CHAPTER SIX
THE PUZZLE
Monday morning started out with a bang. The television repairman, Dean, was supposed to stop by Mac’s sometime in the afternoon. Instead he was there at seven o’clock in the morning, ringing the doorbell like it was his mission in life.
Mac flew out of bed and ran down the hallway. She stopped at the front door and shouted, “Will you lay off the damn bell? Let me throw some clothes on and I’ll be right back.” She hustled back to her bedroom, threw on some jeans, a white sweater and dashed into the bathroom. She splashed some cold water in her face, blotted it with a towel and returned to the front door.
She opened the door and said, “I thought you said you’d be here this afternoon.”
“I would have been but old man Hankins needs me to help him install a satellite dish.”
“You could have called and warned me,” said Mac as she rubbed her sleepy eyes.
“You never had the house phone turned back on and I don’t know your cell number,” stated Dean.
Mac thought for a second and said, “The television is all yours. I’m going to grab some breakfast.”
Dean walked over to the television and exclaimed, “This is the same set I sold your dad nine years ago. Unbelievable!”
He maneuvered the set out of the maple entertainment center and rested it on the floor. He jumped up quickly when he put his knee on the carpet. “Hey, Mac! Did you know that you have water on your living room carpet?”
“Hold on a minute, Dean. I can’t hear a word you’re saying.” Mac was walking to the living room when she heard the doorbell again. “Good grief!” She looked at Dean and said, “I’ll get to you in a minute.”
Mac opened the door and saw Donna standing there.
“Good morning, Mac. Marcia told me you were up and about so I thought I’d change our plugs and outlets before I go to my motel.”
“Marcia’s still here?” asked Mac.
“She waited until I got here so she could show me where I’m going to be staying”.
“You’ve got to be exhausted. Can’t you come back later and change them out?”
“If you don’t mind, I’d rather change them out now. We don’t want a power down at a critical moment of the surveillance. It’s best to do it now.”
Mac made a sweeping motion with her hand toward the dining room table and “Go at it!”
“I’m going to get the plugs and outlets and I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll leave the door unlocked. Just walk back in when you’re ready,” said Mac.
She walked to where Dean was rubbing his soaked knee and said, “Now what are you complaining about?”
“Your carpet is soaked! Do you have a water leak somewhere?” asked Dean.
Mac went to her hands and knees and felt around the area Dean was standing in. She found two moderately moist spots on the floor. “I can only find two small damp spots here, Dean. The floor is not soaked, it’s damp. Why don’t you move the television over near the rocker and I’ll get you a towel to dry your pants and the floor.”
“No need to worry about my pants, Mac. They’ll dry soon enough. I was more concerned about the water in the carpet.”
“I’ll take care of it, Dean. Thanks for pointing them out. I was drinking some water last night and probably spilled some without realizing it.”
Mac went back into the kitchen and started brewing some coffee. She dropped two slices of bread into the toaster and heard the front door close.
Donna and Marcia came in with a small cardboard box and some tools. They switched the array of equipment off and proceeded with their modifications. Marcia unscrewed the cover plate over the outlet, while Donna used wire cutters to cut off the ends of the power cords.
Mac stuck her head around the corner and said, “Would you like me to cut the power?”
Marcia shook her head and said, “Thanks but that won’t be necessary.”
Mac watched as Marcia pulled the outlet from the junction box and said, “Isn’t that a bit risky?”
“Not really,” she replied.
“Don’t you ever get shocked?” she inquired.
“Over the years, I’ve done it at least a hundred times and have only been shocked once.”
Mac raised her eyebrows and said, “That’s amazing.” Then she returned to the kitchen to heed the call of her toaster. By the time she had finished buttering the bread, Donna and Marcia were finished and waving goodbye.
“See you tonight,” said Marcia as she closed the door quietly.
Mac folded her toast in half and dunked it in her coffee. After consuming the first slice she went to the living room to check on Dean.
“How’s it going?” she asked as she looked at the mantel clock.
“It’s not good, Mac,” said Dean as he removed his baseball cap and ran his hand through his hair. “I can fix it all right and it’ll be good as new. Unfortunately, it’ll be more expensive to fix it than to buy a brand new one”. He put his hat back on and said, “Why don’t you run down to Discount Denny’s and get another set?”
“It’s really that bad?”
Dean nodded.
“Would you do me a favor?” she asked. “Can you get rid of the dead television for me?”
“I’d be glad to.”
“Thanks, Dean. How much do I owe you?”
“Let’s say five bucks for gas and we’ll call it even!”
“My luck’s starting to change!” Mac went to her purse and came back with a ten dollar bill. “Here. Keep the change.”
“Thanks, Mac.”
Mac finished her last piece of toast while Dean packed up his tools and hauled the television off.
What was I going to do? Oh yeah, the wet carpet. How in the world did it get wet?
