Gooseberry Island (2 page)

Inside the foyer, the sanitized smell of pine oil competed with the rank stench of urine. The residents—homeless-looking men, their fingers stained yellow and brown from smoking hand-rolled cigarettes down to the very end—loitered at the top of the front stairs. Unshaven and hygienically challenged, these were men who’d once passed inspections, stressing over a single smudge on spit-shined boots or brass insignia. Now half-dressed in clothing and pajamas, each pathetic package was wrapped up in a government-issued, striped cotton robe. Footwear included boots or slippers—with the occasional pair of wing tips thrown in—but anything seemed to work with the ensemble. And although each one of them looked miserable, they still appeared happier than the folks who worked there.

Moans and groans were broken by the occasional whimper. Lindsey dared a look into some of their eyes and, as usual, wished she hadn’t. They were filled with such pain, souls lost long ago in trenches and rice paddies and barren deserts.

Most of the patients were numbed by enough chemicals to silence their screams and paralyze their convulsions.
Government-trained killing machines that have been broken and are now stored in red-bricked warehouses
, Lindsey thought.

“Three squares and a cot, and all the pills your liver can process,” Lindsey’s dad said, breaking her hideous train of thought.

She shook her head but silently agreed.
We’re back in the land of the living poltergeists
, she thought, and turned to her father after he’d checked in. “Okay, Pop, I’ll call you tomorrow to…”

“Just don’t leave me here,” he begged, the terror in his eyes making him look like a young, desperate child.

“I won’t, Pop.”

“Please, Linds,” he repeated, his eyes as wide as dinner plates.

“I won’t,” she promised, and watched as he dragged his feet down a long yellow corridor, only to disappear behind a cold, gray door that she’d never want to visit.

It was David’s last Wednesday night on the island when he met Coley for their weekly game of billiards.

“Whose break?” David asked.

“Let’s flip for it,” Coley said. “I’ve got heads.” He watched his quarter spin end-over-end until it landed tails side up. “Damn it! Every time.”

“Didn’t you wear that sweater to the eighth grade dance?” David teased Coley, as he broke the rack of balls with one quick jerk of the wrist.

Coley laughed. “Did you hear the story about the guy who got divorced and was court-ordered to pay off his wife with a boatload of money?” he asked.

David shook his head and put the four ball into the corner pocket.

Coley went on. “He used a dump truck to deliver her alimony…in pennies.”

David’s brow wrinkled in disbelief.

“It’s true,” Coley said. “She brought him back to court, but there was nothing the judge could do. It was legal tender, and the exact amount he owed her. Now how perfect is that?”

“It figures you’d like that story,” David said, and shot the three ball into the side pocket.

Coley smirked. “You’re too straight-laced. You were the same way when we were kids.”

“Sure, Coley. And if it means anything, you haven’t changed either.”

Coley started to grin but stopped. “You’re right. And I’m never going to change,” he vowed. “I can’t help that I’m addicted to romance.”

“You mean sex, right?”

With a giant smile, Coley nodded.

David couldn’t get over it.
Coley’s as shallow as a puddle and he still scores big with the ladies.
His childhood friend was always tanned and his hair was perfect.
But inside, his heart’s an echo chamber.
Coley always used the same lines on women, and he always brought them on the same date: a walk down the beach, wine, poetry, candlelight. “I want to wait,” most would say when it was time to get intimate. Coley would smile. “I like you a lot,” he’d whisper, “and I really want this to be something you’ll never forget…or regret.”
Pathetic,
David thought,
but it works every time
. One woman even told him, “This was the perfect date.” Coley never batted an eye. “It should be,” he replied. “It’s taken me years to perfect it.” David just couldn’t understand. While women rejected scores of sweet-hearted guys, they loved his soul-less friend. At first, David supposed that sincerity just didn’t go over, that perhaps self-centeredness did. He finally decided, though, that women loved a challenge. Every one of them wanted to convert the player into a faithful man.

