Waking Up Gray (32 page)

“I heard something exactly like that from another lesbian this week. I cannot wait for you to meet Gray. I think she’s your clone.”

“She’ll be gone before you get back, I promise,” Molly assured her.

“Don’t make promises, Molly. Stranger things have happened. Besides, I don’t want to come back. I have a plan and it requires your help.”

Molly winked at Lizbeth. “Oh, I love plans”

#

They were all standing in the hanger, waiting for Lizbeth to board. Hugs went all around. Lizbeth even hugged Dana and thanked her for coming to straighten things out. Mazie gave Lizbeth her cell phone since she had destroyed hers, and promised to box up and mail all the research materials Lizbeth had left in the Mustang.

“Well, Lizbeth, good luck,” Molly said, giving Lizbeth a kiss on the cheek.

“She’s mad right now, but she’ll be glad to see you,” Dana said, adding, “I wish the both of you many happy years together.”

Molly turned to Mazie. Out of politeness, Lizbeth was sure, Molly asked, “Mazie, would you like to join us for dinner?”

“No, thank you. Just drop me at the house. I’ve had quite enough lesbian drama for one twenty-four hour period. I’m going home to my simple little life and my simple little man. Women are complicated.”

The laughter of the four women rang through the hanger.

The trip itself was uneventful. The Cessna Citation jet was sleek and fast and made the trip from Raleigh-Durham to Manteo in less than an hour of flying time. While on the ground, as her bags were being transferred from the jet to the plane, Lizbeth attempted to reach Fanny, but no one answered, which she thought was odd.

Lizbeth caught a nap on the jet, just a short one, but it helped. She had been consuming water as if she had been lost in a desert for days. Luckily, the Citation had a fully stocked kitchenette. She nibbled on snacks because she wanted to have it all together when she faced Gray.

It wasn’t just that Lizbeth left without talking to Gray. Gray was going to be angry that Lizbeth didn’t trust her, didn’t believe her when Gray said she loved her. Lizbeth had hurt Gray and, like Fanny said, Gray didn’t like to be hurt. She would lash out at Lizbeth and Lizbeth had to be strong enough to weather the storm, because she deserved it. When the wind blew through, Lizbeth hoped it wouldn’t be too bad. Maybe Gray’s anger would just be a tropical depression and not a full-blown hurricane.

On the way across the Pamlico Sound to Ocracoke, Lizbeth looked out the windows at the boats leaving trails across the water. The Sound was dark blue in its few deep channels, interspersed with shallower greens and sandbar tans and whites. Lizbeth imagined that it would be easy to hit one of those sandbars if you didn’t know the water very well. Gray had told her stories of fishing on the Fanny Gray with her grandfather. Her friends Cora Mae and Jane ran the boat on a daily basis and Gray pitched in when the tourists went home. They had planned to go out fishing with Cora Mae and Jane on Gray’s next day off, before all this happened. Lizbeth wondered if one of the little specks below was the Fanny Gray.

True to her word, Molly had a guest services Hummer pick her up and drop her off in front of Gray and Fanny’s cottage. The driver put her suitcases on Lizbeth’s porch, but she went straight to Fanny’s door and knocked. She held her breath, hoping Gray would answer the door. She did not. It was a very worried looking Fanny, who flung the door open and hugged Lizbeth tightly.

“My Lord, child. Did you fly?”

Lizbeth smiled at Fanny. “As a matter of fact, I just discovered I have a friend with a jet.”

“Must be a very good friend.” Fanny finally smiled.

“Yes, Miss Fanny, the best kind of friend.” Lizbeth looked around, hoping for signs of Gray. “I called, but got no answer. Have you heard from Gray?”

“You must have called when I walked down to the docks to look for her.”

“You still don’t know anything?” Lizbeth was disappointed.

“Sun’s going down. She ought’a be showing up soon,” Fanny said. “She won’t stay on the Fanny Gray in the dark. She’s been working on the electrical system and half the lights is out.”

“So you know where she is?” Lizbeth was relieved. At least she had a location for Gray.

They sat down on the porch. That’s when Lizbeth noticed the phone clutched in Fanny’s hand and the marine band radio crackling with communications occasionally from inside the house. The look of worry returned to Fanny’s face.

