Useless Bay(21)

Captain Vancouver thinks this place is useless, but I don’t.

I recognize this man’s profile from somewhere, a book, a display. He’s someone important. I don’t know how he comes to be sitting here next to me. There must be something about the fog . . .

I love gentle shores, the man says. A wonderful place for children. Much better than Deception Pass to the north. I almost didn’t think we’d make it through those waters.

I know who he is.

Mr. Whidbey? I say.

He doesn’t acknowledge his name, but I know it is him.

Behind us the noise continues of people trying to right the HMS Discovery. I know, without seeing it, that it has sailed into Useless Bay at low tide and that the keel has hit the sand before the anchor and now the ship is tipped to the side.

In front of us, the night is lit up red. Everyone is arrayed in front of me, as if on a stage. No one is moving. There’s Lyudmila’s body on the sand. There’s Henry, sitting, his father wrapped around him. Meredith and Joyce hang back. There’s Frank, prone, and there’s another body next to his. One with long blond hair that can only be mine.

Curious.

I wish I could know you and your brothers better, Marilyn. Alas, there’s little time.

You know me? You know us?

He smiles sadly but does not look at me straight on. He looks at the sea. I think he must’ve spent a life looking at the sea, gauging its moods.

I don’t know how he knows my name or about my brothers, but I have suspicions. All I know is that I trust him. He has a trustworthy profile.

I screwed up, I say. I let Grant get away.

Hush, child, he says. It’s too late for that now. She’s coming.

Who’s coming?

The Sea.

I know he isn’t talking about the rising tide but something else.

At first, I think it’s just bulb kelp rising from the bay, but then a head of human hair emerges lightly and, underneath that, a woman’s face. She has features that arrange themselves into something familiar. Her clothes are tattered, and she walks with a driftwood staff, smooth and whorled, at the top of which rests a whole blue-gray Japanese fishing float.

She is beautiful.

I love her but am afraid of her at the same time. There can be no question that we are in the presence of immense power.

Who is she?

Hush, now, the man repeats.

She comes for Lyudmila first.

The Sea kneels over her empty body and caresses her white face. I can’t tell if the Sea is crying or not, but she is certainly grieving. She whispers one word in Lyudmila’s ear and stands to her full height. With her staff, she touches Lyudmila’s dead heart.

A white light comes from within Lyudmila’s chest. It illuminates the night. And then it floats away on the dark sky and is gone. And I know, somehow, that everything that Lyudmila was was contained in that light, and the body that’s left lying on the beach is nothing but an empty shell.

It is now my turn.

The Sea is halfway down the sand to where my body lies, and I’m not ready for her. I’m not ready to be launched into the night the way Lyudmila was.

I’m trembling. I want the man sitting next to me to keep me safe. I reach for his hand.

Help me, I say. I’m afraid.

I can’t spare you this, Marilyn. I wish I could.

The Sea is closer to my body now. Two paces away. She parts the people around me. They move aside easily. I think: Of course they do. The Sea always gets her way.

She kneels over me, where I lie thick and bloated, unable to get air, a useless thing.

Please, do something, I beg the man sitting next to me.

All we can do is pray for mercy, he says.

I don’t know how. Mom never taught us.

The man grasps my hand and starts mumbling words I don’t understand.

But then I see Henry’s distraught profile, and I know I shouldn’t pray for myself—I should pray for those I care about, and how my light winking out will affect them.

Mine shouldn’t be the second bad death in one night for Henry. The first was enough. He is going to need help finding his brother, too, and I already messed up on that score.

So I start praying.

Please, I beg the beautiful woman who is bending over my body, give me mercy. I know I should’ve helped Grant more. I need time to atone for my mistake. And Henry needs my help. That’s what I do. I find lost things.

The man sitting next to me squeezes my hand. Stay strong, Marilyn, he says. The Sea is known for her compassion. You might have a fighting chance.

The beautiful woman is crouched over my body the way she was with Lyudmila’s. She taps my heart with the fishing float, but no light emerges from me.

She leans in closer and whispers one word in my ear that I cannot hear and will spend what will seem like an eternity trying to catch. It will roll toward me like foam, and roll away from me the same way.

I know I have been granted a reprieve, but with it I am being ripped away from this place as if I’m on a current.

No! Not yet! I say. I try to clutch the man’s hand, but it is slipping away from me.

Take heart, Marilyn. You have a difficult path to walk. But know that I walk with you.

I wake with a jolt to the heart.

I gasp for air.

Henry is rocking me, saying it’s going to be all right, but he doesn’t know what’s coming.