The Twilight Swimmer (37 page)

When the Swimmer’s fever finally abated, the doctors reluctantly agreed to let Conrad transport the patient to his home for further recovery. Still wrapped in bandages from head to toe, they moved the Swimmer after dark. His nurses wheeled him down the clinic corridor in a wheelchair too small for his long frame, then helped him to his feet and through the rear door of Conrad’s police cruiser, held open by Brandi. When the cruiser pulled away from the curb, the doctors watching from the lobby crossed their arms and sighed, quite certain they had once again lost their chance to study the patient at length. They knew they wouldn’t get another chance.

At the Vine house, they moved the Swimmer into Cody’s room. He was thrilled at the opportunity to give up his bed for their visitor, and happily dragged pillows and blankets down to the basement for his extended, indoor camping trip. The Swimmer could only fit on Cody’s bed diagonally, and his feet still dangled off the corner, but Sherri wouldn’t hear of making up a bed for their guest on the floor. Conrad suggested giving him their queen size bed, but Sherri’s hospitality had its limits. She still hadn’t heard the full story of the Swimmer’s heroics at the warehouse. No matter how much she pestered her three family members for more information, they all steadfastly refused to tell her the details. All she knew was that her husband trusted the young man enough to bring him into their house, and that would have to be good enough for her. That her son and daughter trusted their guest every bit as much helped make the strange situation that much more palatable. She chose not to question the need to cover all the windows in Cody’s room. Everyone else was so certain it was necessary, she thought she would look foolish if she challenged the notion.

When the time was right, Brandi took it upon herself to remove the Swimmer’s bandages. His skin had regained its pale coloration. There was no hint of the pink that had signified such pain and suffering. Pain and suffering he had endured for no reason but her safety. He had not only saved her life, he had risked his life to save hers.

“Does it hurt when I take them off? The bandages?” she asked.

The Swimmer shook his head, his lips parting in a delicate smile. He had been unable to speak comfortably with is face wrapped in gauze, and Brandi had begun to wonder if he had lost the ability.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his dry throat turning the words scratchy.

“You’re thanking
me
? That’s crazy,” she said, shaking her head. “But I guess you’re welcome. I mean, you
are
welcome. Don’t listen to me. I sound like an idiot.”

“I love the way you sound,” he said, his voice more clear. “Lovely.”

She unwrapped his arm, from the shoulder to his hand. When she pulled off the last bandage, he drummed his fingers on the mattress. Then he reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. His touch sent a shiver up her back, and brought a joyful tear to her eye.

The autumn came to an early end, and winter descended on Edgewater. Conrad and Brandi discussed the Swimmer’s progress after Sherri and Cody went to bed, speaking in hushed voices. They knew the Swimmer couldn’t stay with them forever. More important, they knew that the water was getting colder by the day. The window of opportunity for him to leave and rejoin the others of his kind was fast closing. If they were going to return him to the sea, they would have to do so soon.

And then the conversation turned to Dallas. Brandi knew this conversation had to happen, and was amazed her father had waited so long to broach the subject. The rest of the people in town might be willing to accept a degree of mystery about his passing, but Conrad had seen the body for himself. He had to know the truth. Brandi told him everything she knew. She told him about Jenny and Dallas. She told him about the photographs in Dallas’s closet. She told him about being bound at the ankles and wrists and taken out to the warehouse, where Dallas had every intention of taking her life. Her father held up his hand at that point, needing a minute to compose himself before she went on. When he finally gestured for Brandi to continue, she told him about Dallas’s hands squeezing her throat. And then, at last, she told him about the Swimmer’s arrival at the warehouse door. She told him about the screams she heard from within the warehouse, and the gunshots, and the sound of Dallas’s body being hurled again and again even after his screaming finally stopped. She looked down and saw that her father was clutching the edge of the table with such force it looked ready to break off in his hand. She placed her on own hand on top of his, to calm him.

