Of Sea and Cloud (33 page)

I put old Nic—, Virgil began again but his voice was drowned by the groan of the gong buoy that burst from the darkness with a sudden flash that lit the boat. The groan was eerie and deafening and in that frozen instant Jonah saw Virgil grimace then deflate as if he'd lost some piece of himself.

The buoy disappeared as fast as it had come and Virgil spoke again.

What happened was Royal James fished Nic up in his urchin drag. I took Nic's body. And I dumped him in the pound. I should have told you, Jonah.

Jonah put his palms on his ears and pinched his eyes shut. He didn't want to hear another word. They rounded the head of Stone Island.

Jonah?

Jonah didn't answer.

You okay, Jonah? I'm sorry I didn't tell you.

I'm just fucking cold, Virgil. I'm cold.

The boat swayed. Virgil put his arm around Jonah and pulled him close as if to warm him but neither held any heat. It'll work out, Virgil said.

I really don't care.

Imagine that, Virgil said.

Jonah let the words tumble in his head. He stepped away from Virgil. Imagine what?

Virgil rotated his head as if it were a saucer spinning atop his neck and he peered at Jonah through the electronic glow. The Highliner don't care.

Jonah ground his molars together. He clenched his fists and breathed a lungful through his nostrils. I don't care? I don't fucking care, Virgil? You feed my father to fucking lobsters and tell everyone Osmond done it? I know why you did it, you sonofabitch. I know you. It's because they never let you in the pound, ain't it? Because my dad partnered with Osmond, you sonofawhore. After this long?

No, Virgil whispered. The words leaked like bile from his mouth. No, Jonah.

The hell not. Then you near rip Julius's fucking arm off? And you say I don't care? Well fuck you, Virgil. Fuck you. You're fucking insane and you're a goddamned liar and that's it. I am done with you. Jonah looked off into the darkness. He could feel Virgil's silence. Anger and adrenaline spiked like a cocktail through his body. And you know what, Virgil? I feel bad for Celeste. She don't deserve such a fucked-up husband as you and slut daughter like Charlotte. You and her both can go to hell.

Jonah, Virgil said but his voice was brittle and it fell as if frozen.

When they reached the harbor Jonah pulled himself up by the davit and walked the iced rail to the bow. He settled to his knees and gaffed the mooring and pulled the rope through the iced chocks and over the bit. The water looked like tar beneath him. He sat in the bow of the skiff as Virgil rowed them back to the float and when the bow touched the float Jonah climbed out and left Virgil in the skiff.

Jonah put his hood up and walked down the road. He didn't look back at the harbor where Virgil sat in the skiff with his head in his hands and his entire body shaking as the skiff carried him into the silent and frozen night. Jonah tucked his chin to his chest and clasped his hands together within his sweatshirt pocket. He walked toward the village. He looked at the few houselights. He pictured Virgil adrift in the skiff and felt a deep loneliness. He had nowhere to go and no one to go to. He'd lost both parents and he'd lost his girlfriend and his boat and now he'd lost Virgil. All that remained was his brother and for a moment he thought about Osmond and faith in blood but even from his brother he felt estranged.

Eventually he heard Virgil's truck start and climb the hill above the wharf and turn toward him. He thought of hiding behind a tree but didn't have the energy. He kept walking. He hoped Virgil would drive by but at the same time hoped he would stop. The truck approached. Jonah didn't turn then as it passed he thought with a satisfied fury,
Fine.

Then the brake lights flashed.

Jonah reached the cab and the passenger side window rolled down.

I'm sorry, Jonah, Virgil said and the voice shook and struggled.

Jonah kept walking. Virgil waited a moment before catching up.

Jonah stopped.

We had that storm surge right after Nic went lost, remember? Those big tides and onshore winds. He would've sunk and those currents would've pinned him to the No Where Ledge that Royal drags. It all funnels into that ledge.

So what? So he fell the fuck overboard and washed into a ledge. That don't mean he was murdered, and it sure as shit don't give you reason to put him in the fucking pound. Are you fucking psychotic? Why didn't you call the police? They could've done a autopsy and found out how the fuck he died. Maybe he had a heart attack. Maybe he choked on a fucking cigarette butt.

