A Spirited Gift

The reporter turned away from both of us and laughed as she faced the camera. “Sometimes history gets a little too real down here in the Outer Banks. Reporting from Duck, North Carolina, I’m Christine Thomas and I’m out and about!”

The cameraman lowered the lens, and Christine Thomas put away her microphone.

“Wait a minute!” Mad Dog tried to stop her. “I haven’t finished. There’s more to say about the mayor and all of the mysterious goings-on right here. Maybe we should do an in-depth piece.”

Christine smiled at him and kind of patted him on the shoulder. “Maybe—once Duck gets to be more important. Right now, it was all I could do to get my boss to let me come down here with the Weather Channel. Sorry.”

The expression on Mad Dog’s face reminded me of a hound dog on an old calendar. He shook his head like he couldn’t believe his time on-air had been for nothing. “You know, one day, Dae O’Donnell, the world is going to hear how you and your grandfather manipulated the last election. Then I think you won’t find it so funny.”

I started to tell him that I didn’t think it was funny now, but he made a humphing sound and stormed out of town hall. Really, I couldn’t believe our little election could turn so dirty. Again I thought it might be best to leave the race and let him have it. I didn’t want this to turn into a campaign of dragging each other’s dirty laundry through the streets of Duck.

But I didn’t have time to dwell on it then. The Weather Channel crew wanted me to walk them through some streets that would show off the damage done to Duck. They also wanted to know what it was like the night of the storm, how the cleanup was going and what our normal precautions were during emergency weather.

I was amazed at how thorough their questions were. We had nothing to hide, as far as I was concerned. Our emergency personnel and policies were as good as any other town around here. And I was glad to talk about them.

The pace was rigorous as we drove to some spots for photos and video, then walked to other areas where I answered questions and we talked to Duck residents about their experiences.

I saw Shawn Foxx standing outside Carter Hatley’s Game World and wondered what he was doing there. Given that Kevin had said the police were questioning him about Sandi’s death, I was surprised to see him in town. Was he doing his own investigation? The arcade seemed a strange place to start. But I’d be investigating if I were a suspect in a murder investigation.

There wasn’t time to stop and ask as the Weather Channel van sped by. I was glad to hear that not a single resident thought the town had done less than its best. That made me feel proud even though I certainly couldn’t take all the credit. I told the TV crew the same thing—the aftermath of a few minutes from the hurricane feeder bands would take months for our public works people to take care of. “There aren’t many of us here, but we all pitch in.”

At one stop, I found Kevin working on the roof at Betty’s Boutique and Floral along with a group of volunteers. I pointed out to the TV crew that Kevin—and probably the others as well—was helping out Betty even though his own business needed repair too. Betty’s situation was more urgent, since there had been a dinghy on her roof.

The volunteers all shook hands with the camera crew. Kevin looked across the crowd at me. I smiled and he kind of smiled back. I thought it was a good sign. But I felt pretty sure we wouldn’t get to talk today. Maybe a little space would be good for us.

It was going on evening when the Weather Channel crew finally wrapped up their taping. I suggested going to Wild Stallions on the boardwalk, since they were all hungry and thirsty. We had a good time comparing notes on storms in the Atlantic. One of the crew was from Wilmington, North Carolina, so we had a lot in common.

By the time everyone had eaten all the French fries and seafood they could hold and had plenty of beer (except the cameraman, who lost the toss and became designated driver), it was almost ten P.M. I stood in the Duck Shoppes parking lot and waved to them as they left. The program about the aftermath of storms would air in January.

I had just started walking home, sorry I hadn’t worn more comfortable shoes, when Rafe rejoined me. “It’s not as if I had much choice in the matter,” he said as though we’d never stopped talking from earlier in the day. “You’ve done good work, girl. But we need that diary if I am ever to lay down this blasted existence.”

“I have everyone I know working on it,” I told him with a new feeling of camaraderie. “We’ll find the diary.”

“Aye, I know ye will.”

I kept walking and he stayed beside me. There were so many questions I wanted to ask, but I didn’t want every one of them to be like a dagger to his heart—even though he was dead. “Will you ever see Mary again?”