“I’d like about ten minutes alone with my young deputy in that warehouse, too. Ten minutes. Just me and him, that son of a bitch.”

They sat in silence for a long time before Conrad finally spoke again.

“Tomorrow night,” he said. “Tomorrow night.”

The next day, Cody sensed that something was about to happen. He took up position outside of his bedroom, refusing to go downstairs for a meal or even to go to the bathroom. He was convinced that if he left the Swimmer for even a moment, he would return to find the mysterious hero gone, never to return. Brandi plopped down beside Cody in the hallway. In a sympathetic tone, she explained to him that the Swimmer’s time with them needed to come to an end. It was best for him to return to the ocean, where he would not only be happier, but he would also be safe from the prying eyes of inquisitive neighbors who had taken a rather high volume of walks past their house in recent weeks, sometimes armed with cameras. Cody listened to his sister carefully, at first restless and ready to argue. But as she went on, he came to understand the truth of her words. He asked her if he could say goodbye to the Swimmer before they took him home. Brandi swung upon the bedroom door and closed it behind Cody, allowing him to spend a few minutes alone with the Swimmer. She was tempted to press her ear against the door and eavesdrop, but chose, instead, to walk down the hall to her own room.

By midnight, a light snow had begun to fall. Conrad watched it drifting down though the kitchen window, his face screwed up with concern. Brandi stood beside him, waiting for him to announce a decision. “Doesn’t matter,” he said. “Tonight is the night.”

Sherri was sound asleep when they backed the cruiser out of the driveway, but Brandi looked up at Cody’s window and was not surprised to see her brother looking down at them. The Swimmer leaned toward the backseat window so he could look up at Cody, and he raised his hand as if to wave. But instead of waving, he pressed his palm against the glass. It went blue, glowing brilliantly. In the front seat, Conrad stared in his side mirror at the miracle of biology seated behind him. He was so distracted, he forgot he was driving the car, and nearly backed directly into the trashcans at the foot of the driveway. At the last moment, Brandi grabbed the wheel and yanked the cruiser back on course. Conrad thanked her with a sheepish grin.

They drove well south of town to make sure they were clear of any locals out hunting or setting traps despite the late hour. They had chosen a particular beach as the best place to return the Swimmer, both for its seclusion and for the relatively calm water it would provide. He was healed from his wounds, but after spending so much time in bed he was sure to be weak. They thought it would be unwise to cast him off into harsh seas, no matter how familiar an environment it was for him. As they traveled down a bumpy back road on their way to the beach, Conrad turned on his wipers to clear the windshield of the snowflakes sliding down the glass. In the backseat, the Swimmer leaned forward to get a better look at the wipers, hypnotized by their gentle rhythm. Brandi turned in her seat, watching his gray eyes pinned wide by the minor spectacle.

It made her smile. It made her sad.

Finally, they reached the beach. There was nowhere to park the cruiser but the road, so they had to walk the final quarter mile over uneven ground before the water was in view. The Swimmer was between them, in case his legs gave out, but it was an unnecessary precaution. Not only was he strong enough to support his own weight, he seemed to grow stronger the closer he got to the sea. The tide was high on the beach, lapping up around their feet. Brandi felt the cold water splash over a rock and dampen her pant leg. Like ice on her skin. The Swimmer’s feet were bare. He wore only a pair of pajamas provided by Conrad when he first moved into their house. He looked rather comical in that getup, snow falling on his shoulders and melting on his warm, pale skin.

“I’ll be in the car,” said Conrad. He glanced at Brandi and gave her a reassuring nod, then extended his hand to the Swimmer. The Swimmer had never shaken a hand before, but he understood that it was an important gesture and allowed Conrad to pump his arm up and down several times. Then Conrad gave Brandi’s elbow a squeeze and strode back up the beach, disappearing over the low hill shielding the water from the road.

