Looking Through Water Page 9

  “I’m tying up some permit leaders,” he said. “I could buy ’em at the Outfitters but I like to tie them myself so I know they’re done right and less likely to break.”

  “What’s that knot?”

  “That’s a blood knot. It’s used to connect different strength lines or lines that have been broken. If it’s tied correctly, the connection can make the line stronger than before it was severed.”

  William watched his father’s sun-spotted old hands weave the two pieces of line deftly as if he’d done it many, many times before. Then Leo cinched the two lines together, forming a beautiful barrel-like knot.

  “Here, you try it,” he said, handing William two pieces of line.

  Leo watched as his son struggled.

  “No, go under there with the tag line,” he said, “then cinch it down tight.” Looking at William’s finished product, Leo smiled and said, “Not bad, not bad. You see, broken things can be mended.”

  William knew that his father wasn’t just talking about the line, but he didn’t want to go there right now. He sat back and looked out over his father’s tiny front lawn overlooking the quiet street.

  “You know,” the old man said, “a bull shark is nothin’ to mess around with.”

  “Neither am I,” William said.

  His dad smiled.

  “That was something, fighting that big tarpon,” William said. “I knew that fish wasn’t going to beat me.”

  Leo looked off into the distance, then said, “A long time ago, I hooked a blue marlin about sixty miles away from here off the Cay Sal Bank. It was the biggest fish I’ve ever seen. Must have gone thirteen hundred . . . fourteen hundred pounds. I thought my heart would stop just looking at her. I fought that fish in the rain for four and a half hours.

  “She jumped like ten times and when she came down, the waves would drop out beneath her and leave a huge hole in the sea. It was as if, when she was in the air, the ocean missed her presence. Then she’d crash down again and the spray would go flying.”

  With trembling hands, Leo lit another cigarette.

  “That year, I was at my lowest. My money was worthless. My power was worthless. I couldn’t breathe. Nothing would alter the decisions I’d made that got me there. But everything changed when I fought that magnificent beast. She didn’t care who I was or how much money I had. She didn’t care about my accomplishments or my failures. She didn’t care if I was a good man or a bad man.”

  He took a long pull on his cigarette.

  “As you might have felt today, a fish fight is in the moment. You’re engaged in a pure test of strength and will and luck and skill and—”

  “Honor?”

  “Yes, honor,” Leo said, “or the lack of it. Being who I was then, I would have killed that marlin if I’d caught her, but that would have been the end of me. Luckily, after all that time, she beat me. I slacked the line for an instant and lost the fish. It was the best thing that could have ever happened to me. Sometimes we lose, son, and it makes us better men.”

  “What’s that knot called again?” William asked him.

  “A blood knot,” he said.

  “You going to Mrs. Reno’s party tonight?” William asked.

  “No, I don’t think so,” he said. “I’m hoping to get some solid sleep tonight. I’ve been tired lately.”

  “How about some food?” William asked.

  “Sure,” he said, “I could eat. How about I show you the Islamorada Fishing Club?”

  CHAPTER 14

  THE TRUTH

  As they started the short ride to the club, Leo told William about the third fish on their target list.

  “The toughest fish to catch with a fly rod is the permit. They’re also one of the scarcest, so a lot of people don’t even try. They’re members of the pompano family, silver like a bonefish and oblong shaped. You often find them schooled up on wrecks in the ocean, but out there in the deeper water they’ll reject every fly in your kit.

  “They come into the backcountry to feed on the flats. They love sun, sand bottoms, and crabs. They also have an uncanny ability to stay just outside your casting range. Perhaps their most distinctive characteristic is their huge eyes, which give them incredible eyesight. When you finally do get a shot at one, he’ll tail down and stare at your fly for the longest time. If they see something they don’t like, poof, they’re gone. If you do get one on, he’ll pull like a small freight train—never jump, just pull. We’ll be lucky to see one, let alone catch one tomorrow. The big weather front that’s coming through in the morning won’t help.”

