1929 (75 page)

Paralyzed in every aspect, Aryl’s crazed eyes
powerlessly met the towering rogue wave that barreled toward the
crippled boat off the port side. Ears bleeding, he could hear
neither the roar of the ocean nor the splintering of the boat from
the second explosion.

He had only one thought–Claire.

The massive wave entrenched it all and washed
both men into the Atlantic.

∞∞∞

“I’m so glad to see you again!” Arianna said
as the two women hugged and traded babies to cuddle.

“Ye have no idea how wonderful it is to be
here,” Shannon said, smiling. “It’s so clean, so fresh . . . like
home.” Through the kitchen window, she watched Aislin running in
the yard with Jean, the darkened sky just beginning to spill. “I’m
just so happy ye thought of us when ye needed help. It’ll help the
both of us, to be sure.”

“Come on, I’ll show you your room. You’ll all
have to share, but Caleb was talking about refurbishing the old
cabin at the edge of the property and letting you use that.”

“A cabin?” Shannon asked, delighted.

“Yes, but it’s old and uninhabitable right
now. But with some hard work, we could make it nice.”

Claire sat close to Ava, already feeling
somewhat pushed to the side as Arianna and Shannon reunited.

Upstairs, Shannon was appreciative of the
clean and quaint room provided, although it was small for four
people. Arianna had rearranged it so that the children would be on
one side and the parents on the other.

Jonathan showed Patrick around outside and
kept an eye on Jean and Aislin. Patrick was cheerful as he admired
the large garden and barn. Jonathan Sr. and Margaret were the last
ones to arrive for dinner and Aryl’s mother accused them of parking
on a deserted road along the way. Jonathan Sr. grinned and
contemplated going along with the tease until Margaret poked him in
the side.

“I had to clean up the grease and muck. I
have that old truck almost running,” he said proudly, smiling at
Jonathan. “And I’ve had two inquiries on it, too. Might have it
sold before it’s finished.” Michael, who looked somewhat
interested, moved to talk to him about his project.

Jonathan sat down beside Ava and glanced at
his watch. “I wonder where those guys are?” He jumped, smiling.
“What are you doing?” he whispered out of the corner of his mouth.
She grinned devilishly, as she slid her hand up Jonathan’s
thigh.

An hour later, Ethel called everyone to
dinner. “We’re not going to wait for the slowpokes. It’s hot and
ready, so help yourself.”

Everyone filed into the kitchen, served
themselves, and then crowded around the table. Arianna and Shannon
huddled together talking and giggling, making plans for the
following week. Ava sat beside Jonathan but watched Claire, who
stood at the kitchen window staring out into the driving rain.

A few moments later, she saw a vehicle pull
into the drive and faced the room with a relieved smile. “They’re
here,” she said and began making a plate of food for Aryl. Arianna,
wanting to show off her new skills of domestic devotion, jumped up
to join her.

“Sheriff Vincent.” Jonathan opened the door,
but his smile had disappeared. “What can we do for you?” The
sheriff removed his hat, shook it outside the door, and stepped
gingerly inside the kitchen that had suddenly fallen quiet. His
eyes were grave and only made contact with Jonathan’s.

“Ah . . . I’m afraid there’s been an
accident,” he said regretfully with a heavy northeastern
accent.

“What kind of accident?” Jonathan asked.
Claire stood stock-still at the stove, staring at the wall behind,
plate suspended in mid-air. Arianna turned to face them and put a
hand on Claire’s shoulder to steady herself as all the blood
drained from her face.

“The details are sketchy, but there was an
explosion. And the storm–” He turned to glance out the door. “No,
that didn’t help, but, ah, well,” The Sheriff always hated this
part of his job. There was no piece of good that could be pulled
from informing people of a loss, a tragedy. The air was thick with
anticipation and dread as he cleared his throat and finally said,
“The Ava-Maura went down earlier today–”

The plate fell, shards of glass and food lay
at Claire’s feet. The hand that dropped the plate now gripped
Arianna’s arm, fingers digging into her flesh; Claire hadn’t turned
from the wall.

“Wait, the Ava-Maura–but that’s my boat!”
Jonathan cried.

“Like I said, Mr. Garrett. The details are
sketchy at present. All we know is that there was an explosion. The
Ava-Maura was lost, but luckily there was another boat in the area
when it happened. There was one survivor.”

