Receive Me Falling (36 page)

           
“The whales are most vocal at night
when they are thought to be mating,” said Alex, much to the amusement of the
crew.
 
“This could be an X-rated dive.”

           
Meg and Brian launched together and
swam down as far as they could.
 
The
visibility was excellent, the water was calm and illuminated by a full moon,
and the sand was settled at the bottom.
 
They didn’t have to search far to see the marvelous variety of tropical
marine life.
 
Brian poked Meg and
signaled below at a rocky ledge.
 
A large
turtle rested under it.
 
Straight below a
gang of lobsters scurried along the floor.
 
The divers stayed relatively close together, so anytime someone from the
group saw a sight worth noting, they were all able to see it.
 

           
A shadow passed above the divers,
and they looked up and saw a nurse shark.
 
It was close to six feet long, and Meg and Brian grabbed onto one
another as it passed above them.
 
She
could see Brian’s eyes smile under his mask.
 
After the shark passed, Brian pointed up, and they moved to a shallower
depth.
 
Meg’s listening device began to
hum and she scanned the area around them searching for the source of the change
in sound.
 

           
The noise came first—a moaning sound
like something from a large creature heaving all its effort into making it,
followed by some playful, high-pitched bellows.
 
Another moaning sound came through, and then they could see them appear
about fifty feet away in the shallower water.
 

           
Humpback whales, two of them, moved
through the water.
 
The divers found one
another and came together to watch the great beasts.
 
They had surprising grace for their size, but
one could feel the effort of their bodies just watching them move.
 
The whales did not seem to notice the divers,
and disappeared into the black water as quickly as they’d come.
 

When the divers came up, they were all talking
over one another.
 
Alex said they had
never seen whales swim so close to the divers, and lamented over not bringing the
camera.
 
As Meg unsuited and changed she
felt renewed energy and peace.
 
She was
glad that they had gone on the dive.
 
Brian
sensed her ease and smiled at her through the crowd.

           
Meg dropped everyone off at their
respective lodgings and went back to Havilla alone.
 
She put on her pajamas, fixed herself a cup
of decaffeinated green tea, and went out to the back porch.
 
The trees were still for the first time since
she’d arrived on the island.

           
The
calm before the storm.

           
Meg thought of the time that she and
Brian had dived with her family in the Cayman Islands
last winter.
 
Her mother and father were
athletic and youthful, and loved being able to keep up with Meg and Brian.
 
They had seen scores of turtles on their
dives, and Meg thought she’d never seen anything so beautiful, until now.
 

           
Meg looked out at the night, and
thought that everything would be alright, and heard the silence all around her,
and knew that others were alright, too.

The
winds picked up during the night, and by the time Meg awoke the next day, it
was clear that the storm was approaching.
 
Weather reports predicted a tropical storm for Nevis.
 
The hurricane had lost momentum and was
heading out for the Atlantic, as David had
predicted.
 
It was recommended that
residents of villas and small shacks go to local checkpoints the next morning,
but those staying in hotels could stay put.
 

           
The wedding wasn’t until three
o’clock, but the storm wasn’t due to hit until the middle of the night.
 
She wasn’t sure why she had a change of
heart, but Meg felt the need to return to Eden
one last time, alone.
 
She pulled the
jeep up to the ancient gate covered in vines and jumped onto the dust.
 
Wrapping her fingers around the cool metal
she swung it open and stepped onto the drive.
 
She took in the plants and trees and looked for the house at the turn in
the road.
 
It appeared, looming with its
empty eye windows, just as it had before, like the sad shell of an old woman
who was once beautiful.
 
The crunch of
the gravel turned to the thump of the stairs.
 
Meg gave the door just the right shove to open it, and stepped into the
foyer.
 

           
The house felt completely vacant for
the first time since Meg had set foot in it.
 
No pigeons paced on the pianoforte, no rodents could be heard stirring
amongst the walls and shuffling under the decaying furniture, and there was no
electricity in the air. No cold winds, no feeling of another—just
emptiness.
 
