An Island Between Us

by K'Anne Meinel

  During the time it took to empty the two gas cans into the tank, she had drifted quite a ways out. She was frightened and headed for the point on Fir Island that they used as a marker to head due east to their own island. She did not wish to miss it as it was getting dark. She didn’t dare light a cigarette with all the gas she had spilled, even if she could get a flame going in the gusting wind. Every little noise, every smack of the waves against the hull of the wood boat was frightening her as she drove as quickly as she dared across the wide-open space. The sun seemed to be setting far too quickly for her comfort. She’d stayed too long in Franklin painting that damned dock. She felt foolish.

  She was relieved when she saw Whimsical Island coming up on the horizon. Whoever said the Earth was flat was a fool and had never actually been out on the ocean because even she could see the curve in the waters as she drove. The darkness was coming on fast, and she gunned it as she headed for the opening to their cove, slowing only when she was halfway across.

  “Are you okay? What took you so long?” Barbara asked as she grabbed the rope once Marion was pulled up on the beach. She’d been chain smoking in her worry and felt ill from it. Feathers jumped out of her way as she started to walk the rope across the beach.

  “I ran out of gas. I was stupid and forgot to fill up in Franklin,” Marion admitted as she came forward in the boat to jump off onto the sand. “Where are the kids?” Her hands were shaking after washing them in the water, and she fumbled with her cigarettes and lighter.

  “I told them to stay up in the meadow,” Barbara answered as she tugged on the rope, so she could tie it around a tree. She had never felt so relieved as when she heard the boat’s motor. All the thoughts of what could have happened to Marion had flashed through her mind as she was waiting. The children, despite her best intention not to worry them, had sensed her tension.

  Following her up the beach to the tree, Marion waited for her to make the tie before she took her in her arms and said, “I’m sorry.”

  “Me too,” Barbara answered, wrapping her arms around the smaller woman protectively, knowing the shadow of the trees hid them from any prying eyes. “I don’t know what I’d have done if I lost you,” she said, her voice breaking.

  “I know. I had that same thought if something had happened to you and there was nothing I could do. I was so foolish. I just simply forgot. I have two cans of gas left. Is that enough to get us back across?” she fretted, trying not to cry now that she was safe in Barbara’s arms. Marion held her hand away from Barbara, so she didn’t burn her with the cigarette as her hand was still shaking.

  “Yes, it’s enough, but I don’t care now. I’m just so happy you are okay.”

  They held each other, relishing their alone time until they realized the passage of time when a dog barked and then they heard, “Mom?” faintly from the trail.

  “Damn,” Marion muttered, enjoying the feel of Barbara against her. Her solid bulk was a welcome solace after that harrowing experience.

  “We better go,” Barbara sighed.

  “We better finish that damn cabin, so we have some privacy,” Marion murmured back, wiping away tears of relief surreptitiously with the back of her hand in order to hide her emotions. She took a second to reach up and peck her partner on the lips. Then, she took a deep drag of the cigarette, feeling the smoke relax her as it entered her lungs.

  They moved out of the shadows of the trees and headed for the boat, unloading the paint and groceries Marion had purchased. After covering up the boat, they peered at each other in the darkness before heading up the trail.

  “We should figure out a way to light this trail someday,” Barbara mentioned as they stumbled a little on the path.

  “And maybe add some steps,” Marion gasped as she slid slightly on one muddy section.

  “I was thinking about maybe building those long box steps using the pallet wood?”

  “That’s a good idea. I can paint them white!” She went on to explain about painting the stupid pier and her reasoning behind it.

  “I know. I’ve felt like fixing it up every time I’ve seen it too. You think people will know to put the pallets where we can reach them now?”

  “Well, I just didn’t want to be a bad neighbor, and he was so angry.”

  “A white pier. That should get tongues wagging.”

  “A white pier? Who has a white pier?” Brian asked as they arrived at the meadow.

  “Shouldn’t you three be by the tent?” Barbara asked, pushing at Barkley, who was enthusiastically greeting her and jumping up.

  “We were scared,” Richard admitted as he took some of the things his mother was carrying.

  Barbara put her arm around her young son, realizing how badly today could have ended. She saw Marion do the same with Brian and Brenda as they walked across the meadow to their camp.

  “We have to think of a way to repay the O’Flaherty brothers. We can’t keep using them to transport things across the water,” Marion said as they hastily made a late dinner.