Jonah, Virgil said again.

Jonah saw that Virgil was crying and it was a strange thing to see but he didn't care. Just leave me alone, Jonah said and he walked off the road into the snow and disappeared among the trees.

Celeste was still up when Virgil stepped shivering into the kitchen. She waited for him to say something but he didn't. She saw blood spattered on his face and his face red and swollen and she said, Oh God, Virgil, are you okay?

He nodded but stood transfixed.

Are you sure? Where's Jonah? Is he okay?

Fine. He went back out to camp.

She reached out and wiped his cheeks with her two thumbs. Her skin blanched and shadows formed on her face as if cast from within. She thought for a moment. Whatever you've done, don't tell me yet, Virgil. Not yet. She pulled him into her grasp and as she held him she felt him begin to quake and soon his entire body shook.

He sobbed and said, I was wrong, I was wrong.

She gripped the back of his head in her palm and pressed her chin against the back of his neck. She closed her eyes and told herself that this was her husband.

When he settled she stepped back and lifted his chin and his big cheeks sagged red and white. She wiped his face with her cuff. She led him up the stairs and turned the shower on and helped him out of his clothes. She took her own clothes off then pulled him into the heat of the shower and lathered soap over both of their bodies.

When they reached the bed Virgil said, I was wrong about everything, Celeste. I'm sorry for you to go through this.

I know you are, she said. She pulled the covers over the two of them. Tell me what you did.

It starts with Nicolas, he said and he stopped and did not continue.

She clenched the sheet in her fist and she remembered the night he'd come home with the smell of death like rot upon him and she said, Just tell me, Virgil.

Virgil's voice came distant and methodic and each word was forced. When he was finished speaking Celeste crimped her eyes closed and said, Why? Why would you?

They couldn't of done a autopsy on him. I barely knew it was him myself.

That's not what I asked you, Virgil.

Virgil hesitated then spoke. I thought he would break. Osmond. I thought I could do that, and I was wrong.

Celeste didn't say a word. The grandfather clock in the hallway ticked.

Virgil spoke again. I'm so scared, he whispered. Julius is just a kid and I near took his hand off. I don't know who I am anymore. I need help. I need your help.

• • •

One hour later Celeste still held the sheet in her fist when she spoke. Tomorrow morning I am going to get up and make coffee and eat breakfast like I have done every single morning for as long as I can remember. But I am not going to remember what you told me tonight. I am not going to remember what you did because if I think of it for one single more second I am going to take my daughter and bring her as far away from her father as I can get and we are going to stay there. Do you understand that? Maybe you're right about Osmond. Maybe he murdered your best friend. I don't know, but what I do know is that the way you're going about this ends right now.

Virgil choked once. His pillow was soaked with tears and he squeezed his eyes shut as if a sledgehammer were slowly descending upon him and he wished for such a simple pain. He nodded to himself over and over but Celeste's back was still to him and he wished for one more thing and that one thing was to join his wife and daughter as they left him behind.

Osmond awoke to the rumble of the diesel engine. He lay motionless with his eyes open as the boat came closer and for a split second he thought of Julius's grandmother as if she would return from the heavens and would do so by diesel power across the sea. She'd had long black hair and white skin and a voice like tumbling beach rock.

He cast off his sheet and wool blanket and rose naked in the blackness. He could taste Laura as if she'd been standing above him as he slept. He thought of gills. He shook the strange image from his mind and it was replaced with the image of her smooth pregnant shape. Never for a second had he regretted his time with her even though it had reordered his life. He'd lost his brother and fallen from the church and his fall had been hard and had shattered his ideas but not his faith as if a gale had burst the windows but not broken the frames.

He moved silently across the room. The wood floor was cold and he stood at the window edge as the boat slid into the inlet. Osmond could not see his boat on its mooring but he could see the end of his wharf and the easterly chop cresting against the pylons and rocks and he could see the sheerness of the firmament.

