She collapsed against his warm body and held him tight, not letting go, not letting him pull out, not wanting him to see the tears in her eyes. But he knew. He could feel her shaking against him. He could see through her.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
She nodded silently, her face pressed against his shoulder.
“What’s wrong?”
The tears were more now, there was no hiding them. She couldn’t hold back and she was crying now. He tried to pull away so he could look at her face, but she wouldn’t let him.
“Why are you crying?”
“I don’t know,” she answered.
“There’s nothing wrong?” he asked.
She shook her head but remained clenched to him.
He stroked her hair until she relaxed at his side, breathing heavily, not responsive to his movements. Then, thinking he was alone in wakefulness in the dark room, feeling this was his only chance, he told Jenna that he loved her, and Jenna heard, but she was already spinning backward into her dream, where she ran through the bright field of sunflowers shouting to Eddie that she loved him, too, and that she would always love him, but Eddie couldn’t hear Jenna’s dream, he didn’t know, couldn’t know. All he could do was look at the ceiling and wonder how he could be so lucky and so unlucky at the same time.
Chapter 31
ALL MORNING, ROBERT SAT BEHIND HIS DESK, UNABLE TO MOVE. A painful knot in his neck made it difficult to think. A ringing in his ears made it impossible to concentrate. He sat in his chair, staring blankly out the window at the cars passing by on the freeway below him.
Bobby’s funeral was two weeks ago, and he was fine most of the time. Work was the same as it ever was, boring, uncreative, unrewarding. At home, he and Jenna had achieved a delicate balance. It was a very guarded and defensive dance they did, each waiting for the other to move before responding with a counter-move. Sometimes Robert felt as if the house were an ice-skating rink and he spent most of his time trying to keep from bumping into Jenna. He hoped that soon things would get back to normal, but he feared this was the new norm. There is no going back to normal. It’s ahead to normal or it’s no normal at all.
Robert swiveled around when he heard the knock on his door. Steve Miller was standing in the doorway.
“Got a minute?” Steve asked.
Robert nodded and tried to shake himself out of his daze. Steve stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. That was strange. Robert never closed his door unless he was firing someone.
“The in-laws leave yet?”
“Yeah,” Robert answered. “They left last week.”
“That must be a relief.”
“Yeah. I don’t know. When they were here, at least we had a common enemy. We had to present a unified front to them. Now it’s every man for himself.”
Steve sat down.
“I was here talking to Chuck Phillips about a deal we’re putting together with First Bank. I wanted to stop by and see how things were going.”
“Well, they’re going, you know. The world doesn’t stop for one man.”
Robert turned back to the window. He didn’t care about Steve Miller, who dropped by. As if Robert were in a hospital. Dropped by for a visit.
“Everyone in the investor group is very sorry about what happened.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah, you know, they feel terrible about the whole thing. Terrible.”
“Yeah, well, thanks.”
Robert hoped Steve would get up and show himself out and this encounter would be done with. But Steve wasn’t going anywhere.
“Robert, I have to talk to you about something.”
“Can’t it wait? I don’t really feel like talking right now.”
“No, this is important.”
Robert swiveled his chair back around to face Steve. Steve had a serious look on his face. It was his negotiating face. Robert had seen it countless times at conference tables, picking over fine points of contracts, pounding out details that meant little to the clients but meant the world to Steve.
“What?”
“Robert, they’re shutting down Thunder Bay.”
Robert sighed. Good fucking riddance.
“The Japanese group has backed out, and there’s nothing left to do but shut the whole thing down. Maybe in a few years things will be different.” He paused. “I thought you’d want to know that.”
“That’s it?”
“No, not really. Look, my group has really taken a bath on this. They borrowed a lot against the commitments and now our group has to ante up the loss, and it’s a real hardship on everyone.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because, even though the core group has got the shit end of the stick on this whole fiasco, they want to show how bad they feel about your boy passing on. They’d like to offer their condolences by way of giving you a little something for your grief.”
Robert was confused. Steve was talking around something, he could tell, but his mind wasn’t sharp enough right now to figure out exactly what.
“I have here, for you and Jenna, a certified check for seventy-two thousand dollars, which, we all know, doesn’t come close to making up for the loss you feel. But at least maybe it can make things a little better.”
Robert’s expression hadn’t changed a bit. He didn’t really understand. They were offering him money. Should he be offended or thankful? Was it an insult or a kind gesture?
“I don’t get it,” he said, finally.
“There’s nothing to get, Robert. The people I work with are genuinely upset at your misfortune and they want to offer you something. That’s all.”
Steve snapped open the locks on his briefcase and pulled out a business envelope, which he slid across the desk to Robert. Robert took the envelope in his hand. It was expensive stationery, linen, smooth and silky feeling, light cream-colored with a red monogram on the upper left corner. The monogram read “RGB Group, LP.” Robert looked inside and saw a check made out to him, stamped and punched, for seventy-two thousand dollars.
“That’s very kind of you, Steve. I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything, Robert, really.”
Robert and Steve sat across from each other for a few moments, not saying a word, nodding their heads. There was something going on, Robert knew it. Why else would Steve just sit there nodding. If this was the only thing he wanted to talk about, why didn’t he leave?
