Minister Without Portfolio

by Michael Winter

You’ve got it all figured out.

  He realized who the boy was, the American’s son. He had long blond hair and blue eyes. He was staying in the lightkeeper’s house. He was wearing a snowboarding jacket and had a stud in his ear. He smelled of pot.

  You’re Keith, Henry said.

  I’m taking a pause from school, the boy said.

  Henry thought about what that meant. This kid isn’t going back to school. He has nothing with him in the way of supplies. Living on his own is the beginning of his manhood.

  They talked about where Keith was from and what he was doing here in the middle of winter—hunting with Justin King, he said. Hunting what, Henry asked. Birds, Keith wasn’t sure. Henry tried to sew together what might happen in the woods with guns.

  It’s been a while since I hunted, Henry said.

  You want to come?

  There’s no room on one skidoo.

  You can take the one next door to you, Keith said.

  You know John Hynes?

  I know what he’s got in his shed.

  The boy moved, with his leg, the bag of steel wool and traps. You got a couple of mice living with you?

  You have to kill the enemy, Henry said. And stop their movement—that’s what they taught us in Afghanistan and you deal with rodents the same way.

  You were in the army?

  Henry told him what he did.

  If you don’t mind me saying sir that’s a pretty radical description of human life. That comparison to a mouse. I mean, you’re back in civilization now.

  Henry drove him into the cove—they passed Colleen walking and he waved—down to the lightkeeper’s house.

  Thanks a lot, the boy said.

  I tell you what, Henry said. If you see a skidoo tomorrow morning you’ll know it’s me.

  The boy didn’t wave, just walked into the house and turned on the electric heat. There was a note under the door from Justin King. He’d come by with the truck in the morning.

  THE BOY SLEPT THAT NIGHT in his father’s bed. It was a better bed and you could see the ocean from this side of the house. He slept in his socks and T-shirt. He woke up with Justin King staring down at him. It was ten in the morning.

  Before we go, Justin said, let’s have a bowl of cereal.

  It was two o’clock before they got their gear together and loaded the machine. Justin was eating one of his prepared sandwiches when they heard a snowmobile bombing down the road.

  Who’s he? Justin said. And Keith explained.

  I’ll follow you guys, Henry said.

  No odds to me. You got some grub?

  I made a lunch, Henry said.

  We’re staying overnight.

  In the open?

  In my uncle’s cabin.

  Let’s roll.

  THEY DROVE THEIR MACHINES into Kingmans Cove and turned into the soft powder of a woods trail through a cutover that was filled with new snow. These were Wilson Noel’s woods. They had to be careful with the snowfall about getting out again. Henry followed the boys. He hadn’t, in the end, set the traps. The boy had gotten to him. He realized he had to be careful how the world shapes your opinion. He’d spent the morning hauling the heavy tarp off John’s machine and checking the oil and rocking it out of the ice and dry-starting it in the field between the two houses. It was a good machine. That decided things.

  They pulled in where the power lines cut through a hillside. Snowmobiles had used the power line into the cabins. Some families even walked in on snowshoes with canvas sacks of provisions and dogs and their wives and children, Justin said. After this hunting trip he was on his way to the Burin to do his second block of sheet metal.

  Keith cracked open a box of Black Horse beer and pulled out three bottles.

  Having a few rips of horse, Justin said.

  Henry joined them in a beer. And he got in tune with his younger self—the man he’d been before Nora Power. When he went to trade school with John and Tender and they all worked construction for Rick. But these boys were not like John and Tender. They were a new generation and they were preoccupied with different things. They started up the skidoos again and Keith got on the back behind Justin. They had to keep to the trail other machines had made, with the two of them on, Justin said. Too easy to get bogged down in the powder. They slung their machines under the wide branches of fir and spruce and across a frozen white bog and up a little incline. They stopped to ice-fish at a pond, and when it was starting to get dark, they turned on their ignitions. After about eight miles they lost the fresh track and had to push through, hoping they had kept to the high part of the trail. Henry got a little worried about the dark. John’s snowmobile had a headlight, but barely. Justin was good, though. He knew the way. After an hour he called out over the engine and said the cabin was up ahead. And then on a rise Henry saw a hut sheathed entirely in realty signs. The signs lit up as their headlight passed over it. That’s Wilson Noel’s cabin, Justin said. We’re almost there.