  As the sun set over the backcountry, they pulled into a small parking lot of the Islamorada Fishing Club. Inside, the club had restaurant seating for about sixty and some outdoor seating overlooking a harbor full of boats of all sizes. The most prominent feature was a horseshoe-shaped bar, where the bartender and the patrons all seemed to know one another. The dark wood walls were covered with big fish mounts and pictures of members proudly showing off their prize catches on docks. Most of the photos dated back to a time when anglers killed everything they caught. Tonight, almost all the tables were full of sunburned anglers drinking, laughing, and eating.

  The bar was two-deep with men William recognized as guides, and right in the middle of them was the ever-present Bobby. Everyone seemed to recognize William’s father, welcoming him with a loud chorus of “Leo! Leo!” A few even clapped and cheered as father and son made their way to a small table in the corner. Leo responded with a bashful wave.

  As they sat down, Leo said, “That applause was for you, William.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You made your mark out there today with that tarpon. I was proud of you.”

  “Thanks,” William responded awkwardly, not knowing what else to say.

  Just then, a freckled, fifty-something waitress with frizzy hair dropped off two glasses of ice water and greeted William’s dad with, “Hiya, Leo. You gonna introduce me to this handsome son of yours?”

  “Patti, this is my son, William.”

  “How ya doin’, cutie?” she said, reaching out and shaking his hand, maybe for a bit too long.

  “Can I get you boys something to drink?” she asked.

  “A beer,” William said, “something Mexican if you have it.”

  “How ’bout you, Leo, you drinkin’ tonight?”

  “I’ll stick with the water, thanks.”

  “Sure, hon. I’ll be right back with that beer.”

  William felt that this was his opportunity and he had to take it.

  “Dad, why’d you walk out on us?”

  The old man didn’t flinch. He took a deep breath as if he’d known the question was coming.

  “I grew up feeling like I was in the shadow of your grandfather, who was a brilliant investment banker. No matter what I did, I couldn’t compete, couldn’t satisfy him. He second-guessed my every decision, always making me feel inadequate.

  “The harder I tried, the worse it got, till I found myself thinking the only way things would change was by my leaving or his dying.”

  Chirpy Patti brought William’s beer over, put it in front of him, and said, “Here’s looking up your record, sugar,” and walked away.

  “And he died,” William said, remembering that overwhelming grief he’d felt as a teenager, losing his best friend.

  “Yes. And it was good for a few years.”

  “So why did you leave?”

  “You came in and hit the street running, William,” he said. “It was your time. I knew you would do what was right for the business, make the decisions that I knew had to be made, but didn’t have the stamina to do myself anymore. I was tired. I didn’t want to do to you what my father had done to me.”

  “So you abandoned us instead?”

  “I got out of your way.”

  “That may have been noble of you, Dad. But what about Mom? When did you fall out of love with her?”

  “William, I never fell out of love with your mo
ther. She was my rock, the light of my life. She believed in me and gave me strength. She was always there for me.”

  “And you repaid by leaving?”

  “When she developed Alzheimer’s, I was devastated. At first it was small stuff—couldn’t find her glasses, forgotten appointments. We made adjustments. Then all of a sudden, she went so fast. Finally she stopped recognizing me. I felt totally lost and alone. I’d lost my compass.”

  “So you left her when she needed you the most?”

  “Kid, no good will come of this conversation. The past is past. It’s best if it stays that way.”

  “You called me, remember?” William shot back.

  “Yeah, well,” Leo stammered, “I just . . . this tournament came up and I thought, what the hell. So I called you.”

  “That’s it?” he said. “No particular reason. Just ‘what the hell’? . . . end of story?”

  “No. We’re having dinner together. That’s something.”

  “Hey, look at this!” shouted Bobby, swaggering over toward their table like a drunken sea lion. Looking at William, he said, “Buddy, that was quite a little show you put on out there today.”

