The Beautiful Thing That Awaits Us All (9 page)

4

    Unhappily-so far as Bernice was concerned-they did indeed embark upon a hike along the cluttered beach directly after breakfast. The Redfield Girls had the shore to themselves, although there were a few small boats on the lake. The sky was flat and gray. It sprinkled occasionally, and a stiff breeze chopped the surface of the water. They picked their way until reaching the farthest point on the north side where a stream rushed over jumbled stones; shaggy bushes and low-hanging alders formed an impenetrable screen between shore and deep forest.

    The women rested for a bit in a patch of golden light sifted from a knothole in the clouds. Bernice pulled off her shoe and poured out pebbles and sand, and scowled at the blister already puffing on her ankle.

    "Don't tell me you thought we'd let you lead us to God's swimming hole and then hibernate all weekend." Dixie sat beside her on a log.

    "That's precisely what I thought."

    "Silly woman. Hiking is f-u-u-n!"

    "Look at this damned thing on my foot and say that again."

    Lourdes and Karla skipped pebbles across the water and laughed. Li-Hua came over and stared at Bernice's blister. "Maybe we should pop it? Let me."

    "What the hell are you talking about?"

    "You know, to drain the pus."

    "For the love of-that's not what you do with a blister," Bernice said. She quickly stuck her shoe on before Li-Hua got any more ideas.

    "Yeah, that's crazy talk. You just want to try one of your ancient herbal remedies and see if it works, or if her foot swells like a melon."

    Li-Hua shrugged and grinned. She didn't think much of Western medicine, this prejudice exacerbated by complications stemming from her hysterectomy conducted at Saint Peter's Hospital. Her own grandmother had been an apothecary and lived in perfect health to one hundred and three.

    
"M
y husband knew an old fisherman who lived here." Li-Hua's husband Hung worked for the state as a cultural researcher. He'd assisted on a demographical study of the region and spent several weeks among the Klallam, and Norwegian and Dutch immigrants who'd lived nearby for decades. "Job Nilsson had a ramshackle cabin over one of these ridges. After Hung interviewed him, we brought him cases of canned goods and other supplies every winter until he passed away. It was sad."

    "Yeesh," Dixie said. She'd gone to El Salvador and Nicaragua on many humanitarian missions. "I never knew, Li-Hua. You guys are wonderful." She sprang from her perch and hugged Li-Hua.

    "Job wouldn't talk about the lake much. He stopped fishing here in 1973 and went to the river instead. He believed what the Klallam said-that demons were in here, swimming around, watching for intruders. He said most white people believed it was mainly ghosts of those who drowned haunted this place, but he thought that was wrong. Only a few corrupted souls linger here on Earth. Or a few who get lost and forget who they are. The rest go to their reward, or punishment."

    "Uh-huh," Bernice said. This conversation brought back the creepy feelings. She was frightened and that kindled the helpless anger, again.

    "The spirits are great deceivers. They delight in causing pain and fear. Of course, the spirits are angry about the houses, the motor boats, the trash, and seek to lure anyone they can and drown them."

    Bernice shook her head. "Last night you groused at us for telling tales. Now look at you go…"

    "The cat is out of the bag."

    "Huh. Maybe you should put it
back
in the bag."

    "That it? The codger was superstitious?" Dixie lighted a cigarette and Bernice's mouth watered.

    "His brother Caleb drowned in the Devil's Punch Bowl. Four people saw him fall into the water and disappear. The body was lost, but Job claimed to meet something pretending to be his brother a year later. He was walking along the beach and saw him lying under a pile of driftwood. Job ran toward his brother's corpse, but when he reached it, Caleb sprang from the weeds and slithered into the water, laughing. Job was terrified when he realized the figure didn't really resemble his brother at all. And that's why he stopped fishing here."

    "I hope he gave up on moonshine too," Bernice said.

    Lourdes was the one who spotted the rowboat. It lay grounded on the beach, partially obscured by a tangle of driftwood just below their cabin. The women gathered around and peeked inside. Nothing seemed amiss- the oars were stowed and only a pail or two of rainwater slopped beneath the floorboards.

    "It's a rental," Dixie said. "The lodges around here rent skiffs and canoes. Somebody forgot to tie it to the dock."

