Let It Burn

In which Janelle comes to a very deliberate decision

Chapter Twelve — Perry

Perry woke with a jerk. The right side of his face was on fire. After the helicopter had turned away last night, he’d given up. He’d removed both heavy life preservers and tried to pull his wet T-shirt around his ears to sleep to keep the mosquitoes out. They loved the soft, flabby skin on his back more than his neck and ears. He used his arms over his ears, pulling his shirt back down. It wasn’t comfortable, but he’d slept. And no snakes. He was a lucky man.

Blinking awake, the sunrise had come and gone, but haze covered the marsh. He wouldn’t be able to go without his medicine much longer. The pain had begun to radiate up his legs and arms. He glanced down at his bare feet, his flip-flops long gone. They would not make it through the sharp edges of the oyster shells under the pluff mud. He had learned the hard way the first time he’d gone fishing here. The sticky black mud held dangerous things.

No boat motors bounced at him through the fog, nor the drumming of the large ships. He was far from the lighthouse he had seen last night, further still from the one on Sullivan’s Island. How had he traveled such a long way? No wonder they stopped looking for him last night. No one would believe this. Janelle would swear up and down that this time, he had lost his mind. She would never believe it wasn’t his fault that his motor had stopped working.

When the fog cleared, he could see movement toward the bridge. There. A gray boat. Was it the Coast Guard? Halfway between his location and the bridge, the boat cut to its left and repeated the helicopter’s pattern, searching the waters back and forth across the channel. He watched until the zig-zagging made him twitchy.

Nature called. He stood, unbuttoned the top button of his shorts, and slid down the zipper. As he dropped his boxers past his knees, movement in his peripheral vision made his hair stand on end. He forced himself to twist toward the stern. The dark brown snake gazed back at him with rimless eyes, coiled at the back of the boat.

Perry had never taken the time to learn which snakes were poisonous and which ones weren’t. He ran from them all. This one had markings like a Cottonmouth—but in the marsh? He had no idea.

He scanned the water for a stick to lift the five-foot snake out of the kayak. No way he was going to use his bare hands, just no way. How close was the Coast Guard? He dared not take his eyes off the snake as he listened to the distant motor. At least they were still searching. The snake remained coiled, meeting his stare until its head lifted as if it might strike.

What in the heck do I do now?

Reaching for his boxers and shorts, he froze. The snake shifted toward him, then stopped. Inch by inch, he lowered his bare bottom to the middle crossbar of the kayak and looked away from the snake, searching for something to use against the snake. He reached over the side, trying to touch the bottom. The water was too deep, up to his shoulder. He leaned over the other side but found the same problem. Too deep. He tried pulling one of the marsh reeds, but he was pulling bolted steel with no strength left in his arm.

He sat up straight in the kayak and looked back at the snake. A chill ran down his back. It had disappeared. He wrapped his arms around his middle and closed his eyes, rocking back and forth as he counted to ten. Opening his eyes again, he picked up the bottom edge of his shorts and held his breath. Not there either. He scanned the edges of the boat and under his seat.

Nothing. It was gone.

Letting out the breath he’d been holding, he squinted at the search boat, still crisscrossing back and forth on the water. At this rate, it would take them all day. His face scrunched in irritation. He still didn’t understand why they stopped searching for him last night. He couldn’t be that hard to find.

Something light and soft brushed his calf. Again. He looked down.

The snake circled his ankle and used its tail to caress his calf. Perry’s body gave one large shiver. Though he tried his best to stay still, his bladder released. The warm wet soaked his shorts and mixed with the seawater at the bottom of the boat, causing the snake to slide across the bulk of his shorts crumpled at his feet, then up his right leg. Slithering over his bare knee, it eased to the other leg. With a scream, Perry jerked hard to the left side of the kayak, the same direction as the snake. The kayak tipped precariously, but to his relief, the snake slid to the kayak’s edge and plopped off the boat into the water.

He sagged backward on the rear crossbar, slamming his head on the end of the kayak. Closing his eyes, he waited for the fear to dissolve until the smell of the pluff mud and his piss made him nauseous. The motor of the search boat was louder now, and he sat up to take stock, but not before he zipped up his shorts—no way he wanted to re-enter the world with his pants around his ankles.

Waving his arms back and forth, he saw the boat slow, turn, and make a straight line for him.

Finally.

The forty-five-foot Coast Guard cutter dropped anchor, and the guardsmen sent a dinghy to collect him and his kayak. The men shook their heads in disbelief as he relayed his story.

Borrowing a charger for his phone, his first call was to Janelle. She had to be frantic by now. He ignored the guardsmen’s smirks when they reached the pier. Perry was just glad to be on something stationary as the Coast Guard handed him off to the EMTs on the dock.

He tried Janelle twice more, but she didn’t answer. He checked the number in his contacts. It was the same number. Something was wrong. His wife always answered when he called.

