“Hold it perfectly still, Catie,” Mom whispered. “We
want them to think it’s just a strange-looking plant.”
“I’m trying.” But after an hour, my arm ached from
holding the crab net steady. “Maybe the bait isn’t rotten enough to attract
them.”
Mom jiggled the string with the chicken neck tied to
the end, making it dance just beneath the water’s surface. “Should I pull it
out so you can check it?”
“Ew, gross!” I grimaced. “No thanks. I believe you.”
Suddenly, her whole body tensed. “Look, there’s
one!”
The water was green and nearly opaque with algae.
Staring down, I could just make out the ghostly limbs of a blue crab swimming
up toward the bait.
“Wait until he’s really absorbed in what he’s doing
and then scoop him up,” she murmured. “Not too quickly, though. You don’t want
to scare him.”
“Right.” Once the crab started attacking the chicken
neck, I slid the net beneath him and slowly lifted it to the surface.
“You got him!” Mom jumped to her feet. “Pull him out,
and let’s have a look!”
“He feels really heavy!” We exchanged smiles of
victory as I raised the dripping net up to eye level.
“Oh, no,” Mom said. “It’s beautiful, a great catch.
But we have to throw it back.”
“Don’t say that!” I moaned. “Why?”
“It’s a female. It’s poisonous.”
I examined the crab. She was right: it had a full,
rounded apron. With a sigh, I tossed the crab back into the water. “Females
aren’t poisonous, Mom, just illegal to catch. You know that.”
“Whatever you say.” Mom walked over to the edge of
the pier and turned around to face me. “I have to go now. Don’t follow me.”
Before I could even grasp what she was doing, she had folded her arms across
her chest, closed her eyes, and tilted her stiffened body backwards into the
water.
“Mom!” I leapt forward, reaching the edge of the
pier just as she hit the surface with a sharp splash. Remembering my lifeguard
training, I got down on my belly, lay on the wooden planks, and thrust my arm
into the water. But she was already out of reach.
I grabbed the crab net and plunged the handle down
towards her, but she kept her arms folded, eyes closed. “Mom, grab the handle!”
I cried out, but she kept sinking. Within seconds she was nothing more than a
whitish blur.
“Don’t worry! I’m coming!” Screw lifeguard training, I thought as I kicked off my shoes and
prepared to go in after her. But just as I was about to dive, something dragged
me backwards by the waist.
I looked down to find a man’s arm wrapped around
me—a man’s arm in a blue suit jacket. A familiar voice said, “Oh no you don’t.”
“Ben, let go of me!” I struggled to free myself from
his hold. Then I realized that I was yelling out loud, awake and in bed,
thrashing about and wrestling with the python of sheets tangled around me. My
cell phone beeped and vibrated along the surface of the bedside table as the
alarm went off. Meanwhile, my heart pounded in my throat. In my mind’s eye, all
I could see was my mother sinking further and further into the river.
Goddammit, I thought, vigorously rubbing
the tears from my eyes. Would my dreams ever stop transforming into
nightmares—reminders that I had failed to see that my mother was in crisis,
that I had failed to save her?
I strained to hear Ben bounding up the stairs to see
what the yelling was about, but there was only silence. Had I only cried out in
my dream? “Ben?” I called, loudly enough for him to hear me if he was awake.
Still no response.
So he was still asleep. That was odd. Ben told me
he’d never lost the early-riser habit he had developed in the Marine Corps. I
turned off my cell phone alarm, put on my robe and slippers, and padded down
the stairs. But he wasn’t on the sofa, where I’d left him the night before. In
fact, he was nowhere.
I scanned the first floor of my tiny row house and
found a note he’d left on the coffee table. “Had to go in early. See you at
work. Bring a bag packed for a few days.”
Well, that’s
cryptic, I
thought as a bud of irritation formed. I flopped down on the couch and breathed
slowly, trying to bring my heart rate back down to normal after the dream I’d
had. “Bring a bag packed for a few days.” But packed for what? Given how
focused he was on my training, I somehow doubted that Ben was planning a
romantic getaway.
I tried Ben’s cell. No answer. I tried Pete’s cell.
Again, no answer. Whatever was happening at the office, it must have been
keeping them both occupied.
At least I had another way to find out what was
going on with Ben. I sat cross-legged on the couch. With my hands resting on my
knees, I closed my eyes and took a few slow, deep breaths. Then I pictured the
filament of light that connected my heart to Ben’s, and focused my mind.
In an instant, the psychic portal between us opened.
As my consciousness reached out and touched his, I fell back against the couch,
struck by the intensity of his emotions. He was worried about something or
someone, and there was a definite sense of urgency. Still, there was no actual
fear. That told me that while some kind of crisis was going on, at least Ben
was safe.
Then his feelings for me crashed through the portal,
flooding me. Whatever else he was dealing with, I was on his mind. Once again I
was overwhelmed by the strength of his feelings. Although I knew the portal
only flowed one way, I tried to send my own feelings back in his direction. I
pulled my consciousness back into my body and opened my eyes.
My gaze immediately settled upon my right hand, and
the exquisite ring Ben had given me the day before. The gold band was carved to
look like two birds in flight, holding a luminous round piece of Scottish agate
with their beaks and the tips of their wings. He’d wanted to give me something
concrete to remind me of how he felt about me when he wasn’t there, to reassure
me when I had worries or doubts. A soft warmth bloomed in my chest as I twirled
the ring slowly around my finger, admiring its craftsmanship. We’d agreed that
I would decide when to tell people that the ring was from him—and that we were
dating. In the meantime, we were keeping both things a secret. I wasn’t quite
ready to go public with our new relationship, and Ben didn’t want me to feel
any pressure.
As I went upstairs and laid my
suitcase open on the bed, I thought about my disturbing dream. My mother’s fall
into the water was obviously a reference to her suicide three months before.
But the poisonous female crab? And Ben stopping me from saving someone’s life?
I knew he didn’t like it when I put myself in danger, but he’d never just let
someone drown.
Then
again, maybe there’s nothing to decipher, I told myself. Sometimes
a dream is just a dream. I tried to content myself with that thought as I
showered, dressed, and packed in a hurry. I was anxious to get to the office
and find out where we were going—and what crisis had made Ben leave that
morning without so much as giving me a kiss good-bye.
