The Islanders (14 page)

FROM THE FRONT OF THE
ferry Benjamin heard the sound of the heavy rope being cast off, slipping up the piling, and falling on the wooden slats of the dock. He had heard the feet of the crewman, running to the stern to cast off that line. He waited for the shriek of the whistle.

It sounded.

So. No Zoey. She would have come over to say hello.

Beside him he felt Claire's arm strain as she turned to scan the deck. What did she see? Not Zoey. Lucas? No, not Lucas, either, because whatever she was looking at had caused her to relax.

So, no Zoey and no Lucas. Interesting.

And Jake? Yes, Jake, that's who she was looking at, he was almost sure. She wouldn't spend this long focusing on Aisha. That left Jake, and now she was tilting her head slightly, a movement that translated as her shoulder pulling away.

“What's the weather like?” Benjamin asked.

“Oh, it's nice, a little overcast.”

Yes, she was staring at Jake, and thinking about him. Claire never gave an answer about weather as simple as
a little overcast
.

The ferry was pulling away now, backing into a turn to head toward the bay. He could feel the heat of the afternoon sun, slowly moving from his face, to the side of his face, to the back of his neck, until the ferry was pointed out to sea.

“I have to run down to the girls' room,” Claire said.

A lie. “It's called a
head
on a boat,” Benjamin said.

So, she was going to talk to Jake. And she didn't want him to know. How interesting. Of course Claire would have noticed that neither Zoey nor Lucas was on the ferry. And if Jake hadn't noticed, or if he hadn't become suspicious on his own, Claire was going to plant the seed.

He strained to hear their conversation. They were far away, and the boat throbbed and vibrated, obliterating much sound. Still, he could hear snatches. It wasn't that blind people's hearing was any more acute, as he'd explained to Claire, it was just that without the distraction of sight they could concentrate much more intensely on hearing.

It wasn't Claire he could hear, though. Her voice was soft. Jake, fortunately, had a voice that carried well.

“. . . last night, I mean . . . fine now, we talked . . . way . . .
maybe she . . . shopping with Nina. Oh. I didn't see Ninny over . . .”

Oh, so Nina was on the ferry, Benjamin noted. And yet she hadn't come over to say hello, to him or to her sister. Well, Nina could be moody at times.

“. . . Lucas? How would I know? . . . yeah . . . back in jail . . . I'm just not the suspicious . . . uh-huh . . . not worried . . . okay . . . sure . . . about Benjamin? . . . I guess, sure . . .”

Benjamin kept his face blank. He heard Claire approaching, the familiar sound of her walk, the smell of her perfume, her shampoo.

“Sorry. There was a line.” Claire lied smoothly.

“Women's bathrooms are always that way,” Benjamin said.
Just what game are you playing, Claire
? he asked silently.
What game? And do you even know you're playing it?

“Is Nina around?” Benjamin asked.

“Yes. You want me to call her over?”

“No. I just wanted to set something up for some homework reading. Where is she?”

“Um, last bench, over on the other side.”

“Thanks. I'll be right back,” Benjamin said. He stood, turned a sharp left, checking with his left hand for the end of the bench. He counted the steps, reached for and found the railing, then followed it right.

“Nina?” he said when he knew he was close.

“Hi, Benjamin,” she said. Her voice sounded just slightly sulky.

He sat beside her. “Is Jake nearby?” he asked in a low voice.

“No,” she said, dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “He's up at the front. Why?”

“Just wondering. It's nice to know who's listening when you talk to someone.”

“I guess so.”

“Look, Nina, you and I are friends, right?” Benjamin said.

“Um, sure.” Her voice was a little strained.

“You know I hate to ask anyone anything. I mean, unless it's something I just can't do myself.”

“Sure.”

“Well, this is something kind of embarrassing, so if you don't want to answer, don't. It's just that I can only do so much without being able to see. I have a question, like I said, an embarrassing question.”

“I'll do my best,” Nina said doubtfully.

“Just now Claire was talking to Jake, wasn't she?”

“Uh-huh.” A guarded answer, like she was hiding something.

“She's with him right now, again, isn't she?”

“Kind of.”

“Well, maybe that answers my question,” Benjamin said, muttering darkly.

“What question?”

He sighed. Even with eyes, it was hard to see into a person's heart. “Look, is Claire . . . is she, you know, interested in Jake?”

Nina was silent. He could feel her staring across the deck.

“She's never said anything,” Nina said evenly.

“Okay, okay,” Benjamin said, letting his frustration show, “but right now, as you look at them, as you
see
them talking, as you see them making eye contact or not, touching or not touching, sitting close or keeping their distance: Is she interested in him?”

“Jeez, Benjamin,” Nina said.

