believe you. Fine! This soup better be good, then. Show me the way already.” The note was tucked back in her pocket for safekeeping.

Kurt led her out the back of the shop and down tread-worn steps to a sun-bleached wooden pier. A lonely fishing boat bobbed at the end, its name painted in bright green letters across the white fiberglass hull.

The Retty. Jenny recognized it immediately. “Odd name for a boat,” she said, to cover her surprise.

“Unique, I prefer to think. It’s my father’s boat ... my boat now. He named it that. We’d get all fixed up to set out to sea and he’d say ‘You retty?’ instead of ready. I’d answer, ‘Aye, aye captain!’ and pretend I was a pirate instead of a fisherman. Loot seemed more interesting than fish back then.” A smile brightened his face. “I would go toe the line, pull the nets in, sort the baskets—whatever needed doing. He gave me pocket money for it, which turned into steady wages as I got older. I went to school during the year, worked weekends, helped in the evenings, and then came on full time. I suppose I picked up the business where he left off.”

“Where is he now, your father?”

Kurt didn’t answer. She followed him onto the boat and into the main cabin, all dark wood and dim lighting, except for the glow of the stove and an oil lamp.

“It’s cold in here.” Jenny shivered.

He handed her a heavy woolen blanket and she wrapped herself in it and took a seat at a table that could only seat two comfortably.

“I don’t feel the cold much. Too busy most of the time to notice, though it gets colder when we’re out from shore. You’ll see.”

“What? We’re going out?” Jenny pulled the blanket tighter at the thought.

“Yeah. After we eat. Just for a while. Is that all right with you?”

“Yes. The only boat I’ve been on, well besides this one now, is the Seattle ferry.”

“I bet you didn’t catch any fish on that one.”

“No, no fish.” She smiled. “Just a nap.”

The soup was piping hot, so Kurt served them and took a seat across from her. He looked so big folded into that cramped space. Jenny tried not to bump knees with him under the table, but it was unavoidable.

“No naps on this vessel—not unless you want a bucket of water thrown over you and told to get back to work.”

“Ha! I wasn’t planning on it. So, your father?”

Kurt shook his head. “You don’t forget, do you?” He ripped off a hunk of bread and offered her a piece.

“A sore subject?” Jenny slathered the chunk of bread in butter and dipped it in her soup, not making eye contact.

“No. Not really. Just maybe not an exciting one. We spent most of our lives working together, but barely muttered a word between us that didn’t have anything to do with fishing. Now he’s at home blind: cataracts apparently. They came on suddenly and he can’t see well enough to do the work, only to get himself around the house. Just listens to sports all day. I check in on him in the evenings to make sure he’s fine, bring him his groceries—that sort of thing.”

“What’s his name?”

“Barney. Blundering Barney on the boat. He was a great fisherman, but always blundering about onboard, so loud with his boots, always smoking a cigar. Always made us all wear neon life vests. He’d yell, ‘If I fall in the water, at least I’ll be found, either by sharks or by one of you shining bastards.’”

Jenny’s brain ticked away. So this was Gerry’s fisherman’s boat—Barney’s boat. She stared up at the dim exterior. A picture of Barney hung behind Kurt’s head. A more recent picture, she realized; he looked much older than he did in the one hanging in the beach house. She continued to gaze at the boat in wonder. This was where they met for their secret lunches. She couldn’t help but wonder if Barney still visited her over at the home, or if Kurt knew anything about any of it.

“Barney.” She ran the name over her tongue. “It’s not a common name.”

“My mother wanted to name me Barney as well, but Dad wouldn’t stand for it. He didn’t like the name.”

“Your mother?”

Kurt paused. “Yes.”

She waited.

He shook his head. “Long gone now. City born, Dad said. Didn’t like being a fisherman’s wife. She up and left us when I was three,” he said soberly. “I don’t even remember her. Dad looked after me, always has. Enough about me. Tell me about you.”

Jenny fidgeted, stirring her soup again.

“All I know is that you’re married, and you’re on your vacation—alone.”

The word alone chimed out like an accusation. Everything seemed to close in on her—the dark wooden walls that had concealed strangers, fish, men, lovers. Kurt was a stranger, too, yet every line in his face seemed like a crevice she could get lost in.

“Jenny?”

What am I doing here on this stranger’s boat anyway? I should get back to the beach house, to Kip.

“I need some fresh air.” She pushed the bowl away and leaped up from the crowded table. “It’s cramped in here.”

Kurt stood too and put a hand on her arm. “We’ll get some air. I’ll take us out. You can feel the freshest air there is—the ocean gusts.”



* * *



Dark-grey clouds filled the sky, turning the water as black as night, even though it was still day. Jenny leaned over the side of the boat, staring into the water. The wind was cold, and so was she, but she was beyond doing much about it.

