Part Sixty-Eight

Continued from Part Sixty-Seven

Friday, October 14

"Excuse me, Peggy, I don't think I heard you correctly," said Luke over the phone. "It sounded like you wanted me to give you a ride to Blake Island in the boat."

"Yes. Can you do it?"

Like an astute salesman, his voice changed from confusion to warmth. "Sure, Peggy, perhaps some weekend we can organize a little outing. Um, were you thinking of just the two of us?"

Peggy had to remind herself that she was dealing with an extremely handsome young man who was accustomed to fending off advances from women of all ages.

"Luke, I would like to go today," said Peggy.

"Today! Wow. Let's see, I get off around five, I'll be on the five-thirty ferry..."

"Luke. I need to go now if at all possible. You see, Raoul is camping on Blake Island and he may be in trouble. I'm asking you to give me a lift in your boat so I can check on him."

Peggy heard the distinct sound of something being deflated very quickly.

"Oh. Raoul's there?"

It amused her to think that Luke actually thought of the proposed expedition in romantic terms, a tryst on Blake Island, eating salmon by firelight with the local tribe at Tillicum Village. She had to admit she was somewhat flattered. Me? But she would never voice that thought to anyone on Earth.

"I know this is very sudden, Luke," Peggy said. "But I'm worried about him and I don't know anyone else here with a boat. I suppose I could call someone in my old neighborhood in Ballard and they could motor across and pick me up. But I haven't done a very good job of keeping up with them and it would be awkward to call and say, 'hey, can you come pick me up on Bainbridge and take me to Blake Island in your boat?'"

"Peggy, I understand. I'm looking at my calendar... Um, I suppose I could take off, like, right now. Which would put me on the ferry in, oh, fifteen minutes. Then I need to go home and change and I could meet you at the marina after that."

"Same dock as last time? Do you remember the Fourth of July outing?"

"Yes. Same place."

"Luke, thank you so much. You're so generous."

She could feel him blushing on the other end of the line. "Sure, happy to do it," he stammered.

Peggy sat back in the seat of her car and relaxed momentarily. The pressure was off. It was now a matter of waiting. She closed her eyes and allowed her breathing to settle down. She knew her stress meter was in the red territory and it worried her. Something's going on here that I don't understand, she thought. I'm overreacting to this. Why?

Annoyed, Peggy started her car and drove home. When she got into her house, she put a flame under the kettle to make a fresh Thermos of tea to take on the boat. Then she checked messages; nothing from Raoul. She noticed with alarm the late hour, almost noon, and placed a container of leftover lentil soup in the microwave. She went to her bedroom and changed out of her office clothes into something more appropriate for boating and walking. It seemed absurd to her to be preparing for a picnic at such a time. It was even more absurd, she realized, to be choosy about what to wear, and caring for even an instant how she should look when paired with Luke, speeding across Puget Sound in his fancy Bayliner. As a matter of fact she had always believed her skin tone was just the right hue and texture for the outdoorsy, adventuresome look. That is, when it wasn't red and splotchy from stress.

She ate her lentil soup while standing over the kitchen sink and then left the house on foot with her backpack containing tea, sunscreen, sunglasses and a hat. She stopped at Blackbird Bakery and purchased a half dozen of her favorite currant tea scones. She liked them almost as much as the ones she made herself, but there was no time for baking. She had a vision of greeting Raoul with scones and tea, which probably made no sense but she didn't want to analyze her actions at that moment.

The sun was high by the time she had reached the dock and found a seat on a warm bench to wait for Luke. It was peaceful. The water was very still, and the few sounds of live-aboard residents going about their chores reached her ears. She looked at her watch repeatedly. What's taking Luke, she wondered.

She was just on the verge of dialing his number when she heard voices, in particular a certain female, nasally voice that she recognized with dismay.

"There you are," said Florence cheerfully.

Her outfit was so white that Peggy had to shield her eyes. She glowed like a snowman on a bright day. One would have thought Florence was dressed for a yachting tour with a Greek tycoon instead of a spin across Puget Sound on Luke's motorboat.

