Sea Change (6 page)

I wait for her to say something more, but she leans her head back and closes her eyes.

“You have beautiful hair,” I say.

I don't think she's listening to me. When she finally speaks, her voice is soft and I have to lean forward to hear her. “She said she was going to be fine, that it was just a bad virus, and that I shouldn't come to the hospital. They loaded my mother onto the gurney and she joked that she'd be home before I got out of bed. But she died. She had diabetes and it messed up her heart. She didn't know.”

“How old were you?”

“Four teen. My grandmother's birthday card was on the table. Fourteen bucks, one for each year.” Her voice sounds almost slurred. She says, “The cops came the next day. They thought someone had told me she died.”

I was fourteen when my parents split. But I still had my parents. “I cannot imagine how hard that was.”

“My grandmother is diabetic too. At least she knows.” Her head lolls around like she's falling asleep.

“Sumi?” I want her to keep talking. I lean forward and give her a nudge.

She seems startled. “My mother never came back here. It was your dad who made it home for me.”

Mom and I were gone. Dad was here. Maybe this always has been home for him.

Sumi gets quiet again, like she's fallen asleep. I look around. In the gloom of the fog, it seems to be getting dark. I can just make out a clearing on the shoreline. There are no buildings, not that I can see, but there are old totem poles leaning over, which tells me this must be the old Haida village. I wait until the boat is even with the village and then veer left.

Chapter Twelve

It is definitely getting dark. It's colder too. We've been out here for hours and Sumi hasn't eaten anything. I think she's sleeping, or I hope so. I tip the last of a box of raisins into my mouth and cram the package in my pocket. Normally raisins disgust me. I've slowed the engine because Sumi said something about shallows and we should be heading into low water again. I think. Not that I know where the shallows are. I just hope I'm going in the right direction.

My dad told me once he likes to fish the shallows. I don't remember him talking to me about anything except fishing. He talks to me like I've been fishing with him, like I should know what he's talking about. Maybe he gets me mixed up with Sumi.

There's probably a way to tell when the outboard needs gas, but I'm not taking a chance on running it dry. I turn off the engine and reach for one of the gas cans.

Without the engine it is weirdly quiet. Sumi stirs and looks around. “Are we there?”

I tell her no, and she sets her head back without saying another word. I manage to fill the tank without spilling too much—and nowhere it will combust, I hope—when I hear a sound off the side of the boat.

I peer into the gloom. It's not water on rocks, so we're not heading aground. Then I hear a
pip
, almost like a chirp. The water beside the boat ripples. Then the water mounds, black and shiny. And I see a fin.

At first I think it's a whale because it's black and white, but it's too small to be a whale. It must be a porpoise, and there are a few of them. They rise in twos and threes, first on one side of the boat, then the other. They seem perfectly synchronized, moving through the water like dolphins at the aquarium. I hear a racket of splashing ahead of them and think about Sumi's story of the fish jumping.

I'm about to start the outboard again when it dawns on me. What are porpoises doing this far up the inlet? They'd be out in open water, wouldn't they? When I changed direction at the village, did I take us back out toward sea? I'm starting to hyperventilate.

Ebb tide, so the water should be flowing out of the inlet. Is it ebb? This morning the beach was wet, like the water was receding. Since then, it would have flowed back in and now be heading out again. But maybe we've been out longer than I think. Except then it would be darker.

Maybe the porpoises are up the inlet to fish. They could be following the salmon heading back into the rivers. And maybe, like the old man, they're fishing the shallows.

If we're in the shallows, it's a good thing I didn't blast through. I start the engine but keep the rpms low. I have no idea how much water we're in. I pass the porpoises, but they stay where they are. I take that as a good sign and give the engine a bit more gas. I glance over at Sumi and find her staring at me. Her gaze is so intent I'm not sure she's really looking at me. Then she says, “Your dad wouldn't have kept that hali either.”

Chapter Thirteen

I'm happy she's awake because I really need her help. “Sumi, you've got to have a look around, tell me where we are. I think we passed the shallows but I'm not sure.”

