Dreadful Sorry (28 page)

The wind roared fiercely, blowing fog away. She could see the lights of Benson again, far across the inlet. They had not covered as much of the distance as she'd thought. Damn Hob for letting her down!

The boom swung sharply around and the
Grace
spun windward.

"I hate you!" Clementine screamed at Hob, but the wind dashed her words into the waves. "You mean nothing to me! Nothing!" The rocks loomed up now on their left, and Hob battled to turn the boat from the sharp peaks. An awful scraping sound rose above the wind.

She huddled in the stern, head down, both arms aching as she tried to hold on to the tiller, which threatened to wrench itself from her hands with every lurching movement of the boat. Waves splashed onto the deck. She let go of the tiller and covered her head with her arms.

"For Christ's sake!" Hob shoved her away roughly. "Do you want to capsize the boat?" He dropped the lines to grab the tiller, hoping to jerk the boat around. But it dove sharply and Clementine slid forward across, the deck, crashing into the mast. She screamed. The boom broke free of the lines and swung to the starboard side, smashing her down on the deck.

"Oh, God, no! Hob, save me!" She was dreadfully afraid now. All her plans of escape, all her dreams of her glorious future dissolved in the churning water. What remained was a longing to live, to live and be safe, never to touch water again.

The
Grace
spun like a gypsy, whirling wildly in a crazy dance. A splintered board from a broken lobster pot flew into Clementine's face, gashing her forehead. She cried out as she felt blood streak down her face from the wound.

"Hang on, Clementine," yelled Hob, still desperately fighting wind and rain to right the boat. "Hang on for dear life!"

 

Down in the darkness of the cove the
Grace
floated on her side, moving back with the rush of waves, then surging forward again, crashing wood against rock. There was no sign of Hob. Not anywhere. Clementine hung onto a piece of splintered wood and called for him until she was hoarse, but her voice, thin and weak, was swallowed in the roar of waves. Her head ached fiercely from the blow to her temple when she was swept overboard. She tried to kick her legs but they seemed as heavy as lead weights. She put up her hand and thought she could feel blood, sticky and warm on her fingers. She lay her cheek in the water and closed her eyes against the pain. Behind her eyelids she saw blood—the blood-red cover of the atlas in the fireplace, the blood on the bed in Aunt Ethel's room, the blood on her conscience as Hob Wilkins's young, strong body was sucked down deep with the seaweed into the churning black water when the boat capsized. She opened her eyes once more before she joined him. The clouds parted and the moon shone down, and what she saw was her hatbox floating out of the cove on a crest of white foam—floating out to sea.

Molly coughed and gagged, straining to expel the water that was choking her—but no water came out. She felt strong arms tighten around her, and the thought exploded gratefully in her head: "He's alive after all. We're
both
alive."

Then she heard his voice. It was half gasp, half whimper. "Clementine?"

She opened her eyes, coughed again, and felt the hard metal railing of the ferry deck press into her stomach. The arms clutching so desperately and the head—with dark hair, not fair—pressing against her chest belonged to Jared.
Jared,
not Hob.

He moaned as the ferry bobbed gently against the Hibben pier.

Then Molly glanced up and saw the ferry pilot walking toward them. "Okay, kids, enough schmooching. Time to get off, unless you want to pay for the return trip. We leave in ten minutes." He stopped when he saw Molly's face. "Is something wrong? Is the boy sick?"

Her voice seemed to come from far away. "We—we're all right."
We're all right!

Molly tried to step away from the railing, but Jared's weight pinned her in place. He moaned again, eyes tightly closed, still lost in a nightmare as bad as Molly's. She looked back at the man. "We'll leave in just a minute. He's okay."

She only hoped that were true.

As the ferry boatman walked off, glancing back over his shoulder, she mustered her strength and towed Jared to the glass door. Jared gripped her hand tightly, and when he spoke, his voice was groggy. "Clementine—"

"
Shhh,
it's me. It's Molly." She staggered along with Jared hanging on her. They stumbled together back through the door and down the steps to the parking deck. "Come on, Jared," she said worriedly when he moaned Clementine's name again. "It's over. We're back in Hibben now."

