The Yacht Down Yonder

1

Elizabeth looked around the dinner table. Everyone was done eating except for her father. She rubbed her finger along the edge of the china — because, of course, her family couldn’t take a two-night trip on the family yacht without bringing the good china.

No one was speaking, and Elizabeth felt that it was her responsibility to keep the conversation flowing. Is Georgie feeling any better? she asked her older brother, Greg.

Greg looked to his wife, Mindy, and they didn’t answer for a long, awkward second. Mindy finally said, He’s still resting in his room.

Elizabeth had never heard of a six-year-old boy who rested in his room, but she wasn’t going to begin another argument. She nodded and responded cordially: I hope he feels better soon. I feel like I’ve barely seen him all day, and it’s been almost two years since I last saw him.

Mindy frowned at Elizabeth. Well, I’m sure he didn’t choose to feel ill just to inconvenience you.

Elizabeth dropped the topic of conversation since it clearly wasn’t going anywhere good. She turned to her other brother, Peter, and asked, Are you interested in playing a game of shuffleboard after supper?

Peter nodded enthusiastically. Better than sitting around doing nothing.

The point of a vacation is to relax, their father pointed out, taking an agonizingly slow bite of his green beans. Even though Elizabeth was twenty-seven years old, she still felt the weight of her father’s disappointment. She aimed to please him, but it seemed impossible most of the time. She only had one memory of him praising her for a job well done — and that was at her second-grade science fair.

Elizabeth’s mother didn’t say anything. When Elizabeth glanced at her, she was just staring into the distance as though she were in a different room altogether.

Well, Elizabeth said, taking a deep breath as their cook, Miss Florence as she insisted on being called, came to clear their plates, this has been a very nice vacation, Father. I appreciate you giving me the chance to get away from my job for a few days.

It’s not like you have a difficult job, Greg pointed out. You barely work forty hours a week.

Elizabeth chose not to correct her older brother. She didn’t want to start an argument now, not when they had almost gotten through dinner without one. Speaking of jobs, how is everything going at the company? Greg and her father worked together in the family business. They bought and renovated older hotels, then rented the rooms for obscene nightly prices. Neither of them, of course, did any of the hard work by hand. They had contractors for that.

Their father answered: The Dupree is due to open in a week’s time. Everything has been completed except for the marketing aspect of it. That hasn’t been done quite as well as it should be. Their father cut a look at Greg, and Elizabeth decided to move the conversation on as quickly as possible.

I’m sure it will be a success like all of your other hotels, she said. Mother, are you feeling alright? You look a little green.

Their mother finally entered the conversation: Fine, Elizabeth, just a bit sick. All this movement doesn’t sit well with me, but… I promised your father we would take this trip. Here we are.

Their father finally took his last bite of food, signaling the release of everyone else. Elizabeth stood and grabbed her own empty plate before realizing that she wasn’t at home. She wasn’t supposed to take care of herself here. Miss Florence came in behind Elizabeth and snatched the plate from her hand, giving her a chastising but friendly look. Elizabeth clasped her hands behind her back to keep from grabbing another few empty dishes.

Let’s go, Peter said, pulling at her elbow. He was as eager to leave the awkward family dinner as she was. They only had one more night until they would land back at the edge of the lake and go their separate ways for another year or two.

I haven’t played shuffleboard in so long, Peter commented as he led the way around the deck. The shuffleboard court was on the far side, and Elizabeth was glad for a chance to get away from the rest of her family. They all seemed eager to poke fun at one another and make things as uncomfortable as possible. Things were much better when it was just her with Peter or Greg.

We played a game last night, Elizabeth reminded him.

Well, sure, last night, but I mean before that. I hadn’t played in years.

You’re just trying to get me to go easy on you, Elizabeth teased.

Peter pulled open the closet door that held the shuffleboard poles and pucks. He handed the things to Elizabeth one by one. "I’m not saying that. I’m going to win anyway, but I just want you to know that if I lose, there is a valid reason why."

You mean if you lose like you did last night?

Peter elbowed Elizabeth, and she grinned for the first time all day, feeling the stress beginning to melt away. I don’t mean that at all. I don’t know what you’re talking about, he said.

Elizabeth kicked a few of the pucks to the other side of the court, holding her paddle-like stick, or tang as her father insisted she call it, above her head. He would be appalled if he saw the way she was treating the equipment, but she didn’t care. He was on the other side of the boat, probably smoking a cigar after dinner as per usual.

When she reached the edge of the triangle, she turned around and waited for Peter to get ready.

I heard Mother talking about hosting a birthday party for Father in three months, Peter commented as he brought over his pucks.

Elizabeth’s eyes widened. I hope she doesn’t go through with it. If she does, you know I’ll have to be there.

