A CRY FROM THE DEEP Read online

  When she glanced at her diver watch, she was surprised to see she’d been down for half an hour. Outside of her alarm before entering the sunken helicopter, Catherine had managed the swim through it without any major difficulty. They’d also kicked their way deeper to a sunken wooden cabin cruiser. Although it wasn’t a ship buried at sea—where she could become disoriented or lost—it posed its own challenges. It gave her a chance to work the dive operations with one hand and her camera with the other. And the sandy bottom was perfect for practicing her landing without clouding the water.

  Catherine held herself steady on the lake floor as she peered through the lens. It was then she noticed she was still wearing her ring. Wearing jewelry was a no-no when it came to diving. Predators, like sharks or barracudas, could easily mistake a ring for sardines and attack. Luckily for her, there weren’t any aggressive fish in these waters. She hoped Daniel hadn’t noticed her slip-up, one only an amateur would make.

  Relaxing, Catherine took a good look around the bottom. At first, she thought she spotted some tattered white material of some sort, but on closer examination, she recognized it as a dress, a bridal dress, billowing out like an unfurled flag. The woman who was wearing it climbed over the gunwale of the cabin cruiser with fear evident on her face. Startled, Catherine shut her eyes, thinking she was hallucinating or day-dreaming at best, but when she opened them, she saw the bride grab a man’s hand, while the vessel rolled from side to side. Catherine attempted to take a picture, but unfortunately with her rapid breathing she couldn’t hold the camera steady. She snapped anyway, figuring it was better to have a blurred image than no image at all. And then, hoping to get a different perspective, she took her eye off the viewfinder—for only a moment—but when she looked again, the woman and man had disappeared and the boat was immobile.

  She turned to Daniel and saw him waving at her. Had he seen them, too? She didn’t want to ask. Maybe he’d say something, but if he didn’t, she wasn’t about to volunteer. It would sound too crazy. Whatever possessed her to try diving again?

  She kicked her fins vigorously and swam around the boat. She checked her depth on her gauge—seventy feet deep. She could feel herself heating up. Was it because of the dive, or because she’d seen something unexpected? The man and woman resembled the people in her dreams. It was as if her nightmare was following her, but why? She didn’t want to bail, not now. Everything had been going so well.

  Her breathing tightened, but fortunately Daniel soon gave the signal to go up. She released a sigh of relief and rose alongside of him, practicing the decompression stops most divers disliked, because it took too long at a time when they were too tired to do much more. This instance though, she didn’t mind, as it gave her a chance to gather her thoughts.

  When she reached the surface, Daniel gave her a thumbs up. She’d made it back without any difficulty. Her confidence was returning, but she wasn’t so naïve to think this dive had solved her problem. In fact, this dive had underlined what was at stake. The visions could be a manifestation of her fears, ones she couldn’t afford to have. So distracting, they could be a hazard she hadn’t considered. But what if the man and woman she’d seen had nothing to do with that? As the alternative was too crazy to think about, she pushed that thought away.

  EIGHT

  On the drive back to Manhattan, a radio talk show host ranted about the latest scandal in Congress. Catherine said, “Do you want to listen to this?”

  “No,” said Daniel. “It’s just more of the same.”

  She shut the radio off. They were nearing the Lincoln Tunnel. The sun was low in the sky, and the city’s skyscraper windows dazzled like amber squares in a mosaic. It wasn’t the countryside, but it had its own beauty.

  “Pretty, huh?” said Daniel. “I never get tired of looking at that view.”

  “When I lived here, there was nowhere else I wanted to be.”

  “And now you’re back.”

  “Only until this assignment is over. I can’t believe we’re leaving for Ireland in five weeks.”

  “Yeah.” He drove through the E-ZPass toll lane. “I never asked you, but did my name come up when you met with Hennesey?”