“You're strong, like Denny. You have a strong heart.”

The way she's talking reminds me of drunken girls at parties. Not that I'm immune to drunken girls at parties. Right now, though, I'd like to know we're not going to pile up on the shore. “That's fascinating, Sumi. Could you tell me where the hell we are?”

She blinks, peering out under her hood at the shoreline. She looks for a long time. “Keep the rocks to your right.”

Instantly, as if she made it happen, two giant thumbs of rock appear ahead of us. There's plenty of room to go through them, but without even looking, she shakes her head at me. I steer around the rocks.

The rocks are like pillars. As we motor past them, on the other side, there must be fifty seals resting on a shoal between the rocks. There are seals in the water, their heads like black vinyl balls bobbing on the waves.

Her voice sounds like she has gravel in her throat. She says, “You better open it up.”

“I can hardly see as it is, and it's getting dark.”

She just looks at me.

“Don't call me an idiot,” I say. But she's right. Once I lose the shoreline as a point of reference, I won't know how to steer.

She tells me to turn on the boat's running lights, and these give the faintest glow to the inside of the boat. She twists around in her seat, groaning. Her foot is bleeding again—in the gloom I can see a black puddle where she was resting it. She grabs the edges of the seat. I can see her shoulders moving up and down like she's breathing hard.

She turns her head toward me and says, “I'll point. You drive. Do exactly what I tell you.”

It is like driving the boat inside a black sock. I don't bother looking at the water because if we're going to run into something, I'd rather not know. I fix my stare on Sumi and watch where she points. Sometimes I hear her cursing, and I know I haven't exactly interpreted her bearing. We're bouncing off the waves, and spray nails us in the face. I squeeze my eyes almost closed. Driving fast, the air is so much colder and my fingers are frozen on the steering tiller. She motions wildly to steer left and I cut sharply, barely scraping past a log. How she saw it, I do not know. She's busy “steering” us back on course. Each time we hit a wave, her foot bounces. She's stopped cursing, which probably isn't good.

Now she's motioning me to slow down. Then we veer right, which freaks me out because it feels like we'll run straight into the shore. But then she points left into a cove, and suddenly the shoreline is punched with lights.

As we get closer, I see the logging camp and people walking around. The docks are lit too, and I slow the boat a bit too late and bump Sumi one more time getting the boat alongside the dock. She's gone completely silent and her head hangs onto her chest.

A big guy in overalls takes my line and ties the boat up. He's looking at Sumi and I know he sees the blood. He pulls a radio from his pocket and instantly there are guys all over Sumi, carrying her down the dock, and more guys are running down to the docks.

I don't know what to do so I follow behind. My legs are stiff and I'm so cold my teeth are chattering. Somewhere, I hear a helicopter starting up.

The guys set Sumi on a board and strap her down. More guys appear, big guys, and they're carrying Sumi on the board, almost running with her.

I can't keep up, and the guy from the dock puts his hand on my shoulder. He seems to be talking to me but all I can hear is the helicopter pounding in my head.

I try to run after Sumi, but now he grabs my jacket. He puts his face right up to mine and shouts at me to calm down.

I want to hit him, to push him away, but then I see the chopper, its bright lights appearing over the roofs of the buildings, then getting higher, and the noise dropping as it gets farther away.

Chapter Fourteen

Last night, after the helicopter left, someone showed me to an empty bunk and gave me a blanket. I thought I wouldn't sleep but I must have. This morning I followed a well-worn path to the cook trailer. It's bright with morning sun and the tables are empty, so it looks like I've slept through breakfast.

At the table nearest the kitchen the big guy from the dock is hunched over an enormous bowl. I sit down across from him. His face is one inch from the bowl and he's shoveling in the food. It looks like eggs and hash browns with bits of bacon, and everything is laced with hot sauce. My stomach rumbles.

The cook comes out with another bowl, sees me and slides it across the table to me. I start to protest about taking his breakfast, but he holds his hand up as if to say, Just eat.