She led him to the van and helped him into the passenger seat, where he slumped with his head in his hands. Then she drove down the ramp, off the ferry, and parked near the seawall. The rain was only a mist now and already the sun was trying to come out. Rolling down her window, Molly sucked salty air into her lungs. It felt so good to fill her body with precious air, to exhale heavily, to breathe in again. She studied Jared, who was doubled over with his head between his knees. She reached over and rubbed his back in small circles, staring out at the same deep gray water where the
Grace
had gone down.

Jared raised his head suddenly and coughed. His body shook in spasms. "You wouldn't let me turn back!" he gasped, turning to her. "Why didn't you hold the tiller—? Oh, I tried, I tried ... but we shouldn't have gone out, I
told
you it wasn't safe."

"Jared, stop! I'm Molly, not Clementine. We shared a vision, I think—but it's over now. You're here and you're safe. We're
alive!
"

He lifted his head slowly and stared at her. "How can you stand it?" he asked raggedly.

Stand being alive? Stand knowing now that Clementine had been responsible for Hob's death as well as her own? Clementine had recklessly, uncaringly led Hob Wilkins out to sea that night. And they had both paid for her selfish determination. Molly bowed her head over the steering wheel as tears filled her eyes. What a waste of two young lives. "I'm not sure I
can
stand it," she murmured.

"How can you stand having visions like these?" he persisted, sitting up and looking out the window. She knew he was back with her now.

"When I'm having them, it's not weird at all. I'm looking out of Clementine's eyes. I am her. I feel only what she felt. Desperate to get on with my life, resentful of people who are trapping me. I don't even think about the people I use to get what I want, really. I just use them."

"What do you mean? Whom did you use to get what you want?"

Molly looked away from him. Out in the now calm water of the cove she could see bobbing markers for the lobster pots.

"I—I didn't use anybody. But Clementine did. Don't you know? Or were you stuck completely in Hob's head, just as I was in hers?"

He rubbed his eyes. "I don't know exactly what happened. I mean, I remember standing out there on the deck, leaning over the railing. Then I heard your voice, only you called out: 'Hob!' And when I turned to see what was going on, there you were, Molly, standing in the doorway. And suddenly, it was like another girl was superimposed over you. And the whole day turned to night. It was dark, but there was a moon—and I wasn't on the ferry anymore at all but standing with you on the pier back at Hibben. You wanted to go out in a boat, but I thought it wasn't safe."

Molly was nodding. "It's the same vision. But how can that happen?"

Jared's eyes were wide and frightened, and Molly wished she could do something to erase the expression in them. She felt she was an old hand at having these visions now, but it was new and scary territory for Jared.

"I was Hob—I wasn't me at all!" he continued. "And Hob had been waiting, worried, longing for you. For Clementine, I mean. When I heard your voice, I grabbed you and I was so excited that you'd come—I'd been hardly daring to hope you'd really come. You'd said eleven o'clock, but it was much later by the time you finally ran up. Oh, I was so in love with you. I've never felt that way before—"He was speaking fast, then broke off, staring at her in wonderment.

"You weren't in love with
me,
Jared," Molly said, dropping her gaze. She couldn't bear knowing how she had betrayed him. Or rather how
Clementine
had betrayed
Hob,
she corrected herself swiftly.

The rain started falling again, enclosing the van in a curtain of gray mist. Molly reached for Jared's hand and squeezed it. He put his arm around her shoulders, and they sat that way for a long time without speaking.

Finally Jared raised his hand and stroked Molly's braid. "Clementine let go of the tiller, true; but Hob shouldn't have been out with her in that boat in the first place." Jared was speaking slowly, carefully distancing the girl and boy in the past from their own present. "He knew the weather was rough. But she made him feel like a man. Big and powerful. Hob was so head-over-heels in love with that girl, he thought he could do anything."

If only that were what had happened. If only it were a simple tale of passion ending in unexpected tragedy, with the two young lovers going down together to their watery graves. But Molly knew better, and she shook her head bitterly. She pulled her braid away. "It wasn't like that, Jared."

"I was there, too, Molly. I know exactly how Hob felt."

She faced him. "You know how Hob felt, but you don't know how Clementine felt. You don't know the whole story at all."

