Firefly Beach (43 page)

“I already did, smart guy. First thing this morning. It’s why they’re making me sit in this thing. So I don’t keel over.” Standing up, he gave a macho stretch and pushed the chair away. “How do you feel?”

“Great. You?”

“Great.”

The brothers smiled at their lies. Bowled over by the emotion, by how close they had come to death, they stared at each other.

They shook hands, and it turned into more of a clasp—the closest they would let themselves come to a hug. They were bandaged and bruised, broken open and stitched back. They had each nearly died trying to save the other. Gazing at each other now, they seemed to be taking inventory, making sure the other was in one piece.

Sam choked down a lump in his throat. Joe had his arm all bandaged, in a sling, pressed tight against his chest. Even in his hospital gown he had that tough-guy look that Sam in his wildest dreams would never have. A pretty blond nurse came in to check Sam’s blood pressure, but at the sight of Joe, she lost interest. She ended up adjusting Joe’s sling. Joe just stood there, curling his lip at her, looking mean to hide the fact he had nearly cried.

“Joe, you know you ought to be sitting in that chair,” the nurse said, dimpling. She pulled Joe’s hand, and he pulled back. “Just because they didn’t use general anesthesia this morning doesn’t mean your body isn’t weakened. Now, sit!”

Joe just shook his head. He did it politely, but with a definite “get out of here” subtext in his baby-blues. The nurse blushed, patted his arm, forgot all about the task she was supposed to perform on Sam.

“So,” Sam said, watching her leave the room. “What was that you were trying to say to me before the wreck collapsed?”

“Say to you? I was thanking you for trying to stick your air in my mouth.”

“No, before that. Before you practically strangled yourself with your air hose, trying to bludgeon the shark. It was a blacktip, by the way. Rare for northern waters, but certainly not a danger to man. Actually, I enjoyed observing it.”

“Bullshit. It was a mako. Worst shark in this region.”

“Blacktip.”

“Going straight for your jugular.”

Sam shook his head. “Harmless species. But thanks anyway.”

“Damn biologist.” Joe said. “You’re welcome. Thanks for the air.”

“Anytime. So.” Sam took a deep breath. He pictured Joe before he entered the wreck. Treading water, grinning widely, mouthing the words
Black Hall
. For those first bad hours, lying unconscious or close to it, Sam had basked in the salvation of thinking that his brother had made him a promise.

Sam’s body was healing, but so was his spirit. Because he had convinced himself that Joe had been trying to tell him something. By saying
Black Hall
he was really saying
Yale
. He had made a decision to give up treasure hunting, stay in New England, be near Caroline and Sam. Sam felt himself grinning, and he couldn’t stop.

“When were you going to tell me?” Sam asked.

“Tell you what?”

“Caroline.”

Joe turned red. He tried to suppress the smile, but he couldn’t. He nodded, a wry look on his face. “Yeah,” he said.

“You’re in love with her? That’s what’s going on?”

“It’s true,” Joe said, sighing as his grin got bigger.

“And you’re gonna move in with her?”

“What?” Joe asked, the grin disappearing.

“
Black Hall.
” Sam said, smiling so hard it made his temples burn, his skull throb, his ears ache.

“What are you talking about?”

“I saw you, underwater,” Sam said, the smile dissipating a little. He wanted Joe to get it out, tell him that he’d changed his mind, decided to stay. That their little brush with death had hastened a conversion that was already under way, that he was finally figuring out what was important in life.

“Yeah?” Joe asked, waiting for a hint.

“You said
Black Hall
. As if you were trying to tell me something.”

Joe frowned. “When we first went down? Before I entered the wreck?”

“Yes, then.”

“I was saying ‘Go over there,’ ‘Wait out here,’ ” Joe said. “Something like that. I didn’t want you inside the wreck while we were bringing out the gold. I thought it’d be too dangerous.”

“You mean you’re not gonna go to Yale?”

“I told you, Sam—”

“But I thought…” Sam trailed off. He stared at the window. Somehow he had imagined that Caroline was going to change everything. He had seen the way Joe behaved around her, turning nicer and acting as if he were finally chucking off the old armor. Finally letting his guard down enough to fall in love. Sam had thought Caroline would keep him here.

“I told you, I’m not a teacher. You’re the smart one. I’m not cut out for university life, doing research and lecturing students.” Joe paused. “Not even at Yale.”

Sam pulled his glasses off. His head was really starting to pound; the whales were at it again. Love and a headache, the combination made him think of his sailing accident. He had been in love for the first time, and he had lost the girl. True, he had only been eight. But now, losing Joe, he felt himself going into a tailspin.

“Sam?” Joe said, his voice too soft.

“What?”

“It has nothing to do with you. If I were going to teach, I’d want to do it with you.”

“Yeah.”

“I would, kid.”

“Just forget it, Joe.”

“We’re going to see more of each other. I promise.”

“You always say that,” Sam said, sinking into his pillow. He was still weak and tired; he felt it now. He didn’t even have the backbone to act his age, pretend he didn’t care that Joe was going to leave again, go somewhere halfway around the world and see Sam only when Sam made the effort.

“I’m kinda tired,” Sam tried to say. The words came out garbled.

“I mean it, Sam,” Joe said. Sam’s eyes were closed, but he felt his brother squeeze his hand. “This time it’s going to be different.”

