A Sea Change (14 page)

Chap
ter Fourteen

“So, we’re set for tomorrow morning?” Nick was hunkered down on the deck of Number 57, watching John Messner rebuild a carburetor. “Nine okay with you?”

“No problem.” The Stadium High gym teacher wiped the sweat off his forehead. “It’s summer and my time’s my own. I wanna find this guy before Marcie drives me crazy with her worrying. ‘What if he’s hurt? What if he’s starving?’” John mimicked his wife. He grinned up at Nick. “Besides, I always wanted to be on a posse, Marshall Patrick.”

Nick stood. “I’ll be sure to polish up that badge for you, deputy.”

Including himself, that made five in the search party. Over the past week the residents had stepped up their efforts to catch the burglar, the consensus being ‘There’s someone down here who needs our help, and how can we do that if we can’t see him?’

Nick stepped off the deck and onto the path to head home when a shriek raised the hair at the nape of his neck, and snapped his head around. It had come from Number 58, and with the second screech, Nick was flinging open Emily DeMille’s front door. He raced toward the back of the house, his heart pounding wildly.

Nick checked the kitchen. Nothing. He grabbed a knife from the dish strainer just as another noise came from Emily’s dining room. Nick paused at the threshold, frantically trying to put together a course of action, when he suddenly heard a snort and then gales of laughter. He peered inside, and fear turned to anger.

“Jesus H. Christ!”

Emily and Maddy, tears of glee running down their faces, turned stunned eyes on him.

“You two scared the crap out of me.”

Nick entered the room, still clutching the knife, but he couldn’t quite comprehend what he was seeing.

Maddy was collapsed on the floor behind a tripod and camera, and when she got a good look at Nick’s shocked face, began laughing again. Emily sat at the elegantly laid table – a complete tea service before her – giggling uncontrollably, and dressed as if she were going to meet the Queen. Scones and tea cakes littered the floor.

Nick took all of this in, and then heard a low growl. He looked up and saw C.B. clinging to the chandelier, wearing a doll-sized tuxedo. His fur – what Nick could see of it – stood up in every direction.

“What in the name of holy hell is going on?”

“Family portrait,” Maddy said between gasps.

Nick shook his head and thought about turning the knife on himself. “Sometimes I think I’m the only sane person down here.”

Emily tried to speak. “Everything was…It was going splendidly, until…” She held up a tiny top hat, elastic dangling from the brim, and started chortling again.

On seeing the offending article, C.B. let out a yowl and sprang off the light fixture. He landed on the table. When he finally got enough purchase to tear out of the dining room, he took most of the pink damask tablecloth with him, sending china, silverwave, and a small lemon tart flying. The latter landed on Nick’s shoulder, upside down.

Emily’s hand flew up to cover her mouth, but Maddy wasn’t as quick, and she fell on her back with a howl of laughter.

Nick, attempting to maintain some kind of dignity, looked down at Maddy for a moment. “We can make this cleanup easy…” He reached across the table and picked up a small crystal bowl filled with whipped cream. “Or not. You have less than five seconds to decide.”

“You wouldn’t really have dumped that bowl of cream on me, would you?” Maddy let Nick take the tripod from her, as she hefted the camera bag onto her shoulder. One look at his face and she said, “Let me put that another way.” They walked along the shadowed path. “You wouldn’t have done that to me, and assumed you’d go on living.”

Nick snorted. “Like you could take me.”

Maddy smiled to herself, but didn’t bite. “So, you’re going burglar hunting tomorrow. Can I come?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“’Cause it’s a guy thing.”

He looked at Maddy to gauge her reaction. He wasn’t disappointed. She glanced at him, one eyebrow arched, and then picked up her pace. Nick trailed after Maddy and watched her pony-tailed hair switch in counterpoint to her hips.
And sweetheart, you’re no guy.

He called her name.

She turned, but kept walking backwards.

“I was kidding,” he said. “If you really want to come along, you’re welcome.”

“That’s better.” She stopped and waited for him to catch up.

They travelled the rest of the path in silence.

At her door, Maddy said, “What would you say to a beer?”

“Where’ve you been all my life.”

Nick slowly crossed the deck, the cold bottle pressed to his neck. Leaning back against the railing, he watched Maddy water the plants. “So, this photography thing is something you’re serious about?”

