The Sky Beneath Her(73)

The Oceanus had been a powerful, fast ship, captained by a seasoned sailor convinced he could outrun the Germans without the protection of a convoy.

“Time always moves on, but it stops down there,” Nathan said.

“It’s super weird.” I kept my gaze on the screen, watching for signs of my mother. A tank, a flipper, or even her remains. But there was no evidence that Mom had ever been here.

“We didn’t see signs of her,” Nathan said softly. “I’m always on the lookout when I dive the wreck. But I saw nothing.”

I wished I’d known that those last moments when I’d looked back at her would be the last. If I’d known our time was slipping away, I’d have dragged her back.

A forgotten memory fluttered forward. Nathan was one of several rescue volunteer divers who were in the water as soon as the storm ended. I’d been told to stay away from the docks, but I was unable to sit and wait at the rental house I’d shared with Mom. I’d driven there and sat and waited for six hours until the first boats returned. Nathan, still in pain from the car accident, emerged from the water. Water dripped from his dark hair and the arm cast, wrapped in plastic and duct tape. The water had leaked and seeped past the temporary barrier and soaked his cast.

When Nathan walked toward me, his steps were quick and determined, even as he cradled his arm.

Exhausted and angry, he argued with the lead rescue diver and asked to return, but he’d reached his dive limit. When his gaze met mine, he suddenly looked lost. He shook his head slowly, and I knew Mom was gone forever.

Without a word, I’d turned and walked off the pier. He didn’t chase after me or call out to me. Later, he’d tried to call, and I’d ignored it. When I’d reached dry land, a barrier had sunk between the water and me.

“I didn’t have a chance to get a good look at her the other day, but now, I took my time.”

I shoved down the memory. “Did you notice anything new?”

“She’s looking more fragile,” Bob said. “The crack in her hull runs almost across her midsection. She’ll eventually break in two one day.”

“She’s not as stable as I’d thought,” Nathan said.

Torpedoes had sunk nearly four hundred vessels along the entire East Coast of the US. Over eighty of these ships went down off the Outer Banks, where the shifting sandbars near Hatteras had allowed Germany’s U-boats to hide in deep waters. Sometimes storms unearthed these vessels, pushing fragments toward the shore, only for the tides to bury them in the sand. But most sunken remains were like the Oceanus: forever buried from sight.

“We think we’re so powerful, but images like this remind me of how fragile it all is,” I said.

“Are you doing okay?” Nathan asked.

Seven years of waiting and wondering, and I wanted to let it all go, although I still had a small kernel of hope that Mom was still alive, diving and living her best life. But if that fantasy were true, then she’d have swum away and left me to fend for myself.

“I’m a survivor,” I said. “I’ll be fine.”

Nathan leaned forward as if he wanted to hug me. And for a moment, I was tempted to lean back and prop myself against his chest. But I was aware of the other divers encircled around us, so I kept my shoulders ramrod straight. I prayed he wouldn’t touch me. He was the closest I had to anyone on this planet who’d suffered this wreck like I had, but I knew if I touched him, I’d dissolve.

The others were drinking water and eating snacks as if this were just an evening in front of the television.

When the film ended, Bob shut off the camera. “Nathan must have gotten good footage of the starboard side,” he said. He sniffed and brushed back his wet hair as he walked toward me.

I thrust back any emotions welling inside. I wasn’t sure how much I wanted to see. “What did you see?”

“It’s kind of weird.” There was no hint of humor as Nathan moved toward me.

“Weird how?” I asked.

“I don’t know if the camera caught it or not.” He hit fast-forward.

I leaned closer, bracing myself as I kept my gaze locked on the screen. He hit play.

These images were farther along the debris trail, and then they cut left. The camera skimmed along the partly upended section of the Oceanus’ hull. The barnacle-coated underside was home now to small sea creatures who dwelled in cracks and crevices. Nothing out of the ordinary.

But as he swam toward the bow, a white cloud gurgled around the ship. Whatever it was, it wasn’t marine life or shifting sands.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Good question,” Bob said.

Nathan stepped closer. His body warmed some of the chill seeping into my bones.

“That’s what I saw,” Tony said. “I thought it was a ghost.”

“I don’t know about ghosts,” Bob said. “But it was weird.”

Nathan drew in a breath.

“It came around the bow, hovered, and then receded back to the starboard side. Did you see it?” Bob asked.

Nathan nodded. “I did.”

“After dives, Mom liked to drink with the old sailors, and many had stories about sightings they couldn’t explain. They’d say the barrier islands are full of restless spirits.”

“There could be a dozen logical explanations,” Nathan said. “Most likely one of the divers churned up the sea bottom as we all came around the other side.”