So I eat. The cook's name is Dylan, from the name tag on his uniform, and he makes a fine breakfast bowl. “Cilantro,” I say. “Nice touch.”

He looks at me, both eyebrows raised. “You cook?”

I finish my mouthful. “I want to.” The cilantro surprises me at a logging camp this side of nowhere. I pour myself a coffee from a carafe on the table and add a dollop of real cream. Somehow I'm beginning to feel human.

Another guy comes into the trailer. He slips off a small backpack and sits down with us. Dylan pours him a coffee and says, “How was Vancouver?”

Now I recognize him—he's the medic. I remember him from last night, working on Sumi. I slop coffee over the rim of my cup. “How is she?”

He looks at me. “Sumi is surprisingly good, actually.”

I have to set down my coffee, my hands are shaking so badly. “What about her foot?”

“They were taking her into the operating room when I left her last night.” He adds cream and a stream of sugar to his coffee. “What I want to know is how you managed to get her here.”

I really don't have an answer. I say, “She seemed to know the way.”

The guy from the dock grins, and something about him makes me wonder just how well he knows her.

I say, “I guess she comes here a lot.”

“Don't worry,” Dylan says, and he eyes the guy from the dock. “Sumi doesn't come to see Leo. She brings us her limit, trades us fresh salmon for provisions. Somehow she resists Leo's stunning looks and table manners.”

The medic laughs and gets up. He offers me his hand. “You must have inherited your father's internal gps. He can find his way along this coastline blindfolded.”

“I think it was luck.”

“Well then, it was lucky for Sumi.” He shakes my hand. “She's at Vancouver General Hospital, probably will be for a while.” Then he leaves.

Leo offers to take a boat with me back to the lodge so I don't get lost, but I want to go on my own. The sea is flat calm and there's no fog, so it should be an easy trip. And it is. In the bright clear light of morning, the inlet looks completely different from yesterday, but strangely the same. It's like the landscape has soaked into me. At the rock pillars I slow down. The seals bark at me from the shoal. No porpoises today. Past the shallows I open it up again, standing in the boat to steer.

When I get close to the lodge, I see the deer on the grass, feeding. It's weird, arriving back here alone. I'm trying not to think about Sumi, how she's doing— and what they're doing at the hospital.

I tidy up the fishing boat and then transfer into the dinghy. On the oars I feel stronger, although I'm sure Sumi would still have something to say about my steering. I pull the dinghy high up on the beach and tie it to a driftwood log. When I walk toward the lodge, the deer lift their heads and watch me, but they don't run off.

In Sumi's cabin I wash and dry the dishes. I wipe up dark blood from the floor. I straighten her bed. I bag the trash, including the last of the bread, so that nothing attracts mice, or the bear.

This makes me think of Sumi's deer. Her grandmother is going to need that deer. I retrieve the wheelbarrow from down at the beach and then head back to the generator hut. The deer is still there and doesn't look too beat up by the bear. I lower it into the wheelbarrow. Sumi's rifle is still on the ground. Carefully, I pick it up and put it in the wheelbarrow with the deer. Then I head back out to the front of the lodge. I see Dad's boat on the mooring. He's in the inflatable, motoring in to shore. I take a deep breath and head down to the water.

Chapter Fifteen

He looks tired. He throws me the rope and I pull the boat in while he lifts the prop out of the water. I feel like a little kid again. I have to tell him what happened, but I just want it all to go away. He steps out of the boat and we each take a side and haul it up the beach. He ties it beside the other dinghy. He goes over to the dinghy and checks my knot but he doesn't retie it.

My throat feels like it could stick closed. “Dad,” I say, but nothing else will come out.

He says, “I heard.”

Just then a helicopter flies in over the ridge, the same one we came in on.

He says, “The pilot let me know.”

As the helicopter lands, we walk up to the lodge. I'm grateful for the noise of the chopper because I don't have to speak. But then the pilot shuts down the engine.

I just have to tell him. I have to tell him I screwed up, badly, and that it's all my fault.