He waved his hand, annoyed at his display of frustration. “Never mind. Forget it, Nina. I was just—”

“Yes,” Nina said, blurting the word out. “She is.”

He sat back down. “Damn.”

“I mean, that's how it looks to me, anyway, not that I would know.”

“Damn,” he repeated softly. “Why?”

“I have no idea. I never really saw why Zoey liked him, either. Claire's always said he's good-looking, but I never thought she was interested, you know?” Nina said, sounding as if she were thinking out loud. “But then, who knows? I
mean, I guess sometimes a girl suddenly looks at someone she's known a long time and all of a sudden, well, he seems different to her. Or maybe she's the one who changed. Maybe the guy . . . maybe he doesn't even realize she's interested or anything.”

“Yeah,” he said flatly. “She'll make sure he knows.”

“Maybe she's shy,” Nina said very softly.

“What? Claire, shy?” Benjamin said derisively. No, she wasn't shy. Not really. Not when she wanted something or someone. And now, suddenly, it seemed she wanted Jake. Why? Because she suspected Zoey might be releasing him? Or was it just that she was tired of being with a guy who couldn't even tell her she was beautiful?

Well, fine. He didn't care. He'd known it would end eventually.

“Thanks, Nina,” he said. “I guess.”

“Yeah, right,” she said, sounding angry. Probably Nina didn't appreciate being used as a spy, although she should have a little concern for him. It was his feelings that were being trampled, not hers. He was the one left looking like a fool.

“Troll. Maggot. Tweedledum
and
Tweedledumber.” Nina raged around her room, kicking aside piles of clothing on the floor, throwing her arms wide, then clapping them on her hips. “Blind? Blind isn't half of it. If he could see, he'd still be blind.
He's sputum. He's a bad odor. He's a stain!”

What did it take, anyway? She'd been pretty obvious. It wasn't like Benjamin was incapable of grasping subtleties, the jerk. He could figure out someone's entire life history after hearing them say three words. But oh, when it came to her, well,
then
he was utterly impervious. Blank. Blank squared. Duh to the tenth power.

“It's not like I'm asking all that much,” she said to a poster of Ed Sheeran. “I'm not talking ravishment here. I'm not saying, Hey, let's move immediately to a Condition of Maximum Erogenization. It's just that he's like the first guy in my whole life I ever thought, Yes, yes, I could steam some glass with this guy. The stinking scab.”

Okay, so he was going out with her sister. Sure. But she didn't love him and he didn't love her.

Did he?

How could he? How could he love Claire, the ice queen, a girl who could make Lindsay Lohan take a step back and say,
Whoa, that girl's a real bitch.

After all, it wasn't as if Benjamin could be transfixed by her beauty. He was the one guy around who couldn't be, which should mean that he could concentrate on inner beauty, soul, heart, conscience, sensitivity. And what with Claire having
E: none of the above
, it should be an open-and-shut case.

No way he could really be in love with her. Especially now, with her licking her lips for Jake.

“And what's that all about?” she asked Ed suspiciously. Just Claire's usual need to be drooled over by every male over the age of nine?

There was a knock at her bedroom door. “Nina? Are you talking to someone in there?” Claire called through the door.

“I'm having a psychotic break and talking to the voices in my head!” Nina yelled.

“Oh. Just the usual. Zoey's on the phone.”

Nina stomped to the door and threw it open.

“I'll hang up downstairs as soon as you pick this phone up,” Claire said, trotting down the stairs.

Nina snatched up the phone in the hallway. “Zo?”

“It's me. Is Claire around?”

“I thought you wanted to talk to me,” Nina said a little crossly.

“I do, and I don't want her listening in.”

“Claire!” Nina yelled down the stairs. “I got it. You can hang up the phone now.” In the receiver she heard the scuffling clatter of the other extension being hung up. “Okay, spill. What's the secret?”

“I'm still in Weymouth. I just wanted to know if Jake took the four o'clock with you guys.”

“You just need to know that, huh?”

“Yes. Was he on the ferry or not?”

“You're going to have to do better than that, Zoey.” Nina glanced left and right down the hallway. “Come on, come on. This has something to do with . . . with
L
, doesn't it?”

Zoey's end of the line was silent.

“
He
wasn't on the four o'clock,” Nina said. “You and
L
, neither of you was on the four o'clock.”

“Damn.”

“You think I wouldn't notice a little coincidence like that?” Nina said.

“How about Jake?”

“I'll tell if you tell.”

“You first.”

“He
was
there, so if what you want to know is whether it will be safe for you and
L
to take the next one home without being seen, the answer is yes,” Nina said quickly. “However—”

“However?”

“However,” Nina continued, “I think I can guarantee that your absence was not unnoticed by certain people, initials
J
and
C
.”

A heavy sigh.