Meg felt no fear, only
sadness.
 

She looked up the great staircase and imagined the
slave girl running down, chased by her mistress—her sister. She imagined them
running through the dining room, and walked herself over to it for one last
look at the mural as it was, before it was sold and restored, and before a line
of people stood to view it—that mural of The Fall.
 
How appropriate in this house called Eden, in this garden
paradise, where so many had suffered.
   

           
Meg turned and walked through the
passage to the kitchen.
 
The cooking
smells still lived in its stone walls—damper, mustier, but hanging underneath
all the years of quiet.
 
She could see
the slave women tending to the oven, moving around like ghosts in the inferno
as the massive oven blazed in the tropical heat.
 

           
She stepped outside and followed the
lawn to the cliff and stepped right up to the edge and looked down at the
jagged ledges that led down to the boulders and the water and watched the waves
roll over the boulders and crash into the cliff and turn into foam and
disappear.

That
afternoon, Meghan married Brian in the church with the steel drum band
playing.
 
Drew gave her to Brian, while
Dorothy, Gwen, David, and a few parishioners who had been wondering by stopped
in and watched.
 
Meg wore a silk gown of
pale ivory that she had found at a hotel shop. Brian wore a linen suit.
 
After the photographer finished shooting, a
taxivan covered in white streamers and tin cans carried the guests, including
the priest and the band, to Sunshine’s for the reception. They ate lobster and
drank Killer Bees and danced on the beach in the wind under the light of twenty
torches until the first raindrops reached the revelers.
 
Everyone helped pack up the tables and chairs
and said their goodbyes, and Meg and Brian went back to Brian’s room and were
up all night to hear the storm.

A
warm shaft of light stole through the blinds and moved up Meg’s body minute by
minute until it reached her eyes and opened them.
 
She rolled over and looked at the clock on
the bedside table:
 
11:46
.
 
Meg turned in the
other direction and saw Brian still asleep, flat on his back, with one leg
sticking out of the sheets.
 
She kissed
him and cuddled into his side, rousing him from his sleep.
 
He grinned at her through his half-opened
eyes.
 
           
Meg
sat up and wrapped the quilt around her body as she stood up from the bed.

           
“What, modest?
 
After last night?” Brian teased.
 

           
Meg laughed and walked over to the
window.
 
She opened the blinds, slid open
the door, and stepped onto the balcony.
 
The water was rough—white capped and cloudy from the stirred up
sand.
 
It was still windy, but the clouds
were few in number and moved quickly.
 
They blocked the sun in short gasps and then moved on in a rush.
 
Leaves, coconuts, and small branches littered
the beach, and the drink stand out by the beach had collapsed.

           
“The wind must have been pretty
fierce last night,” Meg called from the balcony.

           
Brian appeared on the balcony beside
her with the sheet wrapped around his waist.
 
He scanned the horizon.
 

           
“Not as bad as it could have been,
that’s for sure.”

           
While they stood watching the water,
the phone began to ring.
 
Meg looked at Brian
with a question in her eyes, and moved into the room to locate her cell
phone.
 
It was under her discarded
wedding dress, and Meg got to it just in time.

           
“Meg, this is Drew.”

           
“Hi Drew.
 
Is everything okay?”

           
Brian walked into the room and
watched Meg.

           
“Um, not really.
 
Can you come by my house?”

           
“Sure.
 
I’ll be there in a half-hour.”

           
“Okay, see you then.”

           
Meg hung up.

           
“It was Drew.
 
Something’s wrong.”

           
Brian and Meg dressed quickly and
drove to Drew’s house.
 
On the way, they
were relieved to see that there was little damage to the island or the
homes.
 
The winds had been heavy, but
just enough to stir up the landscape.
 
They pulled up to Drew’s house, and aside from some leaves strewn about
the yard, it was untouched by the storm.
 
He came to the door as they parked and motioned for them to stay in the
jeep.
 
Brian climbed into the back seat
and left the front to Drew.