A CRY FROM THE DEEP (40 page)
Read A CRY FROM THE DEEP Online
Authors: Unknown
He took out a red tissue-wrapped parcel out of his jacket pocket and put it on her side of the table.
“What’s this?” She picked up the tiny package that was taped shut. It was light. She took her time opening it. When she got it opened, she gasped. It was the Claddagh ring. “How did you...?”
“On one of the dives after you left, a flash of yellow metal got my attention. It was on the bottom between a shell and a rock. At first I thought it was one of those drink tabs, because it was such a narrow piece. Most of it was buried in the sand. But for some reason I decided to investigate. So I dug down and .... I had no idea you’d lost it.”
I didn’t. I threw it over.
And yet, there it was. What were the chances of it being found again, and this time by Daniel? “And you kept it secret all this time?”
He took her hand. “May I?” He put the ring on her finger.
“You know I’m going to have those dreams again…”
He kissed her lightly. “Maybe now you’ll figure out what she really wants.”
The dreams did come back but this time the young woman showed less panic, as if she’d found who she was looking for. Catherine hoped this wasn’t a sign she was going to be plagued with ghostly visits forever.
As for Alex, she didn’t seem to mind her mother’s interest in Daniel since Richard had announced—around the same time—that he was going to marry Monique. The only thing Alex had to say about Daniel was, “He’s okay, Mama, but not as good looking as Papa.” Catherine laughed, knowing Daniel’s movie star looks didn’t quite cut it with her daughter.
The next six days were a whirlwind of activity, which included a date with Lindsey, a long overdue phone conversation with her parents—who astonishingly congratulated her after questioning why they hadn’t heard from her for so long—and a shopping trip with Alex for new fall clothes. Catherine wished she could’ve stayed in New York longer to see her photographs come out in the next issue of
National Geographic
, but her lavender farm beckoned. She also wished she could see Hennesey’s face when he opened those pages. For now, she was satisfied that this was one story that wasn’t going to go away, not anytime soon.
~~~
Daniel arrived in Provence a few weeks later for a visit. Catherine put him up in the guest bedroom, more for Alex’s sake than her own. Not that Alex had said anything, but Catherine wasn’t taking chances. Still, it would’ve been awkward to have him in her bed. Before she’d left New York, she and Daniel hadn’t had time nor the place to do much more than engage in passionate kisses and fondling that had left them both sweating and breathless with desire.
As usual, Alex was surprising. When she came home from school and found Daniel there, she said “Hi” nonchalantly, and then proceeded to ask him if he had brought her anything.
“Alex! Where are your manners?” scolded Catherine.
Daniel waved his hand at Catherine, indicating it was all okay. He said to Alex, “How did you guess that I brought you something?”
With Alex jumping up and down, he opened up his suitcase and pulled out a wrapped package, the size of a shoe box. She quickly tore it open to find an
American Girl
doll with brown hair just like hers.
“How did you know I wanted one?”
Daniel shrugged. “I guess I’m just a lucky guesser.” He winked at Catherine when Alex wasn’t looking. She was mesmerized by her doll, dressed in an adorable blue striped shirtwaist with a white pinafore over top.
Alex smiled at him. “I’m glad you came.”
“Me, too,” said Daniel.
Giving him a quick hug, Alex said, “Thanks for the doll.” She stared at him for a moment. “You know, I’m glad you didn’t get married. Because if you did, I wouldn’t have been able to go. It would’ve been awful to miss the first wedding I was ever invited to.”
Daniel and Catherine did their best to suppress their laughter.
During his visit—which lasted almost two weeks—the three of them rode horses, picked lavender, and checked out Cezanne’s former studio near Aix-en-Provence. Daniel even helped make perfumed lavender sachets, which Alex found funny. She kept telling Daniel he smelled like a girl.
Alex turned out to be more accommodating than either Catherine or Daniel could’ve predicted. She even asked if her parents could have a double wedding, but neither Richard nor Catherine were interested in that notion. She was even more enamored with Daniel after he told her how he’d found the ring. She thought it was all very romantic.
But it wasn’t the wedding plans that excited Alex the most, it was the prospect of moving back to New York. The big draw for Alex was the shopping and the chance to dress up. She said, “What’s the point of buying all those pretty dresses, if there’s nowhere I can wear them?”
One late afternoon, after Alex had gone to a friend’s for a sleepover, Catherine and Daniel went into Aix-en-Provence for dinner. After a bottle of wine and a gourmet meal of pork tenderloin sautéed with figs and Bordeaux sauce, they drove hurriedly back to the farmhouse. Once inside, Daniel took her in his arms and kissed her with such fervor, that the fever of their kisses unleashed what they’d held in check for too long. With nothing standing in their way, they tore off one another’s clothing until there was barely anything between them. They only stopped when she had to open the door to her bedroom.
In bed, she pressed against him, feeling the heat of his body against hers. She let herself go, comforted by the fact that there was no one around for miles to hear her cries of joy.
