Golden Orange (37 page)

Then it was too late. The shore boat arrived at the dinghy dock with a load of twenty-five noisy people. They were chattering and laughing as they crossed the pier. Tess didn't take her eyes off their silhouettes, backlit by the moon reflecting off the still water.

“It's him!” she whispered. “The second man walking on the right!”

Before Winnie could say anything, she was on her feet, hurrying toward the advancing revelers. She was fifty feet away when she greeted a party of four. Winnie sat and peered toward the darkness, but heard only muffled words and laughter. The group of four approached him.

“Everybody, this is my friend, Win Farlowe! Win, this is everybody!” Tess shouted.

People spoke to him. Men shook his hand. One of them, a handsome older man in a yellow aloha shirt, seemed especially friendly. He looked familiar, but out of focus, like everyone else. Then they all disappeared inside with Tess.

Winnie continued to sit, staring at the light on Ship Rock that warned yachtsmen away. If he could make the light hold still, if he could make it be
one
light, he thought he might risk trying to walk.

When Tess came back she was alone. She said, “I'm shocked that Warner drove down from the ranch all by himself! He's been staying with Giles Bledsoe who owns the
Circe.
”

“What's it mean, Tess?” Winnie asked. “What?”

“It means you'll have to deal with Warner alone. You're not too drunk, are you? Win, I
asked
you not to drink so much. Don't you remember?”

“I don't know, Tess,” he said. “I guess you did. I don't know what happened. I jist wish everything would hold still!”

“Goddamnit, pull yourself together!”

Even in his condition it startled him. “I'm okay,” he said.

“I'm going to arrange it so you and Warner are together, understand? I'm going to help you to be alone with him, so you can
deal
with him.”

“I'll deal with him,” said Winnie Farlowe, but the light was still dancing on Ship Rock.

She left him alone again, and he had strange and bizarre thoughts: Why am I sitting in a kayak? What if I turtle, and can't get right side up?

Winnie was only marginally more lucid ten minutes later when a festive group of twenty people burst out onto the patio, led by Tess Binder, who said, “Win, you should've tasted the suckling pig. Dexter had it cooked in banana leaves!”

“Let's go everybody!” one of the yachtsmen yelled. “Bring your A-coupons! The tour's about to begin!”

“We're going to visit the
Circe
,” Tess whispered to Winnie, helping him to his feet. “Come on!”

While Winnie was staggering toward the dinghy dock, one arm around Tess Binder, she said,
sotto voce
, “Hang in there, Win. Warner's walking just ahead of us. Trust me!”

Everyone was wearing leis, and drinking tall tropical drinks with umbrellas in them, and there was much merriment as they boarded the water taxi waiting at the dinghy dock. Winnie was helped into the boat by the older man in the yellow aloha shirt, who said, “Easy does it. Easy does it.”

The man made sure Winnie was safely aboard, then he seated himself beside Tess on the starboard bench seat.

The shore boat turned out of the cove, cutting right through the silver moonlight on the sapphire water. Winnie kept looking to port, toward Ship Rock, toward the light that said, “Mariner, beware.”

It only took a few minutes to motor around the jutting cliffs, past the reef and Bird Rock into Isthmus Cove. A cloud-bank crossed the moon and it was suddenly much darker in the cove. The big custom motor yacht was anchored dead ahead, as white as Bird Rock itself.

Everyone said things like, “Who designed it?” and “Why did he have it built in Europe?” and “Who did the decor?” And so forth.

Then there was more laughter as the shore boat came alongside the motor yacht, and the
Circe
skipper, dressed in whites, assisted the revelers aboard.

The man in the yellow flowered shirt helped Winnie up the ladder through the transom gate, and boarded last. When he was on the deck, he put his hand on Winnie's shoulder and said, “I'll help you. Just take my arm.”

Tess ran up to them and said, “Glad to see you and Warner have hit it off. Come on, they say the bidet in the master's quarters is gold plated!”

Winnie stared at the man in the flowered shirt and said, “
You're
Warner Stillwell!”

The older man laughed and said, “Yes, we met an hour ago.”

Winnie tried to say something, but Tess dragged him along the aft sun deck, whispering, “Not now! Not yet. I'll tell you when.”