“Cora Mae called. Gray ended up over there with a jar of moonshine she bought off one of them Swan Quarter boys. Lizbeth, Gray don’t drink hard liquor much. It’s always a sign she’s about to blow when the bottle comes out.”

Lizbeth pursed her lips. “Oooo… she must really be mad.”

“She got accused of somethin’ she didn’t do and then couldn’t convince you of it. Gray was as mad as I’ve ever seen her. She sure as hell wasn’t in no frame a mind to listen to me when she left. Blamed me for not makin’ you stay, for not believin’ in her.”

“Then she ought to be thrilled with me,” Lizbeth threw out.

“I think she will be happy to see you, but don’t expect her to jump up and down. Her pride is wounded. She’ll hide how she really feels to spite herself.”

“I really don’t blame her for being mad. I did jump to conclusions,” Lizbeth admitted. “Dana came to see me.”

Fanny looked surprised. “She did?”

“She said Gray didn’t deserve this and it was her fault, well, and the asshole who stole the gas. What I saw at the dock was just Gray saying goodbye. I misread everything.”

Fanny let a thin smile creep onto her face, not replacing the worry, only taking her mind away for a second. “Well now, maybe I misjudged that girl. When she asked for your number, I saw no harm in it. You weren’t answerin’ anyway.”

“I’m glad you did. She found me and that’s why I called you.” Lizbeth reached out and patted Fanny’s knee. “So, Gray’s drunk somewhere out on a boat with Cora Mae and Jane.”

Fanny’s facial expression darkened. “Not exactly. Gray is drunk, but she’s out on the boat alone. She got in a shoutin’ match with Jane, who is trash from down east and should never let alcohol cross her lips. Cora Mae has had a time with that one. I don’t know how many times Gray has gone with Cora Mae a lookin’ her, when she gets on a drunk.”

Lizbeth interrupted Fanny, “I’ll learn about Jane’s drinking habits later. What happened to Gray?”

Fanny understood the need to hurry along, and did so with no further straying from the main plot. “Cora Mae said Jane hit a nerve, telling Gray she didn’t blame you for runnin’. With all the tail Gray’s chased, why would anyone trust her?”

Lizbeth gasped. “Oh my God. I’m sure that didn’t go over well.”

“Not by a long shot,” Fanny said, stopping the rocker and growing more serious. “Gray don’t never go on the water drunk. Learned that from her granddaddy. I can’t call her cell, ‘cause she threw her phone at Jane when she took off from the dock behind Cora Mae’s. They watched her with binoculars until she disappeared, heading straight northeast toward the mainland.”

“I hope she has gas this time,” Lizbeth said, not meaning it to sound flippant.

“It ain’t the gas that worries me. Jane had the toolbox off the boat working on something. All the safety flares and flashlights were in there, too. If she does get in trouble, she’s got nothing to signal with. Her cell phone is in the Sound and the radio has been givin’ her fits for months. That’s why she was rewirin’ it.”

“Fanny, you’re not really worried about Gray making it back, are you? She’s an expert waterman. She’ll come back when she sobers up a little.”

Fanny looked hard at Lizbeth. “I’ve knowed a lot of experts ain’t come back from the water. That water out there is mean and unforgivin’, and she’ll make you pay for your mistakes.”

Lizbeth was now comforting the old woman, trying to ignore her own growing anxiety. “She’ll come dragging up here in a little bit, I’m sure. Don’t worry, Fanny.”

Fanny looked up toward the sky, peering through the treetops and branches swaying in the light easterly breeze. “No moon tonight they say. Gonna be real dark soon.”

Lizbeth patted the old woman’s hand. “She’ll be back in a minute, you’ll see.”

The two women waited on the porch in silence for some time. Lizbeth caught herself listening to the traffic on the marine radio inside. She had no idea so many people were out there working on the water or pleasure cruising. The night air was filled with communications, as the unseen world of the nocturnal sea went on unbeknownst to most. Down the street, the sound of music filtered through the trees. There was a banjo and guitar, accompanied by the high-pitched wail of a fiddle singing out the melody of some lonesome Appalachian tune. The tourists had almost all gone home. The end of a summer season was at hand. Although most of the businesses would stay open into November, the tourists would not flock back in droves until next spring. It was still seventy degrees, beautiful weather for sitting on the porch.