She went to the linen closet and got a dry towel. She grabbed an old one they used to use when they sat on the beach. She got down on her hands and knees and rubbed the area vigorously. The towel was picking up all the water very nicely. It was also removing some of the dirt and sand in the carpet fibers.
Mac completed the job and decided to check her voice mail. It was refreshing to call and discover a record low number of messages. Even more miraculous was the absence of any significant issues to resolve.
She stretched, got some coffee and went outside for a short stroll on the beach. She walked past the Ferguson place and saw no sign of Brian.
About halfway between her cottage and the pier, she saw Waldo running around in the sand. He was actively playing with a piece of driftwood. He would pick it up with his mouth, toss it a few inches in the air and lunge for it when it hit the sand.
“Hey, Waldo,” she called.
Waldo stopped dead in his tracks and then looked toward Mac.
“Good morning, buddy!”
Mac squatted down and Waldo bolted straight toward her like a runaway train. When he reached Mac, he planted his two, sandy front paws onto her chest, sending Mac reeling backwards.
He dropped the driftwood on her waist and showed his excitement by standing on her chest and licking her face vigorously.
She rubbed him behind the ears and eased him off her chest slowly. “I’m happy to see you too, pal!” She laughed between licks and said, “Do you want to play? Are you lonely?”
She picked up the driftwood, stood and threw it as hard she could. “Go get it!”
She brushed the sand off of her clothes and smiled as she watched him tear down the beach. She marveled at how simple it was to make an animal happy and provide endless entertainment with just a stick. Too bad humans couldn’t have the same joy with as little effort.
They repeated the process until Waldo was tired out. He brought the driftwood back one final time, dropped it by Mac’s feet and lay on the sand with a thud.
Mac looked at the panting dog and said, “I’ll play with you later, pal. I’ve got some things to do. You need to catch your breath anyway.” She patted him on the head and walked away.
; Mac returned home and called Doc Belcher. While she was on the phone, she noticed something on the coffee table that looked like crumbs. The secretary at the doctor’s office told her she could see the doctor in about an hour. Mac thanked her, hung up and investigated the spot on the coffee table.
It looked very much like a handprint. She ran a finger through the crumbs and looked closely. The crumbs weren’t crumbs at all. They were grains of sand. She turned her body and positioned her left hand so it would rest directly on top of the pattern. She discovered that when she had her hand in place, her feet were directly on top of the wet spots in the carpet Dean found earlier. It was like someone with wet, sandy hands had been leaning against the table, or used it to get their balance.
She jumped up and stared at the puzzle. Her heart started racing when she considered the possibilities. Either Dean had played a joke on her or someone with sandy palms and wet feet came out of the puzzle. It couldn’t have been anyone else. She was the only one there. Any intruders would have been caught on tape. Any human intruders that is.
She moved around to the other side of the table and ran her hand across the completed puzzle. There were no new images and no changes to the images already there. How could she explain the sand and wet carpet? Who could she tell? What would it matter if she told anyone anyway? Even if they believed her, what would that change? How would it help?
Mac wanted to yell at the puzzle but she was mindful of the cameras and had no desire to look as crazy as she felt.
A glance at her watch suggested it was time for her rendezvous with Doctor Belcher. She looked at the camera, waved and then laughed. “No one’s watching anyway!”
When she arrived at the doctor’s office, she checked in and waited. She picked up a tattered copy of a magazine the must have been read a thousand times and flipped through the pages. She wasn’t paying much attention to the words because her mind was still hovering over the puzzle mystery.
They finally called her in and directed her to wait in another room. A nurse came in and took her temperature, blood pressure, pulse and weight. She opened Mac’s chart, recorded her findings and dropped to the line that said, “Reason for visit.” She looked up at Mac and said, “And why are you here to see the doctor today?”
“Well, I have all this extra insurance coverage I don’t ever use and he told me he needed new golf clubs, so here I am.”
The nurse wrote “personal” on the line and left the room.
The doctor discussed several personal issues with Mac and listened to the entire story of the past couple of weeks. After their lengthy discussion, he gave Mac a complete physical and pronounced her to be in good health.
After the examination the doctor made a notation in Mac’s file and said, “You’re in great physical health but I’m going to write a prescription for a mild tranquilizer to help you through the stress. Make sure you follow the directions and don’t over medicate yourself.”
“Thanks, Doc. I appreciate it.”
“I’m going to be at the pier for a couple of hours tonight. Why don’t you join me?”
he asked.
“Sounds wonderful. Any particular time?”
“I’ll probably be up there around seven. Do you need me to bring any gear?”
“No thanks. I still have plenty at home.”
The doctor handed Mac the prescription and moved on to the next patient.
After she left the doctor’s office, she did a thorough grocery shop and went home. She knew better than to buy groceries when she was hungry but she did anyway. When she got home and started putting them away, she realized she had enough groceries for two people for two weeks.