  It was a blizzard now but there was hardly any new snow underfoot. It was as if snow only flew horizontally in this region and came to rest in other places. They zipped up their jackets and tugged down their hoods and Keith lit his pipe.

  Take one last hoot on this, he said.

  Henry: That stuff is too strong for me.

  Keith passed it over to Justin who had his flashlight out trying to find his uncle’s cabin. The flashlight was dazzling: big fat flakes that confused his eyelashes. There was a smaller, flakeless snow too that did not melt and then what felt like a third type—a hail of pellets that beat against your jacket and legs.

  It’s back this way, Justin said. It’s terrible to be cold, travelling in the dark, and tired. But Henry had a pound of bacon in the knapsack and he knew how happy the boys would be to hear it sizzle in the camp, best sound in the world. His knapsack was full of food and he could feel a can of corned beef nudging his shoulder blade.

  We’re going to get tangly as fuck tonight, Justin said. And then remembered Henry. He stepped down from the grade of the track and fell through a shell of ice into a brook of water.

  Justin was up to his waist in water and he looked a little shocked at the cold. His face was pale. He wasn’t dressed for wind—denim is one of the coldest things you can wear.

  Get his arm, Henry said.

  He and Keith pulled him out and Henry was worried about hypothermia.

  Where’s the fucking cabin, he said.

  The storm was constant and you got used to it. If you looked up, through the stream of snow, you saw the stars and the milky way. The storm was living in the first twenty feet of air.

  They walked until Henry felt, in the darkness, the side of something. That’s the cabin, Justin said, and Keith let out a little hooray. It was not a cheerful sound, he was cold too, and had gotten wet pulling Justin out. They were all a little discouraged. Henry was going to have to pull up the slack for the rest of the night. But it’s Justin’s turf. We’ll get in there, light the stove and oil lamps, Henry said. Strip down and warm up and get that bacon on. Have a munch-out and after you guys can enjoy a few pipe tokes.

  The door was padlocked but Justin found the key hanging on a nail in the eaves. Henry warmed the key in his mouth and banged off the padlock and tried the door but it was frozen shut. He pushed at it and it opened a crack. Henry shone the flashlight at the crevice and it looked like someone had pinned white canvas around the door. But Keith saw what it was. He’d been checking through the window.

  The entire cabin, he said, is blocked with snow.

  They pawed at the snow with their hands. The shovel was behind the door, Justin said. They were going to have to carve away the snow and get the door open and find a way around the door to the shovel and spend an hour or two just clearing out the camp. The snow was hard packed. That was when he heard a little wail coming out of Keith. He sounded like he was crying.

  Wait, Justin said. He put a shell in his gun.

  Henry: What the fuck are you doing.


  Justin shot twice into the snowbank. The snow broke into chunks and Keith revived himself and tumbled them out. The shots alarmed Henry. He felt out of control and he knew Justin was doing something insane. He was loading the gun again with birdshot and Henry asked him, sternly, for the gun. Justin handed it over, but as soon as Henry held it he shared in the vengeance they were having now on winter—he fired from the hip and the boys cheered and pulled out large boulders of snow. He fired again and cried out loud and tears harmed his vision. He stopped shooting and the boys did not go at the snow but stared at him in wonder. Here’s some more shells, Justin said, but Henry Hayward was on his knees, sobbing.

  Justin: Wow man the war kind of fucked you up didn’t it. Oh, so that was the story on him. It felt, to Henry, like they had cornered an animal and were killing it bit by bit.

  The cabin door wide open now. I’m sorry boys, he said. Just a little overwrought here.

