A CRY FROM THE DEEP (5 page)

Alex rolled down her window. “Mama, can we stop, please, please, please?”

“Oh, Alex,” said Catherine. It’d been hectic since they’d left Provence and the last thing she wanted was a stop at a crowded marketplace.

“Well…?” asked Richard. “You better make up your minds fast.”

Catherine threw up her hands. Parking was always a headache. “Suit yourself.”

Richard gamely looked for a spot. He could never say no to Alex.

“Looks like you’re going to get your wish,” said Catherine.

“How about I drop you both off, and I’ll come and find you?”

Catherine scanned the throngs weaving past the various stalls and spotted a canopy with lettering:
Hats by Helene.
She checked her watch and then pointed at the sign. “How about we meet at eleven by that hat table?” Maybe the market wouldn’t be so bad. She could always use another hat.

~~~

Catherine and Alex had walked the entire circuit—of antiques, homemade foods, and old photographs of once-famous stars—before Richard caught up with them at the hat table. Catherine was trying to decide whether to buy a black wool one with a brim and a braided ribbon around the crown. It reminded her of the hat Diane Keaton wore in that Woody Allen picture decades ago. Some things never went out of style.

“Looks good on you.” He smiled approvingly.

“It does, Mama.”

Catherine checked her image in the hand mirror on the table. She liked what she saw and pulled her wallet out from her bag.

Richard took out a roll of bills from his pants pocket. “Let me get it for you.”

“Absolutely not.”

“It’s only a hat, Catherine.”

She hesitated and then said, “If you’re sure.” She grinned as he paid the seller. “Thanks. You’ve always been generous.”

“You’re welcome.” Richard put a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “What about you, cookie? Did you find anything?”

“Yes.” Alex opened a plastic bag she was holding and took out a small stuffed blue and yellow rabbit with a white bow on each ear. “She’s my lucky rabbit foot.”

Richard and Catherine laughed as Alex hopped around holding up her new purchase.
Is this what it would’ve been like had she stayed? Would they be this perfect family?

Richard looked at her as if he was thinking the same thing. But maybe the thought was too dangerous, because he said nothing and turned away.

Alex stopped hopping by a booth featuring antique jewelry. She fingered some bracelets and then settled on a blue suede jewelry case with a twirling ballerina inside. Richard came up behind her to see the tiny plastic dancer spin slowly to one of the pieces from
The Nutcracker
. “Can you make her go faster, Papa?”

While Richard attended to Alex, Catherine admired a display of rings on a black velvet cloth on the same table. The bands were the usual sterling silver, some carved, and some set with turquoise, black onyx, or malachite stones. She tried on several, but nothing seemed special. The vendor, a woman with frizzy, red hair partly covered by a paisley scarf, watched Catherine for a few moments before bending under the table. She brought up a small wooden box and opened it, revealing a slightly tarnished gold ring.

Fascinated by the design—two hands holding a heart—Catherine tried the ring on her right hand. It slid on easily with no room to spare. 

“This is nice, huh?” Catherine said to Alex.

“Oh, that’s so cute!”

The redheaded vendor tucked her hair behind her ear. “It’s a Claddagh ring. Very old Irish wedding ring. More than a hundred years old.”

Catherine raised her hand, allowing the sunlight to bathe her fingers. The heart with the crown on top glistened in the light.

“Why don’t you buy it, Mama? It’s so pretty.”

“It’s a wedding ring, Alex. I don’t need a wedding ring.”

The vendor said, “You can buy it for good luck. Everyone needs good luck.”

“But it’s not a good luck ring.”

Alex looked closer at it. “Maybe it is, Mama. I have my rabbit’s foot. You can have a ring.”

Catherine took the gold ring off, and examined the inside of it. There was some kind of hallmark, followed by numbers that were too small to make out. She put it back on the velvet cloth and looked at the others, but her attention kept coming back to the Irish ring. “Can I ask you where you got it?’

The vendor shrugged. “In an estate sale. The guy who died was an Irish immigrant. A fisherman. He apparently found it in a large cod caught off the coast of Ireland.”

“In a fish?”

“That’s what the seller said.”

“Strange.”

Alex screwed up her face in distaste. “Ooo. The fish ate it? Does it still smell?”

Catherine laughed and put the ring up to Alex’s nose.

“It doesn’t,” said Alex, wide-eyed.

Catherine said, “It’s a beautiful ring. How much is it?”

“One hundred and fifty dollars. You won’t find another one like it. It’s a genuine antique. You’re lucky, it already fits. You won’t have to have it sized.”

Richard turned to Catherine. “Do you need another ring?”

She hated when he used that tone. As if she were a child. It was her own fault. She shouldn’t have asked for his opinion. She glanced down at her finger again. “I’ll take it.”

The vendor got a small paper bag from under the table, but Catherine had already slipped the ring on. “It’s okay. I’ll wear it.” She figured she could use some luck.

FOUR

The skies turned black and the sea below swelled. Towering waves thrashed the wooden deck of the old sailing ship. Catherine could see the mast falling, splintering in the gales. She glanced around, desperate to find him, but he was nowhere to be found. Where was he? Only moments before, they’d been in each other’s arms, and now she had no idea where he was. He should’ve been up on deck. Her wet white dress clung to her skin, and her boots slipped on the waterlogged boards as she tried in vain to battle the wind that hurled her against the rails. Maybe he’d gone below to look for her. Then a rat ran by. A big, ugly grey rat. What was a rat doing here when all hell was breaking loose?

Shivering, she turned back. She was almost at the top of the galley stairs when someone hollered through the din of the tempest. She looked back to see an old man slide towards her. His soaked white beard and hair framed a face lined with fear, and he held on to some rigging to steady himself. Their fingers touched and he tried to grab her, but she slipped away before he could get a good hold.

He extended his hand again. “Come, lass,” he yelled.“Ye cannot stay here.”

His weathered hand grasped her wrist and pulled. The seas continued to rage. A giant bird flew in and out of the dark clouds, trying to find an opening. A massive wave rose over the ship, crashed down, and sent her and the old man flying to the other side of the vessel. When she raised herself, the old man was gone. He had disappeared in the torrent.

She wailed, “Oh, God! No!”

“Mama, Mama. Wake up. Wake up.”

She held the rope tightly, while the rolling ship threw her in all directions.

Someone was shaking her. Was it the old man, or was it the wind? No, it couldn’t be him. He’d vanished in the storm.

“Mama, wake up. You’re having a nightmare.”

The sea departed quickly as if someone was chasing it.

“Mama, are you okay?”

Catherine opened her eyes. Alex was sitting beside her, her blue eyes rimmed with concern. It took a moment for Catherine to realize she was in Richard’s guest room. Her sheets were twisted around her thighs, and she kicked her legs to untangle herself. She had survived.