She looked at all of the food and remembered her luncheon date with Shingo. She put the last of the load away and went over to the puzzle.
The puzzle was taking on a new meaning in her mind. She couldn’t define the feeling, but her apprehension and anxiety were yielding to acceptance and understanding. It was no longer a cardboard box with numerous cardboard pieces. It was becoming a place and in a very strange sort of way, a companion.
She imagined herself lying on the warm sand, staring aimlessly into the beautiful blue sky and being serenaded by the incoming surf. She tapped the man in the scene and thought, you’re lucky you don’t have any bills to pay, phones to answer or job to anchor you down. If your boat didn’t have a bunch of cracks and a gaping hole in the hull, you could sail the world. You could travel to exotic places and fish the seven seas. What you need is a carpenter. Oh well, time to go. We’ll talk some more later.
Mac rose and was about to leave for Shingo’s when the paint set caught her eye. She went over to the table picked it up and returned to the puzzle. Maybe you don’t need a carpenter after all. Perhaps a painter will do just as well.
She set the paint set down next to the puzzle and left for Shingo’s.
She was surprised to see Waldo waiting for her by her fence. He sprang to his feet and wagged his tail so hard, the entire rear half of his body swayed side to side with the beat.
Mac smiled as she bent over and rubbed his head. “I’m happy to see you too, Waldo.” She located and picked up his stick. Waldo jumped against her waist in an effort to retrieve it. Mac threw the stick as hard as she could and watched Waldo tear down the beach in hot pursuit.
She jogged at a leisurely pace and pretended to be chasing him. He saw her coming and dropped the stick in the sand. He waited until she would get within a couple of feet and pick the stick up and run with it.
When they reached the steps, Waldo dropped the stick and escorted Mac to the Cuda Shack. Once inside, Mac walked to Shingo and said, “Well, I’m here. Where’s my coffee?”
Waldo dropped his ears and tail and moped his way over to his water dish. He emptied the bowl and glanced sadly up at Mac. He scratched at his bed until it was just right and curled up into a comfortable position. Within minutes he was asleep.
Shingo came from around the counter and gave Mac a tender hug. He put his face next to Mac’s and whispered, “Deputy Collins was just here and I sneaked him a water glass with Brian’s fingerprints on it.”
Shingo stepped back and said, “What would you like for lunch, Mac? Name it and it’s on the house.”
“I guess I’ll get the heart attack special with the works.”
“That’s cold, Mac,” said Shingo as he prepared to get her coffee.
“Put a hold on the coffee, Shingo. Let me have a sweet tea instead.”
Shingo felt Mac’s forehead and said jokingly, “Are you okay?”
Mac smiled and said, “Yes, I’m fine.”
Shingo got her the tea and said, “Anything new since I saw you last?”
“I’m still seeing ghosts and hearing things, other than that, no. I did go see Doc Belcher this morning. He said I’m great physically but he prescribed me some tranquilizers to help me through everything.”
“Make sure you take them, Mac. It can’t hurt. How’s Doc Belcher doing these days? I haven’t seen him in a couple of weeks.”
“You’ll see him tonight. We have a date to go pier fishing.”
Brian was on his way to bus a table when he heard Mac mention that she had a date. When he got to the table, he picked up a fork and hesitated. He gritted his teeth and squeezed the fork until his knuckles were white. He put the fork prongs against the table and pushed angrily until there were small grooves in the table and the fork bent in half. He composed himself quickly and finished clearing the table.
Brian finished wiping down the table, grabbed the dirty dishes and returned to the kitchen. He stared at Mac on his way back and offered a polite, “Hello, Mackenzie. Did you come up here to see me today?”
Mac didn’t acknowledge him and was happy that he kept walking without stopping to talk further.
“Hey, Brian, would you fry up a burger for Mac?”
Brian nodded and went to the freezer for a fresh patty. Shingo looked at Mac and said, “Why does he call you
Mackenzie?”
“Long story, Shingo. So, how’s the new help working out?”
“He’s either done this before or he’s a damn quick learner. I showed him where everything was and he dove right in. He’s only made a couple of breakfast dogs and burgers but they were pretty good.”
“There’s not too many ways to mess up your menu, Shingo.”
“Mac, please take the tranquilizers. You’re cutting me to the core today,” said Shingo with a huge grin.
Brian went to the order window and asked, “What goes on this burger?”
“Everything,” replied Shingo.
“Everything it is,” he said with an evil smirk. Brian fried the burger, dropped it on the floor and then placed it on a moldy bun he discovered earlier. He picked his nose and wiped his finger on the hot burger. He scooped up some mayonnaise that had a yellow crust on it and retrieved a drying slice of tomato from the trash. He ran out the back door and stuck his index finger in the grease pit and ran back inside. He smeared his greasy finger over the opposite bun. He tried to find some other disgusting thing to do but couldn’t think of any. He found himself wishing he had to take a shit so he could wipe a little of that on there as well.