    "I don't think so," Bernice said. The boat was weathered, its boards slightly warped, tinged green and gray. "This thing looks old." Actually, ancient might've been more accurate. It smelled of algae and wood rot.

    "Yeah. Older than Andy Griffith," Karla said.

    "Maybe it belongs to one of the locals."

    "Anything's possible. We'll tell the lodge. Let them sort it out." Dixie tied the mooring rope to a half-buried stump and off they went.

5

    They stopped at the Bigfish to report the abandoned boat and use the showers, then drove into Port Angeles for dinner at the Red Devil. When they returned a few hours later, the moon was rising. Bernice and Karla lugged in wood for the fire. Li-Hua fixed hot chocolate and they drank it on the porch.

    "The boat's still here," Lourdes said, indicating its dark bulk against the shining sliver of beach.

    "Ah, they'll come get it in the morning," Bernice said. "Or not. Who cares."

    "I know!" Dixie clapped for attention. "Let's take it for a spin."

    "A spin? That would imply the existence of an outboard motor," Karla said.

    "Yes, but we'll just use the manual override. It comes with oars."

    "I've stuffed my face with entirely too much lobster to take that suggestion seriously."

    "Don't look at me," Bernice said. "I mean it, Dix. Stop looking at me."

    A few minutes later she and Lourdes were helping Dixie shove off. Li-Hua and Karla waved from the shore, steadily shrinking to a pair of smudges as Dixie pulled on the oars. "Isn't this great?" she said.

    Bernice perched in the bow, soon mesmerized by the slap of the oar blades dipping into the glassy surface, their steady creak in the metal eye rings. The boat surged forward and left the rising mist in tatters. She was disquieted by the sensation of floating over a Hadal gulf, an insect prey to gargantuan forms lurking in the depths.

    Dixie slogged midway to the far shore, then dropped the oars and let the boat drift. "Owwwie! That did it. Shoulda brought my driving gloves." She blew on her hands. "No worries. Bernie, ol' chum, how about "bailing" us out here?"

    "Dream on. This is your baby."

    "Omigod, we'll be doomed to cruise these waters for eternity!"

    "I'll do it," said Lourdes. The boat tipped precariously as she and Dixie switched places. "So, what do I do?" Dixie gave her a few pointers, and in moments they listed homeward, lurching drunkenly as Lourdes struggled to find her rhythm.

    "We're going to capsize," Bernice said, only half joking as their wake churned and spray from the oars wet her hair.

    "Uh oh," Dixie said.

    "What uh oh?" Bernice said. The cabin was growing larger. She looked down again and water was rapidly filling the boat. Dixie was already ankle deep and bailing like mad with a small plastic bucket. "Good grief! It's the plug." All boats were fitted with a plug to drain bilge water when drydocked. She scrambled aft, catching an oar in the shin. She plunged her arm to the elbow, felt around, searching for the hole, and found it, plug firmly in place.

    Bubbles roiled about Lourdes's feet. "Guys…" She dropped the oars. Rowing was impossible now as the boat wallowed.

    "Oh crap on a stick! I think it's coming apart!"

    "We gotta swim for it," Dixie said. She'd already kicked off her shoes. "C'mon Bernie-get ready."

    The shore was about seventy yards away. Not so far, but Bernie hadn't swum a lap in years. Her arms and legs cramped with fear, and the darkness swelled and throbbed in her brain. She tasted the remnants of dinner as acid.

    Dixie leaped. Lourdes followed an instant later. She stumbled, and she belly flopped. Water gushed over the rails and the boat was a stone headed for the bottom. Bernie held her nose and jumped-the frigid water slammed her kidneys like a fist. She gasped and kicked, thrashing as if through quicksand, and her clothes dragged, made, abruptly, of concrete. In those moments of hyperawareness, she had time to regret all of the cigarettes and booze, to lament spending her days off lying around the yard like a slug. The moon hung too low; it merged with the lake until water and sky reversed. She floundered, trying to orient herself in the great, dark space.

    "Lourdes!" She swallowed water and it scorched her sinuses and throat. "Lourdes!" Her voice didn't project, and she began to cough. There was Dixie bobbing like a cork a few yards away, but no sign of her niece. The blaze of moonlight was eclipsed by red and black motes that shot from the corners of her eyes as she gulped air and dove.

