The Pickle Boat House (13 page)

“I’m thirty-five, but I don’t think that matters.”

“When you die you go to heaven, Mr. Thomas—or, in your case, somewhere a lot warmer. You don’t come back as someone else! Not only are you an asshole, you are a thoroughgoing, greedy, good-for-nothing,
shameless
asshole. You would do anything to acquire Nevis land. I have no idea why you are having dreams about us unless it’s because you’re crazy! Now, get off my property before I call the police!”

Ryan ignored her and kept babbling. “I can’t remember if there was a tunnel. I don’t think I died. It doesn’t seem like reincarnation—just switched into a different body. Maybe the real Ryan Thomas died and I came back into his body instead of mine. I sure as hell don’t have a clue why God brought me back. Maybe I still had important things left to do.” Ryan was quiet for a moment, frowning to himself. “The ring—did they give it back to you?”

“What ring?”

“The signet ring. I remember seeing Granddad’s signet ring rolling around on the floor as the nurse dropped it in her haste in the emergency room when they treated me. Did they return it to you?”

“You talked to the emergency room staff?”

“Well?”

“Yes, damn it. They found it the next day on the emergency room floor.”

Ryan smiled a big glorious, triumphant smile. “Good. Grandpa Diggy would’ve wanted that.”

“Diggy?”

“I think that’s what I always called him. I used to help him with his garden. Jeesh, where are these thoughts coming from?” Ryan rubbed his face. “I can’t remember, though. Was he your father, or Dad’s?”

“I can’t listen to any more of this. Go!” Van yelled at him, doubling over and putting both hands over her ears.

“I can’t go any more than you can turn around and go back into your house and leave me here. Go, prove me wrong,” he challenged. “Leave me here, right now.”

Van remained rooted to the spot where she stood.

“See? You can’t walk away from me. From our very first meeting, I’ve felt a profound connection to you that I have never understood. I have felt closer to you, a stranger, than to anyone else in my life, and I’ve struggled to come to terms with you since the day I met you. It’s love—lasting, eternal love—and it binds forever. I can’t shake it, and you can’t shake it. It’s a tangible, living thing. It’s just as strong whether we are mother and son, or lovers. Don’t run away from me, Van. Acknowledge what you are feeling. Acknowledge
me
.

“I know this is a lot. I can see you don’t believe me, but deep down, I think you know it might be true. If you don’t believe, then tell me how I know all these things. Why is there such a deep connection between us that I am right now willing to throw away all that I have in this life to pursue a relationship with you? I have Hector all over my back, and I’m destroying my career. I’m torn between what I’m used to doing and what, deep down inside, seems the true course to take. Tell me, Van, why would I do and feel that?”

Van slumped into one of the porch chairs. It was a question that she couldn’t begin to answer. She looked up at him, into his eyes. He looked nothing like her son, not even the expression in his eyes. And yet, he was right: she still couldn’t walk away.

They looked at each other in total silence, and time ticked by, feeling like a powerful emotional bomb ready to explode. Van rocked in her chair, staring as if she might bore a hole through him, and he stood watching her eyes as she absorbed all that he had said.

Van knew that the human heart’s deepest desires sometimes overrode what the mind thought impossible, and she wanted her son back more than anything else in heaven and earth. Rationality and need fought quietly within her for the son she couldn’t be happy without. Her heart told her that her feelings for Ryan were real and deep. Like flip cards in a mutoscope, her memories began to flash by: recognizing Richard, skydiving, fear of water, the angel coin, left-handedness, a childhood song no one else knew, the signet ring … On and on they went. They were just snapshots in time, but viewed together in rapid succession, they created a moving story. And the story they created was her son James. She blinked, and Ryan could see that she had made the connection.

“James? You’re telling me you’re
James
? Oh, my God,” she said, covering her face with her hands. “It’s not possible. I’m having an affair with my son? Why did you lead me on?”