He set the order in the pick up window and rang the call bell.
Shingo took the plate and slid it over to Mac. She raised the hamburger to her mouth and was about to take a bite when she felt someone hit her elbow. The hamburger went flying to the floor behind the counter and splattered everywhere.
“Damn, Mac. If you didn’t want it all you had to do was say so!” said Shingo sarcastically.
“Sorry! Someone hit my arm, Shingo. I’ll clean it up.”
Shingo looked around and said, “Really? It’s just the three of us and Waldo, Mac.”
Mac looked around the room and sure enough, no one else was there.
“I swear, Shingo. I felt someone hit my elbow,” said Mac as she slid off her chair and started to help Shingo clean up the mess.
“It’s all right, Mac. I’ll fry up another.”
“Brian, get the mop and swab this area where Mac dropped her burger, while I fry her another one.”
Brian came from the kitchen and looked at the muck. Dropped it hell, it looked like it was fired from a cannon. The bun with mayonnaise was stuck to the grill and the other was resting by a box of straws. He was pissed that Mac hadn’t even taken a single bite. He was further agitated that he had to clean it all up.
Shino selected a fresh patty and grilled it in the kitchen. He didn’t like using the kitchen grill because it didn’t feel right. There was no significant difference in the two, he just felt more comfortable using the front grill.
Mac ate the entire burger and was delighted with the taste. “That was great, Shingo. You really ought to think about going national.”
“What can I say? I’ve got the touch!” said Shingo.
Mac wiped her mouth and said, “What do you think of ghosts?”
“I think they’re okay!” he said with a big smile.
“I’m serious, Shingo. Do you believe they exist or not?”
“Of course they exist,” he stated emphatically.
“How do you know?”
“I try not to complicate things too much. So, I look at nature and I look at what people do and what people make. Ghosts are nothing more than human energy in a holding pattern waiting for a new form of life. It’s kind of like water. Nothing other than a space shuttle or rocket can escape the gravitational pull of earth. Therefore, we still have the same amount of water on earth as we did on day one. It’s always being recycled.”
Shingo took a plastic glass from a rack, filled it with water and took a drink. “When I swallow this, my body will use what it can and I’ll eventually urinate the rest. When I sweat, it will squeeze the balance out and demand more water. When I urinate, it will go to the sewer and then to the treatment facility where it will be made ready to drink again. Water molecules will evaporate and remain in the clouds until certain forces come together and it rains. When you drink a glass of water, you’re drinking recycled dinosaur urine! It’s a never ending cycle.”
“Thanks, Shingo. I’ll never look at a glass of water the same way again!”
Shingo reached for the trash can and held it at angle so that Mac could see the contents.
“See that bun? It didn’t start its existence as a bun. It started as a plant that went through several changes and finally ended as a bun. A plant died, a bun is born. Matter just keeps changing form, not existence. So, when someone dies, they change form, but not existence.”
“I see your point,” said Mac.
“I hope that helps.”
“It’s certainly given me more food for thought. That’s twice you fed me today! And I’m hoping both servings are compliments of the owner!” she said with a warm smile.
“You’ll always eat free here, Mac, regardless of the serving.”
Mac reached for Shingo’s hand and rubbed it lovingly. “You’re a good friend. Thanks.”
The display of friendship kept Brian’s fires burning. He was jealous. That should be his hand she was rubbing. He was far more attractive and intelligent than Shingo. And all that crap about ghosts. That was kid’s mumbo jumbo, reserved for a camping trip on a moonless night.
Shingo and Mac chatted about general local news, her job and the weather for over an hour, while Brian watched television.
Finally, three fishermen came in and wanted to place an order.
“You need to tend to your customers and I still have a few odds and ends to take care of. I’m going to head home. I’ll stop in and say hi when Doctor Belcher and I go fishing tonight.” She blew a kiss to Shingo and left.
When she got outside, there was a biting chill in the air and the sky was overcast. The winds were gusting and scattering sand inland. She looked out at the ocean and guessed that the waves were cresting at about two feet.
As soon as she got home, she brewed a new pot of coffee and turned the thermostat up. Once the coffee was ready, she poured a cup and planted herself on the floor in front of the jigsaw puzzle.
As she rubbed her hand over the surface of the puzzle, she began to feel very relaxed and at peace. Darkness crept in the room and enveloped everything but the puzzle and Mac. There was a comforting silence and a subtle smell of some type of pleasant perfume attached to the darkness.
She was no longer apprehensive about things. Instead she felt safe and secure. Just like she did when her mother rocked her as a little girl.
She slid the paint box in front of her and opened the lid. She removed the painter’s palette and all of the bottles of paint. She examined each bottle and then selected a couple of colors that she thought would mix together and yield the correct color of the boat’s hull.
