Dark Beach (13 page)

“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 fucking 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
asshole kid?” That would surely get a response.

“Asshole? 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.”