Life Guards in the Hamptons (19 page)

“There was a storm coming. They had to get everyone out of the open.”

“It’s a weird place, Paumanok Harbor, but I’m happy to contribute, if you put in a good word with the Winters woman for me.”

I promised to add my recommendation to Matt’s, who declared us ready to roll once he started the SUV and turned the heater on high. He wanted all the dogs, especially Mollie, back near the clinic in case they needed X-rays for broken bones or internal injuries, now that they were stable.

Everyone helped carry the dogs, the blankets—maybe I could borrow one—and their good wishes out to the parking lot. I hugged the Dwyers and Frankie and each of the young men, and Matt for good measure and because I wanted to.

W
E WENT HOME, UNDER ESCORT AGAIN. This time I drove while Matt sat in the back with all three of the dogs, keeping them from sliding or loosening their blankets. I tried to drive carefully, avoiding bumps, but the Paumanok Harbor cop car ahead of us went faster than I was used to, and I drove a car bigger than I was used to.

Mollie stayed lethargic, which I knew worried Matt, but the others showed signs of improvement. Moses put one leg on top of Matt’s, to maintain contact with his new hero. If love and caring could make them all better, they’d be running alongside the car.

Or flying beside it, like Oey. I opened the window. “No, get in, get down. Don’t let anyone see you. Maybe they’ll forget about the mystery bird.” Sure, when the report of a parrot had gone out over the speakerphone in hearing of the whole command center. At least they thought she’d drowned.

I shut the window quickly to keep the heat in the car for the dogs. Then I wondered if I’d needed to bother opening it. Who knew if Oey could teleport through glass?

She perched on the back of the front passenger seat looking at the dogs, rotating her head from side to side, then almost upside down, peering between the front seats. I shoved her over when I got a whiff of the fish tail near my face.

“Dwowned fwends good, Twee?”

“Drowned friends very good, Oey. Getting better. Thank you.”

“Peth?”

“Not mine, but someone’s, thanks to you.”

I wanted to know how she did it, if the lantern beetles really had shown up, and if we were still in danger from N’fwend. Did she have any healing power like others of her kind? Could she see ahead if the puppies had long-lasting damage?

I guess all the questions floating in my brain confused her. Oey disappeared. Through the closed window, which answered one question anyway.

“I didn’t see that,” Matt said from the backseat.

“Good. Tell the dogs they didn’t either, in case the CIA wants to interrogate them.”

“I think they saw it before.”

So did I. Funny, I no longer had palpitations every time I saw the marvel that was Oey. She—I had trouble relating to the masculine, fishy side of the creature—was an extraordinary, beautiful, astounding creature. I was honored to share the wonder of her, for that’s what she was, a marvel from another world. Now I wished she would go away and take all the rest of that world with her: the dolphins, the beetles, the sea monster that ate ships. I’d been proud of the honors I got from my writing, like my prized GRABYA award, the best of Graphic Arts Books for Young Adults. I didn’t need to be singled out for more, especially when this blessing carried the weight of two separate worlds.

They should stay separate. I silently bid Oey farewell. I’d miss her, but she could live on here in my books. Maybe we’d win another award.

When we got to Matt’s house and the veterinary hospital, the police officer—one I did not know, but he drove like a maniac—got out of his car to help carry the dogs. We brought them into Matt’s living room, a pleasant, masculine place where the furniture looked more comfortable than elegant. It was like him, good quality, without
a lot of flash and fanfare. I saw stacks of magazines near the recliner and three pairs of shoes near the front door, but no bachelor-type litter, no empty beer cans or dirty dishes. His house looked cleaner than mine. He must have a housekeeper.

Matt raised the hall thermostat, then put down newspapers and extra blankets in one corner of the room, explaining that he had no crate big enough for the super-sized pups and he didn’t want to separate them, which would stress them further. Their almost normal body heat would help them, too, if they slept close to each other. He and the policeman went out to the clinic to fetch bowls, baby gates to make a rough enclosure, more towels and blankets, and a forty-pound bag of special puppy food. I’d hate to think how much they’d eat when they were healthy.

