Liquid Lies (4 page)

“For the wedding?” Mark asked as he walked on the lower level. At six-foot-four, his head nearly scraped the boat’s ceiling.

“Yeah. It’s been bothering me for some time now. How can I marry someone who doesn’t like you, too?” I asked. As the words came out of my mouth, it struck me that I really meant it. Mark was more important to me than Ken. Not good.

“It takes me a while to grow on people. I just haven’t sprouted on Ken yet,” Mark said.

“I guess so. But you better start germinating soon. You’ve got less than a year before I tie the knot.” I squeezed his arm. “You know I love you, Big Red.”

“Love you too.” Mark rang the boat’s bell, announcing departure. Samuel lowered the gangplank.

Mark pushed the boat's gate open and the tourists made their way on board. He and Annie collected their tickets. “Good morning, watch your step.”

“Good morning.” I smiled at the passengers as I helped them get situated.

Samuel and Annie untied and then hauled the ropes from the dock. After the last passenger boarded, they pulled in the plank.

“CiCi, and crew, ready to go?” Mark called from the speaker.

I gave him thumbs up. He nodded from the control room in the back of the boat. It was comforting to see his face behind the window, that goofy crooked smile I loved so much.

Mark rang the bell again, and then pulled the mail boat away from the pavilion dock as we headed toward our first delivery. Passengers talked as the boat chugged through the blue-green water. Annie offered sodas to the passengers, while Samuel helped Mark. I grabbed one sack full of mail and an empty sack for mail I would collect. Dampness hung in the air. The two dozen tourists were seated on the lower level, instead of sitting on the breezier upper deck.

Mark’s voice came over the speaker: “Good morning, and welcome aboard the historic Round Lake mail boat. One of only two still operating in North America. I’m Captain Mark. I’ll be narrating this mail run tour on this fully restored 1960’s double-decker steamboat. Next to me is my assistant Samuel. He’ll be taking over as captain next summer. The mail jumper is Cecelia Coe. We call her CiCi. Watch as CiCi leaps off the boat onto each dock, delivers mail, collects the outgoing and then jumps back on while we are still moving. Yes, ladies and gentleman, this is a highly skilled athletic feat
.
She performs it flawlessly. And our new jumper is Annie. We’re going to let her try out a stop or two. While they jump, I will narrate histories of the famous mansions as we pass them. Round Lake is known for the dozens of affluent families who built sprawling mansions on this picturesque lake. Now look on your left. You will see the Wrigley Mansion, the very same of chewing gum and baseball field fame. This historic Round Lake Landmark was built in the late 1920’s…”

I tuned out the rest of his speech; I could say it in my sleep. I walked around to the side of the boat to line up the mailbag. Sorting out the first delivery, I grabbed a handful of mail. I held onto the waist high bar that stretched the length of the right side of the boat. I used it to hang onto while waiting to jump off the bow. I would use it again when I jumped back on the stern.

I hitched my leg over the railing- and then swung the other one after. Standing on the running board, I readied myself for the first stop.

The first dock was a few feet away. Small waves lapped against the shore. Nearby, a cluster of ducks bobbed for their morning meal. Positioning myself, I jumped off the boat and landed firmly on the white wooden dock.

With practiced precision, I flipped open the mailbox, collected outgoing correspondence, and slid in a handful of mail. I shut the lid, then quickly turned and ran and jumped back onto the stern of the boat. The group on board clapped.

In Round Lake, I was known us as “the jumper,” and Mark as “the captain,” celebrities in our speck of the world. Mark continued with his narration. I jumped on and off the boat delivering mail as the tourists oohed and aahed over the magnificent mansions fronting the lake.

I waited until we got past the dock that was under construction. There was a rope, with bright orange flags strung around it, to keep people out. The thing was an eyesore, and dangerous at night with dodgy visibility. But then most of the water activity ended when the sun set.

