When, at last, he found me. Page 3

  For a moment, nothing else mattered; not Ms. Z or the stranger who was driving. The only thing that mattered was my home, ahead in the distance. I could see the butter-cream yellow, cedar shingles and the large white columns on the front porch. The house was beautiful; an east coast treasure is how my father used to refer to it. For a moment, my grandmother was driving the car and I was beside her. For a moment, my father was driving the car and I was beside him. For a moment I was happy again.

  He pulled the car into the driveway of my house—it was weird to think of it as mine, but it was. Grandma left the house to me.

  Joseph turned the ignition off and we sat in silence. It didn’t take long for dread to overtake my brief moment of happiness.

  My house should have been filled with my family but all of them were gone, all of them were dead.

  Joseph was speaking but I couldn’t understand him. The last things I saw were his brilliant sapphire eyes.

  I blacked out.

  THREE

  When I woke, I was lying on my couch. The sun had gone down and only the glow from the streetlight illuminated the living room. A breeze blew from an open window next to my father’s old leather chair. The salty ocean air was refreshing. I was unsure of the time or how long my mind had been in the past. The flashback was more intense—I could hear my father’s voice so clearly that even after I woke; it remained with me.

  White sheets covered most of the furnishings in the house. Spiders had begun to make themselves at home with webs that hung from the crown moldings and fireplace sconces. The air was musky and a thin layer of dust lay atop every surface. On the wooden floor, one set of footprints remained in the dust. The prints lead to the couch and back out the front door. Joseph must have carried me in and then left. For the most part I was relieved that I didn’t have to deal with him, but a fraction of me felt sad that I was truly alone.

  I went to the back deck for some fresh air then made my way down towards the beach. The hill was overgrown with tall sea grass and the old path I used to run along with my father was buried under years of neglect. The only light was from the half crescent moon in the sky but I didn’t need much more than that, I knew the way. The small patch of beach that belonged to the house was littered with branches and weeds, remnants of a harsh Maine winter. Sharp angles shot through the surface from broken glass bottles and the white shape of a Styrofoam container added a stark contrast against the darker wet sand.

  The tide was low. It was something I was used to, something I grew up watching. When I was younger, I was able to predict the high and low tide cycles. Since I wasn’t allowed in the ocean, low tide was my only chance to collect polished sea glass and shells. My charting of the tides proved to be useless once I stopped going down there. Usually the tide would pull further out in the morning and come back in the evening, filling in all the valleys and covering the rock paths that led into the water. That night, all the valleys and rock paths were exposed. It was unusual. I stared at the wet sand. The day my father died the tide was high, higher than usual. As I sat on the beach watching my friends play I remember feeling as though the ocean was closing in, creeping to grab me.

  When my grandmother took me to a therapist after he died, I told him about the way the ocean crept up. He gave me a scientific explanation of that day having a Super Perigee Moon, which meant that the moon was closest to the Earth. He said that the tides were higher because of it.

  I took off my sandals and wandered onto the fresh wet sand. It was smooth and cool. I could already feel the ocean pulling. That was another thing I told my therapist. Of course, he didn’t believe it but it was true, water pulled at me like an invisible force. He gave me a psychological explanation though, instead of a scientific one. The theory was that I had a fascination with something that had been forbidden. At times, I thought he was the crazy one. I felt it in every inch of my body; the water was trying to pull me in. I resisted the urge.

  Staring across the sand, I saw a tiny fin lift and fall. A fish had been stranded on the beach when the tide pulled out. It was something I would see often as a child. Usually I would run to get my father or grandmother, but there was no one to run to that night. It was gasping and dying and needed water, the air was killing it. The fish in Ms. Z’s room came to mind; they were safe, away from the unpredictable ocean. The fish pounded at the sand with its fin, I felt it dying. Hurrying to the fish, I picked it up; its scales were rough and cut into my hands. It was a silver fish with yellow stripes. It needed the water but I froze, unable to go further. The fish lay in my hands, the gills lifting, reaching; I felt her hope vanish when she knew I couldn’t save her. Her eye met mine and I started to scream.