“So. Now it's your turn,” Nina said. “What have you been doing?”

“(mumble) went for a drive.”

“Excuse me? Who went for a drive?”

“Just felt like going for a drive,” Zoey said.

“Who. Not why, who?”

Another sigh. “Swear to me on a stack of Bibles.”

“You and Luc—you and
L
?”

“He wanted a Big Mac.”

“Right. He wanted a Big Mac,” Nina sneered.

“Really. That's what he wanted.”

“Yeah? And what did he
get
?”

“Don't be crude.”

“Oh, my God, did he try to kiss you?” Nina's mind went into overdrive. Zoey and Lucas?
Oh, my God.
That would mean sooner or later Jake would find out. Then, what would keep him from going to Claire? And then, Benjamin would be free! Unless Claire lost interest in Jake as soon as he was truly available. Claire was capable of that.

Suddenly she realized Zoey hadn't answered. “Zoey?”

“Yes.”

“You kissed him, didn't you?”

“Kind of.”

“You slut. Do you realize what this will mean? What about Jake? What about the fact that Lucas is a jailbird?”
What about Benjamin?
she added silently. “The entire structure of our lives
is going to crumble now because you wanted to fool around with Lucas.”

“The entire structure of our lives?” Zoey repeated incredulously.

“Not to be unkind here, Zo, but look at what Lucas did to the entire structure of Wade's life.”

“Nina, stop it!” Zoey ordered. “Maybe it's not as simple as that. Maybe Benjamin really is on to something.”

“What? Zoey,
what
are you talking about?” Nina asked crossly.

“About the accident. About how the car was a little Volkswagen and there were only two seats in front. You remember,” Zoey went on in a rush.

“I remember,” Nina said. “Well, you know something? Benjamin isn't exactly Sherlock Holmes sometimes. As my dad pointed out, Lucas pleaded guilty, so there wasn't much point in asking questions about who was in what seat. We all know who was driving and what happened.”

“You told your dad?”

Nina stiffened a little, feeling defensive. It wasn't very often she had anything to say that would interest her father in the slightest. And this had. “It just came up, all right? I didn't think it was a big secret or anything.”

“Well,
this
is a big secret, just so you know.”

“I'll wait for you at the dock. I will require details, full, complete details.”

“Just keep your mouth shut, all right?”

“Locked. Sealed. Crazy glued,” Nina vowed.

Zoey hung up the phone. Nina settled the receiver back in its cradle, but just as she pulled it away from her ear, she heard a second soft but unmistakable click.

CLAIRE BACKED AWAY FROM THE
phone, staring at it as if it were a snake ready to strike. Already she could hear Nina coming down the steps.

“Claire! You weasel, were you listening in?”

Claire backed through the living room into the dining room just as Nina reached the bottom of the stairs and burst into the living room.

“I guess not,” she heard Nina say.

Claire ducked quickly out the sliding glass doors that led from the dining room onto the patio.

It was a lot to digest all at once. Too much. Zoey falling for Lucas, that was bad.

Not that Claire could deny Lucas's attraction. Yes, she remembered that about him, the way he could make your insides melt with a look or a touch. And now he had broken the solid wall of resistance. Now it would be infinitely harder to get rid of him.

And then there was Benjamin's little theory. What was that all about? Some question about who was driving the car? What did Benjamin suspect, that
Wade
had been driving? Could that be? Was Lucas truly innocent?

No. Lucas wasn't the martyr type. He would never have confessed. Why would he? To protect Wade's reputation? Hardly. Jake might have turned Wade into some larger-than-life hero in his mind, but Claire knew better. Wade McRoyan was a selfish, even cruel person, well on his way to becoming a serious drunk.

“I have to think,” Claire said aloud, squeezing her head with both hands.

She followed the path around the side of the house, through the rosebushes and flowery shrubs in the front yard. She glanced at her watch. Six twenty-five. Zoey would be on the six-thirty ferry, arriving at ten till seven. She needed to see Benjamin before that. Find out just what was going on in his head.

And then, Jake.

She walked quickly through the center of town, just five minutes to Benjamin's house. She rapped at his window, letting him know she was there. Mr. Passmore often took a nap in the early evening.

She waited by the front door until Benjamin came and let her in. She followed him to his room. Here in his own home he
moved with all the ease and assurance of a sighted person.

She gave him a little kiss, just brushing his lips.

“I didn't expect you,” Benjamin said, sitting down on his bed.

“I didn't know I had to make an appointment,” Claire said, trying to sound pleasant and unhurried. Inside she was boiling with impatience. It was strange. She wasn't an impatient person.

“Of course you don't,” Benjamin said. “Why don't you come here and give me a real kiss?”