Jared smiled. "I know she was like you, Molly. Smart and pretty. She loved books, and she loved me. I mean Hob. But Hob was like me—he loved the water. I know everything Hob knew; I have all his memories, his history. I know he lived with his dad and stepmother. He had a baby sister named Grade. He wanted nothing but to be a fisherman like his pa and to marry Clementine. He adored her, and I know just how he felt, Molly. In fact, I think that's what I've been feeling for you all along, ever since we met. Hob's love for Clementine." His smile widened. "Do you think maybe
that's
what this is all about? We died too young last time. This is our new chance to be together?"

Was it? She wished she could believe it. It would be so nice to be able to fall into his arms now and say yes, this was meant, this is our second chance. But it wasn't true. She knew what had been in Clementine's hard heart that night; she knew the plans Clementine was making even as Hob risked his life for her.

Maybe it would be better, Molly reflected, gazing into the dark pools of Jared's eyes, to let the truth lie buried at sea. If she told him now, wouldn't it just spoil everything? Wouldn't he hate her—or want revenge?

The word seemed to hang in her head. Molly looked out at the mist surrounding the van without seeing it. She smelled the sharp salty air and heard the screeches of sea gulls overhead.
Revenge?

Jared didn't know why he had thrown Molly into the pool. Something had come over him, he'd said. Could the something that had come over Jared have been Hob's anger at Clementine for lying to him?

It seemed the fates had conspired to bring everything together: Molly being forced to confront swim lessons; Molly meeting Jared; Molly coming to the big house on the headland and finding Jared there as well; Molly and Jared having visions of two other lives.

Too many coincidences, Jared had said, and you have a pattern. Molly felt a bubble of excitement float up into her throat. She felt she almost had it, almost understood the
reason
for all of this. What if this were Clementine's attempt to make up for what had happened? She was showing Molly and Jared how it had been because she knew now that it shouldn't have been that way at all. But wasn't it too late? You couldn't, after all, change the past.

Molly tried to see out across the water to the line of land that was Benson. The sea looked cold and gray. "Jared," she said softly, reaching for his hand, "I'm beginning to understand."

"Tell me. I'm nowhere near understanding any of this."

"What if—what if Clementine hurt so many people that she's sorry? Maybe she's showing me scenes from her life so I can do something about what happened. Fix it, somehow." Her voice grew even softer. Maybe what she said sounded crazy, but it felt right. "What she did to Hob. What she did to little Abner. Even what she did to Aunt Ethel."

"But then why is she showing me the scenes, too? And why do I feel I was in Hob Wilkins's head?" He squeezed her hand. "I think we were those kids in a past life. And they messed up, but now we have another chance to love each other."

Molly took a deep breath, shaking her head. "You don't understand. Clementine didn't love Hob. She wasn't going to marry him at all. She was planning to run off as soon as they docked and head for the bus depot. She planned the whole thing. She used him, plain and simple. I was—I was
there,
Jared. In her head. I know this is true."

He was silent a long moment, staring straight ahead through the Windshield. Then he said, "Well, if that's true, Hob never knew it. He loved her so much, even at the end." He paused, then added softly, "Maybe he was born again, loving her still."

"Then he's been loving a lie," she said. "All this time." Unable to look at him now, she, too, stared out over the water.

 

Molly wanted Jared to come back to the house with her. Now that she'd found comfort in talking, she wanted to hash everything out, try to figure out what their double dream meant. But Jared had to work. Before he walked up Main Street to Day's Catch, he put his hands on her shoulders and drew her toward him. Gently, he kissed her lips. And then again, and then her lips responded and she was clinging to him.

"That wasn't Hob kissing Clementine," he said huskily into her ear. "This is
us.
Here and now. Don't forget it."

When she arrived back up at the house Paulette and Bill were eating egg salad sandwiches in the kitchen with the plumber and carpenter who had come to work on the new bathrooms. Molly changed into dry clothes and joined them, glad they were busy talking about tile and pipes and drainage so she didn't have to answer questions about her visit with Abner. She felt fragile, as if caught between times again. After lunch she wandered out and sat on the front steps.