  “Help, she’s dying.” I called louder. “HELP, please someone, HELP her.” I knelt down with the little fish in my hands, knowing she could not be saved, realizing that my fear was killing her. “I’m so sorry. I can’t get any closer. I’m so sorry you have to die because of me.”

  Then I felt it, the tide began to come in; closer and closer with every wave, it rose. The ocean was answering my call for help but at what cost? Within seconds the water was surrounding, covering my legs; at my waist; up to my chest; then I was under and I felt the little fish swim away. The water was cold and hard against my skin. It pulled at me; deeper and deeper I sank. I screamed out to nothing.

  Panic raced through my body, but before I could fall unconscious, my legs lifted from the sand and my head came out of the water. I cried loudly. The sand was hard on the backs of my legs as someone pulled me across the beach to safety.

  “Will you stop screaming? You are going to wake up the world.” Joseph Merrick was standing over me, his sandy blonde hair sticking up in every direction. Water dripped from his face and onto his bare chest. He was bent over, squeezing his shorts. Despite looking incredibly annoyed, I couldn’t help but notice how striking he was. “What were you trying to do? It’s a little late for surfing, don’t you think?”

  “The tide came up so fast and I didn’t know what to do.” I was panting and embarrassed. My shirt clung to me and my legs were covered with sand. I reached up to smooth my hair, only to find that a large twig was tangled in it.

  “I don’t know what’s going on with the tide. I noticed it came up quick too. Though, did swimming ever occur to you? Or how about just standing up? Most people would have stood up and walked out of the water.” He said sarcastically, smiling. Dimples dented his cheeks. “What is with you anyway? You pass out in the car, out cold. Then I find you screaming in the ocean for no good reason.”

  “There was a reason.” I said defensively, still trying to untangle the twig from my long knotted hair. “There was a dying fish. It needed my help.”

  “A dying fish? That’s it? That’s what all the screaming was about?” He chuckled, and then with a big sigh plopped down onto the sand next to me. He playfully spread himself out as if he were making snow angels. “SO WHAT! Let it die next time and eat it for dinner. Isn’t that what your kind does?”

  Not understanding what he meant, “My kind?”

  “Carnivores,” his eyes were wide. “You nearly gave me a heart attack. I thought something had happened to you.”

  He was wrong. “I’m a vegetarian, so eating her was out of the question. And, something did happen to me. I am deathly afraid of water because of something that happened to me as a child. Please don‘t mock me.” I was irritated with his teasing and even though he had quite possibly saved my life, I wasn‘t at all flattered by his concern for my safety. “What are you still doing here?”

  “I’m still here because, against my better judgment, I wasn’t going to leave a helpless young lady passed out in her driveway.” He had a smirk across his face. “Usually when a hero rescues a damsel in distress, he gets a thank you. Next time you’re having a panic attack in 4 feet of water, I will be sure to just let you drown.”

  I stood, brushing the wet sand from my legs. “I’m sorry to inconvenience you with my helplessness.”r />
  Joseph continued lying on the sand. “Hey, apology accepted. Don’t you worry about it; I won’t waste another minute helping someone so ungrateful. As a matter of fact, I can’t fathom why my aunt wasted so much time on you.” He mumbled, just barely loud enough for me to hear.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” I had started to walk back to the hill but stopped and turned around. His words cut through me.

  “It means, her time would have been better spent, elsewhere. For some reason she wanted to be at that school, with you.” He sat up, staring at the water.

  Maybe it stung because it was the truth? Ms. Z did spend an inordinate amount of time with me and maybe I took advantage of it. I went to her with every concern or complaint I had and she was always willing to give me her full attention. She never mentioned Joseph and conceivably that had something to do with our one-sided conversations. I knew very little about her and up until that moment didn’t seem to mind. Suddenly, I wanted to know everything about her.