“How can you beat it when everything is fresh and new and no matter what you do—it’s for the first time?” Coley asked.

“But it’s only a fleeting phase,” David said, sinking his next shot, “no more important or exciting than any other phase. From what I’ve seen, it’s a real relationship only if you have to really work at it.”

“You’re sad,” Coley teased, “didn’t I teach you anything? Variety is the spice of life!”

David smiled, eyed up the eight ball and sank it right in the side to take the first win. “Trust me, Coley, the fire that attracts you in the beginning is the same flame that’ll burn you in the end.”

Through all the conquests, the excuses, and break-ups, the truth always caught up. In the end, Coley could never be what he wasn’t. Even his best lies could only buy him temporary joy.

“Whatever,” Coley said, racking another game.

“Well said,” David teased before smashing the rack of balls to all four corners of the pool table. “I’m going for a long run on North Beach tomorrow. You want to join me?”

“Not a chance,” Coley said. “I’m sleeping in.”

David missed his next shot and leaned his chin on the pool cue. “Those days are over for me for a while.”

Coley nodded solemnly. “Your brother says your going-away party should be one to remember,” he said.

“Craig told me,” David said. “Hopefully, we can all stay out of jail.”

Coley laughed. “I told him to make sure there are plenty of women there.”

“That would be nice.”

Coley shook his head. “You wouldn’t have time for a girl now anyway.”

“Trust me,” David said, smiling, “I’d make the time.”

At the crack of dawn, David pulled up to the North Beach marina in his convertible and parked. Dressed in sweats, he jumped out—his running shoes still unlaced. On the water, a father and his young son were sailing toward the island. For no particular reason, David waved. They both waved back.

On land, with the exception of a few sweater-wearing stragglers strolling along the beach, Captain Eli was the only other person in the world. The old, black sea captain was mending tattered fishing nets aboard his run-down vessel,
Serendipity
. David stepped onto the dock and visited with his old friend at the bow of the boat. “Mornin’, Captain.”

Captain Eli looked toward the sky. The sun had just awoken, painting the horizon with a warm light. “That it is,” he confirmed with a grin.

David grinned and then scanned the vast ocean before them. “Expecting a big catch today?”

Captain Eli never looked up from the net. “You never know what the day might bring.” He took a breath. “And you?”

“Three days ’til I ship out,” David said, his tone melancholy.

Captain Eli searched his friend’s face. “Looks like you’re not looking forward to it.” He awaited an explanation.

“Actually, I’m proud to be able to fight for my country. I was just hoping I wouldn’t have to be alone the entire time I was there,” David explained.

“Alone?”

“It would’ve been nice to have someone to write to…someone to look forward to coming home to.” He shrugged. “I guess that’s just the story of my life.”

“Well David, if the story’s that bleak, then maybe it’s time to write a new one.”

David looked up, surprised. Captain Eli was no longer smiling. David offered a friendly snicker. “And it would be that easy, huh?”

“Why not? It’s
your
life.” Captain Eli’s tone sounded matter-of-fact. “It’s
your
story.”

David bent to tie his shoes. “I can’t seem to find the right woman,” he explained.

“Stop looking.”

“No such luck,” David joked. “That’s just me.”

Captain Eli still wore his serious face. “No such thing as
luck
,” he vowed, with intensity. “It’s a matter of
choice
.”

The firm tone came as a surprise to David. “What’s that?” he asked.

Captain Eli smiled and softened his approach. “David, people who believe in luck don’t take any real responsibility for what happens in their lives. I’d rather make my own decisions than leave everything up to random luck.”

David stopped tying his shoes. Captain Eli now had his complete attention. “And how would I do that?”

Captain Eli looked toward the horizon. “Well, I’ve always just thrown my wishes out into the universe and waited for them to come true.” He grinned.

“And they have?”

The older man nodded.

David thought for a moment. “So just ask and wait, huh?”

“I’d say it’s best to ask, and then give thanks before even getting your answer.” He winked. “Now who could deny that type of faith?”