~~~

Catherine was setting the table in Richard’s breakfast nook when she stopped to marvel at the rock formations and peach trees in bloom in Central Park.

“I’ve always loved this view,” she said to Richard, who was masterfully flipping pancakes at the stove. “Anything else I can do?”

“There’s some maple syrup in the fridge. Do you want me to sprinkle some blueberries on yours?”

“Sure, sounds good.” As she watched him at the griddle, she had to admit she missed his cooking. He was damn good at it. She took the syrup off the refrigerator shelf and upon closing the door, she noticed a photo on it of Alex at two, just before everything went haywire. Richard was grinning from ear to ear as he held his daughter on a swing.

“Are you going to do it?” said Richard, transferring the pancakes to a warming plate.

“What?”

“The dive for
National Geographic
.”

“I haven’t decided yet, but I’m leaning that way.”

Richard poured more batter on the griddle. “Before you do, maybe you should see someone. I promise not to interfere this time.”

Surprised, she looked at him. He was admitting he’d been out of line.

Richard turned to her. “Well, what do you think?”

“Richard, I don’t need a shrink for this.”

“I understand, but…” He hesitated. “You had a hell of a time last night.”

“Did Alex tell you?”

He shook his head. “You were pretty loud. It reminded me of what you went through after your last dive.”

Catherine’s jaw tightened. “This was different.”

He ladled more batter on the grill. “It makes sense you’d dream something unsettling, considering what you’re thinking of doing.”

“I appreciate that you want to help but I don’t want to talk about it.”

“If you change your mind, I could recommend someone.”

“I know.” Maybe Richard was right. Maybe her nightmare had to do with her fears of something bad happening again on a dive. She couldn’t discount that. In her dream, she was fighting for her life, or was she trying to save someone else’s? But whose? It seemed like someone she loved. She was usually good at figuring out the connections between her dreams and reality. She’d learned that from Richard. But maybe her nightmare had to do with Frank. Maybe he was the old man on the ship beckoning her while she struggled with her footing. Gestalt therapists believed that every part of a dream was a part of yourself. Maybe it would help to talk to Richard about it, but he could be such a jerk. He had this pompous way of lecturing her, as if he had all the answers. No, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of lording it over her again.

“Alex,” Richard shouted through the open door. “Breakfast is ready!” He took his apron off. “I won’t say anything more, but it’s perfectly reasonable to be afraid.”

“Afraid of what?” said Alex, as she came running into the room, her skinny legs propelling her into Catherine’s arms.

Catherine chuckled. “I swear you have the ears of an elephant.”

“I do not.”

“Honey, I was admiring how well you hear.”

Alex pursed her lips. “You always change the subject.”

“I know.” Catherine sighed. “We were talking about Mama’s old bug-a-boo.”

Alex looked at her quizzically. “What’s a bug-a-boo?”

“It’s something that’s a little scary. Like for me, it’s
the deep
. Now, sit down and eat before your pancakes get cold.”

Richard met Catherine’s gaze. “You’re avoiding the issue.”

“Because I don’t want to talk about it?”

“You’re still as obstinate as you always were.”

“Aren’t you glad we’re not together?” As soon as she’d said it, Catherine realized she’d spoken in haste. Alex frowned and folded her arms. “Oh honey, Mama and Papa just couldn’t live together. But the best part was having you. That’ll never change.” Alex looked from one to the other. Catherine wished Richard didn’t look so pained. “Now Papa and I are good friends.”

“I guess.” Alex pushed pieces of pancake around her plate.

Catherine put her fork down. “Alex, your pancakes’ll get cold.”

“I don’t care.”

“Papa worked hard making those for you.”

“It’s okay,” said Richard.

Catherine shot him a look—
it’s not okay—
then turned back and said, “Alex...”

Alex scowled before picking up her fork to jab a pancake.

“I’ll talk to you about it later, okay?”

“Pinkie promise?”

Catherine interlocked her pinkie finger with Alex’s and said, “Pinkie promise.”

Satisfied, Alex took a bite of her pancake. “That’s a pretty ring, Mama.”

“It is, isn’t it?” She twisted the Claddagh ring so the heart sat in the middle of her finger. At one time, someone wore this wedding ring and also made a promise. She wondered if the woman regretted her promise just as Catherine regretted the promise she’d just made Alex. Her divorce wasn’t easy to talk about. She should’ve known it would come up again. Alex had been so distraught over the break-up that it had taken her two years to feel comfortable without her mother nearby.