The artist who created the puzzle picture was very skilled in color use. The entire puzzle scene was painstakingly detailed and employed vivid colors. Copying the color scheme of the boat was difficult because of the talent of the original artist. The boat depicted had realistic weathering changes and also correctly showed saltwater effects on the colors of the boat. She wondered why someone so talented would be painting jigsaw puzzles. It was incredibly authentic.
After several failed attempts, she was finally able to combine the right colors to achieve the perfect color match. She continued to mix, match and paint until she was finished. She used three different sizes of paintbrushes and made several corrections along the way but when she was done, it was beautiful. The newly re-painted yacht looked as good as it must have on the day it was launched.
As soon as the project was completed, the room brightened up again, like someone opening the eastern blinds on a sunny morning. Mac still had that warm, secure feeling. A feeling she hadn’t experienced in many, many years. It was a crazy thought. A totally insane thought. But she felt loved when she touched the puzzle.
Mac leaned back against the couch and stared at the picture. How in the world c
an a bunch of pieces of cardboard love a human being? It could be time for that tranquilizer after all.
“Tranquilizer! Oh my God, I forgot Doc Belcher.” She noted the time and realized she only had thirty minutes to get ready and meet the doctor at the pier. More time had slipped away than she thought. It only seemed like she was working on the puzzle for an hour or two. Somewhere along the line, five hours shot by.
She wiped up the few paint spots on the table, cleaned the paint brushes and got another cup of coffee. She returned to the puzzle and said, “You do good work, Mackenzie!”
She smiled as she looked at the man sitting on the beach and said, “Are you happy now? I think I did a great job. Just wait until you get the bill!”
Mac bent closer to the picture, tapped the man on the shoulder and said, “Hey, Pal! I just repaired your boat. The least you could do is lift your head and thank me!”
Mac didn’t perceive any movement from the man but she did see something that concerned her. When she started work on the picture, the ocean was at least three inches away from the boat. Somehow, some way, in the time it took her to go to the kitchen and return with a fresh cup of coffee, the ocean had moved two inches closer to the boat.
“That can’t possibly be,” she said as she reached for the box cover. Unfortunately, that didn’t help much because the scenes matched. There was no denying it. The puzzle was constantly changing. And if the puzzle was in fact changing, what’s next? It no longer mattered how or why it was changing because there was no answer! Then again, if she were having a mental meltdown would she even know? Which would be worse - mental illness or supernatural intruders? Too many questions…no answers.
Mac stood, took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Her father used to say when you’re faced with a problem, regardless of the nature, view it as nothing more than a pothole. Whatever it is, it’s just meant to wake and shake. Slow down, evaluate but never stop.
“I must be manifesting an inner conflict which is trying to tell me something.” Mac tapped the puzzle again and said, “You’re just a pothole. I hope I understand quickly whatever it is I’m supposed to learn from you.”
Mac knew that night fishing on the pier was usually a very cold experience this time of year so she planned accordingly.
Instead of simply waving to Marcia to let her know she was leaving, she went out and chatted with her for a few minutes. She didn’t want Marcia to freeze her butt off on the pier.
Mac left her house wearing a flannel shirt and jeans, covered by a thick sweatshirt and sweatpants. She had a thick wool blanket stuck under her right arm and was holding a lawn chair in the other. She also had a tackle box, (complete with a Thermos of coffee), and fishing rod. She was good to go!
As she approached the pier she took in deep breaths of salt air. She never tired of saltwater fishing and never tired of the pier. It was a favorite to thousands of fishermen over the years. It was always well maintained and extended nearly a hundred feet further into the ocean than any surrounding pier.
When Mac reached the top of the stairs leading to the pier, she saw Doc Belcher leaning back on a bench in front of the Cuda Shack. He was smoking his pipe, one very similar to her father’s and staring at a puddle on the pavement leading to the pier. He was wearing thick, warm clothing and his questionably lucky fishing hat.
“Evening, Doc.”
“Good evening, Mac. I already have a pound of squid for us to use for bait, so I’m ready whenever you are.”
“I’m ready!” she said as she felt her stomach rumbling. The puzzle took too much of her time and left no time to eat anything.
They looked at each other and started in silent agreement to end of the pier.
Doc Belcher wasn’t in the greatest shape but he wasn’t in bad shape either. He enjoyed reading and had read many hundreds of books. He also liked wood working and built a small workshop behind his house.
He never made it to spas and gyms because he never saw the necessity. He knew where his body stood medically and determined they would be better off without him.
They were happy to finally reach the end of the pier and wasted no time in setting up their lawn chairs. It was a long walk and they were both more than ready to sit down.
Doc Belcher and Mac leaned back in their chairs and cast their look over the ocean. The water splashing against the staunch wooden piles supporting the pier was very rhythmic and relaxing. No one on the pier was playing any form of music or carrying on in a belligerent manner. Talking was kept to a minimum and in a normal tone of voice.