Winnie was confused. Warner Stillwell was different from what he'd expected. He was more like the handsome healthy man in the photos. Older, but very fit. This man didn't have AIDS. This man was probably more healthy than Winnie himself!

The skipper assembled the visitors in the main salon they entered from the sun deck. The salon was done in pink and aquamarine with “splashes” of sea-green, as the interior designers say when they're doing a yacht. There was lots of Lalique, which, in high winds, could come crashing down on you and ruin your cruise for sure. But then, the interior designers never made the channel crossing.

A young woman in whites took drink orders from everyone, but Tess declined for herself and Winnie.

“She's eighty-two feet at the waterline,” the skipper explained to the assembly. “And we're powered by eleven-hundred-horsepower diesels.”

“Never mind all that technical stuff,” an older woman said. “Tell us how much it cost!”

Everyone laughed uproariously and the skipper said, “You'll have to ask Mister Bledsoe.” But he took his cue and cut his speech short. “Belowdeck we can accommodate six guests and three crew. Help yourselves, folks, and any other questions, don't hesitate to ask.”

While the partygoers milled all over the glamorous motor yacht, Tess got caught in a crush of a dozen people in the master's quarters. Winnie decided to make his way topside. He bounced off the mahogany bulkhead a few times and lurched along the teak decks, managing to get back up to the carpeted salon, where he felt brave enough to order a drink like all the other grown-ups.

Warner Stillwell was sitting on a pink leather settee talking to the skipper. He looked up and said, “Feeling better, Win?”

“Much better,” Winnie lied, because he was only feeling a
little
better. The face of Warner Stillwell was not in focus, but there was only one of him.

“Care for a drink, sir?” the young woman in whites asked, and Winnie hesitated before saying, “Vodka. Very light.”

The skipper excused himself and went forward, leaving them alone.

Warner Stillwell said, “So you're a friend of our Tessie. Lucky man.”

“Yeah, I think I'm lucky,” said Winnie. He sipped the vodka. A tall glass. American vodka.

“I understand you accompanied her on the visit to
El Refugio.
Did you like it?”

“Yeah, a lot,” said Winnie. “You're the lucky man to live in a place like that.”

“I agree,” Warner Stillwell said with enthusiasm. “There's always something new to see in the desert. The sky's ever-changing. Even lovelier than the sky here, I think. Wouldn't want to live anywhere else.”

Winnie was trying to figure out how to begin a clever line of questioning when several people entered the salon, Tess Binder among them. She looked alarmed to see Warner Stillwell and Winnie together, and quickly joined Winnie on the settee.

“I don't think you should be drinking,” she said to him, forcing a smile.

“I'm
okay
,” said Winnie and thought he saw Tess shrug, palms up to Warner Stillwell.

Then to Winnie she said, “Win, go have a look at the engine room. A person could literally eat off those engines. Everything's white and chrome. And have a look at the crew's quarters.”

She nodded at him almost imperceptibly and he took it as a signal. He stumbled his way down below once again, shambling forward until he was standing alone in the crew's quarters. Weaving, actually. The last drink hit him
hard.
Things began to swim and wiggle. He shouldn't drink that lousy American vodka, he thought.
That
was the problem.

Winnie sat down on a crewman's bunk. The anchored yacht bobbed gently. The creaking and groaning in the belly of the luxurious vessel was somehow soothing.
Circe
too had maladies, her groaning seemed to say.

The next thing he knew Tess stood over him saying, “Come on, old son! Wake up! Come on!”

A stranger was standing behind her. The man said something and laughed. Then there was a woman's laugh from somewhere. And suddenly all those misty balloon-faces with mangled grins hovered over him, their teeth popping like water puffs on the channel. Popcorn teeth! Winnie let himself be partially lifted by Tess Binder and the stranger. Then he was up in the main salon and other people were laughing at him too.
Nothing
was in focus.

Tess said to the skipper, “Don't bother calling for the shore boat; he's busy over at Cherry Cove. I'm afraid my pal can't wait. We'd better get him to bed as fast as possible. Can we use your launch?”

“It's being repaired, but I'll take you to the dinghy dock in our inflatable,” the skipper said.