“There’s one other thing,” Steve said, holding up his finger. “It’s a little item of business I need to take care of to wrap the whole Thunder Bay business up for the lawyers.” Steve pulled out another envelope and unfolded several pages. He passed the pages across the desk to Robert.
“What is it?” Robert asked.
“It’s a ‘hold harmless’ document. You know, releasing RGB from any liability for what happened.”
Robert stared at the papers. Hold harmless. He was having a hard time concentrating. His neck really hurt. What does it mean? The words were linked together in complicated sentences. Waive the right to recourse through the court system.
“I can’t read this right now. What does it mean?”
“It says that what happened up there was nobody’s fault and that you don’t hold RGB responsible. That’s all. No biggie. Sign it, and it’s all over.”
“But what is this, waiving my rights?”
“Look, Bob, it says you’re not going to sue us. That’s all. It doesn’t mean anything more or less than that. I mean, you weren’t going to sue us, anyway, were you?”
“No, I guess not.”
Robert leaned back and tried to concentrate. He hadn’t thought about that. About suing. It was too much to think about right now.
“So?”
“I should let my lawyer take a look at this, I think.”
Steve groaned and shook his head.
“We’re trying to avoid lawyers, here, Robert. Look, this is man to man
. My group made a generous contribution to you and your wife, and now you should thank them by signing on the dotted line. Your lawyer is going to tell you not to do it. But I have to be honest, if you did try to sue RGB, you’d lose. Everything would come out. About Jenna not knowing how to handle a boat, about her not making the kid wear a life jacket. No court in the world would award you any damages. I mean, I’m not pointing any fingers, here, but come on. How is RGB responsible? You’d end up with a ton of legal bills and no settlement. And, on top of that, Jenna would be put through a very painful ordeal.”
Steve took a deep breath and let what he said sink in with Robert.
“I just handed you a check for seventy-two grand,” he went on. “Very generous. Very. You sign the papers and that’s that. We can all put this behind us and get on with our lives.”
Robert buried his head in his hands. Steve was right. They wouldn’t sue, and if they did, they would lose. Bobby wasn’t wearing a life jacket. How are investors responsible for that? It was a stupid mistake and the price was high. But still, he didn’t know how Jenna would feel about this. He felt like he was being bought out.
“Steve, I don’t know what Jenna’s going to say.”
“So, don’t tell her now.”
Robert shook his head. Steve had thought a lot more about this whole thing than Robert had. Steve had the answers.
“Wait to tell her. She’s grieving, let her grieve. No need to bother her about any of this. Take the money, set up an account, and when the time is right, surprise her. Then it’ll be like a bonus. It’s not a bad thing, Robert; it’s a good thing. I swear.”
Robert just wanted to go home and take a nap. He was tired and his head hurt and he wanted out. So he signed the papers. He kept one copy for himself and Steve took the other. Steve stood up to leave and looked down at Robert.
“It’s the best way, Robert. It’s over now. Quick and painless. We can move on to greener pastures now.”
Steve left Robert alone in his office wondering if he had done the right thing, feeling that he had been bullied into something he didn’t really want, but not caring, really. Not caring about anything. Because Robert had been deflated. He just realized it. The ringing in his ears he had been hearing since Bobby’s death was all the air escaping from his body. And now, it seemed, the air was all gone. The ringing was no longer there. He was a flat balloon on the surface of the moon, where checks meant nothing and legal documents meant less than that. Nothing comes of nothing, said King Lear. And that’s what Robert had. A whole lot of nothing.
Chapter 32
THE WIPER BLADES SQUEAKED WHEN THEY MOVED CLOCKWISE across the windshield, but they were silent on their way back, leaving two ribbons of rain on the glass. It had been raining all night and the road was a muddy mess. It seemed to Jenna as if they had been traveling hours through the woods along a bumpy, twisting road, when, in fact, it had been only a little over half an hour. Every now and then she looked back through the rear window of the pickup truck to see if Eddie and Oscar were okay. They looked miserable, riding in the bed of the truck with a green plastic tarp pulled over them to shield them from the rain.
Tom, the man from the store, drove in silence, only speaking to curse the stick shift when the gears made an awful grinding sound. He was a big man and he seemed to be singularly humorless. With his stony face and permanent scowl, Jenna thought they must have offended him in some way. Maybe the trip was too much of an inconvenience. She had offered to take a cab, but Tom just got in his truck and started the engine without a word. But now, Jenna felt she couldn’t take it anymore. If he didn’t say something, even move his lips, anything, she knew she would scream. She prayed the trip would be over soon.
They rounded a bend and stopped before a rusted chain that stretched across the road. Tom climbed out of the truck and dropped the chain and they continued along the road, which had been reduced to two wheel tracks separated by a hump of green grass. The rain had tapered off, or so it seemed. It was hard to tell in the woods. But up ahead, through the trees, Jenna could see white, puffy clouds and an occasional patch of blue sky.
“Looks like it’s clearing up,” she offered to her driver.
Tom shook his head, slowly.