  He broke the gun to make sure it was empty. Then they heard, in the wind, the low chug of a small generator. Off to the east, Wilson Noel’s cabin, the windows flared up from a dull orange to a bright white. Parts of FOR SALE signs, houses that had been bought and sold for many years on the Avalon. Wilson’s here, Justin said. And Wilson Noel’s door flung open, the shape of a man. Who’s shooting at the Kings?

  It’s me, Justin said. Justin King.

  As he said it, it registered in Henry that Wilson Noel had asked the question almost in a jocular fashion, as if he’d like to join in the fun of destroying some Kings. But Wilson Noel was only trying to understand what could prompt anyone to start firing into a house packed with snow.

  32

  I’m sorry, Martha said, it’s so early I know I just woke up at dawn and I like to drive when no one’s on the road so I came straight out but the storm door was hasped and I thought you might be in there overcome with carbon monoxide so that’s why I banged until you woke up.

  It was Saturday morning. Henry had spent the day before in bed. Wilson Noel had taken them into his cabin that night and, after a glass of Canadian Club and water, he’d slept in a bunk, head to foot with this man he had just met. The boys shared the other bed. The boys were embarrassed by the whole experience, the getting wet, the cabin full of snow, Henry’s reaction. They did not hunt but turned back to Renews, exhausted. Henry had left his gear in the porch and climbed upstairs. And now a knock on the door.

  Henry looked out the window, expecting it to be Silvia with the kids warning him she was there, but it was Martha Groves.

  I have not been overcome, he said.

  He let her in and put on the kettle. He could see now the pregnancy. He wasn’t sure what to do about this foreign element and his own knowledge of it but he felt a loyalty to Tender and he would defend this loyalty although he had no idea how it would be employed.

  It was cold and the water was still shut off so he was refilling the blue container Colleen had given him.

  I know that’s bizarre that thought about the asphyxiation but when you work in a hospital you see everything and so every possibility gets into your head.

  He decided to keep things light. Nothing about pregnancy or the house. He must have appeared very distant.

  I’ve come about the house, she said. I heard you got through to the Careens. I’m really sorry about the house, it just come to me when I saw your cheque I thought, three thousand dollars, for what. I’m not saying it should be more and I know you and Tender were close—

  We weren’t close. Tender was close with John Hynes and I know John. Me and John go way back.

  You went to trade school with Tender.

  I know Tender but I wouldn’t say I was familiar with him.

  You were over there together. You were the one he last saw.

  And suddenly a moment returned to Henry. This was years ago. They were required, for their underwater welding, to take a scuba diving course. John was paired with their instructor so Tender was Henry’s buddy in the water. They pulled on their neoprene suits and hoisted on the air tanks and masks and stepped backwards in their fins and fell ass-first into the sea. They swam out to meet their instructor. The OK to Tender. Then something happened. Henry met a ledge in the sea floor and sank towards it. He felt himself accelerate and the sea darken, he was falling but could not tell which way was up. The sea was black. Then something tugged his arm and it was Tender Morris pointing at his chest. Tender had followed Henry down, grabbed him and gave the proper hand signal: add air to your buoyancy compensator. They rose together.

  It occurred to me when I saw your cheque, Martha said, if you want a place for the summer then you can have the place but maybe I could come out here now and again. When you’re not here is what I mean.

  So it was all out in the open. She blurted out her intentions and he realized he was conniving. He was using cunning against Tender Morris’s wife. You want to own half the house, he said.

  And you’re wondering which half.

  He laughed. My god she was young. And yet how far from that youth was he. She was, in fact, older than him by six months. We’re all youthful.

  The truth is, she said. And couldn’t say it.

  Animate. Words in a kitchen not his own. A woman telling him this—she was trying to let him know.

  Silvia, he said. She let me know about your situation.

  Okay good, she said. Then you’ll understand that this house is all I have left of the baby’s father.

  Various parts of this shocked him alive and held him against the back of a chair.