I got Annie prepared to do a jump. She had practiced several times without anyone on board except Mark, Samuel and me. She seemed to get the rhythm of how to time the leap on the dock and how to run to jump back on and grab the boat’s handrail as the boat pulled away.

“You ready?” I asked Annie.

“It’s so much pressure with all those eyes looking at me,” her voice quivered. Annie was about as tall as me, but a slighter build, almost waifish. Short curly dark hair framed her round face.

“You can do it. Remember when we practiced? Just pretend the passengers aren’t here. Concentrate on your footing. You’ll do great,” I cheered her on as we approached the next dock. “You’ve got to launch in a second. Remember, land firm with two feet. Find your balance.”

“Sure,” her voice still shaky. “I can do this.”

Annie leaped off. She hit the dock with one foot sliding and one foot up in the air. Her footing looked uneven as she skidded, arms flailing. As though she was on a sheet of ice. She slid across the dock, then flew off and crashed into the water.

“I see our new jumper just got a nice morning dunk. Let’s stop for a minute to get her.” Mark said over the intercom, and then cut the engine.

I put a ladder down and Annie swam to it. I helped her on board. Samuel brought her a towel. The audience applauded.

“They love it as much when we fall off as when we make it,” I said to Annie. “If you only knew how many times I missed docks or the boat. I’m not kidding. The first summer I trained, I was a solid bruise from shoulders to ankles.”

I told Annie to take it easy and sit with the passengers while I finished.

Two hours later, we arrived at the last dock on our route before we’d head back to the pavilion. This particular dock was always the trickiest because it jutted out at an odd angle. The rest of the docks pointed straight out into the lake.

After closing the mailbox, I turned around to make a run for the stern. My heart raced. The gap between the boat and the dock spanned almost double the distance I normally would jump. After a quick assessment of the jump, I decided to back up further and increase my speed to clear the chasm. Readying myself, I ran and leaped, barely grabbing on with one hand to the side bar as my left foot dipped in the chilly water. A surge of energy pumped in my body as I caught my breath.

The tourists who saw my near mishap gasped in unison. Then they clapped.

My heart raced and my legs shook as I climbed over the back rail onto the lower deck. I took a bow.

“Well folks, that was a close one for our CiCi. She nearly took a morning dip in the lake like our Annie did. Sorry about that CiCi,” Mark said from the loud speaker.

I shot Mark the evil eye. Why had he pulled so far away from that last dock? Behind the glass captain’s window, he smiled and gave me an okay sign. I would have shot back my own hand sign, but there were children on board.

Finished with the mail delivery, I strode toward the control room. Mark steered into the middle of the lake to head back to the pavilion from where we had started. The passengers remained seated and attentive as Mark and Samuel narrated the details of the last mansion on the tour. Earlier I had noticed that a corner of the banner strapped to the back of the boat was unclipped.

Signaling my intent to Mark and Samuel, I crossed toward the stern. They nodded. At the back of the enclosed control room, a corner of the banner had come unfastened. The banner read: ‘Summer Weekdays, 8 a.m. Mail Tours: Tickets at Pavilion.’

The lower clip of the banner was stuck open causing the corner to flap up in the wind. I reached over to grab the corner of the banner so that I could clip it back onto the rail. The boat jerked and my wet shoe slid, causing me to do a split.

A Jet Skier whizzed by, nearly hitting the boat.

As I righted myself, the boat jerked the opposite way, and I was airborne. My head hit the rail as I plunged over the side and into the darkness of the water.

My body slammed into the cool surface of the lake. Pulled by the weight of my already soaked clothes, I plunged deeper. The water swirled around me like I was tumbling in a blender. With blurry eyes I saw my hundred and fifty dollar Maui Jim sunglasses sinking away. What a waste. I only got to enjoy the sunglasses, my college graduation gift, less than a month. Now they’ll be on the bottom of Round Lake.

Clawing at the water I suddenly realized it was getting murky. The bubbles floated up, as I sunk deeper down. My chest tightened. Instinctively I exhaled. Then I realized it was my last bit of air. My next breath would be all water.

