The Whale's Footprints - Rick Boyer (17 page)

I heard the ducks coming closer, quacking softly.
Then they were right alongside the boat, begging. I went below and
got some bread, which I broke up and dropped on the water for them,
their bills clacking and sputtering as they ate.

Funny, but I thought I heard another faint sound
behind me, a sound like a screen door shutting. I turned, listening
intently, but all was quiet. So I returned to the percolator, now
bubbling merrily away. At my back I heard a faint splash. Turning
around again, I saw nothing. I finished my beer and poured the first
cup of coffee. No, I wasn't imagining it; there was a measured
muffled splashing, a regular flip of water approaching from the
middle of the pond behind me. More ducks? Perhaps a lone swan? Who
knew what the—

"
Pssst.' . . . Doc."'

I turned again to see a long, pale shape sliding
through the dark water toward my boat. As it grew closer, I could see
the rhythmic stroking of the arms, and heard the raspy sputter of the
swimmer's breath.

"Jim? Jim, is that you?" I called in a
whisper. But he couldn't hear me because his head was underwater. So
I'd just go below and get another mug for him. Or did he want a beer?
Knowing Jim, it would be a be—

"Hiya, hunk," said a soft voice at the
gunwale. Not Jim. I looked over the side at Janice as she flipped her
head, sending spray from her long hair to get it out of her eyes. She
was wearing a light-colored bathing suit. Was it one piece, or two?

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

"Going for a swim; what's it look like? I was
sitting out on deck—couldn't sleep—and I saw your cabin light go
on. Permission to come aboard, Captain?"

"Well, I don't know. I think maybe—"

But her hands came up with another splash and grabbed
the cockpit combing. Her grip slipped a bit, and she held one hand up
and waved it.

"C'mon muscles, give a hand."

I took her hand and pulled her halfway up. She put
one leg over the combing, and was perched for an instant, half over
the boat, half over the pond, and I got a good look at her in the
faint light. Uh-oh.

"Janice!"

"What? Oh, c'mon, Doc. Don't tell me you've
never been skinny-dipping."

"Yeah, but not with strangers."

"
So I'm a stranger, huh? Well I like that."

"You know what I mean. Look Janice, I don't like
this. I mean, what if somebody came along and—"

"
Oh bullshit," she said softly, and began
to ease over the gunwale, heading for the cockpit. I released my grip
on her arm, and she fell back into the pond with a loud splash.

"Thanks a lot!" she sputtered.

"Shhhhhhh! You'll wake everybody up," I
said in a hoarse whisper.

"C'mon. It's four in the morning, who's gonna
know?"

"Jim, for one. Mary, for another. There's two
good ones for starters. I'm not taking you aboard, Janice; I'm afraid
of what might happen

"Fraidy cat, fraidy cat," she teased in a
soft, purring voice. "Doc is a fraidy cat—"

She treaded water, right off my transom. I could see
her arms fanning out, and the pale, squiggly lines of her legs
working to keep her head up.

"Gee, Doc, this makes me feel so young. Makes me
feel like I'm back in high school or something. I jus—hey, what's
that?"

"
What's what? I don't hear anything."

There was silence, broken only by the sputter and
quacking of the feeding mallards. Then a soft voice sang out:

"Chaaaarlie? Charlie, are you out there?"

My blood froze in my veins. Then I was half-standing,
half-crouching in the wide, shallow cockpit, looking down the dock
and past it to the dimly lighted dormitory building. A dark figure
was padding across the grass . . . coming out onto the dock now. Oh
Jesus . . .

"Charlie?" came the calling whisper again.
I was wishing I were someplace else now. The Ross Ice Shelf would do
nicely.

I heard Mary's cork-soled sandals on the wooden pier,
thumping closer and closer.

Janice stopped treading water. "Oh shit—I
heard her say to herself. Then she took in a deep breath, like those
women in japan who dive for sponges, and went under. In the dim
light, I could see, for a millisecond only, the sight I had so longed
for all these years: her round, luscious, plump rump, wet and shiny,
as it broke the pond surface. After her dive, I saw a faint
luminescence, a long pale shape, sliding beneath the water toward the
middle of the pond. I then turned to see Mary approaching the
Hatton
.

"Couldn't sleep either, I see. Is there any more
coffee?"

"Sure. Almost a whole pot. You want a sandwich
too?"

"No. I want a beer too, I guess. And do you have
any aspirin aboard?"

We sat together on the cushions, sipping the hot,
strong coffee. I lighted a cigar and, between puffs, kept glancing
back over the stern. No doubt Janice had already surfaced for breath
a few times and was now back behind
Whimsea
,
out of sight, climbing back aboard. Close call.

"What was that splash a second ago? A fish
jumping, or what?"

"A fish for sure. Place is lousy with fish."

"Why was it so loud? Must've been a big fish,
huh?

"Very big. This pond holds some of the biggest
fish around."

"Then why do they call it Eel Pond?"

"Eels are fish. Long, skinny fish."

"Are you nervous, Charlie?"

"Huh? 'Course not." I glanced around again.
Boy, she was a quiet swimmer. I had heard no noise at all.

"Charlie, I know the reason we're not sleeping.
We're thinking about Jackie up there. Is he in a jail cell?"

"No. Remember what Joe said? He's under the
direct recognizance of an officer of the law. He's in Joe's
safekeeping. They're up in Joe's apartment right this instant, sawing
logs after a big home-cooked meal. I bet Joe cooked lasagna. Or maybe
manicotti."

"I just hope Jackie's all right. Charlie? Do you
think the judge will be satisfied with Jackie's statement? Or will he
call a grand jury? And if he does, do you think they'll . . .
puthiminjail?"

