Winter Wake

by Rick Hautala

  “What he said about those rats bothers me, though,” Julia said.

  “How so?” Frank said sharply.

  “Do they — the rats, I mean, really come up from the docks and get into people’s houses?”

  “I told yah. If you hear any scrambling noises inside the walls, it’s rats.” His eyes suddenly rolled upward, staring blankly at the car ceiling. “Unless it’s — who the hell is that?”

  “Who?” Julia asked, looking around, wondering who he might have seen.

  “Huh?” Frank said.

  He turned to her, and his eyes suddenly snapped back into focus. After a long silence, Julia said, “You were telling me about the rats. Are they really that dangerous? They carry diseases, and if one got into the house … what if one of us gets bitten or something?”

  “T’ain’t never been a problem before,” Frank said, scowling.

  “Don’t see why you should make it one now.”

  Julia wanted to say more, but by the time she turned onto Oak Street, a cloud had fully descended on Frank, and she knew anything else she might say would only prompt a snappy reply from him. It didn’t take much for her to understand what was bothering him, either, even though she knew she couldn’t talk to him about it directly, at least not yet. Being confined to a wheelchair was getting to him. Seeing Frenchie only reminded him that he and his buddies were getting old and dying off. She felt helplessness and wished there was something she could say or do, but there was nothing.

  “I wonder why John’s home so early,” she said when she saw his car parked at an odd angle in the driveway. She had to park down by the road because she couldn’t get her car around John’s without driving onto the grass.

  Frank shrugged as if he didn’t know or care.

  And on top of everything else, Julia thought, that — the way he and John interact — only makes matters worse.

  “Probably forgot something and had to dash home to get it,” she said more to herself than to Frank. She was still wondering how she could break through and connect with Frank. While she was getting his chair out of the backseat, she remembered the Serenity Prayer her grandmother had recited to her long ago: “God, grant me the courage to change what can be changed, accept what cannot be changed, and the wisdom to know the difference.”

  Maybe, she thought, that’s why Frank’s so involved with church … He’s working on accepting what’s happened to him … what can’t be changed.

  But that thought only made her feel all the more guilty for the argument they’d had over the weekend.

  “I hope you didn’t mind my tagging along today,” she said as she opened the car door and helped him swing out into the wheelchair.

  “Not a bit,” he said, his mouth close to her ear as she did her best to lift him. It was a struggle, but she got him settled into the chair and started pushing him up the walkway.

  Julia was convinced that he didn’t mean what he had said. She sensed that he tolerated her only because she had asked to come along in the first place. She was convinced he never would have asked her on his own.

  She wanted to say something, to reach out and communicate with him so badly it pained her, but he was so defensive most of the time. In those few moments — like this morning — when he let his guard down, she found him to be genuinely enjoyable, but those moments were fleeting. As she wheeled him up to the kitchen door, she vowed that, while she wouldn’t be pushy about it, she was definitely going to keep trying.

  A few minutes later, she found John upstairs in bed, tossing and turning with a fever.

  TEN

  High School Memories

  I

  Although the rain let up on Thursday, by Friday afternoon another storm roared into the area, bringing chilly winds and a pelting, cold rain that changed to sleet in the evening. Over John’s halfhearted protestations that after four days home sick he still didn’t feel totally better, Julia had accepted Ellie Chadwick’s invitation to their house for supper. Bri had also been invited, but she excused herself, saying she didn’t want to go out on such a miserable night. She convinced her parents to let her stay home with Frank. When they left, she stood in the kitchen doorway and waved goodbye.

  Once her parents had driven off, Bri joined Frank in the living room where they settled down for a few games of checkers. Bri won two of the first three games rather handily, and she began to suspect that her grandfather was letting her win. Halfway into the fourth game, she decided to make a stupid move, just to see what he would do.

  “You really wanna do that?” he asked, scratching his beard-stubbled chin. The sound was like sandpaper scraping on wood.