  “No. He was probably too busy sizing me up to say anything about you.” She frowned. “I wonder if our presence will be much of a deterrent. Salvagers like Hennesey can easily cover up any theft, and there’s no sheriff to stop them.”

  “You’re forgetting there are more rules and regulations now.”

  “Ha. I don’t see Hennesey quaking in his sandals.” Her voice rose as she continued. “What’s the good of more rules if they’re impossible to enforce? The last time he was in court, he got nothing more than a hand slap. You call that progress?”

  Daniel grinned. “Frank did say you can get pretty worked up. That could be a hazard on this voyage.”

  She smiled. “I’ll try and keep it in check.” She looked at her watch. “Do you mind dropping me off in the Village by Washington Square?”

  “Big date?”

  “My ex and daughter. I’m meeting them at Monte’s Trattoria.”

  “I can take you right there.”

  “No, just drop me off at the park. I wouldn’t mind a walk after the drive.” They passed the marker in the tunnel under the Hudson River, showing where New Jersey ended and New York began. Seeing that boundary again was another reminder of how much she loved this city.

  When they got out of the tunnel, Daniel said, “That’s pretty remarkable, both of you on good terms like that.”

  “What?”

  “You and your husband, I mean, your ex.”

  “I don’t think it’s that unusual. He’s a decent guy. He’s been great about letting us stay at his apartment.”

  Daniel’s eyes widened. “You’re staying with him?”

  “That’s where you picked me up today.”

  He let another driver cut in front of him. “It’s not awkward for you?”

  “No. He’s not that kind of guy.”

  Daniel teased. “What kind of guy is he?”

  “Well, he’s intelligent, a good father, …kind, generous, and …he’s a great cook.”

  “He sounds amazing. Maybe I should marry him.”

  Catherine laughed but immediately regretted sharing anything about Richard. She’d revealed too much. When she’d told him about Richard’s qualities, she’d stumbled. It was as if she still cared. She wondered what Daniel thought. He was probably judging her for giving up on a guy she’d painted as Mr. Wonderful.

  It wasn’t long before Daniel stopped near the triumphal arch in Washington Square Park. As she’d remembered, the park was full of young and old alike, walking through or sitting on benches, soaking up the sun. The magnolia trees were in their last stage of bloom; a pink carpet of petals covered the ground.

  Catherine grabbed her bag from the back seat. “Thanks again for the day.”

  “Glad you’re on board.”

  There it was again. The way his eyes searched hers, as if he wanted to say something he’d been holding on to for a long time. It was disconcerting, not knowing what it meant, if anything.

  Someone honked behind Daniel’s car, shutting off any further talk. She got out of the car, swung her sports bag over her shoulder, and watched Daniel drive off. He never looked back, and she was left feeling she’d put too much weight on the look in his eyes.~~~

  When Catherine walked into the restaurant, Richard and Alex were sitting at a table in the corner—the one they’d always sat at when they were still a family.

  “Mama,” yelled Alex. She came running out from behind the table and gave her mother a big hug. “Close your eyes. I want to show you what Grandma gave me.”

  Catherine smiled. “I will, but let me sit down first, okay?”

  Alex’s eyes crinkled as she giggled. “Of course. What was I thinking?” She rushed back to her seat as Catherine settled into a chair across from Richard.

  “Were you waiting long?”

&nb
sp; “No,” said Richard. “We just got here ourselves.” He had taken off his tie, and his blue oxford shirt made his eyes bluer.

  It felt good, the three of them together again. It was almost like old times. She turned to Alex and shut her eyes. “Okay, I’m closing my eyes. What’s the big surprise?”

  “You can open them now.” Alex held up an old-fashioned china doll in a cream ruffled dress with a bonnet to match. “Grandma said it was hers when she was a little girl. She said to take good care of it, because they don’t make them like this anymore.”

  “Ah, dolly’s so sweet,” said Catherine, taking the doll from Alex. “Does she have a name?”