Brandi turned to face the water, shoulder-to-shoulder with the Swimmer. She was pleased when she felt him reach for her hand and lace his fingers through hers. She could feel heat coming off his body, chasing away the chill the cold night had put in her. They stood quietly for a long time, watching the waves crash, nothing left to say. Nothing worth saying if it meant spoiling this perfect, melancholy goodbye.

He let go of her hand and brought his palm to her cheek. He leaned down and kissed her cheek so softly she barely felt it, would not have felt it at all if not for the warmth it left on her skin. And then he sprinted into the water, stripping off her father’s pajamas as he ran, and dove into the surf. She thought she could see his long, pale figure slicing through the waves on a mad dash for deeper water, but the falling snow obscured her view and she couldn’t be sure.

He was gone. Gone for good.

She was sure of that.

Brandi spent the next few weeks in her bedroom. The room she had shared for so many years with Jenny. It was more full of memories now than at any other time that Brandi could remember. Everywhere she looked, she saw something that reminded her of Jenny. A corner where her sister had performed a silly dance to cheer Brandi up. An item of clothing the girls had shared, never able to decide which one of them wore it better. And there, in the closet. Jenny’s doll.

One night, after her mother tried yet again to persuade Brandi to come out of the room and join the family for a meal, Brandi answered that she would be right down. Her mother was so surprised, and so delighted, she started to laugh on the other side of the door. Brandi listened to her mother, already regretting her decision to leave off her self-imposed isolation this particular night. But no, it was wrong of her to feel that way. Her mother had been so patient with her. It must have been very difficult, these past weeks. This past year, in fact. The least she could do was go down for dinner and put a smile on her face, even if she wasn’t quite sure she could smile sincerely so soon after the Swimmer had disappeared forever.

Brandi went to the closet. She took down Jenny’s doll and flipped it over. She opened the battery hatch and removed the memory card from Kelly’s digital camera, the card that held photos of the Swimmer. She took out the second memory card she had lifted from Cody’s camera the night of his daring adventure. She stared at the two memory cards, unsure what to do with them. They were all she had to remember the Swimmer. Surely she had to keep them.

And yet, there was something else she still had to remind her of him. Her life. Cody’s life. They owed both lives to him. How could they ever forget? With that thought in mind, she wedged both memory cards between her desk and the wall then bent them backward until they snapped.

              When she arrived downstairs and headed into the dining room, she skidded to a halt. Her father was sitting in his usual chair, as was Cody, fiddling with a handheld videogame. Her mother was flitting back and forth, from the kitchen to the table, delivering dish after piping dish of food that could not be much better than edible. She had expected all of these sights. But she had not expected to find a fourth person sitting at the table, chatting animatedly with her family.

             
But there Spider was, sitting bolt upright in the chair last used by Dallas on another surprise dinner visit. He was in the middle of telling a story to Conrad, and to Brandi’s great surprise Conrad appeared to be enjoying the young man’s hyperactive monologue. Not even Spider’s flailing arms, so close to knocking over glasses of milk and water, could dampen Conrad’s spirits as he listened. But when Spider caught sight of Brandi out of the corner of his eye, he abandoned his riveting tale mid-sentence and sprung up from his chair.

             
“Hey, look who came down!” he exclaimed. “I thought this day would never come.”

             
“Mom didn’t tell me you were down here.”

             
“Oh, I’m always down here. Waiting for you.” He turned to Conrad. “How many nights in a row, now? Six? Seven?”

             
Conrad chuckled. “I don’t know. The first few nights were rough enough that I’ve blocked them out.”

             
“I grow on everyone, eventually. Even cops.” Spider hustled around the end of the table and pulled out Brandi’s chair, holding the chair back eagerly, waiting for her to sit so he could slide it under her like a gentleman. “Even cop’s daughters.”

             
Brandi stepped up to the chair and sat down, allowing Spider to adjust the seat under her before retaking his own seat. He propped his elbows on the edge of the table and rested his chin on his fists. “Mrs. V, if this food tastes as good as it smells, I think I’ll propose to your daughter right now so I don’t ever have to leave.”