Seven

September 27-28, 2018

Aurora, Colorado

After the conversation with Louise, Marnie had sat stunned in the kitchen chair. The world was off kilter. First Adam, now Gen. Adam had drowned in a rafting accident on the Colorado River. His body had been barely recognizable. Marnie shuddered at the memory. Gen’s death made less sense. An accident didn’t explain why she was in the sea that night when she was expected to eat dinner with Garrett.

Would someone murder her? What was she up to?

For five months, Marnie had been unable to consider her future. Now she knew what she wanted to do, at least in the short term. She would follow the geese’s example and go south. It made sense to spend the fall and holidays in Galveston. Her daughter, Ellie Jean, who was studying abroad in Amsterdam for the year, could join her in Galveston for the holidays.

Ellie Jeans had tried to take a year off as well, but Marnie could not see them both drifting around the house. She encouraged Ellie Jean to keep her plans. Without Adam, Marnie couldn’t face the traditions they had made together as a family. She smiled thinking about the times they had skied in the mountains on Christmas Eve, taken long walks at home on Christmas Day, and then played golf on Boxing Day. These thoughts made her dissolve into tears.

Picking herself back up, Marnie turned her thoughts to planning her trip. She called her trusty house-sitter who said she’d love to stay for three to four months and take good care of Mateo, Marnie’s Seal Point Siamese. Texting Louise to say she was coming for an extended stay, Marnie went online to rent her own place.

For once, money was not a large factor in her decisions. Adam’s life insurance had been incredibly generous. Perhaps the only “lucky” aspect of his death was that it occurred before their planned reduction in their term life insurance. Now that task, initially slated to happen after the bustle of summer activities, was off the to-do list for all the wrong reasons.

Keep focused. Keep moving.

She went through the house, prioritizing what needed to be done. Then, she emptied the refrigerator and packed for a mild Galveston winter. It had been years since she’d not dealt with a cold winter—eighteen years to be exact.

Staying on task, Marnie loaded the car with her immediate needs. The dogs were thrilled to see their traveling beds get packed. After labeling boxes that she wanted sent in a couple of weeks to Galveston, she took a sleeping pill and fell into her bed.

She awoke the next day somewhat rested—a rare feeling since the accident.

“I guess a plan helps the brain,” she said to Harlee and Jack.

She navigated the stairs carefully to avoid tripping over their bodies buzzing with uncontained excitement. After a walk and breakfast, Marnie finished downloading the audiobooks she would need to survive a three-day, thousand-mile road trip.

“Ready to go?” she asked the dogs.

Their excitement was answer enough to get them all into the car.

As she headed down I-25, she thought about the countless times she and her parents had trekked south—before their untimely deaths. They had loved traveling to all parts of Colorado and the southwest. Mesa Verde and Durango. The Great Sand Dunes National Park. Santa Fe and Bandelier National Monument. After just such a lovely road trip, she had headed back to college in 1994. Everything had been falling into place. She had gotten through her sophomore year at Yale, her parents’ alma mater.

Then, the first major tragedy in her life had struck. Her parents’ deaths shook her to her core. She had managed to finish college early and returned to Colorado. Settling her affairs, she had looked for a new start. It must have been fate that led her to Galveston in 1995. She was looking for a warm spot that was within driving distance. Florida was too far. California was too California. Texas was unknown. No memories there. Galveston seemed doable. Two years later, she was enrolled in medical school and met Adam. Her new life had begun.

Now twenty-three years later, she was driving the same route. She was as awestruck by the grandeur of the mountains which framed the Front Range as she had been in her youth. She could see the imposing peaks of Mount Evans and Longs Peak. Her eyes traveled south to Pikes Peak, which stood proudly alone with its snowy top. She often thought about the pioneers who, after climbing the relentless slope from the Mississippi River to the mile-high plains, paused on their journey west to make homes along the South Platte River in Denver. Those peaks could discourage even the most determined. She was leaving the Front Range again. Another chapter in her life had closed.

Being an active participant in the care of her aging grandparents and raising her young daughter, Marnie was a member of the sandwich generation. Those years seemed to be a constant treadmill of work and caregiving. With Ellie Jean off to college, the last several years were blessedly simple.

And then another tragic accident—a one in a million event. Marnie couldn’t decide how to approach this new reality.

Was she guilty of some crime in a past life?

In her own career, she’d had to help grieving parents adjust to the illness and death of their children. And death seemed a fickle master, taking some and sparing others. Still, the unexpected loss of someone left the survivors unmoored. And Marnie was completely untethered.

Perhaps that was why Gen’s death held such a grip on her. Her death had to have an explanation. She and Louise would figure it out.

Marnie left I-25 at Raton, taking US 87 to Amarillo. As the sunlight and her attention were fading, she had the strangest feeling that the road was moving. Suddenly, she bolted upright, realizing she was in the middle of a tarantula migration. The road was covered with them.

The sound of her tires crunching the spiders made her skin crawl. She had heard about this migration but never expected to see it, much less drive through it. Marnie shuddered. This seems like a bad omen.