  Bri pretended to examine the board and then nodded. He saw the opening and took the jump.

  “Oww, man. I didn’t see that,” she said, leaning back in her chair and slapping her forehead with the flat of her hand. “That’ll teach me. “

  Frank smiled as he removed her two captured pieces. “You ain’t got your mind on the game’s all. What yah thinkin’ ‘bout?”

  “Nothing,” Bri said. Now that she had blown a move, she looked at the game with renewed intensity.

  “One thing on your mind is you’re probably thinkin’ there are better things to do than sit ‘round here, playin’ checkers with an old fart.”

  Bri had her head down, but now she chuckled as she tried to figure out what he was getting at. When she looked up, he was smiling at her, but a trace of sadness or concern lit his eyes.

  “No,” she said. “I’m having fun.”

  “Oh, sure,” Frank said.

  He pushed himself away from the table and rolled over to the refrigerator. Opening the door, he reached in and grabbed two cans of beer.

  “You wanna have a beer with me?’ he asked, holding up the two cans.

  Bri shook her head.

  “No, thanks. Maybe I’ll get a soda after this move.”

  She had never liked the taste of beer whenever her father had let her try a sip. Besides, she was concentrating on the board, trying to find some way out of the hole she had stupidly dug for herself.

  “Oh, yeah — that’s right. You kids are into smokin’ pot, right?”

  Bri wrinkled her nose as she looked up at him.

  “Come on, Grandpa. Not every teenager has a drinking or drug problem.”

  Frank popped the top of his Pabst and then rolled back to the table.

  “That ain’t what I read in Reader’s Digest,” he said. His face was completely deadpan, and Bri couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

  Maybe he’s trying to distract me from the game.

  Finally, she saw a good move and slid her piece on the board. Satisfied, she sat back, waiting for Frank to make his move.

  “You know,” Frank said after taking a sip, ‘‘I’ve been noticing you go for a lot for walks down to the beach.”

  Bri stiffened and thought, Yeah, sure. I’d rather be spending a rainy night like this with some friends …even Audrey.

  “I like the beach,” she said simply, her voice taking on a defensive whine. A ripple of impatience ran though her.

  “Oh, it’s nice, all right,” he said. “Where do you go?”

  This was beginning to feel like the Grand Inquisition, but Bri didn’t want to be mean and tell him to mind his own business.

  “I walk around — mostly on Sandy Beach and out on Indian Point.”

  “You’ve gotta be careful out there,” Frank said. “Them rocks can get pretty slippery when the tide’s out.”

  “I know. I’ve taken a few little slips.”

  “‘Specially after a storm like this,” Frank said, nodding toward the rain-beaten window. Bri followed his glance. “It’ll probably be a nice day tomorrow, but you know that storm’s still settin’ off the coast. Them waves’ll be high — ‘specially on the headlands. Every now and then, a big one’ll come up, and if you’re too close to the edge — whoosh. You’re in.”

  Bri wondered if what he was saying was true, or if he was sa
ying this to scare her for whatever reason to keep her away from the point.

  “I had a friend — fella named Robbie Peterson. Smart fella. Grew up here on the island. Knew all about the moods of the ocean. He went out fishing off the point one day after a hurricane, and a wave swept him out to sea.”

  “Did he drown?”

  “Darn tootin’ he drowned. There’s a wicked undertow off them rocks, so if you go out there — ‘specially after a storm — you stay clear of the waves, okay?”

  “Don’t worry,” Bri said, nodding her head. “I will. Are you going to take your turn or just rattle your dentures all night?”

  Frank sat back, surprised and secretly pleased at her use of his own pet expression for talking too much. He sipped his beer, then glanced at the board.

  “I swear to Christ you ain’t got your mind on this game,” he said as he jumped two of her men and landed on her side of the board.

  “King me,” he said with a laugh.

  “King yourself,” she snapped.