She shrugged, then said, “It used to be.”

“But?”

“But, nothing.” Maddy turned her back to him, taking an extraordinary interest in the petunias. “It’s not worth talking about.”

“Judging from the amount of equipment you have, I’d say it is.” She didn’t respond. “Maddy?” He moved nearer, his fingers gently closing around her upper arm. “Come on, Maddy. Look at me.” When she faced him, he said, “I want to know about you. And since neither one of us seems to want to get into the personal stuff, I figured maybe you’d talk to me about this part of your life.”

Maddy could hear Mary Delfino’s voice, telling her to be herself, and she took a deep breath. Her hand came up and touched Nick’s cheek. “I won’t pretend this is easy for me. And I expect something from you in return.”

He nodded once.

“Wait here,” she said.

Nick sat at the redwood table and drained his beer. What could he give her in exchange that wouldn’t cause panic to course through his body? But he didn’t have enough time to think about it.

She returned with a box held together with strapping tape. The original label –
A Gift from Cascade Orchards
– had been X-ed out with black magic marker, and printed under that was
M.V.P. – Photos.
Maddy set it on the table and sat across from him. He didn’t fail to notice she now wore sunglasses. Nick knew that trick all too well, but let it go. He understood wanting to hide.

“I don’t quite know where to start,” she said.

“It doesn’t matter. Just talk to me.”

Maddy stared at the faraway traffic on the Narrows Bridge and thought how like watching television with the sound turned off it was. It calmed her. She could feel her breaths come less shallow, her pulse slowed to a more normal rate.

“Did you ever find something in your life that you knew you were meant to do? Something you just stumbled into – had never thought about before – and everything just fell into place?”

Nick knew her question was rhetorical, and waited for her to continue. If he told her he knew exactly what she was talking about, he’d have to explain. And even thinking about playing baseball was like ripping off a scab.

“Well, that’s how it was with photography,” she went on. “I started in high school. And I was good. I won a few statewide awards. Ended up Head Photographer on the newspaper and the yearbook. In college, I took a couple of advanced classes just for the hell of it.”

Nick watched as Maddy allowed herself to open to the memories. She smiled wistfully. That smile caused the dimple in her left cheek to appear. He wanted to kiss that spot.

She came out of her reverie and looked at him.

“Tell me about doing it. What was it like?” he asked.

Maddy exhaled, and shook her head. “Hard to explain. Taking the pictures is fun, but the darkroom is where I love to be. The magic always amazes me. You’ve got this blank sheet of paper, and suddenly there’s a face, or a landscape, where before there was nothing.” Her body grew animated with the telling. “It’s this incredible feeling of control. I’m Maddy Phillips, and I can point and focus the lens, push the shutter, develop the film. Crop and print the negative however I want. And there’s a moment in time stopped forever.”

 She was pulling folders out of the box, handing the mounted photographs to Nick.

“See this barn? It stood in that field for probably a hundred and fifty years. It finally fell a couple of years ago, but there it is in the picture. Proof it once had a purpose.” Maddy tore it from Nick’s hand, and gave him another. “I took this at the petting zoo back in ’73.”

He looked into the face of a little girl holding a baby chick. Her huge eyes were obviously clear blue, even in the black and white photo. She was a child caught in the act of being delighted.

“Isn’t she something? To me, she’ll always be this beautiful little girl, but doesn’t it make you wonder what happened to her? Did she go to college, or get married? Or did she end up lost on the streets?”

Nick looked at picture after picture. Even his untrained eye saw Maddy’s gift for photography. They were technically perfect. Many were very simple. But they contained something special that gave them their warmth. Nick guessed the something special was Maddy herself.

“I don’t know anything about photography, but I think these are great,” Nick said. “Why…” Then he stopped himself. The question hung between them in the hot, windless evening. “Sorry. You don’t have to say anything else.”

“No. I need to finish this.” Maddy leafed through a proof-sheet notebook, not really seeing the hundreds of tiny photographs. “One day, in my junior year, my professor took me aside and told me I was wasting my time on a degree from U.W. That there were special schools - prestigious schools - that would put me ahead of the game. He set up interviews at Brooks Institute in Santa Barbara and The Art Center in Pasadena. I’d heard of them but never really thought I could make a living doing what I loved.”