Fishermen are a unique lot that generally adheres to the unwritten rules of the sport. They traditionally display a universal respect by preserving the peaceful atmosphere that accompanies fishing.
Doc Belcher leaned over and tapped the cold contents of his pipe bowl into the water below. He filled it with fresh tobacco and lit it. He crossed his legs and sat quietly as he puffed like the little steam engine that could.
Mac stood, rested her elbows on the guard rail of the pier and looked skyward. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if you could record the smells associated with a memory in the same manner you can record sights and sounds?”
The doctor nodded and looked upward in the opposite direction of Mac.
Mac shifted her attention to the reflected moonlight bobbling on the waves. “Doc, do you believe in the supernatural?”
“What aspect of the supernatural?”
“Do you believe in ghosts?”
The doctor rose and walked to his spinning rod and tackle box. He fed out some line and attached a one ounce, lead sinker.
Mac turned and faced the doctor. She leaned back against the guard rail and watched him prepare his fishing gear.
The doctor set his pipe down and pried the plastic lid from the tub of frozen bait. He removed a small squid and laid it on the pier. Then he took his boning knife out and sliced the squid into small narrow strips. He took a strip that was about as wide as a piece of cooked bacon, put it on a steel hook and cast his line about forty feet away from the pier. He sat back down in his chair, retrieved his pipe and looked at Mac. He took a couple of quick puffs and said, “We live in a world of constant discovery and wonder. Until recently, most scientists believed boiling water would kill most all living organisms on earth. Not too long ago, some undersea explorers stumbled upon thermal vents along a line of submerged volcanoes. Those vents were spewing toxic chemicals from the earth’s core and heating the surrounding water to more than four times the boiling point of water. Yet life was flourishing all around them. There were crabs maneuvering vigorously through plants and organisms, in eight-hundred degree water. It was a startling find.”
“That’s amazing! Can you imagine catching one of them? You’d have to super heat it to cook it or just eat it raw. I wonder what they would taste like?”
“No idea but my guess is that they would taste awful,” said Doc Belcher as he took his lighter and fired up his pipe again.
“I read that less than five percent of the ocean has ever been explored. Imagine what else they might find some day,” said Mac.
Doc Belcher nodded and said, “They also found something else in the ocean that is astonishing. When they examined fifty grains of sand under an electron microscope, they found fossils on forty of them. Further examination of different types of sand from around the world yielded the same results. A microscopic animal attaches itself to sand and the sand serves as its taxi when it is moved around by ocean currents.”
“Unbelievable! A fossil on a grain of sand. I wonder what it ate while it was alive? Whatever it was, it had to be incredibly small. Wouldn’t that be wild if they found an even smaller fossil on top of the fossil?”
The doctor smiled and said, “Yes, but I certainly wouldn’t be a bit surprised.”
Mac looked at the doctor. He was getting on in years and should have retired some time ago. She could remember when his cheeks weren’t so withdrawn and his eyes didn’t require glasses.
In all the time she knew him, he was genuinely kind but somewhat detached emotionally from people. It was probably an occupational necessity.
The only time Mac saw the doctor outside of his office, was on the pier when she went fishing. Doc Belcher reminded her of her father in many ways. The only major difference was her father’s sensitivity. Her father shared his inner most thoughts and dreams with his family. He was also very empathetic and keenly aware of other’s feelings. The only emotion he restricted was anger. He believed that anger only tore things apart. No matter how good an emotional repairman you are, there is always a scar left from the wound.
The doctor cleared his throat and said, “I was watching television a couple of nights ago and saw a science special. Scientists have discovered a new chain of molecules that can remember their shape.”
“How do they remember their shape?” asked Mac.
“I don’t recall the exact specifics but once they are molded into a particular form, they remember that form forever. Any alteration is reversed automatically by the chain of molecules. Of course, you can break them down chemically and rearrange them into a new form but that’s the only way to alter them.”
“Can you imagine if they built cars using those molecules? It would put the car repair people out of business. If you get into an accident, you could just sit back and wait until your car bends back into shape. Wouldn’t that be great?”
“It’s a little more complicated than that. You have to heat the materials to have them bend back. It might be good for the car owner but think of the people you’d be putting out of work. You wouldn’t need as many insurance adjusters, body shops or new car dealers. You could just keep reusing the same car over and over. There could be some wonderful medical applications though. If someone broke a bone, they could have a rod made from those molecules inserted into it and it would never break again.”
The doctor reeled his line in and checked the bait. It still looked good, so he cast in the same spot as the previous cast and said, “Relaying those discoveries to you is my way of answering your question, Mac. There are so many unknowns. So many things yet to be discovered. How many times through the years of mankind have we said something can’t possibly happen or can’t possibly be, yet new things are constantly happening all around us.”