  It’s absurd, she said. She had refused to think it could be. You were there when he got leave.

  I was, he said.

  I knew as soon as it happened, she said. Tender left and I knew I wasn’t alone. Then when I heard from John I just couldn’t believe it. I was waiting to tell him and then two officers come to the door with a priest like I need a priest, and this feels like something from another century. My first thought was this isn’t real. He was injured, I can deal with injury. I work with it every day. You’re not here to tell me what you’re here to tell me.

  Henry was astonished at this candour.

  I’m sort of going out of my mind, she said.

  Why didn’t you tell me.

  When would I have told you.

  Perhaps before the night we had.

  I didn’t know that was going to happen. I mean nothing happened. Okay something happened but we were flailing with grief. Well, I was.

  It was very moving.

  I know it was, Henry. Everything’s been so crazy.

  I love you, he said. I mean, if that helps. I could love you.

  She looked at him knowing that he had spoken honestly.

  What about Nora, she said.

  It’s been a year. More than a year.

  I don’t think you can love me and her at the same time.

  Do you still love Tender Morris?

  Tender is dead. And I’ve seen the way you look at me.

  I’ll say it again, he said. I could love you.

  It was as true as the way he had said it to Nora when she asked him to leave. Something he was proud of saying, but also surprised by.

  I’m not sure we know what we’re doing, Martha said.

  So let’s just be honest. Let’s be disciplined and vulnerable and absorb punishment and try to be generous.

  She breathed out. She was taking little breaths in but mainly expelling air. Then she looked across the street and got up. She straightened herself out.

  I’m going to keep the house, she said. Or a part of it. In case you change your crazy mind.

  Because of the baby.

  Letting it go feels wrong. Perhaps we can split it.

  I’ll take the kitchen and the parlour. You can have—

  He pointed up the stairs.

  He pulled out his pocket knife and punctured a can of evaporated milk. He put his body in between the puncturing and Martha. She had those grey eyes and fair hair and she moved with fast gestures
and she was nervous and she was mentioning Tender without emotion. She was four months pregnant. You could tell, now that you knew. She carried high. She wore boots with felt liners. She had big feet or the boots could have been Tender’s— Silvia did the same with John’s clothes. Had Nora ever worn his clothes? Martha took care of herself with what she had nearby. He didn’t even know if they’d moved in together but what they’d done was move towards each other.

  Silvia likes it out here, Henry said.

  Martha didn’t answer that. Martha would know Silvia’s opinions on Nora and himself. Instead she asked a question of her own. Why wouldn’t you say you were close? she said. To Tender.

  Because it’s true.

  You didn’t like him?

  It’s not that, he said.

  Tender was waiting for a furlough, she said. You get a deferment or I’m not sure what it’s called you’d know better than me. He was a reservist and he volunteered. He didn’t have to go over. He wanted to get a medal and then work for Rick Tobin. He got me pregnant and went back to finish up his service.

  I don’t know any of the terms, he said.

  Because you’re not a soldier.

  Tender Morris named what I am.

  She kissed him. Then said, We shouldn’t shut the curtains or Baxter Penney over there is going to talk it up.

  That startled him. He told her how much help Baxter had been, and friendly. Baxter was in the police force, Martha said, he was one of the first cops along the shore here and he’s very good at putting two and two together. Anyway I’ll sign whatever you want. I wasn’t going to live out here, not without Tender.

  She left then. It was getting to be a nice day out and he walked her to her car.

  33

  How would he do this. Who was she to him. What did he need and what did she need. Do we need people. Parents, offspring, census reports. Marry her. It felt reassuring, that he could muster up the protection a child would need and he would be fostering love, creating something that was not his own, but marshalling up an inner strength to help what existed outside of himself. Not a hundred people, but two.

  He worked on the house and thought about Martha as a mantra that lay in his jaws. He wasn’t living a dangerous life, but taking care of his hundred people. Minister without portfolio!