  “Speaking of Ms. Z, shouldn’t you be looking for her? Or maybe reporting her lost? Perhaps your time could be better spent?” My words were rude.

  “I’m sure it could, besides, she’s not lost. I know exactly where she is. I just don’t know how to get to her.” He put his head down, resting his forehead on his knees. His voice was distant and softer when he spoke again. “You know Seraphin; you’re not the only one in this world with problems. Most people I know have something in their past that haunts them, that makes them want to forget who they are. But they move on, they keep going so it won’t catch up to them and overwhelm their every waking moment, like it seems to do with you.”

  “I know people have problems—I mean I don’t let…it’s not like that at all.” My fists tightened.

  “I’m just stating my observations. Maybe you’re not like that but it sure seems like you’ve got something deep that you’re not willing to let go of. I’m no shrink but I have spent plenty of time with troubled people to know when I’m in the presence of one.” Lifting his head and clenching his jaw—a stern look crossed his face.

  The temperature dropped and the wind began to blow in from the water. Wet hair lifted gently off my shoulders—caught in the passing gusts.

  I was speechless—which was a good thing because if I spoke my voice would have fractured with pain. How could someone I barely know cut me so profoundly with words? Joseph was angry, but at who? It couldn’t have been at me, we had just met.

  He rose turning his back to me.

  My head wanted to argue but my heart was too tired. Struggling to maintain composure, I chose my words carefully. “You’re right, it consumes me. Grief wraps itself around me so tight at times I can’t breathe. How does it feel to be right? Do you feel better about the way you hide from your problems?” I knew it was bold and as I said it I felt a swell of adrenaline climb.

  His response didn’t matter, so I didn’t wait for it. I decided that I needed no help feeling miserable. The reason I let Ms. Z into my life was because she never once made me feel the way that perfect stranger had. There are plenty of people that can make me suffer, I lived with one for 5 months. Mara Cottington was ruthless in her opinion but I knew she was hurting so I accepted it. Joseph was doing the same but he was a stranger and I only owed him a few words.

  “Thank you for helping me.” I whispered, walking away and I meant it.

  He started to speak but I continued up the hill, I didn’t want to know what he was saying. I was through with that conversation.

  FOUR

  I sat on the back deck with a cup of warm tea. Part of me expected to see Joseph still lying on the beach. I replayed our conversation in my head and was grateful to have remained conscious despite my building anger.

  He was complicated, Ms. Z had been correct.

  My stomach was growling. I hadn’t eaten anything in almost 24 hours. Luckily, Keyes Market was only a few blocks down the street. The morning was beautiful and inviting. My bike was in the shed. The tires were deflated so I inflated them with the foot pump. I secured a basket to the handlebars for carrying groceries. As I passed through the ivy arch that separated my front walk from the back yard the sun seemed to shine brighter and the noise from the neighborhood’s bustling occupants was more intense. It was energizing to be home.

  The market was busy and filled with familiar faces. When I walked in Alexander Keyes, the owner of the store, yelled down an aisle. “Seraphin, my dear! Is that really you?”

  “Mr. Keyes, it’s nice to be back in the neighborhood.” And it was. I missed being home and if I had to be somewhere without my family, I suppose that was better than most. I loaded my arms with as much as the basket on my bike could carry. The checkout line was long and as I waited a few neighbors smiled, waved and welcomed me back home. Mr. Keyes stood beside me, talking for the duration of the wait.

  “The store is celebrating its 20th anniversary in August. We’re having an Anniversary Gala at the Beach Club and I’d love for you to come.” He was a friendly man who wore a white apron over a yellow Keyes Market t-shirt; the same outfit he’d been wearing for 20 years. “Shall I put you down for one or two?”

  I questioned, “One or two, what?”

  “Surely you’ll want to bring a date; there will be dinner and dancing,” he moved his shoulders to imaginary music.

  “Just one,” I assured him.

  “I’ll mark you down for two, just in case. A lovely young lady like you will surely find a nice gentleman in the next few months.” He smiled and nudged me with his elbow.

