Julie shrugs. “None of our husbands are in Gerald’s crew. Whatever overtime Fred was making them do, our husbands weren’t involved.”
Laney snorts. “You know what I heard from Betty Lee?” She looks at me. “Betty Lee’s husband, Jimmy, is in Gerald’s crew. She said sometimes Jimmy didn’t even fish. He’d go out on the boat for hours and wouldn’t bring anything back.”
“What?”
“Yeah, that’s right.” Laney twists the end of her long braid. “One time Jimmy mentioned going all the way to Mississippi to drop something off.”
“Oh, not this again.” Coby sighs. “I thought you were done with that foolishness.”
“Done with what?” I ask. There’s a thick gossipy charge to the air, sweet and dense like molasses.
“I know it’s un-Christian to speak ill of the dead,” Laney starts, and the pale woman rolls her eyes.
“Oh Lord, here we go.”
Laney’s undeterred. “But we wereconvincedFred was running a side business selling illegal fish on the black market.”
“We?” Julie scoffs. “Try ‘I.’”
“There’s lots of critters in the gulf you’re not allowed to touch ’cause they’re endangered and the like, but people will pay a high price for ’em.”
Coby snorts.
“What?” Laney protests. “Why else would Jimmy be told not to look at the boxes?”
“Boxes?” I glance between them. “Is that a normal thing for fishing boats to carry?”
Coby shrugs. “Not when they’re fishing, no. But don’t listen to Laney. She’s got too much time on her hands and watches too many of those Law & Order shows.” She snickers. “An illegal fishing ring.”
“Y’all are simpleminded,” Laney sniffs. “There’s a secret dock and everything.”
“There is? Where?”
I know immediately I’ve crossed a line—sounded too sharp, too interested. The women’s good-humored smiles disappear.
“I don’t know,” Laney says, cutting a glance at Julie. “It was just a rumor. Probably nonsense like everyone’s sayin’.”
I think of the day Fred stumbled on Everett and me at our secret spot in the inlet, dressed for boating. How cruel and biting he’d been. Like a man with something to hide.
Excitement sizzles in my gut. “Well, I really do have to get going.” I tuck in my chair and take off in the direction of the door.
“Miss Ruth,” Julie calls, and I freeze, feeling caught.
But she only holds up the Tupperware. “Don’t forget this.”
“Of course,” I say, and double back for it. “My parents will be touched.”
“Tell your daddy we loved his sermon on Sunday,” the pale woman adds shyly. “Especially that passage from Psalms. The meek shall inherit the earth. Felt that in my heart.”
I give her a tight smile. The meek shall inherit something. If I have my way, it will be all of Fred Fortenot’s secrets.
I haven’t been back to our dock in over a year, not since the summer Everett didn’t show. The place is unchanged, like a slice of time preservedin amber. It’s twilight when I make it over from Julie Broussard’s house, the hummingbird cake tossed on my passenger seat. Twilight’s the most beautiful time to be anywhere in Bottom Springs, but especially near the sea. Out past the tall grass and sand and old docks slowly crumbling into the water, the orange sun sinks into the horizon, lighting the waves like God revealing the path to Heaven. I give our old dock a wistful glance as I walk past it, tracing Fred’s path from that long-ago day.
It’s not until long after I’ve followed the bend in the shoreline that I see it, nearly hidden by a shroud of tall pampas grass: a boat tied to a dock, and two men I don’t recognize carrying cardboard boxes.
Heart skipping, I drop gracelessly to the sand, praying the long stems will be enough to obscure me. The men’s work is monotonous. They emerge out of the grass—coming from the distant parking lot, I assume—holding a stack of two boxes each, which means they must be fairly light. They trek down the wide sandy shore and onto the dock, which is in better shape than Everett’s and mine, more recently repaired. Finally, they disappear onto the boat. As I watch, twilight turns to night, and suddenly I can barely see my hands in front of me, let alone the men. Luckily, they quickly flick on flashlights, like they’re used to this.
I don’t know what I was expecting, but I’m deflated by how innocuous this looks, how little I can glean from their methodical motions. Maybe the trick is to get closer…
