The Eighty-eighth Key Ch. 41

Part V

Chapter 41

"Harry, I don't know how you feel about me now, but I feel like we've got to clear the air."

His stateroom was tiny, had but a single chair to go with the tiny sofa that seemed designed to hold two small children, and as she had taken the sofa he opted to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Clear the air?" he asked. "What isn't clear?"

"Why you're so angry with me."

"Really? Well, I thought we had something good going, but I was wrong. Seems to me that was the end of the story."

"You know that's not true."

"Oh? Do I?"

"You knew the situation, you understood the position I was in. What would you have done?"

"Are you saying you think trying to reconcile with a known abuser is somehow justified?"

"No. But I took an oath, Harry, I made a promise, and I felt obligated to..."

"Evelyn, let's be clear; when you attempted to reconcile what you expressed was your love for your husband, despite everything that had happened. I get the oath thing, the desire to uphold a promise you made, but in light of your actions with me you violated everything to do with that oath. You walked away from one promise, but you did so for a very good reason, then you made another you chose not to keep. You know, I've been to more family disturbances than you could imagine, and I've talked to literally hundreds of women who've been battered by really awful human beings, yet there's one big thing that's always bothered me about those conversations."

"What's that?"

"Many, if not most of those women, the women who chose to stay in those relationships, did so not because of some obscure obligation to a promise made, but because they thought, on some level, that they deserved the abuse. Maybe they..."

"Oh, come off it, Harry..."

"No, really. I think many of these women stay because they are conditioned as children to think that way. I think these women, maybe on some kind of subconscious level, end up choosing men that are like their fathers. Being abused reinforces some kind of terrible need for validation of the idea that they need to be punished by their fathers..."

"And you think that's what this was all about? That I was affirming a need to be abused when I tried to reconcile my differences with him... Really? Do you have any idea how monstrous that sounds, Harry?"

"I'm telling you what I've experienced..."

"But that pseudo-Freudian psychobabble? Where the hell did you pick that up?"

"In academy. We had a week-long module on..."

"Jesus, Harry. What you're saying is you got a day or two of instruction on the psychology of abuse victims, and that's what formed your understanding of domestic abuse? Do you really not see how dangerous that is?"

"No. Cops aren't social workers. And the reasons why women are abused isn't really why we're there. Domestic physical violence is against the law, and if a woman is battered that is a clear violation of that law. As cops, that's all we're there for. We're not there to act as marriage counselors or group therapists; we're there simply to observe the situation, report on what we find, and arrest anyone that has broken that law. Period. And Evelyn, I can't tell you how many of these women refuse to press charges..."

"The reasons can be complicated, Harry. My guess is the most obvious reason comes down to money. What woman wants to end up pushed out onto the street in the middle of the night, and maybe bringing along two or three kids in the process. What kind of choice is that? Are you putting the blame on that woman because she doesn't want to..."

"False choice. In those situations, the guy gets hauled off to jail..."

"Really? From what I hear, the good ole boy network usually kicks in and the guy blames everything on the woman, and the cop buys into that because, well, you guys have to stand together, right?"

"Maybe it was like that twenty years ago, but there've been major changes to domestic violence laws. That stuff doesn't happen anymore..."

"Right. Because now your mind has been pumped full of Freudian nonsense. Now you can blame it all on some unconscious need to..."

Callahan held up his hands, shook his head. "You know what? I'm not sure I want to continue this conversation, because I really don't see any purpose. Do you?"

She shook her head. "No, I don't." And she quietly left Callahan's little stateroom, leaving him to pick up his book and sit down in a little pool of light.

He was upset, of course, without really knowing the reason why. Maybe because, he thought, on some level he'd still wanted to get back together with her. 'So maybe,' he thought, 'on some level I spewed out all that psychobabble to push her away, to keep that from happening.'

But why?

'Do I really just want to be alone? Is that it? Have I become so set in my ways, my thinking so fixed and rigid that I don't want to be with someone who can get really close, someone who is going to challenge me all the time? Someone who will look down on my experiences as a cop, who will question what I did out there all the time?'

He picked up Shōgun and resumed reading, but his mind kept drifting back to Evelyn and he found he missed the idea of her being a part of his life.

But maybe, he thought, he just missed the idea of being with her.