David nodded again, and then finished tying his shoes. He stood and stretched out for the run. “Thanks, Captain. I’ll give it a try.” As he started to walk away, he turned back to face his mentor. “I hope the fishing’s good for you today,” he said.

“For both of us,” Captain Eli quipped, with another wink.

With his head spinning, David walked toward the beach and stretched out once more. Just before taking his first stride, he paused and looked up toward the dark sky. “Thanks for bringing me the girl of my dreams,” he said aloud and, at a jog, started down the beach.

Within minutes, his legs and his breathing picked up pace. He was just starting to find his rhythm when a pretty woman—a brunette with a fit body—appeared in the distance. She was walking a golden retriever on the approach. With David’s labored breath building, they finally got close enough to offer each other a smile. David traveled another ten feet toward the girl when a seagull landed on the sand between them. Suddenly, the dog took off after it. David couldn’t slow his momentum and tripped over the leash. To his instant humiliation, he was catapulted onto the sand.

The attractive brunette tried to conceal her laughter. David looked up, angry, and his initial reaction was to verbally lash out. His mind quickly changed, though, when he looked into her chocolate-brown eyes. She was smiling. He returned it and then pointed at the dog. “Maybe you should try feeding him dog food,” he teased.

“I am
so
sorry!” she said. “Please, let me help you up.”

While she struggled to take control of the leashed dog, she offered David her other hand. He took it and stood. His breathing was still labored. A moment passed before she giggled and looked down at her hand. He was still holding it. She shook David’s hand. “Nice to meet you too,” she said. “I’m Lindsey Wood.”

David caught the joke and blushed. He pulled his hand away in embarrassment. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, smiling. “I’m David…David McClain.”

As he brushed himself off, the two locked eyes and remained there for an extended moment. “Well,” he managed past the lump in his throat, “thanks.”
She’s really cute
, he thought, but immediately changed his mind.
No, she’s beautiful.

Although the dog was jerking her around, Lindsey continued to smile—and her eyes never left his. He half-waved at her and turned to resume his run.

“Five-five-five-three-eight-seven-four,” she blurted.

He stopped and turned. “What’s that?”

She blushed. “Five-five-five-three-eight-seven-four. If you can remember the number, call me and I’ll buy you dinner for the trouble we caused.” She looked down at the dog and gave him the eye.

David was frozen and didn’t speak.

Her smile grew wider. There was definitely a mutual attraction between them. She broke the silence again. “I don’t want to keep you from your run…”

“Oh, yeah.” He looked down at his clothes and half-shrugged. “Don’t worry about that. I just got started.” He couldn’t stop smiling either.

She nodded. He stepped forward and bent to pet the dog. It growled. Lindsey was shocked. “Simon, stop that!” she yelled at the dog. She looked up at David. “I walk him all the time and he never acts this way,” she swore. She jerked the leash once and brought the canine back under control.

David chuckled. “Dinner sounds good,” he said, “but maybe we should leave the big boy at home for the first date?”

Lindsey smiled. “Not a problem,” she said. “I’m walking him for a friend.”

David stepped backward. “I’ll call you,” he promised.

“I’m counting on it,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “Just don’t forget the number.”

With a giant grin, David took off down the beach. Lindsey never flinched. She stood motionless, watching him as he ran away.

“Five-five-five-three-eight-seven-four,” David repeated as he ran. “Five-five-five-three-eight-seven-four.” And then it hit him.
I’m leaving on Saturday.
He picked up the pace, panting. “Five-five-five-three-eight-seven-four.”

David picked up the telephone and dialed.

“Hello?” Lindsey answered.

“Hi, Lindsey. It’s David.”

“Oh hi, I was just thinking about you.”

“You were?” He could feel his face start to burn.

“Uh-huh,” she muttered. “I was hoping you’d call tonight.”

He smiled. “Listen, I have good news and bad news. Which do you want first?”

“Let me guess, you’re married and now you’re feeling guilty for accepting my dinner invitation so…”

“No, no. Not at all. The good news is that my friends are throwing me a party, and I’d really love it if you’d come as my guest.”

