The Daughter-in-Law (18 page)

When they were back aboard, they sat together on the swim platform, laughing together as they stumbled over descriptions of what they had just experienced. Then they peeled off the tanks and motored over to the shore where Jonathan beached on a narrow spit of sand. They hauled out their coolers into the shade of a few sparse trees, downed the soft drinks they had chilled, and nibbled on the seafood sandwiches that Pam had helped Nicole put together.

“Are you sure you don’t want to buy into our plans?” Jonathan
teased his sister. “Just put up ten or fifteen million. I promise you an office with a window.”

“Where do I sign?” she answered. But then her eyes became serious. “In five years maybe, if there’s anything left when you get done.”

“We’ll take a note,” Nicole said, trying to keep things light. She looked over at Jonathan. “We’re really going to make this work, aren’t we?”

He remembered her brooding mood when she stood in their room by the open door, and he was thrilled by her change in attitude. “You’re damn right we’re going to make it work. And Pam, if you want in, you’re a full partner.”

“A full partner in a patch of rain forest and a rusty boat,” Nicole said, and they all rocked in laughter.

In the afternoon they were back in the water exploring other miles of wildly alive coral, and bumping noses with fish of every description. When they surfaced, they were several hundred yards from their boat and took a long, tiring swim back to the platform. It was afternoon, with the sun now high in the sky, and they gathered under the canvas top to find shade.

“Quite a day,” Jonathan said, still amazed at all they had seen.

“One more dive,” Pam urged.

Jonathan looked skeptical. “We’ve been down a long time.” He checked his watch. “More than three hours underwater ...”

“We were only at thirty feet,” Pam argued. “Most of the time less than that. As far as our bodies know we never got out of the boat.”

He turned to Nicole. “You up for it?”

“Sure,” she said. “I’d like to go back down to the wreck.”

“Okay,” Jonathan agreed. He was on his feet quickly and pulling up the anchor. “We’ll anchor on the ledge and then swim out to the edge of the trench.” He started the engine and pointed the bow to the southern edge of Lighthouse Reef.

Nicole went forward and brought back new tanks. They began getting into their gear while they turned the reef and headed north along the seaside shore. Jonathan studied his charts to bring them opposite the wreck. The depth finder, pinging merrily at thirty feet, assured him that he was on the edge of the barrier. He maneuvered slowly to a bearing off the lighthouse and then killed the engine. He
dropped the anchor and kept checking its hold while he slipped into his wet jacket. The women were already dressed and helping one another with their equipment. Pam had connected the regulators and equalizers to the new tanks and Nicole was lifting one onto her back.

They ran their final equipment checks. Pam dropped over the side. Nicole was about to put on her tank when Jonathan remembered his underwater lamp. They both set down their tanks while they went forward to look. Then they helped each other on with their gear, and fell over together. Jonathan lingered a minute to play the light on the anchor, made sure it was set, and then kicked off in pursuit of the women.

TWENTY-NINE

W
ITHIN SECONDS
he was over deep water. The longest barrier reef in the Americas ran parallel to the Belize coastline. It had formed over the ages along the edge of a continental shelf, where the ocean floor dropped precipitously from the North American landmass into the Cayman Trench. Lighthouse Reef was an outcropping of the barrier. Leaving it was like stepping off the edge of the Grand Canyon, moving from the security of water that was only thirty feet deep and entering a sea that was nearly bottomless. He could see the cliff wall in the beam of his light, but it fell steeply into the darkness with no end in sight.

The ship had run aground on the reef, tearing out its bottom on a highpoint in the coral formation. Most likely it had settled with its masts still showing above the surface. But gradually, over the years, it slid down the cliff wall, catching on a ledge about fifty feet down. There it broke open, spilling its contents in a debris field that stretched down the wall and into the depths. Salvage divers had picked up all the valuables long ago, but there was still an exciting trail of artifacts.

Jonathan saw the women below, swimming one behind the other toward the skeletal remains of the wreck. For an instant, he had them squarely in the beam of his light. Then he lost sight of them, unable to keep the lamp aimed. He found them again, but his mask seemed cloudy. They were vague shapes, coming in and out of focus. Then the lamp turned and slipped out of his hand. He grabbed for it, missed, and watched the light fall away, the beam wandering as the lamp twisted. He kicked down in his effort to catch up with it.