Always.

Chapter Thirteen — Janelle

Janelle opened the front door the next morning to a good-looking thirty-something policeman.

“Mrs. Hog?”

She didn’t bother to correct him.

“Good news. Your husband is at East Cooper Hospital. The Coast Guard picked him up not far from the Morris Island lighthouse. She didn’t know where the hospital or the lighthouse was and honestly didn’t care.

The officer continued. “I have your husband’s boat in the back of my vehicle. Can you show me where it should go?”

Directing him to the parking spot, the officer pulled the boat from his police truck as if it were precious cargo, sliding it onto the little boat trailer. The absurd thing had been through it, skinned and ripped in places. Stripped clean like a plucked chicken, none of the attachments, gadgets, motor, or equipment Perry called ‘necessities’ had survived. She stifled a laugh, then gritted her teeth when she thought about all the money he’d spent on that equipment.

Dammittohell.

She’d had enough of the sonofabitch. Her rage boiled over once again. Even a cargo ship couldn’t kill him. Unbelievable. If she couldn’t collect the life insurance, maybe it had cash value. Her mother had told her that mean people outlived everyone else, and now she believed it. He ordered her around like she was a stupid cow. Well, he wouldn’t be doing that any longer. She’d had enough of his abuse, fishing, redneck friends, and stupid green kayak. Not to mention the future Winnebago.

By the time he got back, she wouldn’t be here. Turning off her cell, she got to work. Moving from their first apartment, she’d had the luxury of taking her time, making multiple trips. Not this time.

Once the car was full, she stopped and forced herself to listen to the messages cluttering her cell phone: EMTs, the hospital, Perry. She cringed at his whiny voice, demanding she come to the hospital and take care of him. He always demanded or ordered—he never asked. Well, she wouldn’t let him demand one more thing from her. They were keeping him overnight, and if he wanted a ride home from the hospital tomorrow, he could damn well get a taxi.

She stared out at the ocean, then the comfortably decorated room stuffed with their possessions. It was such a nice beach apartment, but they couldn’t afford it, and he knew it. He’d spent her hard-earned savings without asking her. Under other circumstances, she would love to stay, but not this time. She’d call her son from the car and tell him they would never have to see Perry again.

A new idea made her almost giddy. Since he was trapped in the hospital, she had plenty of time. She grabbed her purse, locked the apartment, and got into her stuffed Honda, driving across the Ravenel Bridge toward Charleston. At UHaul, an older man with Einstein-like hair helped her rent the right-sized hitch and utility trailer. She used one of Perry’s new credit cards for the charges with another smile. They were too nice here. The cashier never checked to see whose name was on the card.

The clerk walked her to her little SUV to help her install everything. He ran his claw-like hands through his oily hair as he cautioned her about her driving before she learned the ins and outs of having a trailer attached. Perry had forced her to pull a johnboat many times behind her Honda. Did men naturally assume women were stupid?

She returned to the beach as the sun set. She backed the trailer as close to the apartment’s front door. She began loading the folding chairs, fishing rods, equipment boxes, nets, extra boat floats, electronic equipment, a wooden rocking chair, and everything she found stuffed under the deck. Why did he need all this? The more she packed, the angrier she got. Some things still had price tags attached—all the easier to sell.

Stomping up the stairs to the apartment, Janelle pulled Perry’s clothes from the chest of drawers and began piling them outside on the deck. She flung his socks and underwear over the railing, not caring where they landed. Back inside, she began to clean, trying to get her anger under control. By the time she was finished, the apartment was as spotless as it had been when they arrived.

Now for the beach.

She took a handful of clothing and walked down the steps in the dark to the beach, scattering shirts, shorts, pants, and shoes as she went. Going back for another load, she saw that Lorraine watched from her living room. Janelle stopped and peered up at the older woman. Lorraine grinned, and her head nodded in silent approval before she raised her wine glass in a mock toast and moved away from the glass door. Several armloads later, Perry’s clothes were scattered everywhere. The wind carried pieces of clothing to several houses down the beach, and others clung to the rock barrier that jutted out into the sand.

Janelle walked through the dunes to the yard’s edge, using the water hose to wash her feet. Lorraine’s sliding glass door squeaked as she edged through it sideways with a loaded tray. The older woman pointed to a chair on her deck.

“Come up and rest a while. I think you need it.”

Janelle washed the sand from her feet and crossed the soft grass to Lorraine’s stairs. At the top, Lorraine handed her a glass of cold white wine and motioned again to a cushioned deck chair. Janelle sat, exhausted and thirsty.

“You want to tell me what’s going on?” Lorraine plopped her ample backside in the chair next to Janelle with her glass of wine, her gaze inscrutable. A plate of summer fruit and several cheeses sat on a ceramic stool.