  “I’m glad you were entertained,” William said.

  “Hell yes,” Bobby slobbered, “but I think you mighta made your little brother jealous.”

  “Bobby!” Leo barked.

  “What’s he talking about, Dad?”

  “Bobby, you shut your drunkard mouth!” his father yelled.

  “What?” Bobby said, a look of drunken realization blooming across his face. “Are you tellin’ me he doesn’t know, Leo?”

  Leo jumped up and grabbed Bobby by the throat. “Bobby Pinder, you get outta here before I do something awful.”

  Leo let go and Bobby stepped back, adjusted his collar, and staggered toward the men’s room.

  Leo sat back down.

  “What the hell was that all about, Dad?”

  “Nothing,” he said.

  “That was not nothing,” William said.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  William felt his blood begin to boil and slammed his fist down on the tabletop so hard that his father’s water glass fell off the table and smashed on the floor.

  By now, several of the other patrons were looking at them. “You’re going to tell me what he was talking about and you’re going to tell me right now.”

  With shaky hands, Leo started to light a cigarette. William grabbed it out of his hand and threw it aside.

  “Now,” William demanded, “or I’m on the next plane out of here and you can leave me in the past for good.”

  Leo sighed. “I have another son, William.”

  William felt rage rising through his body.

  “Cole,” Leo said.

  William jumped up, knocking his chair over. “You were screwing his mother while you were married to Mom?”

  Leo looked down at his hands as William headed for the door.

  CHAPTER 15

  THE CONFRONTATION

  Still in a rage, William stormed out the front door of the club and started walking toward the highway. He’d gotten about a block away when one of the young guides he’d met pulled up to him in his truck, rolled down the window, and said, “Hi, William, where ya goin’, need a lift?”

  “I sure do,” William said, “how about Mrs. Reno’s place?”

  The young man said, “Sure, hop in.”

  When they got to Mrs. Reno’s, William stomped down the now familiar wooden plank pathway that wound through the mangroves to the bar. He could hear the sound of live music somewhere in the distance.

  The big tournament party was in full swing, the thatch-roofed beach bar filled to capacity with partying anglers and guides. Still full of rage, William scanned the crowd for Jenny. Eventually he saw her dancing with some guy; their eyes met and she smiled at William. Then when her dance partner turned her with the music, William could see who she was dancing with: Cole.

  He felt his fists knot up and his knuckles turn white. He stormed across the beach and across the dance floor.

  As William approached, Cole said, “Hey, if it isn’t the swimming waiter . . .”

  But before he’d quite finished, William punched Cole with all his might square on the bridge of his nose.

  Jenny screamed as Cole hit the deck and the dance floor cleared. Blood spurted from Cole’s nose.

  “You got anything else funny to say?” William shouted at him.

  Cole got to his feet and charged, putting his shoulder into William’s gut. William was knocked backward and Cole tagged him with an uppercut to the chin. Now it was his turn to hit the floor with the taste of blood in his mouth.

  William jumped up and grabbed Cole and they went at it, punching, kicking, and eventually falling to the floor in a heap. Next thing he knew, William looked up and saw Mrs. Reno standing over them with a fire extinguisher. She pulled the plug and blasted them both.

  Cole and William disengaged, coughing and gasping to get their breath. Mrs. Reno threw down the fire extinguisher and grabbed both of them by their shirt collars.

  “What the hell’s wrong with you two?” Mrs. Reno asked.

  “He started it,” Cole said.

  “He what?” she shot back. “What are you—two ten-year-olds? Now shake hands.”

  William thought, Now, that’s not going to happen, and knew from Cole’s glare that was what he was thinking, too.

  “I said, shake hands,” Mrs. Reno said.

  “No way,” Cole and William said almost in unison.

  “Well then get out,” she said. “This is my bar and children don’t belong at a bar. One of you go one way and one the other.”