“One,” he whispered.

“I am very sorry.”

Jonathan stared in disbelief as the Sheriff
nodded grimly.

“Which one?” Jonathan asked, blinking, as a
lump rose in his throat.

“I don’t know. He’s being treated at the
hospital in Gloucester with minor injuries. Deputy will give him a
ride home after he’s released an–”

“Which one!” Jonathan roared. Everyone in the
room startled, including the sheriff despite his training.

“I told you, sir, I don’t know. I got the
message third hand. Everything I have told you is everything that I
know. Deputy will bring him by, probably a few hours from now.” The
sheriff bowed his head in condolence as he left the silent room and
closed the door behind him. Jonathan roused from his daze and
followed him out the door.

“Wait!”

Sheriff Vincent turned, shielding his face
from the driving rain.

“The other one, we should be looking for
him,” Jonathan said desperately.

“It’s too rough out there, Mr. Garrett. We’ll
assemble a search party when the storm passes.”

Jonathan jumped off the porch and grabbed him
from behind. He spun him around and slammed him against his
vehicle.

“No! We need to be out there looking, we
can’t just, just leave him!” he yelled over the storm’s wind.

“Mr. Garrett. I understand your grief, but
you need to calm down, and more importantly, take your hands off me
before I’m forced to take you in.”

Jonathan let go of the uniform with a slight
shove and glowered at him.

“I can’t just leave him out there,” he said
piteously.

“I wish there was something I could do. I
know every man in the area will volunteer to join in a search once
it’s safe enough to go out. I’m afraid that’s all that can be
done.”

Jonathan stared at the ground helplessly,
oblivious of the complete saturation of the storm.

Inside, everyone sat in stunned silence.
Arianna and Claire held hands by the stove, supporting each other.
They locked eyes for what seemed like an eternity.

One of them was looking at a widow. Each
selfishly, guiltily, prayed it wasn’t herself.

Jonathan returned, soaked through and
avoiding eyes. “Could someone make a pot of coffee? It’s going to
be a long night.” He sat down hard and wiped his face dry with some
napkins. Ava stood behind him, bracing his shoulders tightly, and
they all began the long wait. Jean and Aislin sensed the tension
and played quietly in the living room, breathing nothing above a
whisper for the next few hours.

By ten o’clock, the rain had nearly stopped,
and the wind had died down to a heavy breeze. The engine rolling up
the driveway was easy to hear above the silence of fearful
expectation. Jonathan’s head suddenly jerked up. Everyone looked at
Arianna, whose breathing had suddenly become loud and erratic,
tears streaming down her face.

“I can’t,” she whispered. “I can’t go . . . I
don’t want to . . . What if?” Patrick and Shannon each supported an
arm and guided her as she moved toward the porch to learn her
husband’s fate. The older women rocked the babies, sharing looks of
fear, doubt, and apprehension.

“Claire?” Jonathan held out his hand. Her
head bobbed slightly as her eyes traveled from the door to Jonathan
and back to the door again. She took an unsteady step. He moved
quickly to her side and then walked with her slowly, a strong and
supportive arm around her. Ava held her other side and her
hand.

They stood together on the porch, and the car
seemed to take an eternity to crawl the drive. The deputy parked at
an angle, and although they strained, they couldn’t make out who
was in the passenger side; the light not sufficient to identify a
face. The deputy stepped out and walked around the car.

Jonathan tried to steel himself. In a moment,
everything would change. One of his childhood friends, a brother,
was gone, lost to the sea. The anticipation of this was agony and
in the last moment, he suddenly didn’t wish to know. It’s better to
wonder than to grieve, he thought and he held onto Claire as much
for himself as for her. Patrick watched Arianna closely. The deputy
opened the passenger door and leaned inside for a moment.

No one breathed.

The deputy placed Aryl’s sea bag on top of
the vehicle and Arianna let out a ragged, strangled cry.

Then Caleb’s head slowly rose above the car
and turned toward the house.

Claire screamed and collapsed to her knees.
Jonathan buckled beside her, his hard face shattered. He held
Claire’s shoulders tightly. She was momentarily silenced by shock,
eyes wide in disbelief, her arms bound to herself tightly. When she
found her voice, a gut wrenching and primal scream shook her whole
body. She grabbed Jonathan and tore at his shirt as another scream
doubled her over. He went over with her, his own muffled sobs
joining hers.