He thought of switching on the wharf lights but he wanted to allow whatever was to happen to happen. He had nothing in this world to lose because all that mattered was either lost or in this house with him.

Except Julius.

Osmond did not know about Julius.

He held one hand against the window sash and listened. He pictured the boat approaching his own. He heard it shift into neutral and idle.

Virgil, he whispered as if he'd been awaiting this coming. In his mind rose Virgil's face burning amid the cold dark sea crests. He ran his fingers over his own broken nose but Bill did not enter his mind. Only Virgil whom Osmond could not help but think of as some judge sent to condemn him and he understood that the stabs of fear he felt were regret although he told himself over and over that regret was only distrust and distrust was only lack of faith.

He squeezed his fist tight around his own forearm. He'd done things in this lifetime that no man should and he'd been victim to things that no man should endure but one did not justify the other despite the fact that the two existed as parallels. He had not looked back at Nicolas as Nicolas drowned any more than he'd shown his brother mercy over Laura. Sin was only sin when allowed to manifest as such.

Now his grandson. Julius acted out of fear and out of conceit and out of vanity because Julius had no faith. Nicolas Graves's death was part of an alignment set into motion before the world began and its ramifications existed beyond any of them but nevertheless Osmond sensed that without his old system of beliefs Nicolas's memory would rise and break his faith in a single great wave.

He waited until Virgil's boat eased into gear then pulled away. He listened as the diesel engine grumbled and roared and disappeared into the gulf.

Osmond dressed. He turned on the wharf lights and was surprised to see his boat still afloat and still lashed to its mooring. Waves came like razors flashing in the flood. He stepped into the night and pushed his skiff overboard and rowed through the bucking chop that sprayed and froze to his back and neck and head. He pulled alongside his boat. He stood in the skiff and saw first a heap of blankets and oilgear then saw that this heap was his grandson.

Osmond tied the skiff off to the pot hauler and climbed aboard. He uncovered the boy. The skiff banged against the boat's hull. Julius's hands were tied to his feet and blood froze to his face. Julius glared at Osmond with hatred and loathing as if Osmond's hands had bound him there and the look struck Osmond like a cleaver.

Here was his bloodline. His grandson. His failure.

He cut the rope that held Julius and the boy rolled over and slowly straightened his limbs. His face was beaten and his lips crusted and swollen.

Osmond stepped forward and reached a hand out to the boy. Julius flinched but steadied himself as Osmond lifted him to his feet then held him tight to his chest as if saying goodbye. He was surprised at the thinness of the boy and the smell of the boy like the skin of a newborn. Osmond held him tighter.

Julius kept his hands at his sides and made no move to embrace his grandfather.

I see you had a long day yesterday, Osmond said.

Julius pushed away and kneeled over the open stern. He dipped his head into the frigid water and came up and wiped at his stinging broken lips. He dipped his head again then stood and ran both hands through his black freezing hair.

Osmond noticed the mangled hand.

Weren't bad, Julius said. He tried a grin but his lips refused. He shivered.

You finally pissed off Virgil and the boys.

Appears. Him and Jonah.

Not Bill?

I guess he knows me.

You sank Jonah's boat. Osmond's voice was tired. Why, Julius?

The wharf lights rocked and shimmered over the breaking ocean chop.

Julius wiped at his lips again. He didn't answer.

You must have a reason. Traps? Charlotte? Tell me.

Julius shifted himself so he could see his grandfather better. Don't worry, he said. I didn't tell them.

Julius's eyes held something like hope within them but Osmond was unable to see it. He felt his knees flex as if readying himself to kneel before Julius. His jaw locked tight. He did not want to ask but he did. Tell them what, Julius?

Julius's voice was almost playful. They think it was me.

Again Osmond did not want to ask but again he did. They think what was you, Julius?

Julius ran a hand over his frozen hair. He breathed in and out and the hope that had sparked in his eyes faded and left the familiar void. What happened to your nose?

Osmond covered his nose with a gloved hand. I had a run-in.

A run-in?

Yes, Julius. A run-in.

With who?

That is neither here nor there. What do they think you've done? I cannot protect you unless I know what is happening.