  She tossed him one of his captured pieces and glared at him with mock anger. Then they both burst out laughing, long and hard, when — accidentally on purpose, as he said afterward — Frank’s elbow knocked the board and jiggled the pieces around, ending the game.

  “I win by default,” Bri cried out, standing up and shaking her clenched fists over her head. “I’m gonna get a Pepsi to celebrate, and you’re going down four out of five.”

  II

  The supper Ellie served was surprisingly elaborate — a dish she called “Greek-oregano chicken,” along with fresh green beans, salad, and home-baked bread and real butter — something Julia didn’t allow in their house because of the ever-increasing spare tire around John’s middle. By the time Ellie brought out dessert — carrot cake with whipped cream — the conversation had fewer awkward silences than at the beginning of the meal. Ellie and Julia found they had a lot in common, while Randy and Frank mostly reminisced about high school.

  After dessert, with coffee in hand, they went into the living room and settled down. Their conversation remained on a fairly superficial level as the two couples took each other’s measure. For Randy and John, it was a slow discovery of who the friend from high school had become over the past twenty years.

  John was surprised most by Ellie. It was stunning how much she had changed over the years. In high school, she had been a petite, rather plain, but certainly not unattractive girl, but having two children had aged her significantly. Dark circles lined her eyes, and her hair, which he had remembered had been full-bodied and a shimmering brown, was now limp and lifeless with strands of gray showing. She was still small and had an attractive figure, but she looked frail and drained of life, much older than her years. This confirmed his conviction that living on Glooscap wore people out before their time.

  Even Randy looked much older than John thought he himself looked. His hairline was receding, and his stomach swelled out and hung over his belt buckle. He looked strong, especially his hands and forearms, but John couldn’t reconcile this man with the thin, wire-framed boy who had been the baseball team’s star pitcher and one of the school’s top scholar. Randy hadn’t bothered with college, choosing instead to do what his father had done for a living — haul lobster traps. Working outside every day, winter and summer, had aged him.

  It’s living on this island that’ll drain the life out of you, John thought bitterly.

  When Randy hauled out a CD of Summer Days and Summer Nights, an old Beach Boys album, the conversation headed further down memory lane. John was feeling increasingly uncomfortable, and he lit a cigarette and tried to stir the topic around the past.

  “So — uh, what do you folks think about Freedom Corporation’s condo project?” he asked. “I get the feeling it doesn’t have the backing of a lot of folks around here.”

  Ellie smiled weakly. “Randy and I both signed the petition against it. At this point, I don’t suppose it’ll do any good.”

  John laughed out loud as he looked at Randy and said, “Not now that they’ve broken ground. But … Randy, I never would have taken you for an environmentalist.”

  “Randy’s no environmentalist,” Ellie said before Randy had a chance to speak. She pronounced the word with contempt, as if it were something dirty. “It’s just … that condo ain’t the most popular thing on the island right now.”

  “I’m beginning to pick that up,” John said” “A couple of times, now, people have been out there protesting, carrying signs like it’s an anti-war rally or something. You must’ve heard about that truck driver and a handful of protestor who slugged it out.” He leaned forward and flicked the lengthening ash of his cigarette into the ashtray, catching Julia’s frown in the corner of his eye.

  “You want the truth?” Randy said, leaning toward John. “You ain’t the most popular guy on the island.” He was smiling, but John — having known him so well — caught the subtle intensity in his voice.

  “What do you mean?” John asked. He couldn’t help but catch the nervous glance that passed between Randy and Ellie, as if she was trying to tell him to please shut up.

  “You’re working for these people — the Freedom Corporation —” Randy said. “I didn’t want to get involved ‘n all, but —” Randy paused as he searched for the right words. “Well … you know how it is. Some of the guys down at the wharf were shooting off about how since you were born and raised here, maybe you should know better.”

  “Know better?”

  “Uh-huh. Maybe have a little respect for the Glooscap way of life.”