Arianna looked down at her, briefly felt
agonizing guilt for her own relief, and then rushed down the stairs
to Caleb. She crashed into him, nearly knocking him over, his
bandaged arm cradled in a sling wedged between them. Her hold
around his neck nearly choked him, and she sobbed unevenly. Caleb
could barely make out through his tear-filled eyes Claire’s
crumpled body on the porch, as she shook her head violently in
defiance of reality, still grabbing at Jonathan, crying “No! No!
No!” woefully.

Caleb withdrew his gaze, lowering his head to
Arianna’s neck as Claire began to beg Jonathan. She pleaded for him
to tell her it wasn't true, and when he couldn't, she scrambled
suddenly to her feet, trying to push Jonathan off the porch.

“Go get him, Jonathan! Please! There’s still
time! He’s out there! You can go get him! You can save him!
Please!” Jonathan shook his head in regret. She screamed at him so
strongly her voice cracked.

“He saved you! You have to save him!”

Jonathan felt his heart rip out of his chest
and he lowered his head, shaking it. “I can’t, Claire. I’m so
sorry. There’s no chance . . . .”

Her outraged face blurred, and he choked back
another sob. “If I could, Claire, I would have already been out
there.”

She started beating him on the chest and
shoulders with fists, screaming. He grabbed her wrists, and she
writhed against him with grunts and cries then went limp with a
long wail and disintegrated into a brokenhearted mound on the
porch, weakly attempting to beat the wooden planks. He knelt again
and hovered over her, letting her cry and curse him. Ethel had
moved past Claire quietly and hurried to hug her son.

Michael and Kathleen had retreated into the
living room at the first sight of Caleb. They sat together; crying,
grieving for their son.

∞∞∞

In the early hours of the morning, the doctor
came down the stairs, rubbing his bloodshot eyes. “She’s sleeping.
She should be out for several hours.” He placed a wrinkled hand on
Jonathan’s shoulder. “It’s anyone’s guess whether she’ll lose the
baby. But it’s best to keep her as calm as possible.” He set an
amber bottle on the table in front of Jonathan. After taking a hard
look at him, he moved it in front of Ethel. “Give her two teaspoons
of this every few hours when she wakes up. There’s enough for
several days. Try to keep her sedated through the funeral.”

“All right,” Ethel agreed and nodded her head
toward Jonathan, who sat with beard stubble and vacant, swollen
eyes.

“Why don’t you let me give you something for
rest, too, Jon?” he offered. Jonathan shook his head and downed the
last of his coffee.

“No. It’ll be light soon. We’ll be heading
out . . . to look.” The doctor relented with a sigh and ambled
toward the door.

“I’ll be back in a day or two. Send for me if
you need me.” He bestowed a look of sympathy to all in the room and
left quietly.

∞∞∞

“No!” Arianna demanded, pulling at his shirt.
“You can’t go! I won’t let you!” Just before dawn, Caleb had spent
several minutes trying to calm Arianna, who refused to let him
go.

“Ahna, I have to. I have to try to help.” He
cleared his throat and squeezed his eyes against fresh tears. “He’s
out there,” he whispered. “And we have to find him.” A loud and
pitiful cry came from upstairs and he looked painfully toward the
stairs. “If it had been me–” he began and Arianna shook her head
violently.

“Don’t say that, don’t ever say that.”

“But if it had been, Ahna, wouldn’t you want
them to bring me home?”

“Thank God it wasn’t you,” she said and
hugged him tightly.

June 26th 1930

Morning’s first light found three dozen
men volunteering their time and boats to search for one of their
own. There was little hope of a recovery, but no one would say that
out loud. And so they did what they would want done if it had been
one of them; at least
look.

Jonathan laid out a chart on the hood of
Caleb’s truck and assigned each man a different area to search.
Caleb pointed out his best guess of the area where the explosion
took place. Jonathan ordered two boats to that location and another
two vessels were to scout the shoreline twenty miles in each
direction. Everyone else was assigned an area extending from the
shore to the accident site. Then Caleb and Jonathan boarded the
harbormaster’s vessel.