Augusta lay in her hospital bed, drifting in and out of sleep. She had a concussion, and had suffered two seizures. An earthquake and two aftershocks, she thought of them. Her head ached terribly, but she refused to let anyone know. Caroline was sitting beside her bed, watching Augusta with that clear, steady gaze the whole family had come to rely on. The sight of her flooded Augusta with such gratitude she gave a big smile even though she had taken her bridge out.

“Caroline,” she said, the word coming out as a croak.

“Are you thirsty, Mom?” Caroline asked.

“A little,” Augusta said. She let Caroline push the button to raise her head, the little motor humming inside the bed. She opened her mouth as Caroline tilted the glass, poured a trickle of ice water into her parched throat. She swallowed, opened her mouth for more.

Caroline supported her head so carefully. She watched like an eagle, making sure Augusta didn’t dribble on her chin. When Augusta had finished drinking, Caroline wiped her lips with a tissue. Augusta almost couldn’t bear it, the love in her oldest daughter’s eyes. When Augusta had given so little in return.

“Here we are,” Augusta said.

“You and me,” Caroline said, smiling.

“Toothless and bald,” Augusta said. She was too tired to feel vain. They had shaved her head to stitch the cut, and she didn’t have the energy to wear her bridge. All she wanted to do was sleep.

“You’re still beautiful, Mom,” Caroline said.

Augusta shook her head, but she felt better to hear it.

“How is Skye?” Augusta asked. “Have you seen her today?”

“She’s fine,” Caroline said.

Augusta nodded, looking away.

“What, Mom?”

“I almost feel…I don’t have the right to ask,” she said. “We turned you over to the universe a long time ago. Why should I think I can get you back now?”

“‘We’?”

“Your father and I.”

“Oh, Mom,” Caroline said. “You didn’t pawn us.”

Augusta waited for her to sav more, but she didn’t. Why should she? Caroline just didn’t want to hurt her mother by agreeing with the truth: that Augusta had been a selfish mother, unwilling and unable to go through the hard parts of life with her three daughters. Wanting only the art and the parties, the love and the fun and their father. Augusta blinked, to focus her blurry vision.

“Mom, get well,” Caroline said, such warmth in her black-pearl eyes. “Don’t think about bad things right now. We need you at home.”

“Have you ever needed me?” Augusta asked without rancor. “I can’t see why. I was a terrible mother.”

“That’s not true,” Caroline said, her smile growing wider. She meant it, Augusta could see. She felt tired, nearly exhausted from the effort of simply staying awake. Sleep was coming, she could feel it deep inside herself.

“Do you know, I’ve been lying here, thinking about it all. They’re giving me medication that makes me so drowsy. But I think about you girls, and your father and me, and I keep trying to figure it all out. How it all turned out so wrong. As if there’s one little piece missing, and if I can just get to it…”

“It didn’t turn out all wrong,” Caroline said.

“Our messy lives. We loved you girls so much. That much I know. He wanted so desperately to protect you. And when he couldn’t, he turned away. There wasn’t anything I could do to stop him.”

Caroline touched her mother’s forehead, soothing the worry out of it.

“What good does it do?” Caroline asked. “Thinking of that? It’s over, Mom. Just get better.”

“One little piece,” Augusta said “I just want to put it all together.”

When the time came for Joe to leave the hospital, he didn’t really have anyplace to go. He had chartered the
Meteor
out to a group of physical oceanographers from Woods Hole. They intended to record wave anomalies in the Atlantic Ocean—measure the heights and periods of standard waves, hoping for the occasional rogue. They were willing to pick up the
Meteor
in Black Hall and drop it off in Piraeus, doing their research as they crossed the Atlantic.

Fine with Joe. He felt relieved to have the
Meteor
on her way over. He had to be in Greece by the first of October, Mykonos by the seventh. The weather would be favorable then, the water clear. His operation was a joint venture with an archaeologist out of Marseilles. Their permit covered thirty days, and the Greek government was not known to be flexible with extensions.

Caroline had invited him to stay with her until he left.

Joe had hesitated. Not because he didn’t love her or want to spend his last days in New England with her, but because he didn’t want to hurt her. He knew he would leave Black Hall as soon as Sam was better, as soon as they let him out of the hospital. He had told that to Caroline. She had listened, taking it all in, then said she knew, she didn’t care, she wanted him to stay anyway. Skye was staying at her house too. Not wanting her to return alone to Firefly Hill, Caroline had convinced her to stay in the guest room.

Joe and Caroline sat on her porch glider. The night was warm, and haze hung low in the marsh. Caroline wore a white cotton dress. Joe was slouched down at one end of the glider, and Caroline leaned against his chest, away from his sore arm. Homer lay at her feet, his head resting on folded paws, utterly content to be with Caroline.

“It’s so quiet,” Caroline said.

“It is,” Joe said, playing with her hair.

“Sam looked good today. He liked the brownies Clea made him.”

“Sam’s in love with Clea,” Joe said. “If Peter weren’t such a good guy, I believe Sam would try to steal her.”

“Everyone loves Sam,” Caroline said.

“Even you?” Joe asked.

“He’s my buddy,” Caroline said. “I like that, the way our families go—”

“Go what?”

“I was going to say together,” Caroline said quietly.

Joe nodded. His chest felt tight, the way it did when he stayed underwater for too long. That afternoon Peter had asked him about Greece, and Joe had felt the tendons in his shoulder start to throb as he thought about leaving.

“I like your family too. Skye and Clea.” He grinned. “Your mother…”

“She’s very polite about you staying here,” Caroline said, smiling. “But I think it’s because she knows it’s not going to be for very long.”