“It happens,” Nick said, afraid to give himself away, but wanting to bring Maddy’s dream back to life.

“So I’ve heard,” Maddy replied, with a touch of bitterness. “Anyway, I went on those interviews and was accepted to both schools on my portfolio alone. I was thrilled. Even my parents got excited once they realized I could make money doing something they considered a hobby. By that time I was their only…” She froze. She’d nearly invoked Danny’s ghost.

Nick waited, but he knew Maddy wasn’t going to finish that sentence. Her shallow breaths told him she was suddenly scared, and he said, “I get the impression you never went to either of those schools.”

She nodded. “The wait to get into Brooks was a year and a half. The Art Center, even longer. I was willing to do it, though. So I moved down to Santa Barbara, rented a room, got a job. But I wanted to get some money put away; help my parents pay for part of the tuition. I figured I’d gotten really lucky when I found part-time office work at a double-A ball club down there. You know  ̶  I was getting paid
and
getting free game tickets.” Maddy’s laugh was anything but mirthful. “That’s when I met Ted. And that’s where the story ends. I had to make a choice, and I stupidly chose Ted.”

They sat in silence. It was well past dinnertime, but the sun still blazed over the Olympics. Nick looked at Maddy, while she turned her head to gaze across the Narrows. She swallowed hard, and her jaw tightened.

Nick stood up and walked around to her side of the table. He straddled the small bench, planting himself in her line of sight. “Maddy.” He took her hand in his. “That’s not the end of the story, and you know it.”

“I suppose. When I was unpacking, I found it all again. All my equipment was just waiting for me. But I’m not twenty-two anymore. I’ll never be what I could’ve been.”

Nick suddenly understood how lucky he’d been. No matter how it had ended, at least he’d lived his dream. But Maddy hadn’t gotten that chance.

“If there was some way I could give it all back to you, I would,” he said. “But you can still take pictures. If doing that makes you feel alive, then go for it.”

“I don’t have any place to work, Nick. And I can’t afford to rent darkroom space. I need to be able to print them myself. I need to have that control. Otherwise, it’s meaningless.” Her smile was melancholy as she said, “It’s okay, Nick. Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For listening. For caring. No one has for a really long time.”

Nick let his hand slip from hers and reached up to remove her sunglasses. He wondered how many years it had been since she’d shared her photographs with anyone, and he said, “Maybe I should be thanking you.” The flicker of gratitude she showed him in that unguarded moment was suddenly snuffed out, and Maddy quickly looked away.

She made a point of checking her watch, saying, “God, it’s late, Nick. And I still have some work to do for Jaed.” She became a whirlwind of activity, stacking prints, shoving them into folders, piling them back in the box.

“Hey.” Nick’s fingers around her wrist stopped her. “They’re safe with me.”

“I know that,” she said, not looking up.

“I don’t think you do.”

“Yes,” she replied. “I do.” Maddy turned to face him.

The golden light turned her eyes the color of mellow sherry. And there was something else in them he hadn’t noticed until now. Small, green flecks glittered in their amber background. Unprepared for the effect they had on him, Nick suddenly couldn’t think, let alone speak. So he did the only thing he was capable of doing. He brought his lips to her cheek. Her eyes closed, and he kissed their lids.

“You’re safe with me, Maddy,” he whispered against her skin and she made a small, strangled sound. Her arms went around his neck. Nick pulled her closer. They stood that way for minutes, and then she finally let him go.

Late that night, as he lay naked on top of the covers praying for any little breeze, an idea came to Nick that made him smile. Pulling on a pair of shorts, he padded barefoot into the kitchen and opened one of the drawers. Nick removed the box that held all the spare keys and found one labeled “Wash House,” then went out the front door.

The security light came on, illuminating the door of the old shed. He hadn’t been inside since he’d first moved in. The key easily slipped into the padlock.

Please let me remember right.

The door creaked open, and Nick stepped inside. He reached up, his fingers found the chain, and he smiled as the dim bulb came on. And when rusty water ran into the ancient cement washtub, he whispered, “This is gonna surprise the hell out of Maddy.”