Shouldn’t my life be flashing in front of my eyes now? Shouldn’t I be thinking of all the wonderful people in my life instead of plotting to kill Mark? He jerked the damn boat. But maybe I shouldn’t have been leaning over the back railing.

My lungs were aflame. I inhaled. Water rushed in my nose, stuffing up my head. A calm filled me as I detached from my body and let go. I knew someday the trucker’s death would catch up with me. It was karma. Time to pay up. I was heading to hell where I belonged.

***

“CiCi, wake up.” The voice came from far away.

Someone’s warm hands were on my shoulders shaking me.

“Hey, get up.” The voice sounded close.

I blinked and tried to push away the blanket of mental fog that suffocated me. My head felt as heavy as a cement bucket on my shoulders, pulsating with a low, painful beat. Nauseated and dizzy, I turned my head. Water gushed out of my mouth and nose, making me cough. I flipped on my back. Water trickled down my face. The sun overhead emerged from behind a cloud and blinded me. I took a deep breath. The smell of algae gagged me. Whizzing Jet Skis were like jackhammers in my head.

“Are you okay?” Mark leaned over me.

As I focused, I realized we were on a dock not far from the pavilion, and a large group of tourists surrounded us. The murmurs from the crowd swarmed around me, humming like bees.

“Please give her some air,” Mark said.

Curling on my side, I tried to regain my memory. “What happened?” Reaching up I felt a spot above my left eye. It was tender and sore.

“I’m so sorry. I think you fell when I jerked the boat. A Jet Skier cut in front of me and I didn’t want to hit him,” Mark explained.

“As long as the skier is okay,” I said as I reached out and held his hand. “But I’m still going to kill you for almost killing me.”

“Hey, I’m soaked too,” he said, glancing down at himself. “Plus, I abandoned my ship for my best friend. I violated an age old captain’s creed.” Mark draped a towel over me. “I jumped in after you and left Samuel and Annie in charge.”

“They’ll be fine. It was about time to let them take over anyway,” I said. I went into a coughing fit for a minute.

“I’m telling you, you sure are heavy when you’re wet and limp. I had to swim you all the way over to shore,” Mark
said.

“Sorry about that, next time I’ll be more careful,” I said. Then I felt bad that I was being sarcastic to him, after all he did save me, although he caused me to fall in the first place.

“CiCi, I’m so sorry. Really I am. I don’t understand what happened. You’re a great swimmer,” he said.

“I'm a great swimmer, just a crappy faller.” I pulled the towel around me.

“Please move aside, we need to take a look at her.” A lifeguard knelt next to me. “I’m going to check your vitals. How are you feeling?”

“Terrific.” I sat up.

“That was an awesome flip you did,” he said as he took my wrist and felt my pulse.

“You saw it?” I asked.

“Yeah, a whole group of us did. I give it a ten,” the lifeguard replied.

“Good. I was going for Olympic Gold.” I smirked. “I’m glad I could entertain you.”

“And we needed it. Nothing exciting happens around here,” he said. “The paramedics are on the way.”

“That’s why I like it here, the sheer boredom,” I said as I glanced around at the crowd and the sea of unfamiliar faces. Then, in the back row I saw Francesca. My first impulse was to run and hug her.

I’d longed for her to be back in my life as much as I’d wanted to stay away from her.

She looked at me and smiled. Then a guy with long dark hair, faded jeans, wearing a tool belt with a hammer hanging from it, yanked her away from the crowd and began shouting at her. Everyone turned toward them. Francesca pushed at his chest. Then he stormed off dragging her with him.

“Okay people, it’s under control,” Mark said to the crowd. Then he said to me, “Hey was that the mayor’s daughter that guy was screaming at?”

“Francesca? Yes, it was.”

“She’s super hot,” Mark said as he helped me stand up. “Is she single?”

“I have no idea. She’s been in Europe a while,” I said as I held onto his arm. “Let me get over this massive pain in my head, and then maybe I can fix you up.”