Part Sixty-Seven

Continued from Part Sixty-Six

Friday, October 14

She left the Rolling Bay area in a hurry, at one point spinning her tires on a bit of mud in the road as she turned north toward Fay Bainbridge State Park. The tall graceful evergreens swept past her window unnoticed, as did the colorful clusters of maple and birch trees. There was a fresh Fall dampness in the air, and sunlight. But she hardly experienced any of this because her mind was on Raoul; specifically, on how little she really knew about him.

She felt she had gotten to know the present-day Raoul: his tastes, his hobbies, his conversational style. She had met his friends. She loved talking to him and, although she found him interesting, she had to admit there was a streak of the ordinary about him. He was...predictable. An old memory struck her: Taylor had been the same way. In fact, Peggy's mother had used those same words: 'Taylor is a safe, predictable man,' she had said, and then she added '...just right for you, I think.' Peggy remembered not liking that part; she was in her late twenties at the time and it was somehow not very flattering to be judged a good mate for a safe, predictable man.

Yet Peggy knew there was more to a person, especially a sixty-ish person, than what he or she is like in the present day. She knew that Raoul had lived through many phases of life, and even now he might not be the same man that his late wife, Priscilla, knew only seven years ago. He might have gone through a wild twenty-ish phase, and a fatherly forty-ish phase, and he might be unrecognizable to Peggy if she could go back in time and secretly observe him. We were all somebody else at one time or another, she told herself.

Priscilla. That was one part of Raoul's life that Peggy did not know much about. She had to admit that Raoul didn't know much about Taylor either. They were each keenly aware of the other's late spouse, aware than an entire life was lived before they had met. In fact, it was probably the most important thing they had in common. They each knew when to provide comfort, and when to provide solitude. A part of each of them lived in this great, dark unfathomable space called grief.

As she drew closer to the campground Peggy thought to herself that it would be a dead end. She felt his absence as she drove into the park and steered down the narrow lane that descended to the beach and emerged onto a parking lot. It was deserted. She drove along the empty campsites and parked at the far end, then she walked over the jumble of driftwood logs to the rocky shore. The wind filled her jacket and vest with air and puffed it up like a marshmallow. She felt moisture and could see the mists piling up over Puget Sound.

She stood for several minutes and tried to imagine where Raoul would pitch his tent and enjoy a few days of solitude. Surely Priscilla was part of this. He missed Priscilla and was with her in spirit. It was not solitude. He had the company of his memories. She hurried back to the car. It had to be Blake Island.

When Peggy got back to the car her phone rang.

"Well?" said Milton Pacer.

"I haven't found Raoul."

"But you got into your car."

"Yes. I'm going to Blake Island."

"Blake Island? What for?"

"I think Raoul went there," she said while starting her car and driving out of the park. Somehow just saying it made her more convinced it was true.

"What on Earth would he go there for?"

"Camping."

"Camping."

"Yes, camping."

"With who?"

Peggy almost answered 'his late wife' but decided that would simply invite more questions than she had time to answer. "I think he wants to be alone," she said.

Milton was silent, Peggy imagined him processing things as she sped back south to Raoul's house. She was going to get his address book and hunt down Ed and Jenny in Eagledale.

"The reason I called," said Milton, "is to tell you that an unexpected opportunity has fallen into our laps."

"Oh, what's that?"

"The head of one of the leading ocean preservation societies is in town and wants to meet us for dinner."

Peggy knew what was coming and began to prepare an excuse. "You must mean Dr. Hinckley, the famous oceanographer."

"Exactly. As you know we applied to his foundation for a grant and now he wants to talk about it."

Peggy had always admired Milton for being so tenacious when it came to finding money for the organization. Without his efforts she would not have had a job all these years. "He's way over my head," said Peggy. "You'd better have somebody like Dave. He's a scientist."

"But he's impressed with our latest ocean project and wants to hear more about it, and you're the one who has the best grasp of the data."