“Maybe we’ll see a whale,” Kurt called out from the cabin, his voice pitched to carry above the noise of the boat motor.

“I hate whales.” Jenny focused on her own reflection, her face seeming to morph into the waves, as if she were one with them.

“You hate whales! How can you hate whales? They’re the most beautiful creatures in the ocean; I’ve seen many.”

Then why are its teeth so sharp? She saw them appear in the black water, beckoning to her, centering over her head as if to take a huge bite.

“I see them weekly, actually. Sometimes they follow the boat, as if they’re playing.” Kurt kept talking, but Jenny was no longer listening.

He glanced over. “Jenny?” He switched the motor off. “Jenny, you there? Come on in here and I’ll let you steer. It’s fun; you’ll love it.” She was nowhere to be seen. Absolutely nowhere. Then it occurred to him to look out beyond the railing. “Oh shit. This is bad. This is real bad.”

He scanned the dark water and saw the gleam of a fluorescent-orange life vest bobbing up and down in the water, quite a way back.

“Damn!” He ran to the Man Overboard emergency signal and set it off to notify the coast guard of their GPS location.

“Mayday, mayday, this is the skipper of the Retty fishing vessel. I have a man overboard. It’s just me left on the boat, requesting help.”

“Roger. Copy on your GPS signal. Sending help.”

“As soon as you can.” Faster than he’d ever moved in his life, Kurt turned the boat around and maneuvered near enough to get a life ring out to her. Jenny’s eyes were closed. She floated there in the waves as if she were dead.

The ring was no use, and he didn’t have much time. He switched off the engines and tossed a rope ladder over the side. I shouldn’t do this. I should wait.

Jenny drifted farther away.

“God dammit!” He jumped into the ocean. It was colder than cold; the shock of it stunned him. Ignoring it, he thought only of rescuing her.

“Jenny, it’s going to be all right,” he yelled as he swam, head up, toward her. “I’ve got you now. Just hold on there, hold on.”

One arm around her shivering body, he pedaled desperately with his legs and used the other arm to prop her head up above the water. The water was the killer. The force of the waves crashed against his face as he fought hard, kicked hard, and swam for their lives. He was well muscled and tough, but in all his years as a fisherman he’d never actually had to get in the water, despite practicing rescues many times. He’d witnessed his father rescue a mate once, but that was many years ago, and the guy had at least been conscious.

Was it too late? He was almost to the boat, but it seemed to be moving away from him as he swam. Kurt cried out in frustration.

Just go! Just get there. He was beginning to tire. His arms felt numb, his legs even number. Where they still even moving? Kick! Fight! said his brain, but even it couldn’t tell what his body was doing.

“Almost Kurt, almost,” he said aloud.

Reaching out, he grasped the rope ladder with one hand, holding Jenny by her life vest and barely able to keeping her upright. The rope ladder, flimsy beneath them, sagged against the side of the boat, making the challenge that much worse.

“Piece of ...” Kurt didn’t realize how useless it would be when he bought the damn thing. “Christ almighty.”

The mid-ship ledge was just within reach when his fingers gave way, and so did his feet. They both plunged back into the icy ocean. Jenny bobbed off again. Kurt just felt numb.



***



Molly settled Kip on the couch and flicked over to a children’s program on cable, and then hobbled over to examine the lantern on the counter.

“Quaint. Must be new.” She had certainly never noticed it in the house before.

Taking her time, she fixed them both a glass of milk. The beach house was always a nice spot to stay awhile. Since Gerry had moved to Busy Bee Meadows, Molly’s “quick” visits had often turned into hours whenever she wanted to watch a little news or a movie. She couldn’t afford cable at home. Sewing and knitting kept her busy enough, but they were both getting harder now, what with the arthritis. She took Kip’s glass over to her and set it down on the coffee table, and then stood there a moment, head cocked. There was something she was supposed to do, someone she should call. Making her way back to the kitchen bench, she ferreted in her handbag for a reminder. That’s right. She had written a note. Ring Ron, said her own spidery handwriting on a piece of pink notepaper.

She looked at the number carefully, holding the paper out away from her; her eyesight wasn’t that good anymore. “Is that a one? Or a seven? I think it’s a seven. My handwriting gets worse every day.” She looked around the beach house for the phone. She was sure there was one, but she couldn’t find it in any of the obvious places. She shrugged. Gerry had probably had the landline disconnected when she left. Since Gerry had been taken to Busy Bee Meadows, Molly had had no occasion to ring the house. Noticing a slim silver cell phone on the counter, she hobbled over and picked it up. She pressed a button. The screen flashed momentarily and then went dead. Molly sighed. She never had learned how to use a cell anyway, and there didn’t seem much point doing it now. She must remember to tell Jenny when she returned. Ring Ron, she committed it to her failing memory. Ring Ron.



