I’d heard Tomlinson make this point before. In fact, after trailering my skiff when we’d returned to Marco Island, I’d stopped at the island’s tiny cemetery where, a while back, he’d once spoken very similar words at the funeral of a young girl. The child’s second funeral. Exhausted from my days at sea, I’d sat for nearly an hour alone, next to the girl’s headstone, before starting the long trip back to Sanibel.
Now Tomlinson said, “Janet’s still with us and loving us and looking over us. Which is why we are gonna party our asses off tonight. Just to get things warmed up, I here and now challenge Doc’s sister, Ransom Gatrells, to a limbo contest. And, ladies? I’ll be wearing a brand new sarong, a hand-painted Cartier from New Orleans, so get your seats early. Zamboni and the Hat Trick Twins are back in fighting shape and ready to rumble.”
My friend continued, “I want to send out a special invitation to all the waitresses at Mucky Duck, Green Flash, Chadwick’s, and Sanibel Grill. As always, there will be a topless division. For the last seven years, that very popular division has been won by the Davis sisters from Mason City, Iowa, Andrea and Kristin, and God bless their family genetics. But one of the sisters has gotten married, so Andrea is at half strength. Ladies, the time to strike is now.”
I noticed Jeth drop his head, shaking it, maybe laughing, maybe fighting back tears, I couldn’t tell. Saw Amelia Gardner smile as everyone hooted and applauded. I also saw Gardner turn suddenly, scanning the little crowd until her eyes found me. Then she stopped, as if she recognized me, before returning her attention to Tomlinson, who was using his hands to call for silence.
“One last thing,” he said. “Day after tomorrow, Sunday morning, here at the marina, we’re going to hold a service for Janet. I talked to Claudia about this, too. It’s time to say good-bye, my children. It’s time for some closure. We can shed all the tears we want on Sunday. We can bawl like babies, but tonight, damn it, tonight we are going to kick a little cosmic ass. Tonight we’re gonna live the hell out of every single, drunken moment, and love each other like the family we are!”
When he said that, I found my eyes turning involuntarily to my left where JoAnn and lanky Rhonda sat side by side on a picnic table. I saw, to our mutual amusement, that their eyes had swung automatically toward me. I nodded at Rhonda’s smile but pretended not to see JoAnn’s bawdy wink.
I did notice that Gardner was moving in my direction, but gradually, as if she didn’t want to divert attention from Tomlinson.
As Tomlinson said, “There’s a very powerful woman I need to introduce right now,” Gardner stopped walking, giving me a brief, pointed look that maybe meant something, maybe didn’t. Then she waited as he continued, “We didn’t expect her, but the timing couldn’t be better. We all know the story. Four people were set adrift, and only one of them made it to the light tower. If you think we’ve been through hell, imagine what she went through. That woman’s here right now. She came here because she wants to talk to the people who care about Janet and answer our questions.
“Out in the parking lot, she told Ransom and me that she’s made it a point to go to all of the families, one by one, and try to clear up any misunderstandings. We’re Janet’s family, and I think we all know what the lady means. That’s why I described her as a powerful woman. I watched her get out of her car in the parking lot a few minutes ago, and she had an aura so bright it damn near hurt my eyes. She’s got a strong and caring heart, so let’s welcome Amelia Gardner to Dinkin’s Bay.”
He nodded to Gardner, who was smiling, but not giving it much, keeping herself within herself, as people applauded politely. “Amelia, you mind if we adjourn to the main docks? We’ll do it any way you want it, but I suggest you grab a beer, get some food, relax, and make yourself at home. Then you can talk to us as a group, if that suits you. Afterward, you’re welcome to stick around and drink heavily with the rest of us. But I warn you-you may never be the same woman after you see the limbo contest.”
Gardner’s laughter had a jazz singer’s rasp, and her voice was a foggy alto that did not mesh, at first, with her Boston accent. She was articulate and polite, and seemed slightly nervous speaking to a group of strangers, which was understandable. “The only favor I ask,” she said, “is that you don’t hold anything back. I want to answer all your questions. I want to set the record straight as best I can. I don’t care what rumor you’ve heard, no matter how outrageous, I want to address it.
“There’s a thing called ‘survivor’s guilt,’ and I know I’ve got a bad case of it. This is my way of trying to help all of us. So, you bet, I’d love a beer. I’ll meet you over on the docks.”
A couple minutes later, as I walked alone across the shell parking lot, toward the mangrove path that leads to my house, I was surprised when Gardner came up behind me and said, “You’re not leaving, are you?” Then, when I stopped and turned to face her, she added, “You’re Ford, right? Dr. Marion Ford?” Her tone was businesslike, formal, and confident.
I said, “That’s right. How’d you know?”
“Dalton Dorsey described you. From Coast Guard St. Petersburg? I’d like to speak with you privately, Dr. Ford, after I’ve talked to the group. Commander Dalton said you’d be the perfect person.”
“The perfect person for what?”
“I want someone to help me find out why that boat sank. Every single little detail, so I can make it public.” She dropped the formality then, the tone of her voice communicating pain, as she added, “The rumors are killing me, Dr. Ford. I don’t know what makes people so mean that they’re saying these kind of things, but none of it’s true. I didn’t know the other three people very well, but those poor souls aren’t even here to defend themselves, which is absolutely infuriating.”
“That’s understandable,” I said. “Some of the stuff floating around is pretty silly.”
“I’m an attorney. I know that the best way to fight a lie is with the truth. I’ve met my share of private investigators, but I’ve never met one who was qualified or equipped to do the kind of research it’s going to take to find the real facts and make them public. Commander Dorsey told me that you might be just the guy.”
I said, “That’s a compliment. Dalton’s a good man.”
“I like him, too. Very professional, plus, my guess is, he’s got a little circus going on inside him, which I tend to like in people. When he told me about you, first thing I did was look you up on the Internet. No web page-which I found surprising-but you’ve published a lot in journals, and enough of your fellow scientists have quoted your work, so there was plenty to find.”
“I had no idea,” I told her. “A while back, I had an interest in the Internet. I still use it, but just for research. So I haven’t bothered to check out what’s on there about me.”
She was nodding, pleased to be sharing information. “The thing I like is, you’re not attached to any agency. No government funding. You do your own work in your own way, and you obviously know your way around boats and the water. So I’m inviting you to help me figure out what the hell went wrong out there. Your opinion would carry a lot of weight with people who live along this coast, and the media, too. I want my reputation back, Dr. Ford, it’s as simple as that.”
I looked into her face. The late winter sun burnished her skin with a klieg-light gold. In that harsh, parchment light, I could see how she would age; how she would look in ten, twenty, even thirty years. Amelia Gardner was not pretty. She had never been pretty. But she possessed a handsome, prairie-woman’s plainness that is uniquely American, and that I, personally, find far more attractive than the predictable, painted masks of film stars and beauty queens.