“And the bad news?” she asked.

“It’s a going-away party.”

“You’re moving away?”

“For a while, yeah. But I’ll be back.”

“Where are you…”

“Come to the party and I’ll explain everything to you.” He took a deep breath. “What do you say?”

“When is it?” she asked, reluctantly.

“Tomorrow night. It’s at six-oh-two State Road, and the party starts at six.”

There was silence.

“Well?” he asked, hopefully.

She chuckled. “I’m way too curious to say no.”

“Great,” he said, relieved. “So I’ll see you there?”

“You’ll see me there.”

Lindsey showed up an hour late to the party. The address wasn’t hard to find. It was only a few streets over from the beach, music blaring from its yard. As Lindsey drove past the house, there were cars parked everywhere—on both sides of the street, half on lawns—everywhere. She had to park near the beach and walk back toward the house. From the moment she got out of the car, the music screamed to her.
People halfway across the island can probably hear it
, she thought and laughed.
I wonder what this big bash is all about.

As she reached the front yard, she spotted a large banner reading “
Come Home Safe, David”
strung from the corner of the house to a tall oak tree.
Come home safe?
she wondered and realized that David must be a military man.
Oh boy
, she thought.

After maneuvering through dozens of strangers holding red Solo cups, she finally spotted David. When he turned and saw her, his eyes immediately lit up, making her skip her next few breaths.

He hurried over. “Hey, I was hoping you’d make it!”

“Told you I would,” she said, smiling. She pointed toward the massive banner. “Come home safe?”

He nodded. “I’m an Army Ranger and I’ve been deployed to Afghanistan for the next twelve months.” What started off as a proud and excited announcement ended as more of an apology.

“Oh,” she said. “I see.”

“Can I get you a drink?” he asked, handing her a plastic cup.

“Why not,” she said.

While they shared their first beer, David introduced his friend, Coley, his brother, Craig, and a dozen other names Lindsey would never remember. And through it all, he never took his eyes off of her.

He leaned in toward her neck and inhaled. “You smell really good,” he said.

“Okay…”

“Take a walk with me to the beach,” he blurted, putting down his plastic cup.

Lindsey looked back toward the beach. There was just enough light to paint the sky a rich, deep purple. “What about all your guests?” she asked. “You’re just going to leave them?”

David grinned. “The keg’s full. Trust me, they’re not going anywhere for a while.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, considerately.

He nodded. “They’ll be here when we get back.”

As they walked toward the sound of hissing surf, he asked, “So how are you?”

She grinned. “Life’s better than good,” she said and looked at him.
I should have guessed
, she thought. “An Army Ranger, huh?”

He nodded. “I’m stationed at Fort Benning, Georgia, Fourth Ranger Battalion.”

“Well, that explains the haircut,” she teased.

“We’re being deployed to Afghanistan for a twelve-month rotation. It’s my first combat tour.”

Afghanistan
, she repeated in her head and cringed. “And you’re shipping out…”

“Tomorrow,” he said. “I took all my leave, so I’ve been home for the past four weeks.”

“Wow,” she said, taken aback. “You’ll be away for twelve months?”

“Yup,” he said, looking into her eyes. “I’ve been told by a few of the guys who’ve already been over there that it can go by quick.”

“Wow,” she said again—at a loss for any other words.

He picked up on it. “You don’t like the military…” he started to ask.

“Just the opposite,” she said. “I have nothing but the greatest respect and appreciation for our men and women in uniform.”

“Really?” he asked. “You’d never know it by your face.”

“It’s just that…well…I also understand that freedom comes with a heavy price.” She shook her head. “And sometimes that price can be severe.”

David studied her. “Your dad?”

She nodded. “He was an infantryman in the first Gulf War,” she said solemnly.

“Wow,” David said, using her favorite word and not picking up on the melancholy. “Good for him.”

“Yeah, good for him,” she mumbled, just as they reached the beach.