    On the first try, she found Lourdes in the freezing murk. The girl was feebly making for the surface. Bernice caught the girl's arm, began to tow her along. A distinct point of light flickered at her peripheral vision. It rose swiftly from blackness, so pale it shone as it tumbled toward her, rushed toward her, and gained size and substance. Bernice gazed upon the approaching form with abject wonder. Perhaps she'd fallen into the sky and was plunging toward the moon itself. Terror overcame her-she screamed and a gout of bubbles exploded from her mouth. She brought Lourdes to the surface in one convulsive heave, and then hands hooked beneath her arms and brought her away with them.

    Later, in the fetal position upon the small, sharp rocks of the beach, and after Karla shoved the others aside and administered first aid until she spluttered and vomited and breathed on her own, Bernice tried to summon an image of the form she'd seen down there, to perfect its features, and couldn't. Even now, safely ashore and encircled by her comrades, the blurry figure was etched in her mind, and evoked a stark and abiding fear. It had come close, radiating a cold much sharper than the chill water. She squeezed her eyes shut, and rubbed them with her palms in a futile attempt to exorcise this image that had leaked from dreams into the physical world.

    Dixie and Li-Hua implored her to go to the clinic. What if she was hypothermic? Bernice shrugged them off-after she regained her senses and hacked the water from her lungs, she felt fine. Weak and shivery, but fine. Lourdes was okay, too, probably better, insomuch as youth seemed to bounce back from anything short of bullet wounds. She huddled with Bernice, eager to relate her tale of near disaster. Her pants cuff had snagged on the rail and she banged her shoulder. Thank the stars for Aunt Bernice and Dixie!

    "Guess I owe you one, too," Bernice said as Dixie wrapped her in a blanket and led her to the cabin.

    "Not me," Dixie said. "No way I coulda dragged your carcass all the way in on my own. You should've seen Karla go-that old broad can
swim
!"

6

    Karla and Li-Hua suggested pulling stakes and heading home early in light of the traumatic events. Lourdes disappeared outside and Dixie lay in her bunk, inconsolable for cajoling her friends to accompany her on the rickety boat and then nearly getting them all drowned. "I really fouled up," she said. Her voice was rusty from crying into her pillow. "What a jerk I am."

    "We should sue the pants off the lodge for owning such a damned leaky boat!" Karla's had huffed and puffed her indignation for a good hour.

    "We took the boat without asking, didn't we?" Li-Hua said.

    "That's beside the point. It's outrageous to keep a death trap lying around. Somebody should give them what for."

    Bernice forced herself to rise and go for a walk down to the beach where she smoked a cigarette and watched the sun rise while the moon yet glowed on the horizon. She stubbed the butt of her cigarette on the sole of her shoe. Her eyes were twitchy and dry and her hair was stiff. She shook her fist at the lake, and spat.

    Lourdes stepped from the bushes screening the path and came to stand beside her. The girl's expression was different today, more sober; she'd aged five years overnight. The patronizing half smile was wiped from her face. "That is the coldest water I've ever jumped into," she said. "I dreamt about this before."

    "You mean the boat sinking?" Bernice couldn't look at her.

    "Kind of. Not the boat; other stuff. We were somewhere in the woods- here, I guess. Me, you, some other people, I don't remember. You kept telling the story about Dolly."

    "Except I didn't tell the story. Dixie did. She's always been better at talking."

    "I got it wrong. Dreams are funny like that. Mom thinks I'm a psychic. Maybe I'm only a partial psychic."

    "Your psychic powers convince you to fly over here?"

    Lourdes shrugged. "I didn't really analyze it. I just wanted to come see you. It may sound dumb, but on some level I was worried you might be in trouble if I didn't. Looks like I had it backwards, huh?"

    Bernice didn't say anything for a while. She watched the water shift from black, to milk, to gold. "I've always had a bit of the sight, too," she said.

    "Really?"

    "Sometimes, when I was a child, I dreamed things before they happened. Nothing big. I sure couldn't pick lotto numbers or anything. It came and went. I don't get it so much these days."

    "Wow. Thanks for telling me. Mom doesn't want to know anything. I confided in her once. Frank put his foot down."

    They fell silent and lighted cigarettes. Bernice finished hers. She hesitated, then patted Lourdes's shoulder, turned and walked back to the cabin.