tourism from a stretch of shops that the highway divided into hillside and bay side locations. Negotiating the curves or the bridge provided passengers plenty of time to examine shop windows or signs offering directions down to the waterfront.
For years the town had two bars that also served meals, the Truck In and the Sandbar. Both offered standard menus typical of small town cafes, but the Sandbar also served seafood, caught fresh and subject to change on the specials menu. The Truck In also served unique fare, including venison, shot fresh, an item not listed on the menu. The walls of the Sandbar displayed trophy sized taxidermy – cutthroat, steelhead, salmon, a variety of cod, crabs and a thresher shark - composed and suspended in a decorative net. The Truck In also provided a natural history section – several mule deer heads with impressive antlers, a beaver, a coyote, a red tail hawk, some ducks and a snarling black bear’s head with yellow teeth. Scattered among the animal heads, a collection of photographs depicting men standing on huge stumps or gathered around antique steam driven engines developed a logging theme that stretched from the nineteenth century to the nineteen-eighties, represented by dramatic color photographs of customized logging trucks. Behind the bar several saws, axes and an exploded choker cable completed the décor. The extensive photographic section of the Sandbar included dozens of boats, both private and charter, proud tourists with their catch and seascapes in all seasons and varieties of weather. The Truck, squatted between the lumberyard and the garage, and faced the Coast Highway across a parking lot wide enough for a dozen pickups and a couple of log truck tractors without their trailers. The Sandbar perched above the little public marina on a parallel business street, a short walk from the boat launch and the slips. Unlike the Truck, which washed its floors weekly and relished the aroma of beer soaked wood, the Sandbar’s speckled linoleum received nightly mopping and weekly waxing.
The owners, Toby and Evelyn Babb, took pride in the fragrance of their home cooking, which drifted into the main seating area through a horizontal serving window behind the counter. Evelyn dressed the windows that opened onto the bay with fabric curtains that matched the tablecloths. Locally crafted glass panels depicting abstract sea life and exploding sunsets hung from the mullions with price tags attached. During summer months, potted plants bloomed under the windows on the street side and the bay side, where she maintained a cantilevered deck with chairs for smokers and a view of the harbor.
A crowd had gathered in the Sandbar and Billy sat at a corner table wrapped tight in an unzipped sleeping bag with half a mug of coffee in his hands and half the coffee on the floor. He was still shaking and occasional involuntary spasms in his arms and legs made drinking the coffee ridiculous, but it was warm.
Sven sat across from him with his own coffee, speaking softly in an attempt to keep the conversation at their table. “Glass went with the ambulance. I think Lester went too, but I’m not sure.”
Billy’s teeth periodically chattered as he spoke. “Bad idea. Lester’s nuts. If he thinks this is Richard’s fault, he might kill him right there in the ambulance.”
“Murphy went too.”
“In the ambulance?”
“I believe so.”
“I hope so.”
Sven leaned over and pushed his hot cup across the table. “Take it easy Bill. Sammy’s gone. Lester’s hurting, but I doubt he’ll hurt anybody else.”
Billy set his mug on the table. “I’m not so sure as you, but you’re right. Sammy’s gone.” He tried a sip of the hot coffee, spilling it again on the bag covering his legs. “Shit. I can’t get warm. I can’t stop this shaking; how long have I been shaking?”
“Twenty minutes since we pulled you out. You’re still white. Could be shock. Maybe you need to check it out at the clinic. We pulled a guy out last month who went over. He was only in the water for ten minutes and he went into shock. We almost lost him; had to call the Coast Guard Helivac.”
Billy stood up and the sleeping bag opened revealing a bloody chest and thighs. “Maybe I need some clothes instead of this coffee soaked bag.”
Sven surveyed the damage. “You definitely need more than swim trunks, but I think you need the clinic, Bill. You’re bleeding all over the place.”
He dropped the bag to the floor and took a look at his chest and legs. They were covered with shallow cuts from the barnacles. “I look like one of those religious fanatic flagellators, those guys that whip themselves with thorn ropes. I guess I got seriously hypothermic. Must be capillary shunt stopped any blood from getting to my skin. Oregon water - so cold we don’t bleed.”
Sven got up to look at his back. “I guess you should go. There’s a nasty cut on your back too and that one’s not barnacle scratches. That’s deep. Ribs OK? You got beat up down there.” He draped his coat over Billy’s shoulders and sat down.
Billy sat down and wrapped the bag over his legs. “Didn’t do much good though. Did it?”
“Now don’t say that. You did everything you could. That thing damn near got you too.”
“It would have without you and Rich.”
Sven sensed Billy’s mood darkening. “I just helped you out of the water a little quicker. You’re so mean you would have crawled out without me.”
Billy looked up. “Seriously, Sven, I don’t think I would have made it if Rich hadn’t cut me out. I was about done and Rich wouldn’t have been there without you.”
Sven sat up as if he suddenly remembered something important. “It wasn’t me who spotted you. It was that kid, Quinn. He’s the one who got us out there. He came in with a tale about catching some huge Chinook with a net that filled the bay and surfers about to die like salmon in a gillnet. Your mate John was the only one who believed him and he went over to the Truck to see if Lester knew where Sammy was. I guess John knew you went out, which meant Richard was there. You should thank him.”
Billy wrapped the bag around his waist and walked over to Quinn, who sat at one of the counter stools. Evelyn had given him a plate of marrion berry pie and a glass of milk, but he continually glanced over his shoulder to monitor events in the room behind him. He heard Billy get up and start toward him; he spun the stool around.
At six feet three inches, Billy towered over him and he smiled down. “Sven said you saved me. I guess I owe you big.”
Quinn looked up and grinned at the acknowledgement of his part in the drama. “Rhys and I saw the net and the floats and rode out with Sven, cause I saw it out there at the lineup. I saw your head come out at the rocks. That was pretty scary when you went back down. You’re bleeding pretty bad. I’m glad you’re OK. Sammy died, didn’t he”?
Billy surveyed Quinn’s excited confusion. “Yeah we couldn’t save him. We tried pretty hard though. And you saved me. You’re a good kid and I owe you one; so if you need something, you find me and I’ll help any way I can. So, who’s Rhys?”
Quinn turned pale and jumped off the stool. “My brother. I left him out on the jetty with the fish. I gotta go get him.”
“I’ll walk with you.”
“I better run. You better go to the clinic.”
The street door opened and John walked in holding a huge salmon followed by Rhys dragging the backpacks.
Billy smiled. “That him?”
Quinn
