Castle Cay (7 page)

To their disappointment, the trail veered to
the right shortly after that, nowhere near the water, which was
still some distance ahead behind a densely forested area of cedar
and pine. They kept on, knowing that their descending path would
eventually converge with the coastline. Finally, the ocean vista
opened before them… a vast expanse of deep, cobalt blue.

Julie pulled Daisy up beside Dan.

“Oh, honey, it’s so beautiful!” she said.

“Yes, it is. Get a picture.”

And so she did.

Her second picture – one that she would
treasure forever - was a wonderful shot of Dan mounted on Chinaman.
Julie snapped the third picture…to no avail. Dan had been snapping
photos ever since the ferry to Green Turtle Cay, so Julie wasn’t
surprised that the roll had run out.

“That was the last one, Dan.”

“There’s more film in the case there, Babe,”
he said.

Julie found it and reloaded the camera.
Testing it, she looked around and took a couple more shots…a
picture of the coconut palms near the shore, swaying like graceful
showgirls with high-plumed headdresses, and another picture of the
tall long-needled pines that all leaned away from the sea.

They led the horses to a low hanging branch
and looped their reins around it.

“Let’s explore,” said Dan, “we can get some
more pictures before we eat.”

They set off southward, walking along the
natural path, which was actually a long limestone terrace. There
was a narrow white beach just below them on their left. Dan hopped
down the rocks to take a picture.

“The coast goes on and on!” he yelled from
below. “The island’s bigger than I thought!” He picked his way back
up and they continued south on the path.

On their right, as they walked along, they
noticed the massive central ridge of the island rising to its
highest point. They had circled north of the widest part of Castle
Cay and surmised that their beach house must be right behind the
imposing tor. On this side, the big ridge was all rock, with a few
hardy scrub bushes pushing up through the crags.

“This side gets more of a beating from the
weather,” said Dan.

“No kidding, Sherlock?”

The next thing Julie knew, she was on her
back in the grass with Dan on top of her, pinning her arms.

“You’re a wiseass, you know that?” he said,
kissing her.

Julie wriggled free, snatched the camera and
ran back toward the horses.

“Ha! You forgot to say ‘Don’t move!’”

She caught Dan on film once again, charging
up behind her.

They slowed to a walk and headed northward
along the terrace passing the loosely tethered horses, happily
chomping grass next to the tall pine. Walking on, they came to a
small promontory, with what appeared to be a notch in the rocks at
the end. The seawater was crashing in there and shooting up into
the air, geyser-like, before rushing back out to sea.

“I’ve got to get picture of that,” said Dan,
taking the camera from her, and walking out onto the little point
of land.

I hope he’s not going to climb down there,
thought Julie. “Dan, be careful! Marc said it was rough on this
side!”

“I’m not going in the water, Babe,” he called
back, shaking his head.

Hanging on the rocks and carefully working
his way down, Dan descended toward the notch on the left side of
the point. Soon, he was out of sight.

Julie was sitting on the edge of the
limestone terrace, inexplicably tense. Her legs dangled over the
side and she leaned forward and to the left, straining to see Dan.
When he appeared again, her shoulders loosened and she started
breathing once more.

He walked back toward her.

“Julie…I didn’t want to yell from there. It’s
a little cave, and the ceiling is covered with
bats.
Tiny
ones. At first I thought they were birds!” he said, laughing. “I’m
going to try to get a picture of them. Don’t be alarmed if they
come flying out when the flash goes off.”

“Okay. Be careful.”

“Don’t worry. I’m just getting a picture of
them. They’re harmless.”

Then he headed back down.

In a minute, he was out of her sight
again.

She heard something…

What was that? Was that Dan?

Julie ran out onto the point and scrambled
down the rocks.

“DAN! YOU OKAY?” she yelled into the
darkness.

Startled, the bats flew out of the cave en
masse, a dark, beating cloud. They engulfed her, squealing.
Swatting at her hair, Julie screamed and screamed as she knocked
one loose that was caught. Gasping, she hung onto the rocks,
petrified.