The dogs lay quietly where we put them, only Moses lifting his big head to follow Matt’s movement out the door. He sighed, then put his head down on his paws.

“He’ll be back,” I promised. I sat on the floor with them, stroking Mollie, because she seemed the neediest. Maggie tried to crawl into my lap, so I petted her, too. Moses wasn’t interested.

After the cop left, I meant to stay a minute or two until Matt got everyone settled. The girl dogs seemed too bewildered and exhausted to do more than curl up on the blankets, piled together like a Turkish rug bazaar or a stuffed animal display in a sloppy toy store. Even Moses seemed to understand where he was supposed to stay, not follow Matt around. Fluffed up by the hair dryer, they looked even bigger, and a whole lot more adorable. I could see why people loved the huge, goofy, drooly breed.

Matt listened to their chests again, nodded his approval. No rales, no rattles, no signs of fluid in their lungs, he told me. They weren’t out of danger yet, though. He’d keep checking for fevers, coughs, discharge from nose or eyes. Tomorrow, if they stayed lethargic or had no appetite, he’d do more thorough exams at the clinic. He made a fire in the stone hearth, not because the house had a chill—it didn’t—but because he’d promised.

When he had the pups and the gates arranged to his satisfaction, he came to sit beside me on the couch where I sat watching. He pulled a slipcover tighter as if I hadn’t noticed the worn spots on the sofa’s arms.

“Coffee?”

“The last thing I need is more caffeine, unless you want me to stay while you take a nap.”

“No, I had a good sleep on that cot at the firehouse. I’m used to being up nights for emergencies, anyway.”

I knew I should go, but I felt too comfortable, relaxed for the first time in days, it seemed. I nodded toward the sleeping puppies. “They sure are cute.”

“They sure are lucky you could talk to Oey.”

Now I wasn’t quite so relaxed. I didn’t want to talk to him about it, not yet. How could I, until I figured things out better for myself? Besides, I wasn’t ready to take the blame, to see his easy camaraderie turn to distrust like it did for everyone else in town.

He sensed my withdrawal and got up. “I’ll change my clothes, wash up, and be right back so you can get some rest in your own bed. And a shower.”

Which reminded me of my own disgusting condition. I jumped up. “Your poor couch.”

He smiled and pushed me back down. “The couch is the least of my problems as far as you are concerned.”

One of the dogs started snoring. Or was that me?

I woke up to hear a car door slam, then a screen door slam.

Melissa walked in and said, “You’re late. I have an office full of patients and a hundred phone— Shit.”

Matt was picking up soiled papers. “Yeah, Sick dogs do that.”

She meant me.

I was sprawled on the sofa, a light blanket over me. Matt must have taken off my shoes, too. By the sunlight streaming in through the open door, and by Melissa’s presence denoting office hours, I guess it was past nine
AM
. I’d slept for three whole hours. Not enough to face
Matt’s skunk-haired niece. I ignored her and spoke to Matt. “Good morning. How are the dogs?”

“They are all going to make it. Their mental conditions and coordination are still uncertain. They’re wobbly, but chowing down on the food, even Mollie. I can take them back to the hospital for the morning so no one has to stay here. The staff will spoil them rotten.”

Not all the staff, by Melissa’s grimace, which matched her black lipstick and nail polish. “So what should I tell the clients?”

“All of them have to be aware of the emergency last night. Tell them I’m sorry, and I’ll get to them soon. If they cannot wait, reschedule for later, or tomorrow.”

“That’s Saturday. We only work half days.”

Even Matt noticed the petulance in his niece’s voice. He gave her a sharp look. “We take care of the patients, no matter when.”

