Looking Through Water Read online

  The path opened up to a gorgeous moonlit beach and a rustic, thatch-roofed, fresh-air beach bar, filled to capacity.

  On the far side of the property there was a freestanding bandstand in front of a dance floor. Large and small tables were scattered around, and those closest to the bar and dance floor were packed with revelers. A banner that stretched between two palm trees read OPEN-MIKE NIGHT.

  The place was filled with suntanned locals and sunburned tourists. They were all gathered around holding drink glasses and laughing as a shirtless guy stood at the mike caterwauling some tune or another. As William got closer, he could see it was Bobby, the mouthy fishing guide, who was gripping his cocktail in the hand supported by the wrist brace with the microphone stand in the other. His upper arms bore what looked like naval service tattoos, and on his chest was a large inked tarpon, which seemed to be leaping out of his pants up to his hairy chest. It wasn’t a pretty sight.

  The three-piece house band winced as a red-faced Bobby belted his way through an off-key, throaty rendition of Jimmy Buffett’s “Why Don’t We Get Drunk and Screw?”

  When he finished, he kissed his biceps, grabbed his crotch, then pumped his fist in the air. He yelled into the microphone, “Parrot Heads Rule,” extending his thumb and pinkie and shaking his hand in a hang-loose salute. The crowd cheered and applauded as an embarrassed woman, who must have been Bobby’s wife, tried to coax him down from the stage.

  There was one seat left at the bar, so William sat down. Mrs. Reno, standing behind the bar drying a glass, looked up at him and said, “Holy shit.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Reno,” he said, “but some of my friends call me William.”

  “I know who you are, sugar,” she said. “You’re Leo McKay’s boy. He brags about you all the time. I was just a little surprised to see you here—that’s all. What can I get for you?”

  William pointed at Bobby on the stage and said, “What’s he having?”

  “He’s been drinking Rum Gaffs, one of my special concoctions.”

  “Bring it on,” he said.

  “Sure, honey.” She smiled. “You want a Bloody-Gaff or a Kill-Gaff?”

  “A Kill-Gaff, please.”

  “Thatta boy,” she said.

  As Mrs. Reno turned to make his drink, an enchanting woman’s voice cut through the noisy crowd, hushing them to silence. William turned to the stage to see that the voice belonged to the beautiful girl from the Outfitters who’d helped him pick out his sunglasses, now coincidentally singing the very last song he’d heard before leaving New York. She was standing at the microphone wearing a sundress and looking even more beautiful than he had remembered. She was magnetic.

  He swallowed hard and listened. Her lips were close to the mike, and she sang in a tender whispery voice:

  Unforgettable, that’s what you are

  Unforgettable, though near or far

  A few couples got up to snuggle on the dance floor. As the band’s guitarist did a jazzy solo, the girl closed her eyes and swayed to the music. William was totally captivated. She started to sing again.

  Unforgettable in every way

  And forever more, that’s how you’ll stay

  She finished the song and the crowd erupted into wild applause, shouts and whistles. William just sat at the bar and stared at her. Mrs. Reno came back and set his drink on the bar in front of him and said, “You know her, darlin’?”

  “Who?”

  “The little sweetie on the stage,” she answered.

  “We’ve met,” he said. “But I’d like to get to know her better.”

  “Well, you better hurry, William,” Mrs. Reno said. “She’s only in town for a few days.”

  “What’s her name?” he asked.

  “Jenny Hunter. Looks like she’s heading this way. You wanna buy her a drink?”

  “I wanna buy her a house,” he said.

  “Better start with a drink.”

  “Great, could you make one, please?” he asked.

  “Already have,” she laughed, putting in front of him a slender, delicate glass filled with chilled orange juice and champagne.

  As Jenny approached, William picked up the drinks and stood to greet her. “That was great,” he stammered. “Can I buy you a drink?”

  “Thanks,” she said. “It looks like you already have.”

  He laughed. “Here, take my seat.”

  “Thanks,” she said again, “but I’d rather sit with you at a table.”

  As he paid the bill, the band took a break. They walked over to a small table away from the rest of the crowd. They sat down, and he put her drink in front of her.

  “I’m Will,” he said.

  “Jenny,” she answered. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Well, cheers.” They touched glasses. “You have a beautiful voice,” he told her.

  “Thanks,” she said. “I wish I could remember the lyrics of more songs, but they seem to go in and out of my head. Speaking of heads, didn’t I tell you to take care of that cut on your forehead?”

  “Yes, you did.”

  “Why didn’t you do it, then?” she asked.

  “I was hoping I’d run into you again, and it would give us something to talk about.”

  Jenny laughed and said, “Let me see it.”

  William leaned forward so she could examine the wound. The touch of her hand was gentle and cool on his sunburned forehead.

  “You are a mess,” she said.

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Come on, let’s go to my car,” she said.

  He wasn’t sure why they were going to her car, but he was positive that he would have followed her anywhere.

  They walked down the path together through the parking lot toward a rental Jeep.

  She opened the back and pointed for him to sit on the tailgate, then reached into the trunk and pulled out an old-fashioned black leather doctor’s case. The Jeep was loaded with gear and a fly-rod case.