“Let’s just say that I’ve been an idiot.” Janelle gazed at the ocean, the heat from an embarrassing blush creeping up her neck.

“Was it a woman?” Lorraine asked.

Janelle jerked her head around. “No. I would gladly give him to some other woman.”

“It was either kids, money, or drugs. Come on, ‘fess up. You’ll feel better if you do.”

Janelle stared at Lorraine for a full minute before she responded. “It was money. How did you know?”

“It’s a common theme. And with your husband, I’m betting it all went to fishing equipment.”

“Yes, fishing equipment,” Janelle replied, “and a few other things we don’t need. Like a gun. What does he need with a gun? It was all in front of my face, and I refused to see it.”

Lorraine patted her on the knee. “Well, now you know. And I think you’ve got yourself together and a plan in mind. At least it appears that way.” She raised her wine glass toward the beach.

Janelle nodded her head and took a sip of wine. She popped a grape in her mouth along with a bite of cheese. “I’m sorry I messed up your beach.”

Lorraine grinned. “Oh, it will all take care of itself. After the wind blows for a while, it will be all gone anyway. The turtle team will pick up anything scattered along the beach tomorrow at sunrise when they collect garbage and check for turtle nests. My landscaper will get the rest. Don’t fret over it. Worry about yourself.”

“Did you ever have something like this happen to you?” Janelle asked.

“I did a long time ago with my second husband,” Lorraine replied, taking a sip of wine.

“Was this the husband who passed?”

“No, Lou was my third. He and I were married for twenty-five years. The second one was a blip on the horizon, not worth talking about.”

Janelle wanted to press for details, but doubted Lorraine would tell her. But she was still curious. “Did you have a difficult time after the second one?”

Lorraine hesitated, sadness crossing her face. “Yes, for a few months. After that, I picked myself up and moved on, as you will.”

Janelle pushed once more. “Were you happy with Lou?”

“More than happy, I promise you.” The woman stared toward the ocean before shifting back to Janelle. “There is hope at the end of your dark tunnel.” Lorraine smiled slightly as if remembering her life’s rough times.

They watched the high tide of the ocean roll in as the dusk turned to night. Janelle checked her watch. It was time. She rose to leave and set her unfinished glass of wine on the stool. “Thank you. I need to be going.”

Lorraine rose. “You’re welcome, but I didn’t do anything.”

Janelle met the older woman’s eyes. “Yes, you did. You let me know that I can do this, no matter how hard it will be.”

Lorraine stepped forward and pulled Janelle to her in a hug, patting her back as she spoke. “Trust in yourself. You’ll do fine. Now get on your way. Something tells me you have a long drive in front of you.”

Janelle read the rental instruction check-out list, leaving her set of keys on the dining table for Lorraine as she’d found them, using the door handle to lock it on her way out. Perry had the other set of keys. She almost asked Lorraine for a refund for the remainder of their reservation, but after their talk, she couldn’t. Perry would cause trouble when he found his things scattered to the wind. She’d better leave the refund alone. Lorraine would earn every penny of it.

Outside, she glanced at the storage area under the porch. A small plastic red gas can winked at her from under the stairs. She grabbed the gas can and went to the damaged kayak. Without thinking, she wrenched open the can and splashed gasoline from one end of the boat to the other. She tossed the empty can in the boat and snatched her purse from the front passenger seat of her car. Digging in the bottom, she found a book of matches along with Perry’s EpiPen, the emergency syringe used for his allergy to bees, wasps, and a host of other things. She stared at it, then stuffed it into her shirt pocket.

She walked to the boat, surveying the neighborhood in the dark. There was no one outside, no one to see.

Janelle twisted back toward the huge house to see if Lorraine was watching, but the front windows were dark. She almost struck the match before she remembered the boat title. She leaned in to avoid getting gasoline on her clothes and searched. After a brief struggle, a little hatch popped open at the front, and she dug around, pulling everything out of the small space. Boat title in hand, she read the names listed on it with the dome light of her car. Smiling, she stuffed it into her front jean pocket and readied herself to strike the match.

Perry wasn’t so smart this time. He had added her name out of habit to the boat’s title. She was glad she didn’t own an ounce of that damn truck, though. He could have it.

The match hissed as she struck the strike strip on the book. She cupped her hand around the lit match and walked to the edge of the boat, intending to throw the match into the center of the puddle of gasoline. The wind blew out the flame. She tried two more times. Exasperated, she lit the entire book of matches and tossed it into the boat. With a sudden whoosh, the gasoline ignited. Stumbling backward, she reached to see if her eyebrows were still intact. The burning boat was now a huge wall of fire, but the gas would burn quickly. Too bad she didn’t have more.

Walking to her Honda, Janelle pulled out the EpiPen. She stared at the syringe in her hand for several seconds before tossing it into the burning boat.