  “The ‘Glooscap way of life?’” John echoed, arcing an eyebrow. “I’ve never heard it put quite that way.”

  Not so subtly, Ellie tried to get Randy’s attention to get him to change subjects, but he ignored her and went on.

  “You haven’t been around for quite a while. Come on, John. You gotta realize how people feel about big developments going in out here. It’s ruining our way of life.”

  “Maybe that’s the point,” John said, his anger rising. “Maybe that ‘way of life’ isn’t possible anymore. The world moves on, you know? You can bury your head in the sand, but times change.”

  “Hell, I know that,” Randy said. He sat back casually on the couch to signal that he personally did not share the opinion he had expressed. “I’m telling you what I heard … that a couple of people around town are kinda surprised you’d work for bastards like the Freedom Corporation.”

  “I work for Atkins — a surveying company,” John said stiffly. “That’s all.”

  In the back of his mind, a thought flickered to life. As he looked at Randy, sitting there and smiling so good-naturedly at him, John couldn’t help but wonder if Randy might be more serious than he was letting on. Now that he thought about it, maybe that little prank outside their house on Halloween night had been intended for him, not Bri. Maybe Randy hated what John was doing.

  The Beach Boys had been wailing about summer and surfing and girls all the while, and when the CD clicked off, it produced an awkward silence.

  John laughed nervously and tossed his hands into the air as though he had just been dealt a terrible poker hand.

  “Look, Randy. I had no idea what projects were going on when I took the job with Atkins, all right? I took their offer because we had to move back here to help my old man. No one said anything about a condo site on Glooscap until after I got the job.”

  “But you don’t think it’s wrong?” Ellie leaned forward and nailed him with a harsh look.

  “All I know is it’s a job,” John said. He shrugged and looked to Julia for support, but she sat there silent. “People have to live somewhere. They want to live on the islands because of the beauty.”

  Ellie frowned and shook her head.

  “Don’t they realize they’re destroying exactly what they’re moving here to experience? By the time everyone gets here, the beauty won’t be here anymore. It’ll be gone to make room for more condos.”

&n
bsp; “I don’t know — I guess that’s the price we have to pay for living in God’s country,” John said, chuckling to lighten things up. Nobody picked up on his sarcasm, so he let it drop.

  “Actually,” Julia said, “John was telling me a couple of days ago that he thought he might quit his job and start lobstering. “

  Randy’s burst of laughter was sudden and loud. Ellie glared at her husband, but he was laughing so hard, he shook and almost dropped his coffee cup.

  “That’ll be the day,” he sputtered. A fleck of spit shot out of his mouth, and he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘I’d want to have a film crew there. The day you go out in a lobster boat is the day I’ll put on a three-piece suit and start selling life insurance.”

  “ What is this,” John said, “shit-on-your-buddy night?”

  His cigarette had long since burned down to the filter, so he dropped it into the ashtray. He started to reach for another, but he caught Julia’s stare and let his head drop to his side.

  “It just … it kills me trying to imagine you on a lobster boat. You wouldn’t know the first thing what to do.” Randy tilted his head back, howling at the ceiling with laughter as he shook his head. “I can’t picture it.”

  “You ought to go out some morning with Randy and give it a try,” Julia said. Her eyes were twinkling with merriment as she glanced at Ellie and Randy.

  “You should,” Ellie added. “Some Saturday morning, you ought to hop into the old Bait Barrel and go out with Randy. See what it’s really like.”

  “Can’t be any worse than building condos, right?” John said.

  Tears were rolling down Randy’s face.

  “Do you remember what you wrote in my yearbook?” he said, still laughing so hard now he could barely catch his breath.

  John shook his head and, deciding to hell with Julia’s discomfort — if they’re going to tease, I’m going to smoke — took a cigarette and matches from his shirt pocket. His hands shook slightly as he struck the match and lit up.

  “Nope,” he said, blowing the smoke out through his nose. “Can’t say as I do.”