'Reality is a little messier, isn't it?'

He drifted between the experiences of the characters in the novel and his own, those times with June and An Linh and Sara, even that high maintenance reporter, and the sensation was strange. Maybe because the pain of their memory blotted out all the good times they'd shared.

'No,' he mumbled, 'all in all, I think I'd really rather be alone. I don't need any more pain.'

He read through the night again, finishing the book just as the sun came up.

________________________________

The ship docked in Honolulu for an overnight stay, and while almost everyone jumped at the chance to spend a few hours ashore, Harry decided to spend some time with his father.

Lloyd had seemed a little distant since their 'big' conversation, yet Harry wanted there to be no ambiguity between them from now on. With that decided, spending all the free time he could with Lloyd became his shipboard goal, calling him 'Dad' and 'father' whether alone or with his friends was the best affirmation he could think of -- but today, Lloyd had several hours in the middle of the day to himself, so Harry had asked if they could spend that time together.

"Why don't you spend time with that young filly."

"I don't think that's going to work out, Dad."

"Really? The way she was looking at you the other night, I'd have thought that was a slam-dunk."

"Doesn't matter. Besides, I'd rather spend the time with you."

"Well Harry, that's just plain nuts. Girl like that? Hell son, if I was your age I'd be on her like stink on shit."

Harry shook his head. "The buffet is open. Why don't we get up there before the crowd hits?"

"Won't be any crowds today, Harry. Tell you what? Let's go over to the Royal Hawaiian. Best lunch in town, and I'm buyin'!"

They ran into Frank and Cathy at the gangplank; it was decided they'd all go to the famed hotel together. They had a big lunch -- the boys got sloshed on mai-tais -- then Frank and Cathy took off in search of souvenirs...leaving the Callahans to talk.

"You won't remember it, but we came here when you were four years old."

"The three of us?"

Lloyd pointed at the beach beyond the swimming pool. "I've got pictures of you and your mother standing knee-deep in the water, just there. What a fantastic day! Building sandcastles and going for a ride in one of those outrigger canoes."

"I think I remember the picture. Never knew it came from here."

"Spent a week here. Kind of a big deal those days. I'd just been promoted and I thought your mother could use a change of scenery. Teaching was difficult for her then; she was still having trouble with English...and I think some of the kids made fun of her."

"You were doing the San Francisco to Honolulu run, weren't you?"

"Yes. We didn't start passenger service to Hong Kong and Japan until the late fifties."

"I remember that. You were on the first trip to Hong Kong."

Lloyd nodded. "So many firsts. Things were so bad back in '39 some of us were sent from school on the first convoy to the U.S. Made one round trip then back to school. I was assigned to my first ship after school and we were on the initial Lend-Lease convoy, then the first Murmansk run. After I made First Officer our ship was the first into Copenhagen. That's when I met your mother, by the way."

"Oh?"

"Saul. He spotted me, said he wanted me to get her to Canada. Vancouver, he said. He'd meet us there with further instructions, he told me." Lloyd seemed to grow distant as the memory returned; soon his eyes were glossy with moisture. "I fell in love with her, of course, but there was nothing I could do, physically anyway, about that. By the time Saul made it to Vancouver, he'd decided America was the best place for her; he'd buy us a house in San Francisco if I'd take her there. I told him about the maritime school there and he offered to pay for that, too."

"Did he?"

Lloyd nodded. "With the war over I had no prospects for work in the UK, and I think I had a few hundred pounds in my wallet. There was no way I could've afforded that house, or even that school, without his help. I was an immigrant, ineligible for GI Bill benefits, but I was skilled and that made all the difference. Saul knew what he was doing. He was one smart son of a bitch, I'll tell you that."

"So, how'd it work with mom? You know...?"

"That's why he opened the store in the city. Funny, because that store made ten times more money than the original store in Copenhagen ever did. He built it up into something special. Anyway, I'd told him about me, about the injury, and that made me safe, I think. He wanted a son, he told me once. She gave him one. They gave me you. The rest is unimportant, I guess."

"I can't imagine a better father than you."

Lloyd nodded, turned away and asked for the check.

"Let's go down to the beach," Lloyd said after he settled the bill.