She made her way towards her first destination. A pet friendly hotel in Amarillo provided the perfect stop after the first day of driving.

After a long walk the next morning, the puppies and Marnie settled in for another long drive. Like yesterday, it was memories, not one of the many audiobooks that she had downloaded, that kept Marnie awake.

Marnie thought back to when she met Gen. Gennifer Drake was the tallest woman in their medical school class. At five feet, eleven inches, she beat out five-ten Marnie. With a quiet way about her, Gen studied a room carefully before settling in. Gen was a slow-to-warm-up personality type, guarded in her approach to strangers. It was much later in their friendship when Marnie learned the real reason for Gen’s reticence.

Throughout the stress of medical school, Gen was a rock. Initially, both she and Marnie were unsure of joining the University of Texas Medical Branch sorority, the only med school sorority in the country. But ultimately, they needed a family. Marnie could always trust her friend to look at the big picture. It was at the sorority that Gen and Marnie met Louise. The trio became fast friends.

When Marnie had turned up unexpectedly pregnant in her third year at U.T.M.B. and was unsure of what to do, Gen had helped her figure out the important things.

Did she want this baby? Yes.

Did she want to finish medical school? Yes.

Did she love Adam? Yes.

Then, the details of life had fallen into place.

Gen was that way for all of their classmates. She had spent a few years after college working in a microbiology department. Consequently, she was almost five years older than the average student. It was her lab work which had made her want to go to medical school. She was grounded when it came to the big things in life, but she had a wicked sense of humor. When someone was being a pompous ass, Gen would look over, a twinkle in her eye with eyebrows raised, and cause everyone to burst out laughing. The world could be going to hell in a handbasket, and she would lament the narrowness and avarice of the people in charge. Then, she would tell a joke or get excited about the latest NBA game.

Loving Ellie Jean as if she was her niece, Gen had been a reliable babysitter. Louise’s mother, Nancy, had been the main back-up for their nanny, but even she couldn’t fill all the gaps that two residents’ call schedules created at home.

Caught in the memories, Marnie almost stopped the car in the middle of the road. The last few days had been so crazy she hadn’t called Ellie Jean. The news of Gen’s death would be devastating for her. “Forgetting” to call was probably not being honest. She couldn’t face breaking the news to her daughter. First thing tomorrow.

After residency, Marnie, Adam and Ellie Jean had moved to Colorado where they had more family support. Adam’s parents and Marnie’s grandparents were eager to have them closer and help with childcare. Gen had stayed at U.T.M.B. to finish her MD/PhD program. Louise had stayed close by in Houston to complete an emergency medical residency, returning to The Island to join a group of emergency physicians.

The three classmates had seen each other over the years—girls’ weekends here and there. There had also been family get-togethers—frequently on the ski slopes in Colorado and more recently during the summers enjoying the mountains’ activities.

Marnie had been thrilled when Gen had first brought along Garrett. She deserved a good man. Gen had been glowing. That was two years ago. Who could predict the tragedies of this summer?

September 28, 2018

Galveston, Texas

Louise pulled into her driveway, which consisted of crunchy shell remnants and Galveston’s honey-colored sand and parked under the house. Despite looking insubstantial—many permanent residents of The Island had come to the conclusion, often after several previous homes had been destroyed by storm surges—that homes built on stilts were the safest bet. The front garden consisted of an assortment of native grasses, lantana, and oleanders which banked the stilts. It was a struggle to find plants that would survive a climate that included both a four-month heatwave, known as summer, and frigid winter days with storms, that might consist of a wintry mix of freezing rain and snow flurries. At least this architectural style provided a shady, open-air carport.

Louise eavesdropped on the family banter from the porch before opening the door and calling out, “I’m home!” After the last forty-eight hours, family life and daily routines were essential in helping Louise regain her footing. Cora and Noah bounded out of the kitchen to welcome her with hugs, and then ran back to their places at the table.

Cries of “I’m winning!” and “My turn!” punctuated an ongoing game of Go Fish with their dad. Looking up from his cards, Didier greeted her with a smile and squeezed her hand as she stood next to him, peeking at his cards.

“I think you’re in trouble,” she said.

Cora continued on a roll, collecting packs of four. She was five and had just started to join the family in card and board games without fear of humiliation. Thankfully, Noah, at seven, was so secure in his card sharp mastery that he didn’t fuss when his little sister trounced his dad and him.

“Mommy, can we have a second dessert?” Cora and Noah asked simultaneously.

They knew she was a pushover after work. Ice cream sandwiches were produced, as the children wandered into the family room and were granted thirty minutes of TV before bedtime.

This was the best strategy to snatch a few minutes with Didier.

“How was today?” Didier asked as he poured two glasses of wine.

Louise spooned lukewarm macaroni and cheese from a saucepan on the stove. The rosé wine made a perfect accompaniment.

“Better. Today was better.” She paused for a bite and a sip, then looked up at Didier. “I just can’t wrap my head around it.”

Didier patted her hand, encouraging her to continue.

