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Authors: MaryJanice Davidson
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she’s not dead, she’s just snorkeling. Right?”
“For eighteen hours?” her husband asked gently.
Cathy clawed through her hair, the curly dark hair Nikki so admired. And still did admire! Not past tense: present tense. Nikki was very much in the pesent tense, nothing was wrong, it was all a stupid misunderstanding, that was all, just a—
“…came alone, and we’re pretty casual here.…You cankeep the snorkeling gear in your room and go out whenever you want. We have no idea when she left, but she wasn’t at supper last night, or breakfast this morning, so we alerted the coast guard as well as—”
“Nobody’s seen her since last night? Well, we—we—” She cast around. “We have to find her, then. That’s all. We just have to. She’s a good swimmer but she’s not used to the ocean—we live in Minnesota—and she’ll be waiting for us to get her…” Cathy burst into tears, and was instantly pissed at herself for doing it. This accomplished nothing. It slowed everything down.
Her husband, cool as a flounder in most situations, patted her but fixed his gaze on the guide, waiting patiently for an answer to his question.
“Yes,” the guide said with great reluctance. “I think she’s dead.”
“Of course she is, she’s been dead since last night, only she was alone and no one noticed. She was
alone
,” Cathy said, and did something she had never done before, and hoped never to do again: she fainted.
She woke up in their room, their little cabana on the ocean. Jack looked calm and unconcerned, but then, he always did. He
looked
like a twentysomething handyman who had to struggle with
Body Art Monthly
, when in fact he was a hundred-year-old intellectual.
“They’re still looking,” he said, patting her wrist. She sawhe’d taken off her shoes and placed her neatly in the middle of the bed. “They’ll find her.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she said, and rolled over to bury her face in the pillow. “I’ll never forgive myself, never!”
“Honey, I didn’t catch that.”
She rolled back over. “I said I’ll never forgive myself. She came down here
alone
and we were all supposed to be together, only she came down
alone
, and we should have noticed when she didn’t come back from snorkeling, we
should
have! Who dies going
snorkeling
, for God’s sake?”
“Well,” Jack began cautiously, then stopped. It was just as well; what could he have said? He had died falling down the basement stairs. Talk about senseless.
“What if they never find her?” she asked. “What if she gets…you know. Eaten.”
Jack just shook his head, and she suppressed a flare of temper. Most men would be all “There, there.” Jack knew too much, had seen too much. He wouldn’t comfort her if he thought it was a lie.
“Well, we’re not going anywhere until we find her. Hear that?”
“I hear that,” he replied.
“Thank God I quit my job last month,” she muttered, throwing a forearm over her eyes.
“I have money,” he reminded her.
A bundle. His sister, a lovely woman still living in a St. Paul nursing home, had figured out their secret, and insisted on giving half her inheritance to Jack. Or, rather, the bodyJack now lived in. It had amounted to several million dollars, and had certainly taken the pressure off. No more temp jobs for her, and plenty of money for new carpeting.
The thought of her happiness, of the
money
making her
happy
, when now her best friend was most likely shark supper, made her burst into fresh tears.
Chapter 3
Oh this is so BOGUS.
And not a little bogus, either. Big, gooey, lame bogus. Unendurably bogus.
I hated the movie
Ghost.
Demi Moore dripping tears over everything that moved, stupid Patrick Swayze getting his damn self shot, stupid Whoopi Goldberg—well, she wasn’t so bad…
Nikki knocked on the cabin door, forgetting, again, that she was incorporeal. The ghost thing was tough to get used to. Worse than passing bio in college!
Her
“For eighteen hours?” her husband asked gently.
Cathy clawed through her hair, the curly dark hair Nikki so admired. And still did admire! Not past tense: present tense. Nikki was very much in the pesent tense, nothing was wrong, it was all a stupid misunderstanding, that was all, just a—
“…came alone, and we’re pretty casual here.…You cankeep the snorkeling gear in your room and go out whenever you want. We have no idea when she left, but she wasn’t at supper last night, or breakfast this morning, so we alerted the coast guard as well as—”
“Nobody’s seen her since last night? Well, we—we—” She cast around. “We have to find her, then. That’s all. We just have to. She’s a good swimmer but she’s not used to the ocean—we live in Minnesota—and she’ll be waiting for us to get her…” Cathy burst into tears, and was instantly pissed at herself for doing it. This accomplished nothing. It slowed everything down.
Her husband, cool as a flounder in most situations, patted her but fixed his gaze on the guide, waiting patiently for an answer to his question.
“Yes,” the guide said with great reluctance. “I think she’s dead.”
“Of course she is, she’s been dead since last night, only she was alone and no one noticed. She was
alone
,” Cathy said, and did something she had never done before, and hoped never to do again: she fainted.
She woke up in their room, their little cabana on the ocean. Jack looked calm and unconcerned, but then, he always did. He
looked
like a twentysomething handyman who had to struggle with
Body Art Monthly
, when in fact he was a hundred-year-old intellectual.
“They’re still looking,” he said, patting her wrist. She sawhe’d taken off her shoes and placed her neatly in the middle of the bed. “They’ll find her.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she said, and rolled over to bury her face in the pillow. “I’ll never forgive myself, never!”
“Honey, I didn’t catch that.”
She rolled back over. “I said I’ll never forgive myself. She came down here
alone
and we were all supposed to be together, only she came down
alone
, and we should have noticed when she didn’t come back from snorkeling, we
should
have! Who dies going
snorkeling
, for God’s sake?”
“Well,” Jack began cautiously, then stopped. It was just as well; what could he have said? He had died falling down the basement stairs. Talk about senseless.
“What if they never find her?” she asked. “What if she gets…you know. Eaten.”
Jack just shook his head, and she suppressed a flare of temper. Most men would be all “There, there.” Jack knew too much, had seen too much. He wouldn’t comfort her if he thought it was a lie.
“Well, we’re not going anywhere until we find her. Hear that?”
“I hear that,” he replied.
“Thank God I quit my job last month,” she muttered, throwing a forearm over her eyes.
“I have money,” he reminded her.
A bundle. His sister, a lovely woman still living in a St. Paul nursing home, had figured out their secret, and insisted on giving half her inheritance to Jack. Or, rather, the bodyJack now lived in. It had amounted to several million dollars, and had certainly taken the pressure off. No more temp jobs for her, and plenty of money for new carpeting.
The thought of her happiness, of the
money
making her
happy
, when now her best friend was most likely shark supper, made her burst into fresh tears.
Chapter 3
Oh this is so BOGUS.
And not a little bogus, either. Big, gooey, lame bogus. Unendurably bogus.
I hated the movie
Ghost.
Demi Moore dripping tears over everything that moved, stupid Patrick Swayze getting his damn self shot, stupid Whoopi Goldberg—well, she wasn’t so bad…
Nikki knocked on the cabin door, forgetting, again, that she was incorporeal. The ghost thing was tough to get used to. Worse than passing bio in college!
Her
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