The Shape of Night(39)

He shrugs. “I haven’t heard any follow-up. An accident, most likely. People go out on boats, drink too much. Get careless.” He looks at me. “I don’t get careless, not on the water. A good sailor gives the ocean the respect it’s due.”

    I think of Captain Brodie, who surely knew the ocean as well as any man could. Yet even he was taken, and now his bones lie under the waves. I shiver, as though the wind has just whispered my name.

“I can help you get over your fear, Ava.”

“How?”

“Come out sailing with me. I’ll show you it’s all about knowing what to expect, and being prepared for it.”

“You have a boat?”

“A thirty-foot wooden sloop. She’s old, but she’s tried and true.” He tosses another empty shell into the water. “Just to be perfectly clear, I’m not formally asking you out on a date.”

“No?”

“Because doctors aren’t supposed to date their patients.”

“Then I guess we’ll have to call this something else.”

“So you will come out with me?”

For something that isn’t a date, it’s starting to sound suspiciously like one. I don’t answer him right away, but take my time considering his offer as I tidy up the napkins and plastic utensils from our meal. I don’t know why I’m hesitating; I’ve never been particularly cautious about men before, and on every practical level, Ben Gordon is a catch. I can almost hear the ever-logical voice of Lucy, who’s spent all her life watching out for me. He ticks all the right boxes, Ava! He’s attractive, intelligent, and a doctor to boot. He’s just the man you need after all the Mr. Wrongs you’ve been dating. And Lucy has heard about them all, every drunken mistake I’ve made, every man I’ve ever slept with and regretted.

Except one.

I look at Ben. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Do you invite all your patients out for a sail?”

    “No.”

“Why me, then?”

“Why not?” He sees my questioning look and he sighs. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to sound flippant. It’s just…I don’t know what it is about you. I see a lot of summer people come through town. They stay for a few weeks, a few months, and then they’re gone. I never saw the point of investing the emotional energy in a relationship with any of them. But you’re different.”

“How?”

“You intrigue me. There’s something about you that makes me want to know more. As if, beneath the surface, there’s a great deal to discover.”

I laugh. “A lady with secrets.”

“Is that who you are?”

We stare at each other and I’m afraid he’ll try to kiss me, which is not what a doctor is supposed to do with his patient. To my relief he doesn’t, but turns to look at the harbor again. “I’m sorry. That probably sounded really weird.”

“It makes me sound like a puzzle-box you want to crack open.”

“That’s not what I meant at all.”

“What did you mean?”

“I want to know you, Ava. All the things, big and small, that you’ll let me learn about you.”

I say nothing, thinking about what waits for me in the turret. How shocked Ben would be if he learned how eagerly I welcome both the pleasure and the pain. Only Captain Brodie knows my secret. He is the perfect partner in shame, because he will never tell.

My silence has stretched on too long and Ben gets the hint. “It’s late. I should let you get home.”

We both rise to our feet. “Thank you for inviting me. I enjoyed it.”

“We should do it again. Maybe out on the water next time?”

“I’ll think about it.”

    He smiles. “I’ll make sure the weather’s perfect. You won’t have a thing to worry about.”



* * *



—

When I arrive home, I find Hannibal sitting in the foyer, waiting for me. Watching me with his glowing cat’s eyes. What else does he see? Does he sense the ghost’s presence? I stand at the bottom of the stairs, sniffing the air, but all I smell is fresh paint and sawdust, the scent of renovation.

In my bedroom I undress and turn off the lights. In the darkness I stand naked, waiting, hoping. Why has he not returned? What must I do to lure him back? With every night that passes, every night that I do not see him, I grow more fearful that he never existed at all, that he was nothing more than a fantasy born of wine and loneliness. I press my hands to my temples, wondering if this is what insanity feels like. Or is it a complication of cat scratch fever, encephalitis, and brain damage, just the sort of logical explanation Lucy would accept. Microbes, after all, can be seen through a lens and grown in test tubes. No one doubts their existence, or the havoc they can wreak in a human brain.

Maybe this really is Hannibal’s fault.

I climb into bed and pull the covers up to my chin. At least this much I know is real: The crispness of linen against my skin. The distant whoosh of the ocean and the rumble of Hannibal purring beside me.

Nothing takes shape in the darkness; no thickening shadow congeals into a man. Somehow I know he will not visit me tonight; perhaps he was never here at all. But there is a man who could be in my bed, if I wanted him. A real man.