It would have been perfect if Fanny and Lizbeth were not growing more apprehensive with each passing moment. The sky turned an inky blue and faded into blackness in a slow dimming into night. There was still no word from Gray. Fanny dialed Cora Mae’s number to see if there had been any sign of her. Cora Mae had not seen hide or hair of her, but they had the big lights on the dock pointed out on the Sound, so Gray could find her way back. Lizbeth could tell by Fanny’s reaction that Cora Mae was worried, too.

The radio crackled from the parlor. It began to emit a series of loud pops and hisses. Fanny perked up, listening. It clued Lizbeth in that she too should pay attention to the noises. Lizbeth leaned toward the door, listening intently. Her heart leapt to her throat at the first sound of the human voice.

“Mayday, mayday, mayday. This is fishing skiff Fanny Gray, I require immediate assistance. Mayday, mayday, mayday. This is fishing skiff Fanny Gray, calling United States Coast Guard Ocracoke. ”

Fanny was on her feet and in the house before Lizbeth could recover from the shock and follow her. The radio crackled again.

“Station calling, this is the United States Coast Guard Ocracoke communications station, over?”

The next part of Gray’s message was filled with gaps and garbled information. Her radio was going in and out.

“…for the United States Coast Guard, this is the Fanny Gray. I need…” followed by garbled noise. Then her voice was clear for a second, “My position is,” dropping out again, with only the word “west” distinguishable in the static. Gray came back strong again, this time the fear clearly present in her voice. “I am taking on water – engine out – bilge pump dead – electrical failing – radio in and out. I am flooding by the bow. Over?”

The Coast Guard man replied, “Fanny Gray, this is Com Stat Ocracoke, roger. Understand you are taking on water, flooding by the bow. Repeat your position. Say again, repeat your position, over?”

The radio spat and hissed. They waited for Gray’s response. After much clicking and popping, they heard, “…northwest of Ocracoke, Pamlico Sound. Exact position unknown… deep water…” The rest was too garbled to comprehend.

“Fanny Gray, this is Com Stat Ocracoke, roger, understand exact position unknown. Request vessel description. Request number of persons on board, over?”

This time Gray’s voice was clear. “White, twenty-four foot, Carolina fishing skiff, no running lights now… One soul onboard, over?”

When Gray said she was alone, Lizbeth could hear the anguish in her voice. Gray was scared, on her own out there in the dark, and she was sinking. Although Gray was a strong swimmer, any number of things could happen before the Coast Guard found her. Finding a single swimmer in the wide Pamlico Sound in the middle of the night was going to be difficult without a clue as to where she was.

“Read you loud and clear, Fanny Gray, this is Com Stat Ocracoke, roger. Understand vessel white, twenty-four foot, Carolina fishing skiff, no running lights. One soul on board. Hang tight there Fanny Gray, rescue boat has been dispatched from Ocracoke, over?”

“United States Coast Guard, this is the Fanny Gray. She’s going down, boys,” the radio crackled and hissed, then Gray came back, “… see lighthouse beam to my southeast… swimming… try to make it to Howard’s Reef.”

The cracking stopped.

“Fanny Gray, this is Com Stat Ocracoke, over?” Nothing. No popping and hissing. Nothing.

“Fanny Gray, this is Communication Station Ocracoke, over?” The operator paused and added, “Fanny Gray if you can hear me, confirming vessel sinking, swimming southeast. Search and rescue ops under way. Choppers in the air. Stay afloat. We’re coming, over?”

Another pause. Then a final communication. “All stations, this is United States Coast Guard Ocracoke. We have a vessel in distress, sinking in Pamlico Sound, northwest of Ocracoke. Exact position unknown. Vessels in the area, be on the lookout for survivor in the water. Repeat, survivor in the water. Assist if possible.”

White noise filled the room. Lizbeth was frozen in place. Fanny stood in front of her staring at the little marine radio on the mantel. She didn’t move or say anything for a few moments, then she turned the phone she had been holding over in her hand. She started punching buttons then put the receiver to her ear. In a moment, someone picked up on the other end.