Nicole had fallen behind Pam. She hesitated when she saw the light fall, seemingly confused as to whether she should swim toward Jonathan, or try to catch up with Pam. She checked her gauges, fussed with the mouthpiece, and pulled on the hose that
pumped air into the bladder of her wet jacket to keep her buoyancy neutral. Then she kicked up and headed back to the surface.

Pam turned to look for Nicole. She saw a distant figure swim upward, struggle, and then discard the weighted belt. At the same time she saw the lamp falling freely, growing dimmer in the depths. Jonathan, she decided, must have run into difficulty, and shed the lamp and weighted belt in order to get back to the surface. But then where was Nicole? Pam turned in a circle, looking both up into sunlight and then down into the darkness. Get the lamp, she thought.

Jonathan couldn’t find either of the women. He had gone down below the wreck chasing the lamp, but had been overcome by fatigue. His arms and legs suddenly felt leaden, and he was having difficulty keeping his mind focused. It was as if he were out of air, falling into a coma of asphyxia. But his gauge showed plenty of pressure, and he could taste the air coming into his mouth. Forget the damn light, he thought. Find the girls and signal that he was going back up.

But they were gone. He couldn’t find either of them. The darkness enveloped the wreck and the sunlight was fading. For a moment he was disoriented, uncertain which way was up. He felt panic welling up inside him. Jonathan shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs. He reset his mouthpiece and reached for the clasp on his belt. Relax, he told himself. Take a few slow, deep breaths. Then swim up easily. You’ve been down much deeper than this. You know you can make it back.

Pam, too, gave up on the flashlight. It was falling too fast and taking her too deep. She turned and kicked back up along the wall of the cliff. Get back to the wreck, she thought. That’s where Nicole would go. Once she knew she was separated she would head for the wreck. Pam swam along the debris field, able to see much more clearly as she rose into the sunlight. The sunken ship appeared directly ahead of her and she swam to it rapidly, scanning left and right. But there was no one—not even the telltale bursts of bubbles that mark a diver’s position with each breath.

She noticed a trace of air bubbles off to her right. It was a continuous stream as if someone’s air hose was venting directly to the sea. Pam looked down along the trail of rising air but could see no one. She turned and headed back down knowing that the bubbles would lead to a diver.

As soon as Nicole broke the surface, she tore off her mask and gulped hungrily for air. She could see the boat, still a good distance away, bobbing in the light sea. But now, on the surface, the compressed air tank weighed her down, and there was no air in the bladder of her jacket to keep her afloat. She unbuckled the straps and slipped them over her shoulders. Just get closer to the boat, she told herself. Once she was up over the reef she could just drop the tank. It would be easy to retrieve her equipment in shallow water. But the tug of the tank’s weight was more than she could overcome. She was laboring and getting nowhere. She let go of the straps, caught a few deep breaths and then set out for the boat.

Pam followed the airstream but she was getting no closer to the source. The water was murky and the bubbles came up from the depths. Had Nicole discarded her tank and gone to the surface? Perhaps when she saw Jonathan having difficulty she went up after him. There was no sign of her, and the source of the escaping air was far below the depth that Nicole would try. Pam turned around and headed back up, this time slowly. She had gone deep and rushing back up to the normal pressure at sea level could be very dangerous.

Nicole pulled herself up onto the swim platform and unzipped her jacket. Then she sat panting, her feet still dangling in the water. The effort to get back to the surface had been tiring. Then the swim to the boat, even without the weight of her scuba gear, had drained her. She scanned the water out toward the sea. There was no sign of either Jonathan or Pam. Slowly, she pulled herself to her feet and rolled over the transom.

Pam exploded out of the water right behind the boat, and looked up for a helping hand. She called to Jonathan to lift the tank from her shoulders but there was no response. She unbuckled the straps, pushed her tanks up onto the swim platform and climbed aboard.

“Jonathan?”

“Pam?” Nicole appeared, looking down from the cockpit. “Where’s Jonathan?”