  Jenny cleaned the cut on his forehead with some clear alcohol on a white gauze pad. It stung but he clenched his teeth. He didn’t want to start with this beautiful woman by appearing to be a baby.

  “It’s too late to stitch this,” she said. “You’re going to have to let it heal from the inside out.”

  “You’re a doctor?”

  “I am,” she said, smiling, “and the daughter of a doctor as well. That’s where I got this old medical case.”

  “Will I have a scar, Doc?” he asked.

  “A pretty big one.” She leaned closer and spread some cooling salve over the wound.

  As she worked, he couldn’t take his eyes off her—her hair, her neck, her eyes, her lips—as she spoke.

  “You’ve also got a bad sunburn, Will,” she said. “I’ve got some aloe lotion. That’ll help.” She opened a jar and spread some on his face. Her touch was magical.

  “I’m going to put a bandage on that wound. Keep it on for a day or so, and then leave it uncovered so it can get some air, but don’t go swimming for a few days. Try to keep it clean and I’ll give you this salve to put on it at least four times a day. It will speed up the healing,” she said. “It’s a nasty wound. How did you get it?”

  “A minor misjudgment,” William said.

  “Looks like there’s a little gunpowder around the cut,” she said, pausing and looking into his eyes. “Listen, Will, I’ve seen too much anger in my life and I want you to know that there is absolutely nothing I detest more than violence.”

  “Jenny, I’m a peaceful man. Not always at peace, but peaceful.”

  “Uh-huh,” she said, not totally able to contain a small smile.

  “Do you fish?” he asked her, looking at her fly-rod case as she put her doctor’s bag away.

  “A little,” she said, “but I’ve got a lot to learn.”

  “How about I buy you some dinner so I can properly repay you for your services?”

  “Thanks, but I’ve already eaten,” she said.

  “So have I,” he sai
d, blushing a little as she smiled again. “How ’bout I win you a stuffed animal then?”

  “Huh?”

  “C’mon, let’s take a ride. I’m carless tonight. Mind if we take your Jeep?”

  “No problem,” she said, “as long as you drive,” and handed him the keys.

  “Ah, an old-fashioned girl.”

  “Only sometimes,” she said, laughing.

  CHAPTER 10

  THE TURTLE

  “So you’re just passing through?” William asked as he drove.

  “I’m starting up a new clinic in Alice Town in a few days.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “Bimini. It’s a small island in the Bahamas.”

  “And where are you coming from?” he asked.

  “Bad-marriageville,” she told him.

  “I’ve driven through there once myself.”

  They both laughed.

  “So what happened?”

  “It’s kind of a long story,” she said. “I’m from a little town in Wisconsin called Appleton. After college at Madison, I went to med school at the university and met Rick, the star running back. Second-team All-American—got drafted by the Green Bay Packers.

  “We got married right after his graduation. It was going to be a great life; we were going to move to Green Bay, where he would play football and I would practice medicine.”

  “And?”

  She glanced out the passenger-side window. “The dream went wrong. Rick blew out his knee in training camp and the Packers let him go. He tried a few jobs but couldn’t get used to life without adulation. The harder I worked to advance my medical career, the more morose he became.

  “Then he started drinking heavily and lying around at home. I came home late one night from my rounds at the hospital and he was drunk. He accused me of having an affair with one of the other interns. He wouldn’t let up; he shoved me into a corner of the living room. Then he hit me.”

  “What’d you do?” William asked her.

  “I left,” she said. “I told him I’d be back for my things later, got in my car, and left with him cursing me all the way out of the driveway. I drove to Appleton and asked my dad if I could have my room back.”

  “Would you ever go back with him,” William asked, “if he got his life back together?”

  “No way,” she said. “I called an attorney friend of my dad’s the next day and got a restraining order against him and filed for a divorce. My lawyer instructed me to stay in Wisconsin for a year so that I couldn’t be charged with abandonment. I worked hard and put in an application for a job at the new clinic in Bimini. The year was up last Monday, I got my divorce decree on Tuesday, and, as they say in the song, I hit the road, Jack, and here I am.”

  “I’m glad you’re okay,” William said.

  “How about your life, Will? Some ex reach a bad conclusion about you?”

  “Pretty much,” he said. “As far as women are concerned, I think the book on me is that I’m a good date and a bad husband. Looking back, I can’t blame my ex. With my dad leaving, my mother getting sick, and my needs to take care of her and to prove myself, I became absolutely driven. I was never around for my wife. There was no shouting or fighting; our marriage just ended. I actually liked the security of being married. I was even on my way for another try till I caught my fiancée doing the wild thing with one of the young guys who worked for me. I ended up leaving town in a hurry.”

  “That rapid departure have something to do with that gunshot wound on your forehead?”

  “You’d win that bet and I’ll pay it up with a Ferris wheel ride,” William said as they pulled up to the little carnival that he’d seen them setting up that morning.

  “I’m a fool for Ferris wheels,” she said, getting out of the car, flashing that great smile again.

  It wasn’t that high, but from the top the view of the moonlit waters of the Florida Bay was breathtaking. The seats were small, forcing them to sit close. He held Jenny’s hand and she didn’t take it away.