They walked down to the beach and out onto the sand and Lloyd turned once, looked around for a moment. "Yup, right about here. You and I built a really colossal castle right about...here," he said, pointing to a spot on the sand. "Goddam, son, but time does really move fast. Feels like yesterday."

Lloyd turned away just then, and Harry could tell his father was crying as he walked down to the water's edge. The sun was headed fast for the horizon now, and when Harry reached his old man he was staring into the sea.

"I took that picture from here. The two of you were right out there."

"You miss her, don't you?"

"There's not an hour goes by when I don't think of her. And not a minute I don't curse Avi Rosenthal."

"Why Avi?"

"He betrayed your mother and the people she worked with. They escaped to Sweden, she didn't. No, your mother ended up in a concentration camp -- because of him."

"What?"

"I guess he never told you that part?"

"He did not." Callahan felt his heart hammering in his forehead.

"Believe it or not, Avi married your mother before all that happened. I don't think he knew what was going to happen, but it was Saul who followed your mother into Germany, then to the camp. Not Avi. It was Saul who broke her out and got her back to Copenhagen. Of course, Saul was the one who loved your mother, but Avi couldn't stand the idea. He hated Saul, because Saul was the smart one. A diplomat in the foreign service, very gifted in languages. Saul used to refer to Avi as 'that grifter.' Anyway, Avi married her but Saul did his best to keep her away from him after the war."

"Did Mom know all this?"

"Oh, heavens no. Saul didn't have the heart to tell her, but when Avi found her in that temple it was all over. Avi had, you see, a prior claim, so she went with him."

"But she left us!"

"I know, son. I know. Perhaps if I could see inside her music I might understand, but I am so glad I can't. The truth, I fear, might kill me."

"Well Dad, it's just the two of us now, and I'm glad we're here together."

"Me too, son."

"We'd better get back. You have a ship to take care of."

Lloyd nodded. "Let's stay and watch the sunset, Harry. If you're not in a hurry?"

"Sounds like a plan, Dad."

Evelyn was on the patio by the pool, and she was looking at the two of them standing out there on the sand, wondering what had just passed between them. She'd been following them all day by keeping just out of sight, and as she stood there, watching them talk, she felt herself getting sadder and sadder. She knew that soon she'd be falling into that dark place she feared most of all, but she also knew she had enough pills with her this time, enough to get the job done, anyway.

_________________________________

His father disappeared into the bowels of the ship as soon as the Callahans were back onboard, but Harry was, oddly enough, very hungry so he went up to the poolside buffet. Frank was sitting on the edge of the pool, his legs dangling in the water, and he was by himself. Harry walked over and pulled up a chair.

"What's up?" Bullitt said as Harry sat.

"I think I've got a little problem."

"Yeah? Such as?"

"Evelyn. She followed us all afternoon."

Bullitt nodded. "Yeah, I saw her."

"Anything I need to know about?"

Frank took a long, deep breath and held it, shaking his head slowly as he exhaled. "Yeah. She has a tendency to get a little depressed. Tony, that's her ex, pushed her over the edge a couple of times and things got a little rough, but that was a couple of years ago. I thought we were past all that."

"What do you mean by a little rough?"

"Valium. Overdosing on valium."

"Jesus, Frank! Why didn't you tell me...?"

Bullitt grimaced. "I'd really hoped all that was in the past, Harry. I wouldn't have tried to get you two together if I'd thought..."

"I know, I know," Harry said as gently as he could, "I can understand that. But following people? Has that been a problem too?"

Frank nodded. "Yeah. Once that I know of, anyway, but that was back in high school."

"Any history of violence towards others?"

"Nope."

"Anything you think we need to do?"

Frank looked up at Harry. "What do you think brought this on?"

"She came by my room last night. It didn't go well."

Bullitt nodded. "Okay."

"Do you think she'll try something?"

"I don't know; depends on how invested she is in the idea of you two being together."

"She seemed pretty bent out of shape, Frank."

"Then if she has pills she might try something."

"Should we toss her room, take what we find?"

Frank thought about that, but then shook his head. "If you were on a boat at sea and wanted to kill yourself, what would you do?"

"Jesus, Frank...you don't really think...?"

"I don't want to take a chance, Harry. Do you?"

