Wish by Joseph Monninger Read Free Book Online Page A

said.
    “It’s gone,” Tommy said.
    A second later we saw a fin. It passed so quickly it might have been a trick of our eyes. The fin went away from us and didn’t slice the water for more than a heartbeat. Its tail flicked a little water behind it, then it disappeared.
    “That was a shark, Tommy,” I whispered. “A great white. You’ve seen a great white. You saw a kill.”
    He nodded. He reached over and took my hand. It took me a moment to realize he was having trouble breathing.
    Late afternoon. Land breeze, the boat grinding closer to shore, gulls overhead. Seals running like black stitches through the surf. Tommy asleep with his head on my mom’s lap, his feet on mine. A quiet moment. Empty Styrofoam cups of hot chocolate rolling in windshield-wiper half circles on the table. The challenged kids come in, go out, come in again. Mrs. Halpern sitting across the boat fromus, a circle of knitting growing in her hands. A purse, she told my mother. A purse that would be washed ten times, shrunken, then felted and decorated. Tight, like boiled wool. Nothing, she promised, could fit through the weave. A gift for a grandchild, a girl, who lived in Palo Alto and went to Stanford and studied chemistry. Each stitch, she told my mother, is a thought.
    Mr. Cotter drove us back to our hotel. He looked sleepy and windburned, but he tried to keep his voice high and animated for Tommy. Tommy sat up front. They talked about the Farallones and about the deep drop-off the islands created. Perfect shark ambush territory, Tommy said. Two strokes and the seals hovered over thirty feet or more of water. Dark rocks below. Plenty of cover for the great whites. A collision of two lives, but also a mutual benefit if you took the long view.
    “What are your plans for tomorrow?” Mr. Cotter asked when we got closer to the hotel. He looked in the rearview mirror to meet my mother’s eyes.
    “We thought we’d have a lazy morning, then do some sightseeing,” she said, her voice quiet and calm. “We have Monday, too. We fly out Monday night.”
    “I’m afraid I’m not going to be able to help out,” Mr. Cotter said. “My team has a croquet match about a hundred miles south of here. I’ll be gone all day. And Monday I’m booked.”
    “You’ve been very kind already,” my mother said. “We didn’t expect you to guide us, too.”
    “Well, at least we saw a shark,” Mr. Cotter said, turning and smiling at Tommy. “Captain O’Shay said it looked like a juvenile. Maybe ten or eleven feet.”
    “You can measure from the fin to the tip of the tail,” Tommy said. “Make a guess, anyway.”
    “He might have just been cleaning up,” Mr. Cotter said. “Maybe a bigger girl took the seal to begin with.”
    “I couldn’t believe the color of the blood,” Mom said.
    We had been over that. She said it to fill space.
    We pulled up in front of the hotel a few minutes later. Mr. Cotter climbed out and came around to say goodbye. He hugged my mother, hugged me, then gave Tommy a handshake.
    “I’m glad I met you,” Mr. Cotter said to Tommy. “I’m sorry the weather didn’t cooperate and allow us to put you in the cage.”
    “It’s okay, Mr. Cotter. Thank you for taking me to see the islands.”
    “I’ve got your address,” Mr. Cotter said. “If I make it back for a Dartmouth reunion, I’ll look you up. Maybe we can take a hike.”
    Tommy nodded. Mr. Cotter suddenly had a kind, sad look in his eyes. He reached out and put his hand softly againstTommy’s cheek and ear. I realized, watching him, that he was a man with sons, a man whose heart would crack if anything happened to his boys. And here was Tommy.
    “Okay,” Mr. Cotter said, dropping his hand. “Good luck to you all.”
    No one can meet Tommy and remain unaffected. No one can help loving him. I saw it in Mr. Cotter’s eyes. I’ve seen it a hundred times. Tommy is a light, a candle, whatever you want to call him. Sometimes he sheds light; sometimes he reflects it