Of course you will. You’re their favorite.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. Just for that comment, I’m going first. She lined up the tang with the pucks, taking her time aiming. She shook her head as the puck slid across the court. A little too strong, she observed.

You think I’m joking, but it’s the truth. I mean, you’re the only one who can say the kinds of things you say and not end up getting thrown into the lake.

I haven’t said anything, Elizabeth protested, stepping back to let Peter have his turn.

Sure you haven’t. I’ve heard you. You’re a good sister. Don’t get me wrong, but you’re the only one who could begin to criticize either one of them and get away with it.

Peter’s shot was excellent, and Elizabeth pressed her lips into a firm line as she lined up her next shot. She only said a quarter of the things she was thinking, and even those merited a good while of consideration before she let them out of her mouth. Peter portrayed her as though she enjoyed being a part of this family.

She took her turn without speaking and nodded to confirm that she had done better than she had anticipated.

Anyway, if Mother does decide to have this party, I’ll have some excuse for not coming. I’ve got a few up my sleeve already. Peter continued.

You’ll leave me to deal with them alone? Elizabeth asked.

Peter’s next shot was terrible, and it bounced off the small metal border that ran the edge of the yacht. Peter wiggled his eyebrows. Only if you go.

I have to go, Elizabeth replied begrudgingly. If I don’t, then no one might come, and that would be worse. She imagined her parents sitting in their big empty house all by themselves, waiting for their children to come to a special occasion they had organized. She just couldn’t do it.

Mind if I take a whiz? Peter asked. I’ve memorized the position of the pucks, so don’t think about moving them.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes at his crass language and didn’t deign a reply. Instead, she set her tang against the closet door and crossed the deck to the railing; leaning on it, she watched the water gently lapping against the yacht. The sound of its tiny slaps was comforting, and she closed her eyes for just a moment. The swaying of the yacht made her feel sleepy, but Elizabeth knew better than to relax around her family. Giving them the chance to really know her and what made her tick would only lead to them hurting her.

A scream pierced the air, and Elizabeth’s eyes widened as she turned around in one swift movement. Peter was just coming back from the bathroom, and he froze halfway down the deck. They exchanged a look as they both asked and answered the same question.

The scream hadn’t been one of their mother’s dramatic screams. It sounded like something serious. Elizabeth broke into a run in Peter’s direction, and they rounded the bow of the yacht at the same time.

That was when Elizabeth’s feet stopped working. She simply couldn’t make them move forward any further. Her father was lying on his back on the deck of the yacht. He wasn’t moving, and Elizabeth could tell that by the spread of liquid scarlett slowly escaping from under him that he wasn’t just relaxing.

F-father? she managed. Her heart thumping in her chest, she slowly picked her way across the boards to him, her flip-flops smacking the ground disrespectfully. Someone else arrived on the scene, but Elizabeth was too distracted to see who it was or what they were saying.

She bent over her father and pressed her hand to the side of his neck. There had to be a pulse. She had just seen her father alive fifteen minutes ago. His heart couldn’t have just stopped since then. Even though Elizabeth was trying to think rationally, her hands were shaking too much for her to feel anything.

He’s not— I don’t feel anything, she said aloud. The blood was slowly surrounding the edge of her flip-flop, meeting the rubber resistance and dividing into two streams diverging around it. Elizabeth didn’t move as she tried the other side of her father’s neck. She still couldn’t feel anything.

Father? she shouted in his face, even though she knew that was ridiculous.

Elizabeth, Peter said. Step back. Vinny can look at him.

Elizabeth’s throat felt dry, and she struggled to swallow. It wasn’t as though she and her father had ever been on particularly excellent terms, but the idea that he was just… dead didn’t seem to register in her brain.

She felt a tugging at her arm and allowed herself to be pulled away from her father’s body. She took three thunking steps backward, noticing as she gazed at the deck in front of her that she was leaving a bloody trail with her right flip-flop.

Vinny, the yacht’s skipper who was also versed in first aid, stepped forward and bent over her father. Elizabeth finally lifted her eyes from her father to see who was watching. Her older brother Greg and his wife Mindy were standing back in shock. Mindy’s mouth seemed to be permanently stuck open, her jaw swinging agape..

Miss Florence frowned disapprovingly from a safe distance away, but where was her mother?

Elizabeth finally was able to swallow successfully, getting rid of some of the dryness in her throat. Has anyone seen Mother? she asked.

Carlos, Vinny’s first mate who did whatever was needed around the yacht, watched with narrowed eyebrows. This is disgusting, he muttered. How could a family do this to themselves?

Elizabeth’s own jaw tightened as she heard the judgment in Carlos’s words. She didn’t know Carlos very well, he was a new hire since they