  “No. Grandma never named her.” Alex said this with the widest of eyes, as if this was some kind of sacrilege. “I’m going to call her Mathilda.”

  “That’s a nice name. Mathilda, it is.” Catherine handed the doll back and then said to Richard, “How is your mother?”

  “Spirited, as usual. She asked about you.”

  Catherine pursed her lips. “I don’t know when I’m going to be able to see her.”

  “Don’t worry about it. She knows you’re busy.”

  “That’s good.” She picked up the menu. “I guess we should order.”

  ~~~

  After dinner, they walked through Washington Square Park, where Alex ran off to climb on the bars. Catherine and Richard sat down on a bench overlooking the play area. It was there she told him about her vision. “She looked so old fashioned, as if she’d stepped out of a Jane Austen novel. I even tried to take a photo.”

  “How did it turn out?”

  “Nothing. All I got was a blur. I don’t know if it was because she wasn’t there or because I was too nervous to keep still.”

  “It’s unusual, having a hallucination—”

  “Why are you calling it a hallucination?” She was beginning to regret telling him anything.

  “You know why. When people see things when they’re awake, that’s what they’re called.”

  “Oh, Richard, I know that,” she said irritably. “But this seemed more than that. I’m not crazy.”

  “Calm down,” he said gently. “No one said you were.”

  She bit her tongue. Should she say more? Since she’d already opened the door to her seemingly ghostly encounters, she might as well tell him the rest. Catherine sighed, and said, “There was this man, too. He was hanging in the dark behind her. It seemed he wanted her to go with him, but she couldn’t move.”

  “What did she look like?”

  She grimaced. “A bit like me.” She turned to see his reaction, but she couldn’t read his face. “Maybe I’m daydreaming. It was me, or I thought it was. Now I don’t know. I couldn’t really get a good look at her when I was diving. I tried, but her long hair hid the side of her face.”

  “It’s probably your imagination working overtime. This is a big thing you’re doing. Jumping in the water after all this time.”

  “I know, but it still doesn’t make sense. If she’d been wearing a scuba outfit, okay, but a bridal dress?

  Richard stretched his long legs. “The woman in your nightmare is fighting for her life, right? Seems logical your fears would manifest themselves in your dreams. We try to solve problems we can’t solve when we’re awake.”

  “But she was also there in the daytime. Doesn’t that refute your argument? If it’s about problem-solving, why did she show up today?”

  “Anxiety is complex, you know that.”

  She looked over at Alex, who was talking to another little girl. “It may sound absurd to you, but I feel as if I’m being haunted. I get this feeling she’s from another era.”

  “I had a patient who came to me with stories from the Arabian nights. She was sure she’d been some silk trader in the fourteenth century.”

  “What did you tell her?”

  “Frankly, I didn’t know what to say. She acted normal in every other way.”

  “What happened to her?’

  “I don’t know. She told me she was going to try a hypnotist who did past-life regression.”

  “That was bold of her telling you that.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Why? I’m not as close-minded as you think.”

  She regarded him with renewed interest. She’d judged him as this rigid and arrogant shrink, but here he was, saying things she didn’t expect, proving her wrong. “I would never have guessed you’d be open to that.”

  “I gather you like that.”

  “Ha.” They exchanged smiles and watched Alex on the gym again.

  Richard said, “You’ve done a good job raising her.”

  “Thanks.” She turned to him, surprised yet again. “I thought you’d never forgive me for moving away.”

  “Well, that thought did cross my mind.” He grinned as he said it.

  “You’re full of surprises. Getting back to that patient of yours, what do you really think about past-life regression?”

  “Truthfully? I think it’s nuts.”

  “Hmm. And yet so many religions believe in reincarnation.”

  He shrugged. “Why do some people believe in aliens, or that Elvis Presley is still alive?” He turned to her. “Do yourself a favor and see a therapist.”

  Alex came running back, shouting, “Swing me.” Richard and Catherine each grabbed one of her hands and swung her like they used to.