“At first, I couldn’t stop wondering what I had missed. Was she depressed? I don’t think so. It doesn’t fit with what I know was going on in her life. So, if not suicide, her death must be either an accident or foul play. But who would want to hurt Gen? Is it wrong for me to feel better that Gen was murdered and didn’t commit suicide? Man, Didier, this is twisted. I keep thinking about the last time we were together. She was so involved in her work. And seemed so happy with Garrett. Remember?”

“Of course. They seemed like a great couple.”

Realizing that she was ruminating yet again, Louise asked, “And how was your day? Did you have a good group?”

“Yup. Three couples from Oklahoma for a full day’s tour. We spotted some Black Skimmers, and they got some good photos. I think the thing that impressed them the most was the alligator we saw across the bayou. I thought it was a garbage bag, but by using a scope that one person in my group had, I could see I was wrong. I bet they’re still laughing about it.”

“Hah! Some Born-on-the-Island naturalist I married! BOI, indeed!” Louise knew how proud Didier was to be able to trace his LaSalle family roots back to the earliest European settlers.

“You have no idea!” Didier protested, laughing.

Bending down to give Louise a kiss, Didier continued. “I’m going to take the kids up for baths and bed. You take yourself and your wine out to the veranda and watch the sunset.”

“Thanks, hon. I will.”

Louise walked out to the veranda, letting the sounds of the birds calm her. She sat down in one of the chairs and tried to keep her mind off of Gen. She started thinking about how she ended up on this island. Where did her story fit in with its busy past?

The Island, always referred to with a capital I by its residents, was really no more than a sandbar thirty miles long by three miles at its widest part. It was a great disappointment to the first Spanish explorers who arrived in 1528. Nearly 500 years later, The Island had withstood the assaults of hurricanes, welcomed waves of immigrants, been home to bootleggers, gangsters, and legitimate businessmen. Since its port economy had been eclipsed by Houston in the last fifty years, it had become a popular beach town with an intriguing history. Today, as a Gulf town flush with artists and free spirits, there was an uneasy truce between those ascribing to the “Everybody’s welcome here” sentiment and a lingering social caste system of the BOIs. She wondered which camp she fit in.

Didier came out and joined her on the creaky porch swing.

Louise looked at him, grateful for both his presence and his silence. It still amazed her that they had found each other.

It was at the Feather Fest 1999 that she met Didier LaSalle. He had been volunteering at the annual island gathering of birders, timed to take place shortly after the arrival of the sand cranes. Under the urging of her medical student classmates, Gen and a very pregnant Marnie, Louise had reluctantly agreed to attend the Saturday 7:00 a.m. breakfast program. It took a lot of urging because Louise was on a punishing med school rotation in general surgery and had exactly one Saturday off the entire month.

After a surprisingly good meal of breakfast tacos and strong coffee, and an informative presentation of the crazy 10,000-mile migration of the cranes, Louise’s outlook improved. The women hopped into their assigned van to be shuttled to the first sighting stop. Didier was leading her group. The majority of the group had binoculars. Some had their own telescopes. Louise was unprepared. This worked out fine for Didier because he was able to help Louise spot the birds with his equipment. He had to sidle up beside her to point her in the right direction.

They still joked about the corniness of the situation which had allowed two strangers to brush shoulders within five minutes of meeting. Didier later confessed he’d made sure he was driving the van with the girl with the long blonde braid.

Now, he was the one to break the silence. “Oh yeah, I meant to tell you that Marnie called. She’s on her way and will be here for the memorial. She asked if she could stay with us for a few days, and I said of course she could. I told her you’d call.”

“Sure. When did she say she was arriving?”

“Tomorrow or the next day. You know your friend can be hard to pin down.”

Louise was glad she was off for a few days and hoped she had at least one whole day to prepare for Marnie’s arrival. The guest room/study was a disaster. Between tackling that chore and the kids’ busy schedules, she hoped she would get a few minutes of quiet to grieve.

Then she remembered she needed to study up on dengue fever. Was it really only forty-eight hours ago that she had cared for that poor boy? Was anyone following up on Ned’s observation that they had admitted several similar cases? But, yes, tomorrow.

Finishing her wine, she and Didier went inside.

After a restless night, Louise awoke to the sounds of songbirds singing. She looked at Didier sleeping soundly. Perhaps she should have gotten her degree in environmental science and become a birder. Four years at the University of Houston had prepared him for a life of studying and painting birds. Good thing for both of them that he tapped into his more mercantile DNA and established a small company to provide visiting birders with excursions, lodging, and educational sessions. His store, Feathers, sold binoculars, cameras, books, birding attire, and avian art. His business was thriving. What had previously been a hobby for aging oddballs was now mainstream. Their life on Galveston Island, long recognized by bird nerds as a mecca, was a perfect place to meld her medical practice and his business.

As she quietly got out of bed and went to the shower, she thought of her busy day ahead. She looked longingly at her partner’s unruffled sleep. Her career choice had taken her on a rockier path. Despite the stress and strain of medicine, she never questioned her decision to become a physician. She made a mental note to read up on dengue and figure out why her ER was seeing a surge in cases.