Suddenly, the water blew up and out of the
cave, knocking her down. As she was catching her breath and shaking
wet hair from her eyes, a huge swell came rushing out of the mouth
of the cave. Dan was face down, like a body surfer, on top of
it.

In moments, he went under and came up
again…way out, and moving fast.

“DAN! DAN!”

No time! Go now…NOW…while the water’s
receding…

Quickly, Julie kicked off her shoes and
climbed over to a jagged rock, which stuck out further than the
rest. She bent her knees and pushed off, diving as far out into the
water as she could… praying to God that she would clear the rocks
below.

The water was shockingly cold, and the
current incredibly fast. There was no undertow; it was moving Julie
near the surface, faster than she could swim…faster than anyone
could swim! Julie held her breath, tucked her head, and stretched
out like a torpedo.

I can get him… I can get him!

When her lungs were empty and aching for air,
she surfaced, still being carried by the current, but sensing it
had weakened some. Gulping air, she looked around in panic. Oh,
God, where was he? Then she saw him ahead of her, rising on the
crest of a wave.

NO! He’s further! Swim harder…

Julie took a deep breath, tucked her face
into the water and swam furiously ahead. Left, right, left,
right…she powered through the sea, propelled even faster by the rip
current. At last she lifted her head, gasping, and saw Dan in front
of her.

“DAN! DAN!” she yelled, reaching him,
grabbing at his clothes.

He was unresponsive, unconscious.

It doesn’t matter…Swim!

Struggling to keep Dan with her as the
current swept them along, Julie managed to get him on his back and
hook her left arm under his chin. Holding his head up out of the
water, she began swimming with her right arm. She swam in the
direction of the current, but fought to make headway to her right.
The rip current, though lessened, continued to drag them out to
sea.

Julie kicked furiously, her right arm pulling
hard, fighting with all her might to get parallel with the
shoreline. Fear pumped adrenalin through her body, giving her
strength she could never have imagined. Something large brushed
against her, but Julie was struggling for their lives, and whatever
it was, it barely registered.

She felt the terrible pull fade. Somehow, she
had managed the turn; they were free of the damned current!

“We’re out of it, Dan! We’re out!”

Julie continued to swim parallel to the shore
to get as far away from the deadly rip as possible. Almost at the
end of her endurance, she turned toward the beach for the long swim
back in. She talked to Dan steadily, encouraging him. She thanked
God out loud for saving them…and she prayed from the depth of her
soul that He would help her make it to the breakers that would
carry them in.

•

Al Drum was working in the garden when
Chinaman and Daisy came galloping into the yard, stopping short of
their own accord, reins trailing on the ground. Al’s mother was
hanging sheets on a clothesline.

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” she said, dropping
the sheet into the basket and running for the barn, as Al went for
the lathered, panting horses.

“JOHN! Come quickly! Something’s happened to
the O’Haras!”

John Drum had been in the barn fixing a heavy
deep-sea fishing reel and line. He’d heard the horses come
thundering in, and was already on his way out.

“What the hell…?”

He took one look at the horses, and knew
something terrible had happened.

“Mary,” he said, “you take care of Daisy and
Chinaman. Al and me had better take the jeep and find them.”

“Can the jeep make it through to the other
side on the trail?” she asked, worried.

“It’s going to have to, woman! We can’t use
those horses!”

Mary took the reins from her son, and watched
the pair jump into the jeep and gun it, heading east.

•

It was a difficult and jarring drive, bumping
over stones, lurching in and out of ruts. The jeep barely scraped
through the areas where horses trod single-file. Branches whacked
the windshield. At one point, where a horse and rider had to climb
over a small rise, they had to put their backs to the jeep and push
it over. Silently – expecting the worst - they searched the trail
all along for any sign of Dan and Julie O’Hara. At length, they
made it to the wide, limestone-terraced path that ran above the
beach. Al was still driving.

“Head south,” said John. “If we don’t find
them, we’ll come back and drive north as far as we can.”

They hadn’t gone far, when they spotted them.
“Look!” said Al, pointing. “There they are, up ahead on the
beach!”

