The Bay at Midnight

“Ned was with me out here,” Mr. Chapman said. “We were watching a meteor shower. And then he went to bed. It had to have been long after midnight by that time. Besides, what possible motive did he have? He adored your sister.”

I couldn’t tell him my suspicions about his son’s relationship with Pamela Durant. I would have to trust that the truth would come out in time.

“I guess you’re right,” I said.

I was relieved to hear the screen door bang shut as Ethan walked into the yard, and I stood quickly to help him. He was balancing three full glasses, stacked plastic plates and the sandwiches on a tray. I handed Mr. Chapman his glass of cream soda.

“I remember how you used to zip around the canal in your little runabout,” he said, as Ethan and I sat down and began to eat. “Back and forth, between here and the bay.”

“That’s as far as I was allowed to go,” I said.

“I bet you grew into a hellion of a teenager,” Mr. Chapman said. He did not seem to be hungry. He had not touched his sandwich.

“Well,” I said, “I really didn’t. After Isabel died, I became a lot more afraid of things.”

Mr. Chapman looked saddened by that news. “That’s a shame,” he said.

“She won’t even go in the boat,” Ethan said.

“No?” Mr. Chapman inquired. “Oh, you should. I’m leaving after lunch and I think the two of you should take a ride. It’s a beautiful day, not at all crowded on the water.”

“How about it?” Ethan raised his eyebrows at me.

“No, thanks,” I said. Next door, the boys climbed out of the pool and ran into the house, and I was relieved to be able to give up my self-imposed lifeguarding.

“You’ve got yourself labeled again, don’t you?” Mr. Chapman said.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I mean, you used to call yourself ‘the Nancy Drew Girl,’” he said. “‘The Adventure Girl.’ Now you’re ‘the Scared Girl.’ You don’t have to stay that way, you know.”

“He has a point,” Ethan said.

It was strange the effect Mr. Chapman’s few simple words had on me. You don’t have to stay that way.

“Maybe I’ll go,” I said, not quite ready to commit to the possibility but suddenly ready to consider it.

Mr. Chapman left right after lunch, and Ethan and I stood in the front yard, watching him drive away.

“You ready for that boat ride?” Ethan asked, putting his arm around me.

I made a face that clearly said I don’t think so.

“How did you feel when you were a kid and went out in your boat?” he asked.

I thought about it for a minute. “Free,” I said. “Until that last night. That changed everything.”

He used his arm to turn me around and we headed through his side yard toward the dock. “That was 1962,” he said. “It’s a new century now. Come on.”

I let myself be led to the edge of the dock. Ethan began to untie the boat from the hooks on the bulkhead. I watched, remembering how my runabout’s damp, fibrous rope used to feel in my fingers. Grandpop had taught me many different knots. I bet I still remembered them all.

Ethan was on the other side of the dock. “Go ahead and hop in,” he said. “I’ll be right in after you.”

I looked down at the boat’s camel-colored interior. It swayed slightly on the wake of a motorboat that had just passed through the canal, and watching the seats move up and down made me light-headed. But I did it. I sat down on the bulkhead, caught the gunwale with my bare feet and slipped in. My heart was pounding as if I were standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon. I lowered myself quickly to the front passenger seat and clutched the side of the boat.

Ethan jumped into the boat with ease and took his seat behind the wheel. The smell of oil and gasoline mixed with the scent of the water. I used to like that smell. I breathed it in, wondering if I could learn to like it again.

“You okay?” Ethan smiled at me.

I nodded.

Putting the boat in Reverse, he backed into the canal, then took off in the direction of the river. I was quiet and anxious, one of my hands still holding on to the side of the boat as we approached the new—to me, anyway— Lovelandtown bridge. This bridge was higher than the old one and the pilings were much farther apart, so that we sailed beneath it with ease. We passed houses that were unfamiliar to me, having been built or remodeled since the last time I’d traveled the length of the canal, and I welcomed that unfamiliarity. We exited the canal and sped into the open water of the Manasquan River. The hot, damp air whipped my hair around my face and a spray of water cooled my eyes, and I found that those sensations brought back not the night I lost my sister, but rather the hours upon hours of fun I’d had in my little boat.

I studied Ethan’s face as we cut across the surface of the water. In his profile, I could still see the boy who’d dissected crabs and kept eel guts in alcohol and lay on his stomach in the reeds, examining marine life in the shallows. Who could have guessed I would be here with him now, enjoying him, wanting him, loving him?

I swallowed hard, suddenly hoping that Ned would not be found responsible for Isabel’s murder after all. It was going to hurt Ethan far too much.