The truck continued along its twisting path for another mile or so until the road went sharply up a short hill and the trees seemed to fall away into a dramatic view of a beach and an inlet, and, across the water, another island in the distance. The truck paused on this precipice, long enough for Jenna’s breath to be taken away by the beauty of it all, the brightness of the colors, the almost fluorescent green of new growth on the trees and shrubs, the dark richness of the pines, the reddish color of the bark and the mud, the glistening blackness of the water. Streams of sunlight pierced a hole in the clouds and shot down to earth in dramatic fashion, like the rains parting for the voice of God, Jenna thought. It was an omen, she knew. A good omen. A sign that told her that everything was going to be okay, that the shaman would fix it all. Because below her, at the bottom of the hill, at the end of the shafts of sunlight that God sent down from the heavens, was a house. David Livingstone’s house.
“If we drive down, we won’t be able to make it back up,” Tom said, setting the emergency brake and climbing out of the truck.
Jenna got out on her side and waited for Eddie and Oscar to join them at the front of the truck. The hill was steeper than she had imagined, and the ground was redder. Tom took a rope out of the back of his truck and tied one end to the front bumper. The other end he threw down the hill.
He then grabbed the rope and started working his way down the hill, holding on to the rope like a mountain climber. Jenna looked at Eddie, who shrugged.
“Why is it so red?” Jenna asked.
“Clay,” Eddie answered, picking up the rope. “Makes it more exciting. Kind of like trying to walk on an ice cube.”
“Can you make it with your arm?” she asked.
“If I can’t, I’ll go down on my butt.”
Eddie followed Tom, looping the rope around his good arm and going slowly.
Jenna looked down the hill and then at Oscar. This was not her idea of fun. Rappelling off a clay wall to get to a shaman. Why can’t shamans live in condominiums or something? With heated pools.
“You’re next, kid,” she said to Oscar, and tried to push him toward the hill. But Oscar would have none of it. He set his feet and resisted. He felt the same way as Jenna about the whole thing. Finally, Jenna gave up.
“Fine. You can wait here, then.”
She started backing down the hill the way Tom and Eddie had. It wasn’t as steep as she thought. Actually, if it weren’t so wet, it would be easy, but the clay made it very slippery. When she had made it about a third of the way down the hill, she looked up and called for Oscar, still waiting at the top, watching her. Not wanting to be left behind, Oscar finally made his attempt. Trying to stop himself from skidding down the hill with his front legs, he inched his way down the cliff. His effort was valiant but, alas, insufficient. Soon, Oscar seemed to give himself over to the hill, and he went shooting down on his hindquarters, howling as he went. As he passed Jenna, she reached out to try to stop him, but that was impossible. Oscar’s momentum was too great. All Jenna succeeded in doing was losing her footing herself, so now she was following Oscar down the hill on her back.
She managed to get her feet in front of her, pointed in the direction she was going, but there was no way to stop herself. She shot past Eddie, who was laughing hysterically. It actually felt kind of good to have all the wet mud and clay sliding inside her shirt and up her back. Finally she came to a stop at the bottom of the hill at Tom’s feet, where Tom was in a fit of uncontrollable laughter. It was a relief to Jenna that Tom reacted at all, as stone-faced as he had been in the truck.
“Told you I could get you to laugh,” she said, picking herself up and trying to scoop the mud out of her shirt. Tom laughed harder and harder until he lost his balance and slipped in
the mud, landing on his butt with a thud. And then he just laughed harder still. Jenna smiled. This guy probably hadn’t laughed in ten years, and now he was going to wet his pants. Slapstick comedy, she thought. There’s nothing like it.
DAVID ANSWERED THE door and was a little surprised to find his guests, covered in mud from head to toe, giggling at him.
“The hill’s a little slippery,” he said, inviting more giggles and a burst of laughter from Tom.
“Go to the kitchen door around the side and I’ll try to find you some dry clothes.”
They tromped around the side of the house and went into a workroom next to the kitchen. Eddie, the least muddy of the three, took off his boots, while Tom stripped down to his briefs and Jenna waited self-consciously in mud-caked clothes. The room had stark white walls, cold beige tiles on the floor, and a large work sink in the corner. It had obviously been built for this purpose. A decompression chamber for muddy people.
“This is a convenient room,” she said.
“It’s a mudroom,” Tom said, and then looked around, trying not to laugh, finally letting out a couple of giggles.
David came in from the kitchen with a stack of sweatshirts and pants. Tom slipped on his sweats, and then the men left Jenna alone to change. When she was ready, David rinsed out their clothes in hot water and hung them on a line outside. Jenna told him he didn’t have to go to the trouble, but David insisted that they wouldn’t want to put their clothes back on if the mud set, and he didn’t want them to stay overnight.
Finally, when they were all in the kitchen and the excitement of the great mud adventure had ebbed, formal introductions were made, coffee was poured, and they retreated to the living room to sit and talk. The living room was very grand, a twenty-foot ceiling and a wall of glass that overlooked the water. The walls and floor were all unfinished wood with a rich texture, and at each of the four corners was a large wooden pillar. The room was decorated with Indian blankets and trinkets of all kinds. At one end of the room was a fireplace with a fire burning in it.