"Hello, Florence," said Peggy, determined to be gracious.

Behind Florence was Paula in a pair of snug-fitting jeans that seemed to cover only half of her perfectly-formed rear end, and then Luke, the skipper, who was so fixated with Paula's perfectly-formed rear end that he bumped into her when she stopped. And then trailed Kelly, of all people.

"Kelly? I expected Florence and Paula. But how did you get roped into this?"

"It's Friday, and I was coming home early on the ferry and these guys kidnapped me," said Kelly.

"We're sorry for intruding, Peggy," said Paula, taking a seat on the bench. "We were all worried about you, especially after I told Luke about leaving you at the ferry terminal this morning."

"Gosh, that was so long ago," said Peggy.

"If you want to do this by yourself we can go," said Kelly.

"I'm sure she needs moral support," said Florence. "Isn't that right, dear?"

"Yes, I'm grateful to all of you," said Peggy, feeling warm and gushy inside. "In fact, I brought scones in case you need a snack."

"Perfect. I'm starved," said Kelly.

"Let's get underway," said Luke, very skipper-like.

They clambered aboard awkwardly, since most of them were not experienced boaters. Luke passed out life jackets, which everyone dutifully strapped on. Once they were settled, and the boat had stopped rocking erratically, Luke eased away from the dock and motored slowly out of Eagle Harbor. Across from Luke sat Florence, exuding an air of authority appropriate to the role of the skipper's lady friend. Peggy, Paula and Kelly sat together on bench seats at the rear. Peggy passed around scones and then poured tea.

"I didn't bring extra cups so we'll have to share," said Peggy.

The group was giddy with excitement which helped lift Peggy out of her gloom, and she began to feel grateful for their company. Then as Luke passed the mouth of the harbor and turned south and opened up the throttle an audible cry of glee escaped involuntarily from every mouth.

Peggy held onto her hat and adjusted her sunglasses. The Sound shone brilliantly beneath a high midday sun. Paula zipped her jacket higher and scooted closer to Peggy.

"How did you figure out he was at Blake Island?" asked Paula, tilting her head to be heard over the wind.

"It was his daughter's suggestion. Raoul and his wife used to go camping there. I think he wanted to share a memory with her."

"When did she die?" asked Paula.

"About seven years ago."

"Isn't that a long time to, you know, still be getting over it?"

"That's the funny thing about the grieving process. It's not always a case of sitting around wiping away tears and being sad. There's a definite period for that, of course, but what really happens over a longer period is that you feel unsettled, like your life isn't back to normal. You make bad decisions, bad choices. Your judgment is lousy. You feel disoriented. You have trouble making new friends. To me that's when you're transitioning to full acceptance of the loss."

"So, do you think he's still going through that?" asked Paula.

"That's one big difference with men. They sometimes don't get to the acceptance phase. They get stuck in the middle phase because they don't recognize it as part of grief. They become disoriented without knowing why, or what to do about it."

Paula lowered her voice and leaned even closer to Peggy's ear. "That makes sense because I think men are basically fragile creatures when you get right down to it."

Peggy laughed. "You are very wise for a young woman."

"You seem to know a lot about this; have you discussed it with Raoul?"

"It has been very hard to have a conversation about it. I hate to generalize, but women tend to recognize grief for what it is and they, at least in many cases, try to process it in a proactive way. My husband died only a year-and-a-half ago, so I've been learning about this and trying to deal with it, although not always successfully I'll admit. But at least it's fresh in my mind. Raoul has had plenty of time to settle into a new lifestyle of non-acceptance and I suspect that nothing has ever come along to upset the status quo for him. Perhaps I wasn't pushy enough."

"You have definitely upset the status quo."

"Let's hope in a positive way."

Luke looked back from the wheel. "There's Blake. It won't be long now."

Peggy stood and gazed ahead over the water. She wondered what Raoul was doing. She imagined him sitting beside his little pup tent, reading a book or cooking fish, enjoying an escape from society. But most of all, she worried about his reaction upon seeing them descend upon him. Would he be angry?

The green island loomed into view.

TO BE CONCLUDED IN THE NEXT EPISODE