How awkward to witness a family argument. How lovely that Matt finally put the bitch in her place. I turned to the TV set, which must have been on all along, still showing the clips from the disaster. I’d slept through that? In Manhattan, traffic sounds and sirens were a lullaby to me. At my mother’s, the crickets and tree toads kept me awake.

I’d seen most of the same pictures last night. “Any new news about the rescue?”

Melissa hung around, waiting to see if I left, I’d bet. She didn’t answer, although she must have heard everything in the waiting room. If she cared. She had dark rings under her eyes so maybe she’d been up all night, too, volunteering. Yeah, and fish could fly.

Some of them could.

Matt had been watching since we got back here. “Amazingly enough, there’s only one person unaccounted for, an elderly gentleman from England. Dozens more are in critical condition in various hospitals, but expected to survive. Out of almost six hundred persons on board, that’s fantastic.”

Except for the badly injured and the one still missing.
How long could an old man survive in the cold water? Not long. One death was one too many for my conscience, especially a psychic, as I suspected.

“A lot of the rest are on their way home this morning, courtesy of the cruise line that hired buses and limos to drive them. A few passengers are staying on in the motels to see if any of their luggage can be salvaged, again at the ship company’s expense. The lingerers seem to be enjoying the celebrity, from all the interviews they’re giving. A bunch decided to take their vacations in the Hamptons instead of hurrying home. The liner’s largesse extends till Monday.”

The TV showed an impromptu breakfast buffet for survivors and volunteers in the great hall at the Montauk Manor. The Montauk Bake Shoppe, the announcer reported, had provided the pastries.

Another shot had the Red Cross unloading enough food and supplies to feed six times the number of survivors. They weren’t missing a chance for good publicity with the nation’s spotlight on the miraculous recovery.

Matt had all the soiled newspapers stuffed in a black garbage bag; he had to wrestle Moses for possession of it. He laughed, which after last night sounded like heaven to me.

He pointed to the next graphic, a picture of the capsized
Nova Pride
from one of the motels along Montauk’s beachfront. I hadn’t realized the ship tipped over so close to shore. That explained the quick response, the lack of vast fatalities.

“They think they know why the ship didn’t sink, permitting the rescue squads to get everyone out. It seems the huge wave had pulled sand and mud up from the bottom, at tremendous force, enough to form a shelf for the ship to rest on.”

The commentator was explaining, for perhaps the tenth time, he had it down so pat, that the authorities feared the sand might shift with the next storm, so they had plans to right the
Nova Pride
as soon as possible. For now, he said, everyone is rejoicing. That new reef saved hundreds of lives.

People believed what they needed to believe. A reef forming in an hour? Holding up an umpteen-ton ocean liner? Or maybe they believed the cruise ship, already off course, just happened to land on a permanent underwater mountain no one knew about. In this era of topographical mapping from outer space? In one of the busiest fishing areas on the East Coast? They needed an explanation, so they invented one their minds could comprehend.

I drew a picture in my head, and thought hard about it, if anyone was listening.
Thank you, Oey, for getting M’ma’s friends to build a platform
.

Matt turned off the TV and asked Melissa and me to help bring the dogs over to the clinic. He lifted Moses and I took Mollie, who still felt limp to me. And still felt heavy.

Melissa took one look at Maggie and backed away. “She’s got shit all over her ass. And she must have stepped in it, too.”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m taking them over. They need baths and grooming. No dog likes to be soiled. I gave them all something to settle their stomachs from the trauma and the salt water, but the meds take time to kick in. I added some rice to their breakfast, too.”

He put Moses down and wrapped Maggie in a blanket, then picked her up.

I’d put Mollie down while they quarreled. I hadn’t noticed the mess, but now the smell got to me. I didn’t bother with a blanket. My clothes already needed to be burned. “Could we get going? I think these things grow by the minute.”

“I’m not carrying any sack of dog poop either. I answer phones and work the computer. That’s it.”