Later, as they lay naked under the covers, he said, “Why did we wait so long?”
She murmured, “Funny, I feel like I’ve waited longer than life itself.” The words were barely out of her mouth when she wondered if that was Margaret’s spirit doing the talking. Catherine fell asleep thinking about the young woman who wouldn’t let her love die in the sea.
When she awoke, it was morning. She pulled back the drapes and let the sunlight shower the room with gold. Getting back in bed, she woke Daniel as she snuggled in his arms.
“I don’t know about you,” he said, kissing the top of her head, “but I slept like there’s no tomorrow.”
“I dreamt of Margaret again, but this time she wasn’t searching the deck. She was walking away, walking away on air. She never looked back.”
As this book took over six years to write, I have many to thank who’ve kept me on the path. First of all I’d like to thank, my friend, Michael Thoma, who came to me many years back with some thoughts for a screenplay. He had visions of a bride going down in a shipwreck, and then reappearing on a farm in Provence in another lifetime. I was intrigued, because as a child, I’d seen a movie about a character going back in time, after he’d been struck by lightning. Michael and I struggled with the story and couldn’t come up with one. I kept taking it in one direction, Michael, in another. In the end, we decided the screenplay was not to be.
But I couldn’t shake the idea of two women from different lifetimes intersecting. And so I started to write, not knowing where I was going. I just built it, much like laying one brick on top of the other. Fortunately, the parts involving a therapist and a psychiatrist didn’t need research. Having worked as a therapist myself, these scenes flowed fairly well.
As I love snorkelling and have a fondness for what lies beneath our great oceans, I made my protagonist a scuba diver and an underwater photographer. Because of that, I had to do copious research on both professions. The others in the story, the salvager and the marine archaeologist, also required study.
One of the writers in my critique group said, “Why are you writing about something you don’t know?” Good question. I guess, because I’m fascinated by what I don’t know and I like to find out.
To get the details right, I am forever thankful to: marine archaeologist, James Delgado; scuba diver Ruedi Pletscher, who gave me many hours of his time and invited me out to one of his diving trips with the Campbell River Tide Rippers; The Dive Shop in Campbell River; David Hill-Turner, curator of the Nanaimo museum and President of the Underwater Archaeological Association of B.C.; Kelly N. Korol, with Divesafe International, Campbell River; Barry Hughs from the Irish Coast Guard; Maeve Sikora, an archaeologist with the National Museum in Ireland; and Emma Gollogly from the Monoghan Sub-Aqua Club in Ireland.
I’d also like to thank Chris Sloan, Senior Editor for
National Geographic Magazine
, for his encouragement and information about the UNESCO charters protecting submerged cultural heritage.
Psychic, Linda Merkel of Maine, USA, provided valuable insight into what transpires between psychic and client.
And I am indebted to the following books, journals, and booklets, for the information I gleaned from them:
Ireland,
by Rick Steeves;
Journal for Maritime Research,
Appendix 2: 37 Armada ships on the coasts of Ireland and Scotland;
Diver Down
by Michael R. Ange; Booklet put out by Assay Offices of Great Britain,
Hallmarks on Gold, Silver and Platinum;
and
Ships of the World
, and
An Historical Encyclopedia
by Lincoln P. Paine
The following websites were also combed for nuggets that I could use for my story:
Thomas Dillon’s Claddagh Gold
;
Irish Shipwrecks
;
Wikipedia
;
Donegal Library
;
Lloyds of London;
Guildhall Library;
Blue Water Ventures Key West
;
European Authorities and Contact; Current Archaeology; Maritime Exploration ;Unesco; BBC: An Introduction to Maritime Archaeology;
and
National Historic Ships
.
I could not have pushed forward without the invaluable support and constructive criticism from the River Writers—Kristin Butcher, Sheena Gros, Catherine Knuttson, Jocelyn Reekie, Shari Green and Janet Smith. Beta readers—Nancy Mann, Karen Dodd, and Dayle Getz—gave me their thoughts, which I gratefully used to make my story better. To polish it off, I was fortunate to have the services of my editors, Marnie Wooding, and Laurie Boris.
Special thanks to my cheerleaders: daughters Karen and Robyn, son-in-laws John and Diego, and grandchildren, Michael, Chloe and Mimi. It’s your unbounded love that keeps me going.
And I would’ve given up years back—during my trials and rewrites—if it wasn’t for the incredible support of my husband and soul mate, Robert. There is such a thing as
love forever
.
A Cry From The Deep
is
Diana Stevan
’s debut novel. Her
varied background includes work as a clinical social worker, teacher, professional actor, and freelance writer-broadcaster for Sports Journal, CBC Television. She’s had poetry published in
DreamCatcher
, a United Kingdom publication, a short story in the anthology,
Escape,
as well as articles for newspapers and an online magazine. She’s working on her grandmother's story,
No Time For Tears,
set in the Ukraine during World War I. She lives with her husband, Robert, on Vancouver Island in beautiful British Columbia. To learn more about Diana, you can visit her at