They pulled up and jumped out of the jeep,
scrambling down the rocks to the sand where Julie and Dan lay side
by side, face down, half in the water.

They rolled Dan over.

“He’s dead,” said John, immediately turning
his attention to Julie. “She’s alive! She’s breathing…unconscious.
Help me get her up, Al.”

“Mrs. O’Hara! Julie! Can you hear me? Julie?”
said John.

Her eyes fluttered open slightly.

“Dan? Is Dan okay?”

“It’s going to be all right, Mrs. O’Hara.
We’ve got you now,” said John.

Mercifully, Julie slipped away before he had
to answer.

* * * * *

September 18, 2007
Boston, Massachusetts

I
n Woodland Memorial Park, Julie sat
with her face in her hands, crying.
I’m sorry, Dan. I’m so
sorry!
Wiping her eyes with tissues, she rose and slowly walked
a few steps over to a simple, flat marker, unobtrusively lined up
with others under the trees.

DANIEL PATRICK O’HARA

Julie stood for a moment, then turned and
hurried away, fumbling in her bag for the rental car key. Still
dabbing at her eyes, she climbed into the Malibu and left the
cemetery.

It was difficult to drive, hard to collect
herself. Thankfully, she remembered a restaurant she’d passed on
her way there. She pulled into a slot in front of it, relieved to
see that the lunch crowd had apparently gone.

Julie went directly to the restroom and
splashed some cold water on her face. She reapplied her lipstick
and patted a bit of makeup under her eyes. Feeling more
presentable, she bought a large coffee and a USA Today paper, and
looked around for a booth with some privacy.

Her intention had been to distract herself
with the newspaper, but the past had hold of her heart and it
wouldn’t let go. The printed page blurred before Julie’s eyes as
she recalled her zombie-like mental state after Dan’s death. It had
persisted for months and very nearly destroyed her.

At the inquest, the Bahamian coroner had
said:

“
Daniel O’Hara accidentally drowned after
suffering a head injury consistent with a fall, thought to have
been caused by a slip on the guano-covered rocks in the cave he was
exploring.”

•

But Julie knew different. She didn’t get to
Dan fast enough to save him. The guilt she felt made it impossible
to face people, to accept sympathy. She had run away.

Money had not been an issue. She was the
beneficiary on Dan’s life insurance policy and it was a sizeable
amount. When fall came, she had enrolled at the University of
Florida in Gainesville.

Julie hadn’t made new friends; she didn’t
want any. Because of Marc Solomon’s unwavering loyalty and
persistence, Julie had maintained a half-hearted relationship with
him, mostly by phone.

But fate had a nasty surprise for her friend,
Marc. The summer after Julie had moved to Florida, Marc’s mother
died of a heart attack on Castle Cay. Marc, who was alone with her
when it happened, was devastated. It was John Drum, Julie recalled,
who coordinated efforts with Milton Solomon to have Miriam’s body
taken back to Boston, not Marc.

Deep in denial, Marc had refused to attend
the funeral. Julie had understood. She knew that Marc had long felt
rejected by both his father and his brother. For him, losing Miriam
was like losing his entire family. He had stayed, instead, on
Castle Cay. For three weeks, Marc painted through his grief. And
when he left there, it was forever.

Julie took another sip of her coffee,
thinking back to 1994.

In the months that followed Miriam’s death,
Marc had returned to school in Brookline, more passionate about his
art than ever. For Julie, however, the time had dragged
by…interminable, unbearable. She could see little reason to
continue on…with anything.

During a break in their schedules, Marc had
come to Gainesville to visit her. Julie had been withdrawn, quiet.
In truth, there was only one thing she longed to say to
him…
Goodbye.

Marc had guessed what she was thinking:

“
Suicide is selfish, Julie! Would Dan have
ever done something like that? Would he have left you like
that?”

“
No…but he’s gone.”

“
Well, I’m not!” said Marc, tears filling
his eyes. “It would break my heart, Julie. Promise me, right now,
that you won’t ever do that!”