* * *



The red rescue helicopter hovered above them, lowering a metal basket while a rescue swimmer dove into the water and swam to Jenny first. He slid her carefully into the basket, and then assisted Kurt. At his thumbs up signal, they began the ascent to the helicopter.

“No! Stop!” Kurt shouted, shivering violently. “I’m not going. I’m not leaving my boat. Put me back on my boat!”

“Sir, you are hypothermic. You need treatment. We’ll send someone for your boat.” The rescuer tried to calm him down.

“I’m not going. Put me back on the Retty.”

Kurt tried to climb out of the basket, causing it to rock back and forth.

“Sir, you need to stay still or the entire basket may tip over.”

Kurt, too confused, didn’t stop. The rescuer grabbed him, trying to hold him down.

“Get me out of here!” Kurt flailed about.

“Calm down, calm down.” They struggled, but Kurt was too strong. The basket tipped, dumping them all back into the ocean.

“Three in the water! Three in the water!” The copilot called.

The mechanic lowered the basket back to the ocean and frantically scanned the water again.

Their bright orange life vests brought them back to surface, and the rescue diver, shaken, continued with the rescue. One at a time, he hauled both Kurt and Jenny back into the basket and gave the mechanic another thumbs up.

“We have two survivors: a female in severe hypothermia, a male in moderate hypothermia—estimated arrival ten minutes.” The copilot radioed in after everyone was safe.

Jenny, drenched and pale, shook violently. They stripped her down, covered her in blankets and started an IV with warm fluids.

Kurt remained combative.

“He’s a big one. We gotta get him warmed up,” said the swimmer.

“Don’t touch me,” Kurt mumbled.

“We gotta live one here. F*ck.”

“Yeah, f*ck!” said Kurt, putting his clenched fists up.

“You hold him down,” said the swimmer, pointing at the mechanic. “I’ll do the rest. One. Two. Three.”

They got Kurt undressed by rolling him on his belly and had him under a warming blanket in less than two minutes. Kurt attempted a swipe here and there, but he was too disoriented to connect with his targets. He continued to grumble about his boat and Jenny.

“Jenny? Is that your wife’s name?”

“I barely know her,” said Kurt. “She’s nuts.”

“Excuse me?” the swimmer said.

“—just my type.”

The swimmer watched Jenny; she looked so peaceful now that her shaking had ceased. He knelt by her side. “Jenny, come on now. Can you open your eyes for me? Jenny, you’re on a helicopter. We are taking you to Ocean Point Medical Center.”

She moaned.

“Come on. That’s it—open your eyes for me.” The swimmer rubbed her cheek. “I know you’re in there.”

The helicopter landed, and the rescue crew transported the survivors on gurneys to the emergency room.

An overweight county nurse in puppy patterned scrubs took the report. “Now how many liters have they had?”

“500cc each. I just told you that,” said the rescue swimmer.

“And how long were they in the water for?”

“From the time the call went out to when we arrived, maybe seven minutes; the female, maybe longer.”

“But you said they fell in the water twice. How was that?”

The rescue swimmer rubbed his forehead in frustration. “Ma’am, as I said, we all fell out of the basket due to Kurt here in state of hypothermic confusion.”

“I want to know if my boat is in yet,” Kurt chimed in from the background.

“I think he can hear us. Can’t we do this somewhere else?” the swimmer asked.

The nurse tilted her head down, looking at him over the thick, multicolored rims of her glasses. “I think we’re done here. I have no more questions.”

“I need to make a phone call,” came a high-pitched, desperate-sounding demand.

“You’re awake.” The swimmer rushed to Jenny’s side.

She squinted, dazzled by his scarlet uniform. “Who are you? Where am I?” She yanked the white linen sheets up closer to her neck.

“You’re safe—in the hospital. I’m Jack. I’m with the Coast Guard. I helped you out of the water and brought you here.”

The nurse took her spot by Jenny’s head. “And my name is Betty. I’ll be your nurse while you’re in the ER.”

“ER?”

“You jumped off my boat. Don’t you remember?” Kurt, behind his own privacy stall in the bed next door, joined in.

The nurse left Jenny’s side and yanked Kurt’s curtain back. “Now you hush,” she whispered fiercely. “She’s just waking up. I’ll see to you next.”

Kurt folded his arms, in a huff.

“You’ll be okay now. The nurse is going to take good care of you,” said Jack.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t need to say anything. You just need to get warm, get cozy, and get home,” said the swimmer, wondering why Kurt had claimed she was crazy. Cute as she was, she seemed normal.

“Thank you for rescuing me. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen—all this.” Jenny put her head down.