The last four words ran together fast, in a tiny
voice that squeaked with fright. Mary clenched her teeth and made the
strangled throat sounds of a bursting sob. I put my arms around her
and held her tight while she cried.

But after about thirty seconds I let her go, my gaze
looking skyward. Why had I let her go? What was . . .?

...no noise at all...

I jumped up, leaving Mary stunned on the seat
cushions. I stood up and looked over the pond. All was still and
dark. The water showed not a ripple in the night.

"Janice?" I called.

No answer. No noise at all.

"Charlie! You'll wake them up! What the—"

"Janice!" I shouted. "Janice!"

I kicked off my shoes and dove in, skimming the
bottom, looking for her.
 

THIRTEEN

BRIGHT AND EARLY next morning I was down at Eel Pond
aboard the catboat, going over NOAA Nautical Chart #13230, Buzzards
Bay. I had the big chart spread out on the cabin top and weighted
down against the breeze with smooth beach rocks. I was going out for
a day cruise. I wanted be alone, away from Woods Hole and especially
Swope Dormitory. It would be evening before we heard any word from
Joe up in Boston, and Mary was on the warpath. I was irritable,
uneasy, and in a bad temper generally. I don't like being blamed for
things I haven't done. As it turned out, Janice DeGroot, the Midnight
Mermaid, had been in no danger of drowning the previous night. She
was fine, having swum back to the
Whimsea
a
silently as a wraith after her surface dive into the dark pond. But I
thought she was in trouble, and so jumped in after her. And so
spilled the beans. And so got in Dutch with Mary, and so on.

And now Jim and Mary were furious with both of us,
mainly because Jim discovered his wife's bathing suit was bone dry
and made the logical inference. I even got a little lecture from Tony
on sexual mores. Tony, mind you. The guy who toted around enough
rubbers to supply the Brazilian navy. Is there no justice? Nope. Hard
cheese, old chap.

And soon, my son Jack was going before a judge to
make his statement. It was now eight-thirty. I'd be back by one or
two at the latest.

"Where you going?" asked a voice behind me.
I turned and looked up at Tony, who was standing on the dock watching
me.

"Over to the Vineyard for an hour or so, then
back. I just want to get away from here for a few hours."

"Yeah. Don't blame you."

"There really was nothing going on, you know."

"Yeah, I guess. But see, Dad, Mom caught you
with Mrs. DeGroot before. Remember that time in the phone booth when
we had that big party and—"

"Yeah yeah yeah yeah. I remember. Who could
forget?"

"
You left that time, too. You went all the way
to North Carolina."

"Uh-huh. Well, events have a way of, uh,
snowballing sometimes. All I'm going to do now is just slide over to
Vineyard Haven for the morning until your Mom cools down a bit."

"Aren't you even going to say goodbye?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "Who knows? I'll tell
you, sport, I don't like being accused of things I haven't done. And
I don't like Mom not believing me. And I don't like Janice getting me
into trouble. I guess with this mess Jack's in it's just . . . it's
just too, too much right now. Know what I mean?"

"Uh-huh. Can I come along?"

"Well, sure. But, hey! Don't you have to work?"

He jumped aboard and joined me on the cabin top.

"They just called me and said they were laying
me off. The place was damaged in the storm and they're having to
close part of the inn for repairs, so they don't need a full staff."

"Well," I sighed, "ordinari1y, that
wouldn't be good news. But the way things have been shaping up here,
it'll be good having the family as close as possible."

"That's what Mom said. Deep down, does she
believe you?

Does she believe you weren't skinny-dipping with
Janice?"

"Who knows. I hope she does. But let's face it,
chum, it doesn't look good. I seem to have a knack for getting myself
into messes like this one. I hope that neither you nor Jack have
inherited this unseemly quirk."

"Naw, don't worry. We're not that stupid.”

I did my best to ignore this little barb, hunkering
down over the chart and pretending to study crosscurrents, eddies,
and tidal rips. But the little sucker stung, that was a fact.

"And I hate to admit it, but you're right, Tony.
Mom's having trouble believing me because Mrs. DeGroot and I have
been in this situation before. The phone booth episode, as you have
correctly recalled. So you see, I've queered my reputation with her,
and now I have to pay for it. You listening to this? Okay. There's a
lesson to be learned here, son: don't get a bad reputation. In sex,
in financial matters, in sportsmanship, business, or—hey! Where're
you going?"

He had jumped back up onto the dock. Looking past
him, towards the campus road, I saw a succulent young thing in faded
cutoffs and a cotton sweater strolling along the pond walk. From
behind, she looked wonderful. Tony called to her, and she turned.
Even better. Her eyes lit up in a smile and they walked off together.
Oh well, I thought, you can lead a horse to water . . .

"Be right back!" he yelled as they walked
off together. I plotted a tentative course in my head and started the
little diesel engine and let it warm up, staring down at the chart.
I'd better be careful there around East Chop, I thought to myself,
and before that, watch myself around Great Ledge.

"Going someplace? " said a husky voice
above me that was cold as ice. Gee, who could that be?

I looked up to see Mary standing there with her hair
pulled back, dark glasses on (those French mountain-climber jobs that
cost seventy bucks), snug white canvas shorts, and a small white
halter. The white clothes looked positively iridescent against her
deep brown skin. Looking good. But not so hot in the personality
department.

"So where the hell do you think you're going?"
she repeated.

"Tony and I are going over to the Vineyard. I
assume it's a stupid question to ask if you'd like to come along?"

"You're going over to the Vineyard with our son
in custody on a murder charge? Swell, Charlie. just terrific."

I could tell by her tone that this promised to be an
extended engagement. I wished Tony would come back so it would end.

"You really going over to the Vineyard? You were
going without me, without even saying goodbye?" She hopped down
into the cockpit.

"No, I guess I was going to say goodbye,
directly or indirectly."