“Lead you on? I have
never
led you on,” said Ryan. I’m just now seeing all these pieces fit into place. Every emotion I’ve expressed has been honest. I’ve told you, I was infatuated with you from the first moment I saw you. The longer I spend with you, the deeper the connection I feel. How could I possibly know … You think I planned … I’m happy about this—this sordid whatever you want to call it? I may be dating and fantasizing about my own mother! My life is screwed all to hell and back. I can’t begin to tell you how many demons
I’m
trying to exorcise here! Since I met you …”

As the words refused to come out of his mouth he continued to try to talk with his hands, but they, too, were at a loss for words. Failing this, he dropped his hands and became still and silent. Without another word, he turned and walked off in the direction of his car.

Van watched him walk off and didn’t try to stop him. She was without offense or defense on her lips—cold, alone, and empty.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CONSEQUENCES

Her son.
Alive.
Van turned their last conversation over and over in her mind. Ryan had given her so many details that would be almost impossible to dig up—things that only her son would know. But he couldn’t be James. That was unfathomable. Still, every objection she silently raised, her gut instinct shot down with overwhelming force. The more she ignored the feeling, the stronger it grew.

She hadn’t heard a peep out of him since they argued on her front porch. As minutes turned to hours, she could hardly sit still, but since he was the one to stalk off, she was not going to call him. Inside her gnawed the feeling that he would return to New York and she would never see or hear from him again. She wasn’t sure she could handle that.

No matter what their relationship, Ryan was responsible for all the current evil in her little world of Nevis. She hated his duplicity. If he was at all sincere and who he claimed to be, he would have to fix things with HYA.

And so she went, around and around in mental and emotional turmoil. Finally, desperate to escape the torment of her own thoughts, she picked up the phone and dialed Jean. “Time to walk,” she said.

“Yeah, sure. Meet you out front in about fifteen minutes.”

If there was one constant that Van could rely on, it was that the beauty of Nevis grew with every change of day and season. Twilight had its own special quality. As the human world began to settle into silence, Mother Earth filled the sleepy coastal town with the sounds of croaking toad, piping bird, and rustling reed, with the soft breeze bringing in the warm scent of the bay. It was the time when Van and Jean could open their hearts to each other, whether rocking on Van’s porch or taking their nightly walk along the big loop around the town.

Nevis was a safe little town, and Van didn’t give the time of evening or the distance a second thought. People here still left doors unlocked and the keys in their car ignitions. As she and Jean met on the street, a quick glance at the sheer curtains in her neighbor’s house told her that Mr. Pickett could probably attest to her whereabouts should anyone need to know. She felt a little twinge of pity that a person’s life should be reduced to watching others live theirs. Everyone deserved the opportunity to live out their individual destiny. Mr. Pickett’s life had shrunk considerably since the death of his wife, Alice, but he had managed to survive. Still, he deserved more than a life with a little white poodle and a paranoid outlook. Van had been thinking a lot about destiny lately. James had been taken much too soon.

It was a short quiet walk down around the main part of town. Darkness had chased most of the locals inside. Jean and Van compared notes on which neighbors seemed willing to go for HYA’s jugular.

“I haven’t seen any more of Ryan,” Jean said as they walked past the darkened hardware store and Mac’s Pharmacy. Did he return to New York, or did you hire someone to kill his sorry ass?”

Van gave Jean a quick glance and decided that being less than forthcoming about Ryan’s latest personal revelations was the best way to handle her friend’s overexuberance. “I neither know nor care where he is. And no, I didn’t hire someone to put him out of my misery. For a minute there, I probably could have. I never saw that coming. He seemed so perfect.”

“They all do. That’s what makes them such insidiously evil creatures.”

Van burst out laughing. “No, they aren’t! Stop playing the woman scorned. You had a bad run of it, but they aren’t all bad.”

“Just remember what I said about a man complicating your life.”

“Oh, I haven’t forgotten. But Ryan is an opportunist, and what he did is unforgiveable. He says he wants to make things right. We’ll see. There’s no room for negotiation. It’s my way or the highway out of town and back to New York.” Van decided to change the course of the discussion into a less explosive area. “How’s it going for you? Has Marla called?”

“Mmm. I left her a message the other day inviting her over, but she hasn’t returned my call yet. So much resentment for one so young.” Jean shook her head sadly. “I can’t do anything right. Every time she blows me off, Pete wins—the bastard.”

“It’s not a game, Jean.”