As though it had been awaiting their arrival, they found a deserted park bench. Cemented into the cobblestone pathway, the bench’s brown slats had been beaten relentlessly by a decade of harsh coastal storms and were now faded and smooth.

David gestured for Lindsey to take a seat. As she did, he took his place beside her. For a long while, they sat in silence, quietly paying their respects to the miraculous surroundings.

Together, they watched the sun set. Just as the final sliver went down for the night, David looked at her. “Good show, huh?”

“I can’t imagine a better one,” she replied.

He smiled. “Me either.” Suddenly, the beach was theirs alone.

As the moon took its rightful place in the darkened sky, the tide ran for the shore where it hissed upon landing. Seconds later, it sprinted back into the ocean, rearranging the cinnamon-sugar landscape and creating a beautiful rhythm as it ran its laps. The sea winds picked up, causing patches of elephant grass to bow to Mother Nature and her violent mood swings. The heavily salted air was crisp, heightening the senses. It was as if someone had pulled away an invisible veil, leaving behind the clarity of a blind man gaining his sight for the first time.

“It’s really beautiful here,” Lindsey whispered.

“I know,” David agreed. “It’s my favorite place in the whole world.”

She looked at him for a long moment. “Mine too,” she admitted.

In the distance, that same soothing tide yanked wave after wave into a headlock, throwing each one into the lighthouse that stood guard over the harbor; walls of freezing seawater were being tossed two stories high into the tall, sleek structure. Lindsey pointed toward the stone lighthouse. “Look at that,” she said.

Waves charged the gray tower, which appeared to have grown out of a pile of jagged rocks, pounding hard to overtake the medieval-looking fortress. It was like watching an unwanted guest: a missionary peddling religion from door-to-door, refusing to surrender. Above it all, the light—ten thousand candles strong—which had spent a century guiding the way for those who had become disoriented or lost on their journey, illuminated the entire show. As dependable as a loyal friend, that light stayed on in the face of even the foulest weather.

Lindsey tried to imagine what that strong lighthouse had witnessed in its time.
A silent observer to horrible maritime tragedies; migrating souls trying to find their place in the world; a witness to whalers, men of war and countless fishermen, casting their nets in order to keep their children fed
.

“That old lady, Ruth, has manned that lighthouse since I can remember,” David said, breaking Lindsey out of her trance. “They say she’s saved quite a few souls in that rescue skiff of hers.”

“She must be a hearty soul to live such a solitary life,” Lindsey said.

“I guess.” He thought about it. “I wouldn’t mind living there.”

“All by yourself?”

He nodded. “Why not? There’d be no one around to bother me.” He stared at the lighthouse. “I’ve met Ruth a few times, and she’s not very friendly.”

“Well, being antisocial is probably a valuable trait for that kind of work. Can you imagine spending that much time alone, confined to one space? It must change a person.”

“I suppose it might,” David agreed, “depending on where your head’s at.”

Lindsey shrugged. “She chose the isolation, I suppose.” After a moment, she added, “You’re probably right. I’ve been in a room filled with lots of people and still felt alone.”

David looked at her and smiled. “I think you have to feel comfortable being alone with yourself before you truly know who you are and can feel comfortable being yourself with others.”

Lindsey nodded. “Old Ruth rows into town every few months to pick up supplies, but she must live on seafood, mostly. Now that I could do.”

“Not me,” David said. “I’ve been eating seafood since the day I was born, I think. I could die a happy man if I never ate it again in my life.”

Lindsey tensed at the word
die
. “There are folks who’ve claimed to smell pipe smoke being carried on the winds from that lighthouse. You think she smokes?”

David grinned. “Who knows? There’s no one to stop her or complain.”

Lindsey laughed, happy to daydream aloud about the mysterious place. “Do you think that lighthouse has ever seen any pirates?” she asked, immediately creating pictures of sea shanties being sung and casks of rum being consumed, all followed by the usual pillaging and plundering.