The doctor paused, took a few more puffs on his pipe and continued, “I neither believe nor disbelieve in ghosts. I’m still waiting for the test results to come back before I make a diagnosis.”
Mac smiled. “When I was a kid, I used to watch all kinds of wild birds flying in the sky during the day but I never saw one asleep at night. I know they go somewhere at night and sleep, I just don’t know where. There’s a correlation to what we’re talking about. We know they’re out there sleeping and just can’t see them. Maybe the same is true about ghosts.”
The doctor was reaching for some bottled water, when his fishing rod bowed in half and was nearly jerked from his hand. He leaped from his chair, let some slack out to take the tension off and slowly started reeling it back in. Just when he thought he had everything under control, his fishing rod slapped hard against the rail and bent in half again. Once again, he let out some slack and tried to reel it back in. This time, however, whatever was on his hook decided enough was enough and headed for the open sea. Doc Belcher felt tremendous tension against the line and couldn’t get the reel to turn. He straddled the rod between his legs and leaned backward. He put all of his weight against the rod and pulled back at the same time. He thought about cutting the line but deep inside he knew there was a chance to land his catch if it ever got tired of running.
The stress to the line finally proved to be too great and it snapped, sending the doctor flying backward over another fisherman’s ice chest.
Mac rushed to the doctor’s aid and offered a hand to help him up. At his age, broken bones from a fall, no matter how minor, are always a distinct possibility. “Are you okay?” she asked nervously.
“Damn it! That was the best hit I’ve had in years. I’m disappointed I wasn’t able to land it.” He stood next to Mac and brushed himself off. “My pride took a big hit. Other than that, I’m fine.”
He looked casually around the pier to see how many other fishermen witnessed his acrobatics. Then he and Mac walked back to the scene of the short lived battle and gazed in the direction they assumed the fish was headed.
The doctor smiled and said, “It reminds me of a girl I dated while going to medical school. She came in, hit hard, took what I had to offer and left in a flurry!”
Mac chuckled slightly and said, “Well, it’s still out there. Judging by the way it hit your bait, I’m guessing it’s still hungry. Let’s fix your gear and have another go at him.”
“Maybe in a minute, Mac. I think I’ll sit here awhile and savor the memory of the fight.”
“All right, Doc. I’ll give it a try then.”
Mac prepared everything and cast her line in the same general area that the doctor had. When the sinker hit the water, an object in the corner of her eye caught her attention. She turned her head slightly and spotted the silhouette of a sailboat coming into view. The moonlight provided a slight image but no real detail.
“He’s out kind of late,” stated Mac.
“Yes he is,” confirmed Doc Belcher.
“How come you never bought a boat, Doc?”
“Boats involve too much mental and physical labor. When I take the stethoscope off, I like to disengage my brain and body. I’m at the point in my life where I do all my sailing in a recliner,” he replied.
As the boat sailed across the horizon, it edged slightly closer to the pier. It was illuminated much better and Mac was able to discern more detail.
“That yacht is so familiar.” said Mac.
Her fishing rod began to knock intermittently against the rail. “Guess it’s my turn. I don’t think it’s your fish though. It’s too light of a hit.”
Mac landed the fish quickly and easily. She swung her rod over the guard rail and let her fish drop to the deck. The doctor and Mac both looked at the fish and burst into laughter.
The owner of the ice chest that the doctor tried to compact, strolled over to investigate. When he saw that the fish was about as big as Mac’s hand, he said, “What are you going to do with it?”
“Have it mounted first thing tomorrow!” she laughed.
The fisherman looked at her in disbelief and said, “You’re going to do what?”
“Actually, I’m sending it home before anyone else can bear witness!!”
“Ya’ mind if I use it as a bait fish?”
Mac removed the hook from the fish’s mouth and said, “Here, knock yourself out.”
“Thanks,” he said as he took the fish and returned to his spot.
Mac baited her hook and made another fine cast. The doctor had fallen silent and sat staring motionlessly out at the sea.
She watched him for awhile and noticed that time between puffs on his pipe were growing longer and longer.
A wind started blowing across the pier, driving spikes of cold air through her clothing. She shivered and wrapped her blanket around her upper body. The doctor adjusted his position in the chair and wrapped himself as well.
She raised her hands to blow some warm breath into them and smiled. Even though she was shivering, she still loved being there.
Mac located the yacht and watched as it slipped further east and into the darkness of night and distance. She wasn’t certain but it looked as if there was a figure on the stern waving in her direction. She squinted, but it didn’t help. It was too dark and far away to tell.
Mac heard a soft clanking sound behind her so she glanced back at the doctor. His head was bent over as far as possible and his pipe had fallen to the deck.
“Oh shit!!” she murmured as she reached over and checked his pulse. “Be there,” she said as she put her thumb to his wrist.
The doctor mumbled a bunch of incoherent words and leaned to his side.