Peggy pulled over to the side of the road. "Milton. I'm very sorry. I'm in the middle of a personal crisis and I can't go out to dinner and carry on an engaging conversation with a brilliant scientist. I don't care how wealthy his foundation is."

Again he was silent. Then Milton spoke very carefully. "I would like you to make sure you've thought this through. You're going to miss a potentially career-enhancing conversation in order to find someone who perhaps doesn't want to be found."

Peggy stared through the window of her car. What if he's right? What if Raoul doesn't want to be found?

"On the other hand, what if he's injured, or stranded and can't contact anyone? I have to know, even if it means I've intruded on his seclusion."

"So you're doing this for you?"

"Milton, let's just say that I think I know what I'm doing and leave it at that, shall we? Now if you will send my regrets to Dr. Hinckley I will be off to lovely Blake Island."

Milton grumbled something that she did not quite catch as she stepped on the gas and sent a spray of gravel into the shrubbery on the side of the road. Her hand trembled as she dropped the phone into her purse. She had never dismissed her boss before. It felt exhilarating.

The name was Semp. Ed and Jenny Semp. Peggy figured it out quite by accident. After an initial slow drive through the few streets that make up the sparse community known as Eagledale, Peggy pulled over to study the map and Raoul's address book. As she took a sip from her water bottle she realized it had gone stale: the bottle had been in the car for several days. She got out of her car to stretch her legs and pour out the water. From where she stood she could glimpse a few boats moored in Eagle Harbor and moved over to get a better look. It was then that she looked down and saw a mailbox with the word 'Semp' on it. She had seen the name before, printed in a confident, feminine hand. She ran back to the car and went to the 'S' section of the address book. And there it was, Semp, Ed and Jenny.

Next to the Semp mailbox were several boxes perched haphazardly on an old wooden beam. Beside them was a dirt lane that led down to the water. Peggy left her car on the road and walked down the lane. There were four or five small houses built close to the water, looking rather old and worn from years of wind and rain and salty air. It reminded Peggy of an old-fashioned seaside village.

She found the Semp house and knocked on the door. There was no answer. She waited and knocked again and then walked around the house toward the water. She saw a gravel boat launch and a small dock. While walking down to investigate, she passed a small building. Then she remembered Deidre's words, that Mr. Ed had a "...boathouse or something."

Peggy paused in front of it. The door was not locked. It was red and worn. She pulled open the door and peered into the gloom. She gasped, and her heart raced with excitement at what she saw. It was Raoul's motorcycle.

"Hello."

For the second time that day Peggy nearly jumped out of her skin. "What? Who is it?" she blurted out.

"I think I should be askin' the questions," said a stooped man with white hair.

"I'm sorry." Peggy took several deep breaths. "I'm looking for Mr. Semp."

"He don't live in the shed."

"I know. It's just that I recognized my friend's motorcycle in there."

"I told Ed he should put a lock on that thing. That shiny motorbike would look mighty temptin' to a person who might be snoopin' around."

"Look. I know I'm probably trespassing. But it's very important that I find the man who owns that motorcycle. I understand he's a friend of Mr. Semp's."

"I wouldn't know. But I saw a guy put that motorbike in there and go off in Ed's boat."

"When?"

"Hmm. Couple of days, I guess."

"Do you know when Mr. Semp is coming back?"

The man shook his head. "Couldn't say."

It didn't really matter, Peggy realized. There was only one boat and it was already gone. Peggy had to find another way to Blake Island.

As she walked back to her car she tried to think of who had a boat. It seemed to her that she had been on someone's boat only a few months ago. Of course, she thought to herself. Luke! Fourth of July. She and Raoul had gone out with Luke and Florence on Luke's boat to watch fireworks over Elliott Bay.

When she got to the car she fished in her purse for the business card Luke had given her months ago; ages, it seemed. While she listened to the ring it occurred to her that Luke would mention it to Florence and Paula. No doubt the whole gang would join in the hunt for Raoul. Poor Raoul. So much for solitude.

TO BE CONTINUED