David laughed. “Drunken men emptying lobster pots that weren’t theirs, maybe, but I can’t imagine that Blackbeard and his bloodthirsty crew have ever sailed these waters.” The closest thing to pirating would have been the local whalers—heavily tattooed, unshaven men from Nantucket and New Bedford—hunting whale bone to create scrimshaw jewelry and ornate pipes.

He’s right
, Lindsey knew, but it was still fun to imagine it. Just by closing her eyes, she could imagine the sea winds singing in harmony—with gorgeous mermaids trying to seduce seamen into their watery graves or the terrifying howls of invisible sea monsters lurking within the rising swells.

“What do you think it looks like inside there?” David asked, bringing her back to the present once again.

She stared off into the distance and smiled. “I’ve always imagined a winding staircase at its center and rooms filled with overstuffed bookshelves springing out.”

“That sounds nice,” he said, happy to jump into her vivid imagination.

They sat in silence again, while moonlight carved out a swath of light across the rolling waves, creating an abandoned, dimly lit highway that stretched out to oblivion. The night sky—like a giant, darkened meadow filled with fireflies—glowed and twinkled, shimmering off of the vast turquoise desert below.

As they gazed up at the constellations together, Lindsey said, “When I was a small girl, my dad used to show me the stars. He’d say that I was the Little Dipper and he was the Big Dipper, looking over me.”

“Your dad sounds like a great guy,” David said.

Lindsey smiled. “He is,” she said, volunteering nothing more.

David looked up and pointed at the North Star. “That looks more like you to me,” he said.

“Really?” she asked.

He nodded. “They’re all beautiful, but that one shines the brightest.”

She looked at him and started to laugh, but he wasn’t trying to be funny or cute.
He’s serious
, she thought.

David grabbed Lindsey’s hand and held on, surprising her.

“Can I help you?” she asked, half-joking.

“I don’t want to get lost,” he joked.

She looked down at their clasped hands. “You feel safe now?”

He nodded and never let go of her hand.

“What about
your
father?” she asked.

“He’s inspired me my whole life,” David said.

“Really? That’s great.”

“Yup, he’s always told me I’d never amount to anything.”

“And you’re going to prove him wrong in Afghanistan, right?” she asked, her body tensing.

“Something like that,” he said.

Just then, people began leaving the party, and the musical roar was reduced to the hum of a few stragglers. “The keg must be empty,” Lindsey teased.

David smiled. “Must be,” he said, with an innocent shrug. After a while he said, “All right, so tell me, what’s the one thing about you that no one will ever know but me?”

His grin and dancing eyebrow almost made her laugh. Instead, she gazed at the stars. “I shouldn’t tell you this because you’re going to war.”

“That’s exactly why you should tell me,” he said.

“I have this incredible fear of dying alone,” she admitted. “And sometimes, I feel lost, as if I don’t belong here or anywhere else.”

David looked shocked by her depth and moved even closer toward her—until their legs touched.

“I know it’s silly ’cause I’ve never been alone,” she admitted, her eyes back on the stars. “But I still can’t help the way I feel sometimes.”

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “It’s not silly,” he whispered. “And I’m glad you shared it with me.” He peered into her eyes and smiled.

For Lindsey, it felt like this wasn’t the first time they’d ever been together. She turned to face him and completed the hug. For a few wonderful moments, they held each other tightly.

When they finally broke apart, he pointed at the lighthouse. “Look right over there. Whenever you feel lost or alone,” he said, “all you have to do is come here. No matter how dark or stormy, that light will always guide you home…back to where you need to be.”

While her eyes filled, she wrapped her arms around him again. This time, she kissed his cheek.

“Hey, what’ll your boyfriend think?” he teased.

Her body tightened, and he sensed it.

“Please tell me you don’t have a boyfriend, Lindsey,” he said, his voice now troubled.

She shook her head. “Of course not,” she said, “or I wouldn’t be here with you right now.” She looked into his eyes. “I was with a guy for three years, but we broke up six weeks ago.” She half-shrugged. “I caught him cheating.”