She felt anger flare. He was so smug, so sure he was smarter than everyone else around him, with his so clever upside-down posters, his eerie impersonation of a sighted person, his terrible concentration on everything and everyone around him. What a relief it was to be with someone like Jake. Jake was so easy to be with, so straightforward.

“You know, Benjamin,” Claire began, hearing the false notes in her own voice, “lately, with Lucas coming back and all, I've been thinking a lot about what happened. The accident, I mean.”

There it was: the hint of a smug grin, quickly repressed but not quickly enough.

“Uh-huh,” he said, drawing out the last syllable to ironic extreme.

“You know I've never been able to remember that whole thing.”

He waited for her, silent. She fidgeted, sticking her fingers into the pot of aromatic herbs hanging in front of his window, and looking down the street, half-expecting to see Zoey come walking up. “I mean, Lucas pleaded guilty, didn't he?” She yanked her hands back to her sides. Amazing. She was trembling. Her voice was shaky. He couldn't help but hear it.

“Yes, he did,” Benjamin agreed.

“So he must have been driving, right?” Claire demanded.

Now Benjamin let his slow, infuriating grin spread across his face. “Ah. So. It's always interesting to watch how long it takes for information to travel across this island. But I was sure you'd already heard about my speculations.”

“I haven't heard anything,” Claire snapped, not really expecting him to believe her. “What bull are you spreading around? That's all I want to know.”

“You're ready to climb a wall,” he said wonderingly. “I don't think I've ever seen you like this before.”

“I don't like lies and rumors, that's all,” Claire said. “If Lucas confessed, why are you going around trying to get everyone to believe Wade was driving that car? Why are you trying to help Lucas?”

To her amazement, Benjamin actually laughed. “I'll be damned, Claire. You really
don't
remember, do you?” He shook
his head. In a low, kind voice he said, “Poor Claire. I was too cynical; I'm sorry. I assumed from the way you were acting, the frantic way you were attacking Lucas, that weird offer from your dad . . . But you actually don't remember.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Benjamin? Why don't you just wipe that smug look off your face and spit it out?”

Benjamin stood up and crossed to her. He fumbled for and found her, holding her by the shoulders, his face now sincerely sad. “I'll always stand by you, Claire. I want you to know that. Whatever you decide. Not because your dad tried to bribe me.”

Claire pushed him away violently. He fell back onto his bed. “You're scaring me!” she shouted.

You're scaring me!

She felt as if a bolt of electricity had shot up her spine. She reached for the wall, pressing her palm against it, trying to regain her balance in a spinning room.

Stop it. Pull over. You're scaring me.

“It's coming back, isn't it?” Benjamin asked softly.

“No!” Claire cried.

“It wasn't Lucas driving,” Benjamin said, the words tumbling out at top speed. “He was the only one who was uninjured. He was in the backseat, wasn't he?”

“I have to get out of here,” Claire said. “I—I have to . . . I—” She reeled toward the door.

“Claire, wait!” Benjamin cried.

Claire ran.

 

I had wondered from the start, from the first few moments after the initial shock of the news had worn off.

Maybe it's because I can't see. Sight is very convincing. When you see something, you don't doubt that it's true. You see something,
instnalty
instantly you know what it is, and you know it to be real, absolutely, with utter confidence. It doesn't take a lot of interpretation. You don't spend much time guessing.

Hearing, smell,
tuoch
touch are all so much less certain. And when you have to rely on those uncertain senses, when you have to rely on senses that you are trained to believe are unreliable, you find certainty very much harder to achieve.

I won't say being blind has made me suspicious; that would be the wrong word. But where sighted people are in the habit of simply accepting what seems obvious, I'm in the habit of guessing, reasoning, imagining.

So when all my sighted friends learned that Wade McRoyan had
sied
died in a car with Lucas and Claire, and when they had
seen
the body, and
seen
Claire's injuries, and
seen
the car crumpled around that tree trunk, those
sights became all-important.

Whereas I could only imagine. I had to imagine a car. And imagine three people sitting in it. You see, I had to place them there in my imagination, and at that point the question arose: Who was in the backseat?

One dead. One injured. One uninjured.

Wade. Claire. Lucas.

I couldn't be sure at that point who
was
driving the car, but I was pretty certain who was not.

And then, Lucas confessed. And Claire couldn't remember.

I figured I was wrong. I didn't guess the full truth until Lucas came back and I saw how Claire reacted.

I don't know how much she
rememmbared
remembered over time, or half-remembered, or suspected. She's a person who will act on intuition, and I guess that's what she did. I like to think if she had known the truth two years ago, she'd have told it. Claire is a decent person underneath all her compulsive manipulation. If she'd remembered the truth back then, she never would have let Lucas pay the price he did.

I have to
beleive
believe that. It's the only way I can keep on loving her.