  After the ride, William and Jenny walked down the small midway, still holding hands. They walked past kids and their folks shooting BB guns or throwing darts at balloons to win prizes, lining up for cotton candy and funnel cakes. The background music was supplied by an old calliope.

  At the end of the midway was a booth with an aluminum pond filled with small, carved wooden fish. The object was to use a small wooden fishing rod with a string and a large, dull hook attached to snag one of the fish and win a prize.

  “Let’s try it,” William said, and paid a dollar to the Asian granny who was overseeing the game.

  She handed them a small rod and said, “Good luck, you catch a winner.”

  Jenny and William picked out which wooden fish they wanted to go after. Both holding the tiny rod, they began laughing as they tried to slip their hook through the little eyelet on the fish’s nose. William noticed that his co-angler had a steady hand, and they hooked their target fish on the second try.

  Together they pulled it out of the water. The old Asian lady said, “Turn it over and see what prize you’ve won.”

  Jenny turned the fish over. “Number one,” she said, “my lucky number.”

  The lady seemed as excited as Jenny. “Top-shelf winner! Choose your prize.”

  The top shelf was full of large stuffed animals. In the corner was a small colorful stuffed turtle. Jenny pointed at it and said, “That’s my turtle.”

  The granny stepped up on a small stool to reach the turtle and handed it to Jenny. “Good luck for you. Painted turtle means new love.”

  William loved Jenny’s boundless enthusiasm, especially when she snuggled up to him and gave him a big kiss on the cheek. At that point, he knew that catching that little wooden fish meant more to him than the bonefish he had lost that morning.

  CHAPTER 11

  THE CASTING LESSON

  Still holding hands, they walked to Jenny’s Jeep and climbed in: William, Jenny, and her turtle.

  “Where to, madam?” he asked, trying to sound like Shay, his chauffeur.

  “You’ve got to get up early tomorrow, Will,” she said, “so I think it’s best that you take me home.”

  “Where’s home?”

  “Mrs. Reno’s house,” she said. “It’s right next to her Conch Bar.”

  “Mrs. Reno’s?” he asked.

  “My dad’s been bringing me down here to fish since I was a little girl. We always stayed at the Lookout Lodge Resort, and that’s how I got to know Mrs. Reno. She’s always treated me like a daughter and started inviting me to stay with her when I came to the Keys by myself.”

  Halfway home, Jenny said, “You’re an angler?”

  “I can’t even get a fly out of the boat. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “So if you’re not an angler, Will, what are you?”

  “Well, yesterday I was the Man of the Year,” he said.

  “And what are you today?” she asked.

  “The waiter,” he said.

  “At least you’re multifaceted,” she said.

  Jenny directed him to Mrs. Reno’s driveway. They pulled up to the house and William turned off the lights, took the key out of the ignition, and handed it to her.

  “Thanks for the great evening,” he said, turning to walk back to his dad’s house.

  “Not yet,” Jenny whispered. “Follow me. I want to show you something.” They walked around the house and out to a small moonlit beach with a beach hammock hung between two palm trees. The music from next door had stopped. The only noise they could hear was the water lapping gently on the shore.

  “Look out there,” Jenny said, pointing to the water. “What do you see?”

  William searched the horizon and saw a channel marker blinking red way off in the distance, probably on the inland waterway.

  “That blinking marker?” he asked.

  “No,” she said. “Look carefully at the water. See it?”

  And he did. The water was glow
ing incandescent green.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s luminescence,” she said. “It happens some nights when the conditions are right. I knew it would happen tonight.”

  Jenny stepped in front of him, put her hands on his chest, and said, “Now, what’s wrong with your cast?”

  “My cast? I don’t know. My father and that asshole fishing guide of his—”

  “Shh,” she quieted him. “Don’t worry about them. Turn around. Turn your back to me.”

  He smiled and did what she said. Gently she put her left hand on the small of his back and her right hand on the back of his right arm. She touched him so gently William had to take a breath.

  “Now show me your cast,” she said.

  “But I don’t have a fly rod,” he said.

  “You don’t need one, Will. Show me.”

  He started making a casting motion. She gently guided his elbow higher.

  “Good,” she said, “but your body is tense. Relax. Breathe. Forget I’m even here.”

  “Yeah, right,” he said.

  “Do you have a favorite song?” she asked.

  “Yeah, ‘Unforgettable.’ Your version.”

  She let that slide. “Close your eyes and sing it. Listen to the music in your head.”

  He closed his eyes and continued making a casting motion with his body. William began to sing the lyrics to “Unforgettable.” As he did, he felt his body begin to relax. He became more fluid and more comfortable.

  “Good,” Jenny whispered, then touched the back of his neck as he continued to sing quietly and cast. Her fingers moved down to his lower back and then around his waist. He cast again and she slowly pressed her body against his.

  He couldn’t take it anymore. He turned around and leaned down to kiss her. She touched her finger to his mouth and said, smiling, “You need to practice.”

  “But—”

  “But maybe I’ll see you tomorrow night after dinner, at Mrs. Reno’s, and maybe you’ll ask me to dance.”