  NINE

  When Catherine showed up at the Imagine mosaic in Central Park, the one dedicated to the memory of John Lennon, Lindsey was already there. She hadn’t changed much; she still looked kooky. She wore a loose grey gauze top over white filmy wide-legged pants and red Converse high-top sneakers. Her hair was short and feathered, and the bright blue accents on her black bangs advertised a rebellious spirit. While Catherine had gone off and married a shrink, Lindsey had graduated with a fine arts degree and had gone through several musicians. She was now on her fifth.

  After hugging and squealing with delight, they stood quietly for a few moments and watched tourists snap photos of the mosaic. They then walked past Strawberry Fields, and by the lake, talking mainly about the difficulty of selling art. They didn’t touch on the men in their lives, which was just as well since they both had little good to say on the subject.

  After they climbed the Great Hill, they sat down at a wooden table overlooking a large grassy area, where a few young men were throwing a Frisbee around and some families were picnicking. There, Catherine told Lindsey about her dreams.

  “Of course, you’re going to have nightmares,” said Lindsey, wiping the moisture off the table top with a tissue she’d taken out of her striped bag. “Who wouldn’t?”

  “I’m worried it might be more than that. The woman was floundering. I’m scared she’s going to follow me to Ireland.”

  “What does Richard say?”

  “He thinks I should see somebody.”

  “Huh.” Lindsey rummaged in her bag and pulled out a packet of gum. “And …?”

  “There is no and.”

  “So, what’s stopping you?”

  Catherine made a face. “That’s funny, coming from you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Remember the last time I saw someone? Richard ended up talking to my shrink. The two of them ganged up on me.”

  “I remember. Want some gum?” When Catherine shook her head, Lindsey popped a stick in her mouth and chewed for a few moments before saying, “You know, this would be different from introspection. Sounds like you might have a spirit to dispel.”

  “You may be right. I should find an exorcist.”

  Lindsey laughed. “Do they still have those?”

  “Probably.” They paused to watch the young men throw their Frisbee. It soared past one of the guys and landed near a toddler. The father yelled at the men, forcing them to move further away.

  “At least that man cares about his kid,” said Lindsey.

  “Yeah.” Catherine knew Lindsey was referring to her own childhood. Lindsey�
�s father had deserted when she was only two, and after that, a series of stepfathers had left their mark.

  “The therapist I’m seeing would probably be good for you.”

  “Is she a psychiatrist?”

  “No, a psychologist. She’s very intuitive. Almost psychic.”

  “How did you find her?”

  “In one of those New Age newspapers.”

  Catherine groaned. “Those papers are full of weirdos. How do you know she’s not some kind of quack?”

  “I don’t, but I like the way she doesn’t have an answer for everything. She helps me figure things out for myself.”

  “Does she have a long waiting list?”

  Lindsey shrugged. “Don’t know.”

  Catherine ran her fingers through her hair. “Everyone in New York is seeing a therapist. It’s almost impossible to get one.”

  “I could talk to her. I’ll tell her you’re pinched for time, that you have to leave soon.”

  “Thanks. If you can get me in, I guess it’s worth a try.” Catherine wiped the seat of her pants with her hands as she stood. “I hope she’s got a crystal ball.”

  ~~~

  Lindsey’s therapist worked out of a brownstone on the Upper East side, suggesting she was either wealthy and owned the place, or she had a lucrative practice which covered the rent. Either way, Catherine hoped she wasn’t making a mistake by going to someone who—despite the location of her office—could be flaky for all she knew.

  The first thing Catherine looked for when she walked into the waiting room was evidence of a professional practice. Instead of the usual row of visitor chairs, there were a couple of well-worn sofas and a wicker wing chair. The walls were painted apricot and the round coffee table in the center was covered with yoga magazines and poetry journals. A bulletin board near the entrance advertised Pilates instruction, a meditation workshop, and various household items for sale.