“Yeah, I know, but I’d at least like to feel like I’m winning
some
of the time. Her dad can do no wrong, yet she just refuses to have a relationship with me. Life is so short.” Suddenly, Jean stopped and put her hand over her mouth. “Oh, Van, so sorry! I’m a thoughtless twit. Forgive me.”

Van put her arm around Jean and gave her a gentle squeeze “It’s okay. You don’t ever have to bite your tongue for me. Listening to you doesn’t make me feel any worse than I usually do about James. You have a beautiful daughter. Of course you want a relationship with her!”

They walked a few more minutes in silence before Van spoke again. “I noticed that Marla can be quite charming when she wants to be.”

Jean snorted. “I was hoping you weren’t paying attention when she was coming on to all the guys at the picnic—especially Ryan. I don’t understand why she has to act so cheap. I said something to her about it afterwards. Unless she sees a ring, she figures any guy is fair game. I will have to say, for all Ryan’s faults, he did seem to be completely smitten with you. He sidestepped Marla’s advances rather nicely—wasn’t interested in her at all. Besides, what does Marla have that you don’t have? Honestly, jaded as I am, I was almost rooting for him. He did make you happy.”

Van looked at Jean and cracked up. “It’s not working, but thanks anyway.”

“You’re welcome. You worry too much. You can’t change fate. If it’s meant to be, it’ll happen. Maybe we haven’t seen his true colors yet.”

Van gave no reply as they turned down a short side street to begin the return trip back up along the boardwalk. This end of town was quiet and deserted, the only sound a yapping dog in the distance.

“Jean, did you ever wish really hard for something that you wanted, and then when you got it, it wasn’t quite what you expected—and maybe you weren’t prepared to pay the price?”

“Hah! Haven’t we all?”

“I think it’s happened to …” Van’s voice trailed off, and she stopped walking. “What is all that commotion?”

They both stopped and peered around the corner. A hundred yards down the street, a crowd of people had gathered around two ambulances pulled up on the boardwalk, their lights firing the storefronts with an eerie, garish blue. There was a flurry of activity up and down the boardwalk. Gradually, as their eyes became accustomed to the pulsating lights, they could make out the form of a small white dog running frantically around the edge of the crowd.

Jean grabbed Van’s arm. “Isn’t that Susie, Ernest Pickett’s dog?” She clapped and called until she caught the little dog’s attention. The dog stopped momentarily before running straight for Jean, who grabbed the leash she was trailing, and scooped her up into her arms. “What are you doing out here alone, baby?” Where’s Daddy, huh? Aw, look, her name is on her collar in a little heart.”

“Don’t let her go, Jean. I’m sure Mr. Pickett will see us coming long before we see him. Come on, I want to see what’s going on up here.”

As the women drew closer, they got a better look at the small crowd gathered around the ambulances, their faces illuminated in the flashing beacons. Van tried to inch closer, but the gawkers and response personnel were holding a tight perimeter.

“Oh, my, they’re pulling a body out,” Van whispered to Jean. “Who is it?”

An older man turned and addressed her. “We think it’s one of those men down from New York.”

Van buckled at the knees and grasped at Jean’s sleeve to keep from going down. “Oh, dear God, is it Ryan? Not now, God! Don’t do this to me again!” She tried to push her way through the crowd to get a glimpse of the figure on the stretcher, but it was no use. Feeling suddenly nauseated, she put her hands on her knees.

“I’ve got to call Ryan,” she said. “Oh, God, please don’t let it be him. Please. Jean, help me move away from here. Please?”

They backed out of the crowd as Van frantically dialed Ryan’s cell phone. “Come on, answer!”

Ryan answered on the third ring.

“Ryan! Thank God you’re okay!”

“I’m about as okay as can be expected. I wasn’t sure we’d be talking again before I left. Van, I’m sorry I walked off like that, but I just don’t know what else to say to you.”

“Ryan, I had this horrible feeling …”

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Where are you?” she asked him.

“At the motel. Tell me what’s wrong, Van.”

“Hector—where’s Hector?”

“He’s not here. Van! No more information from me. What is wrong?”

“I’m okay, I’m okay.
I’m
okay. Hector, he’s … I think they just pulled his body out of the water near Betty’s bakery. I think he’s
dead,
Ryan.”