“No, no, it's not necessary,” Tess said. “Stay here and entertain your guests.” Then she turned to Warner Stillwell and said, “Warner, can you still pilot a dinghy?”

“Of course, Tessie,” he said.

“How about a lift?”

“Love to,” he said.

The skipper of the
Circe
looked doubtful. “Maybe we should wait for the shore boat. It's dark out there.”

“There's nearly a hundred boats moored in front of us,” Tess said. “We're not alone in this cove.”

“Yes, but everyone's at the party, or in Two Harbors having dinner,” the skipper said. “Maybe we should wait for …”

Tess turned to Warner Stillwell and said, “My boy out there is smashed! I've
got
to get him to bed immediately.”

“Of course.” Warner Stillwell chuckled. Then to the skipper, “I assure you I'm not too old and feeble to pilot a dinghy eight hundred yards to the dock and back.”

“Okay, Mister Stillwell,” the skipper said apologetically, “but be sure to use the flashlight and watch for mooring lines. There's a
lot
of boats in the cove tonight.”

The black rubber dinghy was large enough to accommodate eight people. It was tied aft, and the skipper climbed down into it to test the five-horsepower Yamaha. The engine fired immediately and the skipper helped Winnie down into the bow. Then he held his hand out for Tess, then for Warner Stillwell, who crawled aft and took the engine control. Then the skipper climbed back on board the yacht while Tess made ready to cast off.

Warner Stillwell said to Tess, “Remember all the times we used to go to the club for lunch in one of these, Tessie? Your dad and you and me? They were good days, weren't they?”

“Are you ready, Warner? Are you ready?” she cried, and her voice sounded very shrill to Winnie.

“Of course, dear,” said Warner Stillwell. “You can cast off.”

While the skipper was waving to them, Tess suddenly yelled, “Wait a minute!” Then she turned to Warner Stillwell and said, “I forgot my purse!”

While Tess scrambled out of the dinghy and climbed back up the ladder onto the main deck, Warner Stillwell yelled, “Comfortable, Mister Farlowe? Everything okay?”

“Sure,” Winnie mumbled. But his head kept falling forward. He felt a sharp pain and realized he'd bitten his tongue when his chin struck his chest. Winnie tasted blood in his mouth.

Then Tess Binder appeared again at the rail on the main deck, but the skipper was no longer with her. She shouted to them, “I can't find the damn thing! Can you manage to get him into the dock by yourself, Warner?”

“No problem!” Warner Stillwell yelled over the engine noise. “I'll take good care of your Mister Farlowe!”

Winnie could barely understand what they were hollering at each other. He was drifting far away. Out to sea where it was peaceful.

Warner Stillwell took the dinghy around the
Circe
, on the port side of the big yacht. The dinghy was facing Blue Cavern Point, where, during the Thanksgiving holidays in 1981, actress Natalie Wood fell from a yacht at night while trying to secure a rubber dinghy like this one, down into the dark water she'd reportedly feared all her life. Her body was found near a place they call Perdition Caves.

Warner Stillwell turned the dinghy and they were heading toward shore, away from the red-lighted buoy. And just as the skipper had said, all the boats at mooring seemed deserted except for an occasional dog that ran out on deck to bark at them.

Winnie opened his eyes and looked up. The moon had disappeared behind scudding clouds, the silver light was gone from the sapphire water, and the pier seemed to be getting closer. He thought he saw a bright light under the water, close to starboard.

And then the dinghy
strikes
! They ram something! Or something hits
them
!

And the aft portion dipped and Winnie toppled backward! Then the dinghy took a nose dive, and he tumbled forward, his head cracking into one of the emergency oars.

The water roiled. The dinghy drifted sideways. Winnie heard thrashing water and then a long haunting liquid scream out there in the darkness. Then silence. As the dinghy drifted and turned in the current.

Then Winnie heard his own voice screaming: “MISTER STILLWELL! MISTER STILLWELL!”

Winnie crawled aft toward the engine. He found it. He turned the inflatable to port. The wrong way! He was heading out to sea in the darkness, totally disoriented. He managed to come about and bumped into a mooring. The dinghy bounced off a mooring can and turned ninety degrees, a blind man at the controls.