  I didn’t argue further. At the mention of ‘a nice gentleman’, Joseph entered my thoughts but I quickly dismissed the idea.

  “What do you have planned for the summer?” He asked.

  “I’m not too sure. I just graduated yesterday but I am probably going to have to pick up a summer job and then maybe think about college in the fall.” I said.

  “You can’t be old enough to graduate already, I remember you as a toddler coming in here with Sam. He would have bought you the whole candy stand if he had enough money in his wallet.” At the mention of my father I felt sad. I dropped my eyes, hoping Mr. Keyes couldn’t read my expression but it was too late, he caught on. He put his arm around me. “Seraphin, I miss him too. Your father was a wonderful man and it’s alright to remember him that way. It’s healthy to talk about him once in a while.”

  “I know.” I swallowed hard. The entire neighborhood knew my father and loved him, which made it a perfect place to live. He used to say ‘it takes a tribe to raise a child’ and I guess those people were my tribe. In a way, they did help to raise me. He was working a lot and as I rode my bike up and down their driveways and ran across their front yards, they influenced me more than I knew. I didn’t have any aunts, uncles or cousins. I only had my neighbors.

  “If you’re interested, my wife is looking to fill cleaning positions on the CORE campus where she works. Would you be interested in chatting with her?” He moved the conversation away from my father and I was grateful.

  When I returned home I found that clearing my head was a difficult feat. I worried about Ms. Z. The day before was a blur. After pondering it, I decided to drive back to the school to take a look around.

  The parking lot was empty except for Ms. Z’s car, still loaded with books and boxes. My stomach dropped. She was missing. I thought about calling the police but I didn’t know how to explain what happened. Joseph seemed to be genuinely concerned for her and he was after all, her family. Perhaps he had already gone to the police? Though, I doubted it. He seemed like the type to take matters into his own hands.

  I walked the perimeter of the building and found nothing unusual. As I came from behind the school a black SUV pulled in and parked next to my car. Hiding behind the building, I immediately wished I hadn’t gone there. A large man with no hair and a tattoo across his cheek climbed out of the vehicle. He wore a black leather vest with black pants and boots. Right away, I thought of
the woman at the diner. Was it a new fashion trend; black leather in the middle of summer? Around his neck was a key hanging from a chain. It struck me as an odd thing to wear. He got into Ms. Z’s car. Both vehicles pulled away leaving mine alone in the lot. A few minutes passed before it felt safe to come out. I ran to my car and quickly left, unsure of what I had just witnessed.

  While driving home I glanced in the rearview mirror every few seconds. At a stoplight I thought I saw the SUV behind me, which took my attention off the car in front of me. With only a second to spare, I slammed on the brakes, stopping just inches away from a collision. Turns out, there was no SUV. Knowing I had to calm down and wanting to get home, I drove faster than the speed limit. If I got pulled over, at least it would have given me a reason to report Ms. Z’s disappearance. I arrived home without incident, which just proves there’s never a police officer around when you want to be caught.

  As evening fell, I caught myself peering through the windows, looking down the street. Every time a car door slammed, I would check. Worried it would be the man from the school and hoping it was Joseph. At least, if he appeared, I could tell him about the man in Ms. Z’s car.

  To occupy my mind, I began cleaning and organizing the house. I knew that my father’s room would be a challenge so I avoided it, cleaning the rest of the rooms first. My bedroom was how I left it; neat and organized. I wiped the dust from my dresser and cleaned the mirror on the vanity. As I caught my reflection in the mirror it was obvious that life was beginning to take a toll. A good night’s rest was a foreign luxury and under my eyes, dark circles had started to form. No longer was I the little girl my father left behind. I often wondered if he could see me from wherever he was or if he’d recognize me if ever we met again.

  My eyes are big and shades of gray, they are set wide apart, like a fish. When I was young my father said my eyes were fierce but calm, like the delicate forewarning of an approaching storm. In other words, I was a walking storm cloud.