“Whew!” she exclaimed as she sighed deeply. He hadn’t reached his rendezvous with the other side yet. “I’ll take sleep over death any day!”
Mac arranged his blanket and let him rest. She made several more mediocre catches and sent them all back to school. Some were too small and others just weren’t good eating.
The night air was becoming more aggressive and searching out victims to torment. She acknowledged the cold and decided to leave. She packed up all their gear and dumped the remaining bait into the ocean. Then she shook the doctor’s arm tenderly and whispered, “Hey, Doc. It’s time to go home.”
The startled doctor jumped slightly and struggled to get his bearings. He rubbed his eyes and fought to keep them open.
“How are feeling, Doc?”
Doc Belcher stretched his arms and said, “Sorry, Mac. I didn’t intend to doze off and leave you alone.”
Mac opened her Thermos, looked at the doctor and said, “One for the road?”
“Sounds great,” replied the doctor as he checked his Timex. He was still wearing the same windup watch that Emily gave him nearly twenty years ago.
“Did you have any luck while I was asleep?”
“I caught one as long as my arm that had to weigh at least 30 pounds. It took two of us to haul it up.”
“Really?” exclaimed the doctor with sincere excitement.
“No, but I’ve always wanted to say that. Maybe some day I’ll get a record catch and end up on Shingo’s Hall of Fame. In all the years I’ve been fishing, I never caught a trophy fish.”
“Nor have I,” said the doctor as he took a rag and wiped out his empty cup.
“I really enjoyed our time together tonight. We’ll have to come out again before I leave.”
“Absolutely,” he replied.
They packed up their things and walked to the beginning of the pier. Mac and the doctor embraced in a friendly hug and went their separate ways.
When Mac got home, she turned off the bathroom camera, took her shower and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her initial fear, denial and confusion was yielding to acceptance and longing. She was accepting the supernatural visitations as something real and no longer questioned her sanity. The visits had been brief and friendly and she needed more friendly things in her life.
She picked up her sterling silver hairbrush and began stroking her hair. The brush was a present from her mother on her tenth birthday. It had the name “Mack” engraved on the handle.
When her mother bought it she took the brush and matching silver mirror to an engraver. She was very specific on the engraving instructions but for some reason the engraver misspelled Mac. He realized his error and engraved the back of the mirror correctly. There was no way to buff the error out because the plating was too thin. He apologized for the mistake and offered to buy a new one. Unfortunately, the store that she bought it from was out of that particular style. Her mother gave the set to Mac and promised to buy another one as soon as the store got them back in but Mac was happy with that one and kept it.
She set the brush next to the sink and said, “I miss you, Dad. It’s okay if you want to come and see me. I’m not afraid. I miss our chats. If you’re lonely and want to talk awhile, I’ll be here.”
Mac finished in the bathroom and went to her bedroom to see if she could track down her silver mirror. She checked each drawer and saw nothing of interest until she opened the third drawer and saw the silver handle.
The mirror was sitting next to a small music box. It had a stained glass top, encased by a maple colored wood. Inside was a tiny carousel that was meticulously crafted and painted with subdued shades of pink and blue. It reminded Mac of the carousel she and her father rode on at their local shopping mall.
Mac’s father gave the box to her on her twelfth Christmas. That was the Christmas that they decided to spend with relatives in Chicago. It was a cold Christmas with tons of white, glistening snow and ice. It was also the first time Mac ever skated. Her cousins took her to a local outdoor ice skating rink and rented some skates. Mac had a great time, even though she spent more time being sprawled out on the ice than standing upright on it. Afterward they went to a warming house on the edge of the rink, had some hot chocolate and engaged in idle chitchat with other skaters.
There were some last minute presents to gather so after the skating adventure, they all went to a shopping mall. Night had fallen and dozens of houses along the way had their Christmas decorations lit up. The red, green, yellow and blue lights looked spectacular against the snowy background.
When they got to the mall, Mac went into a small shop and was instantly drawn to a small music box with a carousel inside. She lifted the lid gingerly and listened as it played “Carousel in the Park“. Her admiration of the box didn’t go unnoticed, although her father made every attempt to make it look as if it did.
On that Christmas morning, Mac was thrilled to the core when she realized what it was. She played it so often that some were beginning to hate the tune and look for ways to disarm her.
Mac removed the music box and wound it up. Then she placed it atop her dresser and opened the lid. She sat on the edge of her bed, holding a picture of her parents and harmonized with the box until it stopped playing.
She closed the lid, put her bed shirt on and crawled under her covers. She rolled to her side, looked in the doorway and said, “Remember, I’m okay with things now. Goodnight.”
A silhouette appeared in the doorway. This time the outline was sharper and more defined than ever before. A voice coming from the silhouette said, “Sweet dreams, Mac.”
Mac pulled her covers up to her neck, fluffed her pillow and smiled. She didn’t turn to see the image. She didn’t need to anymore.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ATLANTA -