Callahan looked around, thought he saw her in the shadows..."Frank...?"

"Yeah, I know," Frank sighed. "I've been watching her in a reflection. She's been there a couple of minutes."

"Where's Cathy?"

"Down for the count. Said her feet were killing her."

"Well, I think I'm going to go take care of this right now."

Bullitt nodded. "Okay. Let me know how it turns out."

"You okay, Frank?"

"I don't know."

"What's on your mind?"

"Being a father, and not being around."

Harry looked at his friend and wondered how much he could tell him about the things the Old Man in the Cape had said. "You know what, Frank? Things have a way of working out."

Bullitt looked up, the question clear in his eyes. "What are you not telling me, Amigo?"

"Just that, Frank. Stop worrying. Okay? You read me?"

"Just like that, huh? Stop worrying?"

"Things have a way of working out, Frank. The next five months are the five most important months in Cathy's life, and yours too. Don't waste a minute of it staring into a swimming pool."

"Harry? Go easy on her. She's had a rough time."

"I will."

He walked away from where he'd seen Evelyn, make a few unpredictable turns then doubled back to her room, then he sat and leaned against her door. He only had to wait a few minutes...

"Well, well, as I live and breathe," she said as she walked up to him, "it's Archie Bunker."

He stood, got out of the way so she could open the door to her cabin. "I'd like to talk to you, if you have some time."

"In here, or have you had dinner?"

"Evelyn, I'd say you already know the answer to that."

"What do you mean?"

"You're not very good at following people."

"Oh," she said, her voice suddenly flat, now kind of frail.

"Let's talk in your room for a little bit, then go get some chow."

"Okay." She opened the door and he followed her inside, but her steps were tentative, almost unsteady. "So, what do you want to talk about."

"You."

She looked away, resigned, but he tracked her eyes in a mirror atop one of the cabinets in the little room. "Well, go ahead. Let the inquisition begin."

He looked at her, not quite sure how he felt about what she'd done today but acutely aware that for the past hour or so he'd felt an overwhelming need to protect her. To be there for her. What, he wondered, was the best way to accomplish that right now?

"We seem to be having a hard time talking to one another," he started. "Do you have any idea why?"

"Probably because you don't trust me anymore."

He shrugged. "What about you? Do you trust me?"

She turned and looked at him. "Yes."

"Good," he said as he held out his hand. "Let's take a walk."

She took his hand, let him guide her out of the room and then out onto the promenade.

"Your skin feels good to me," he said, gently squeezing her hand.

"This feels right to me, Harry. You feel so right."

"We can't get anywhere tearing each other apart," he said, thinking of John Blackthorne and Mariko-San in Shōgun, trying to see his way through the maze ahead, "but what I want to know is where you'd like this to go."

"You and me?"

"Yup. You and me."

"I'd like us to start again -- from where we left off."

"So, what do we do about the whole trust thing?"

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"You said you think I don't trust you anymore. Where does that leave us? Where do we go from here?"

"There's got to be some way for you to trust me again."

He nodded. "Its been my experience that trust is earned over time. What about you? Does that sound right?"

She nodded.

"Okay, so we start over from right here. We start by earning each other's trust -- one day at a time. And we take the pressure off, okay? We decide to go where this takes us, with no pressure. Sound okay to you?"

She nodded, but he felt some kind of hesitation holding her back. "Why are you doing this, Harry?"

"Oh, it's simple, really, but ask me after you finish reading Shōgun."

"How'd you know I was reading that?"

"I was passing the store the other day and saw you in there buying it."

"You cops notice everything, don't you?"

"Absolutely everything. It annoys the hell out of people, too."

"So, you've got to be hungry by now," she said. "Buffet or sit-down?"

"You know, I saw some of those big king crab legs on the buffet. Wanna give those a try?"

He turned, saw his father in the distance looking their way -- and then his old man shot him a 'thumb's up' and smiled. Harry smiled and waved, then she took his hand and pulled him back into the present.

_________________________________

He continued to visit his father every day, usually after lunch when Captain Callahan spent a few hours away from the bridge. They talked about the house in Potrero more than anything else, about what needed to be done to keep it in tip-top shape, and Lloyd spoke wistfully about retirement and soon having the time to keep up with all the work the old place needed.