  William took a few steps backward and turned and headed for the path. In the parking lot he saw Jenny arranging her luggage in the back of her rental Jeep. He was filthy and embarrassed and the cut on his forehead had opened up again. He felt blood running down the side of his face, but had no time to get cleaned up—he had to talk to her now.

  She turned and seemed startled to see him, wiping a tear from her eye.

  “Are you all right?” he asked her.

  “No, William, I am not,” she said.

  “Please listen to me, Jenny,” he said. “What happened back there had nothing to do with you.”

  “I don’t care what it was,” she said. “It was ugly and violent and it scared me. I thought that I made it pretty clear to you . . .”

  “Where are you going?” he interrupted, not sure he wanted to hear the answer.

  “I’m driving up to Fort Lauderdale to see if I can get on the earliest flight out to the Bahamas,” she said. “I was supposed to leave this morning but I put my departure back a few days and now for the life of me, I can’t remember why.”

  She climbed in the driver’s-side door and started her engine.

  “C’mon, Jenny,” William said, grasping for straws, “what’s this about?”

  She looked him in the eye through the window and said, “Let’s just say I’ve known more than enough violent men.”

  “Listen, Jenny,” he said, “I may be a lot of things but I’m not that guy. How about I drive up to Lauderdale and keep you company?”

  “No, Will,” she said. “You may think you’re not that guy, but you sure look like him to me . . . I need some time by myself to think. Someday if you ever discover who you are you can look me up.”

  Putting the vehicle in gear, she said, “And you’ve opened that cut on your forehead again and I thought I told you not to go swimming for a few days.” With that, she backed the Jeep out of its space, spun the wheel, and drove away.

  Watching her taillights pull away and fade into the darkness, William had never felt more alone in his life. Not knowing where to go, he skirted Mrs. Reno’s bar and walked over to the little beach where Jenny had given him his casting lesson. The moon was high, the waves soft. Suddenly, he felt tired, tired of everything. He climbed into the hammock that swung gently
in the breeze and in no time at all fell fast asleep.

  CHAPTER 16

  DAY THREE—THE PERMIT

  William awoke in the morning with light drops of rain on his face. He decided to head to the marina, not knowing why or what he’d do when he got there; he didn’t want to be a quitter and leave this way. He felt he needed closure even if it meant saying good-bye to his father and telling his newfound brother to piss off.

  He hitched a ride over to the Lorelei with a fireman on his way to work. The guy looked at William and said, “None of my business, pal, you look like you had quite a night. I hope you got a few shots in on the other guy,” and laughed.

  “I’d call it a draw,” William said, staring ahead as the windshield wipers tried to keep up with the now steady rain.

  William arrived at the marina to see that most of the skiffs had left the dock but a few stragglers were loading up equipment, drinks, and lunches. Cole and Leo, both in full rain gear, were sitting in the boat facing each other and working on some tackle in silence. Cole’s nose was bruised and his face was swollen.

  William heard Cole say to Leo, “What are we waiting for? You said he didn’t even come home last night. Just tell the officials he’s sick and let’s go the hell fishing.”

  William’s father said, “No.”

  “What do you mean, no?” Cole snapped. “I’m telling you he’s gone. Probably hopped on his private jet and flew back to his big mountain of money.”

  “No,” Leo said again.

  “You should just cut bait with that spoiled brat and—”

  Leo interrupted him and shouted, “No, goddamn it, Cole. He’s my son as much as you are and I’m not leaving him, not again.”

  William couldn’t take any more, so he walked over and as plainly as he could said, “You both know I can hear you, right?”

  Their heads both swung around to look at him. The look of hatred on Cole’s bruised face was counterbalanced by the look on his dad’s that showed how happy he was to see him.

  Leo said, “I knew you’d be here, son. I’ve brought extra rain gear for you in my duffel bag. Put it on and let’s get going.”

  “Great!” Cole said. “What a fuckin’ wasted day this’ll be.”