Pam looked up, her eyes suddenly wide with fright. “He came up earlier. I saw him. He was having some sort of equipment problem.”

Nicole shook her head. “No, that was me. He must still be down at the wreck.”

“I saw Jonathan,” Pam nearly screamed. “He dropped the lamp and shed his belt.”

“Then he must have gone back down. He wasn’t in the boat when I came aboard.”

“Oh, my God,” Pam said. “Help me. Quick!”

She slung her tank over one arm and then turned so that Nicole could lift it onto her shoulders. “I’m sure he’s okay,” Nicole said as she adjusted Pam’s gear. “He knows what he’s doing.”

“He wasn’t on the wreck,” Pam said. “I looked all over ...”

She pulled the mask over her face and then bit down on her mouthpiece. Then she stepped off the platform and disappeared under the surface.

Nicole moved instantly to the forward locker and lifted out another compressed air bottle. But then she remembered that she had lost her regulator and harness when she shed the extra weight of her tank. The new air supply was useless. She lowered into the seat at the helm, and stared out over the water, beginning an anxious vigil.

What could she do? Pull the anchor and motor out closer to the wreck? That would put her nearer the divers but move her away from where they would expect the boat to be. Best to stay put, she decided.

Maybe she should get on the radio and call for assistance? But there was no emergency. Despite the frightened look in Pam’s eyes, Jonathan had been down for less than half an hour. She couldn’t declare an emergency just because she had aborted her dive and come up early. She lifted the binoculars and searched for air bubbles that should be trailing Pam as she searched the bottom. She could see nothing except the relentless churning of the sea. All she could do was wait.

It was twenty minutes before Pam reappeared at the bow, holding onto the anchor chain. “Is he back?” she called.

“No! No sign of him.”

Pam tore off her mask. “He has to be up. I searched everywhere.”

“I’m going to call for help,” Nicole shouted back.

Pam nodded. “Good! Get on it. I’m going back down for another look.”

“Do you need more air?” Nicole yelled. But Pam had already dropped under the waves.

Nicole fumbled with the radio. What was the emergency channel? Jonathan had told her but she didn’t remember. Then she saw
that it was marked. “RESCUE SERVICE—18.” She turned on the power, keyed in the channel, and pushed the “talk” button.

“Mayday! Mayday! Diver lost off Lighthouse Reef. Please come quickly. He’s my husband.”

THIRTY

S
HE KEPT
calling, her voice ever more frantic, until the police responded and promised that a patrol boat was on the way. “I need divers,” she screamed. “He’s down there somewhere. He’s running out of time.”

Pam pulled herself up onto the platform and pushed up her mask. Her eyes flashed panic as they searched the boat and then locked onto Nicole.

“The police are on their way,” she said. But there was already resignation in her voice. She expected the worst.

“He has to be—” Pam began. She interrupted herself and picked up the binoculars. “Maybe he’s on the reef.” She panned the glasses across the shoreline. “Jesus, where are you?” she said almost in prayer. She was frantic when she lowered the glasses. “He’s alive! He has to be alive,” she shouted. Then she told Nicole, “He’s a great diver. He knows how to get out of trouble.” Nicole turned her head away.

The police were alongside their boat in twenty minutes and put a diver into the water. Minutes later a helicopter circled and two divers dropped out to join the search. Nicole sat on the deck of the police boat, wrapped in a blanket, sipping hot tea from a mug. She stared out blankly, her eyes searching the sea but seeing nothing. Pam was rolled up at the bottom of the cockpit, her chin on her knees, a blanket thrown over her head. She rocked gently, mindlessly, her eyes staring into space. She couldn’t bring herself to watch the rescue efforts that were in progress all around her.

“You were out here all day?” the police officer asked.

“Yes. We were diving inside Half Moon. And then down in the Blue Hole. We decided on one last dive over the wreck before we headed home. We switched to fresh tanks and we all went down together.”

“Down over the ledge?”

“Down as far as the wreck. Except I never got there. I had trouble with my tank and I came back up.”

“Which tank were you using?”

“I had to let it go on the way up. It sank out there.”

“You checked it before you put it on?”

“Of course,” Nicole snapped.

“And it was full? Working properly?”