“We never do. Things happen, and we deal with them the best we can. That’s all we can do, all we can hope for.”

The nurse, as grumpy and as tired as she was, tilted her grey head as she listened to the swimmer’s words and then gave him a smile, probably the first he’d received all day.

“We gotta call coming in,” said the copilot. “Gotta run.”

“Right. Goodbye Jenny, and good luck to you.” Jack squeezed her hand. It felt warm now, at least.

“Bye, Jack.”

“You forgot about my boat!” Kurt shouted. He shook his head. “This place! I hate ERs.”

The ER was full. The occasional cough reverberated along the long, rectangular room, interrupting the usual hum of aggravated or worried voices. Kurt’s own complaints went unnoticed. After the nurse assessed them, she returned to her admission procedures and ignored him.

“Now Jenny, your vital signs are stable, but we want to keep you here for another hour, just to make sure,” said Betty, undoing the blood pressure cuff.

“I’m pregnant.”

“What?”

“I’m eleven weeks.”

“Why didn’t you say something sooner? I asked you about this earlier and you answered no.”

“Sorry.”

“We need to check, to make sure everything is okay in there. I’ll be right back.” The nurse grimaced and hurried off.

A very tall, thin doctor appeared and peered at her through horn-rimmed glasses. “I’m Doctor Johnson. I’m going to have some labs drawn. Have you had any cramping?”

“Slight.”

“I need to check your cervix. Nurse,” he called to Betty.

Kurt’s eyes widened.

“I’ll need a pelvic kit please. Jenny, I need you to scoot your bottom all the way down, please.”

Betty quickly whisked the curtain around the bed.

Doctor Johnson put Jenny’s feet into the metal stirrups. “I’m going to apply some gel, and it’s going to be cold.”

She heard Kurt groan and roll the other way in the bed next to hers.

“The speculum might feel a little uncomfortable.”

There was a clicking sound and Jenny moaned.

“Okay, your cervix is still closed; that’s good. Betty, the ultrasound.”

“Yes, Doctor.” Betty rolled it over.

He squeezed a blob of cold gel on her belly.

Jenny frowned as a mottled grey and white image flickered on the screen.

“There’s a heartbeat.” The doctor pointed at a flash of blue and red. “The baby is fine. Everything looks good, but once you leave here, you need to go home and rest.”

“That’s it?” asked Jenny.

“You’re lucky. Very lucky. We need to calm that cramping down, but you’re not having contractions or anything like that.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

The doctor nodded and left.

“Is there anyone I can call to arrange for pick up?” asked the nurse.

“Um … My daughter is with the babysitter. I don’t know her number.”

“I’ll take her. Her car’s by my shop,” Kurt said from behind the curtain.

The nurse poked her head into Kurt’s stall. “You have someone who can pick you both up?”

“Yeah. I have a buddy or two. I just need the phone.”

The nurse passed it to him and he made arrangements.

“I need to call my husband. He doesn’t know I’m here,” said Jenny, troubled.

The nurse raised an eyebrow and gave them both a funny look.

“It’s not what you think,” said Jenny.

Kurt just smiled.

“I think I understand.” Betty’s expression grew haughty.

“I don’t know what to say to him. He’s going to be mad. I know it.”

“Here you go.” Betty handed her a phone. “Don’t worry. It’ll be fine. You’re here now.”

Jenny dialed. It rang.

“Ron here.”

“Ron.”

“Oh my god, where have you been? I’ve been calling and calling your cell. I told what’s-her-name to tell you I called. I’ve been worried sick.”

“I’m so sorry. What’s-her-name?”

“Mrs. Collington ... Cobbington. Are you okay?”

“Molly Coggington? She didn’t tell me, but yes, I am. I’m fine. My cell is missing, but I’ll find it when I get back.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m out. I don’t want you to worry about me. I’m fine. I just got side-tracked, that’s all. You’re busy. Don’t worry about me.”

“How could I not? What happened with the cops last night?”

“I can’t talk about it now. Can I call you back later?”

“Just tell me.”

“I will. It’s fine. Don’t worry.”

“Something’s up. I can tell by your voice.”

“Ron.”

“Fine, but you need to call me. I have my phone on me at all times. It’s crazy down here, but I’ll take your call, no matter what.” He paused. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“I am. Really. I am.”

“Can you go by and see Nana for me.”

She sighed. “No.”

“Please?”

“Why?’

“I’m worried about her, too. After what happened the other day, I called the home. They won’t give me any info. I just want to know.”

“I can’t believe you want me to go there—even after what happened.” Jenny’s tone escalated.

“Don’t get upset. Never mind. Call me later ... I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

She heard the rustling sound of Kurt rolling back to face her. He sighed.