  “I know, I was thinking the same. That dinner we owed them is turning into dinners. We also must get those fishing lines going, so we have our own source of meat. Eating out of cans all the time isn’t a good idea.”

  “Grady said the price of sheep goes down after they are sheared or after they give birth, and she said she’d watch out for them for us.”

  “She’s an unexpected friend,” Barbara commented happily, glad her instinct had proven true on that one.

  “Yes, she is,” Marion agreed. She’d been happy to check up on the woman and her promise of chickens, but her offer of finding them mutton was above and beyond.

  They quickly made their dinner, the children talking a mile a minute, and the two adults sharing a look now and then. They were relieved they were all home together and nothing bad had happened. That night, they surreptitiously held hands around Feathers, hiding their clasped fingers in the dog’s hair. Feathers didn’t mind, sighing happily at the humans’ touch.

  * * * * *

  “Let’s try to get the floor in before we worry about the walls,” Marion suggested as they struggled to split the tree.

  “That’s my plan,” Barbara grunted as she turned the mechanism to force the wedges down the middle of the tree. It was getting easier as she learned how, but it was still a lot of work. Her hands were becoming hard with the calluses building up. They maneuvered the split halves into place across the basement before they went to get the next section of the tree and then the next. Sometimes, when they were lucky, they got two or three sections from a tree and these, split in half, doubled their take.

  “My, isn’t that going to look nice?” Marion said encouragingly when they had the six halves down. There was still a tremendous amount of work to do, but her optimism was infectious.

  “Did you see we cut the branches?” Brian asked, looking for encouragement from his mother.

  “I did, darling. You children can be so much help,” she told him affectionately.

  “Why don’t you and the children tackle the pallets down on the beach while I cut down another tree,” Barbara suggested.

  They agreed that would work out best. Taking hammers and pry bars down to the beach after lunch, Marion and the children spent the afternoon with the puppy, letting him run around until he was too tired to move while they removed the nails from the wood and stacked the boards near the trail to be brought up to the meadow.

  “Got it,” Brenda said triumphantly when a nail had gone sailing. She put it in the coffee can they were using to store all the used nails. They wanted to ensure that none were accidentally left behind to cause trouble later. She sniffed loudly, wiping her nose on her sleeve.

  “Brenda, use your hanky for that,” Marion admonished her, disgusted at the habit although it was something she had to do occasionally too as they dealt with the cold spring. Amazingly, no one had gotten sick since they’d been here, and Barbara claimed it was their hearty constitutions and the good, clean Mai
ne air. Regardless, it was still cold!

  Marion was surprised they didn’t get a call to help Barbara with the trees but didn’t worry about it until the sun hit a certain point in the sky. She picked up their tools and called the boys, requesting they bring a few boards along with Brenda and begin to climb the path up to the meadow.

  “Put those boards down by the chicken coop?” she asked them politely as she put away the tools and then stretched. Her back ached from removing nails all afternoon, but they’d reduced many of the mismatched pallets down to nothing but wood with holes in it. The various sizes and shapes of the pallets ensured they had a lot of wood to work with, and she was looking forward to creating things with them.

  Picking up a bucket, she went to the spring to fill it. She was pleased the boys had been so enthusiastic about bailing it out and had learned a valuable lesson. She was certain there would be no more ‘sword’ fights in their water supply. She filled the bucket and then spent a few moments washing up in the lower end with the soap she kept there for that very purpose.

  “Do we have to wash up, Mom?” Brenda asked, sounding unenthused as she came up to her mother.

  “Well, those who don’t wash up, don’t eat,” she mentioned.

  “Mom, if you are working on the pallets tomorrow, we should work on the fishing lines,” Brian mentioned as he overheard her and came to wash.

  “Good idea. You three think about how you want to do that.” She was pleased they had brought it up. She kept forgetting, and they couldn’t keep using their canned supplies; that wasn’t practical.

  “All of us?” Brenda asked, surprised.

  “Yes, all of you,” her mother confirmed with a smile. She wouldn’t treat Brenda any different from the boys, and the little girl seemed to relish that. She watched as Barkley came up to take a drink from the lower basin while the boys and girl washed their arms and faces in preparation for dinner. She hoped Barkley didn’t drink any of the soapy water as she was sure it would give him the trots.

  The camp stove made it easier to cook than over the open fire, and Marion soon had a skillet going. She used some of the eggs they had for breakfast and added in some spam on the side and buttered some of the toast made from the bread she had bought. She hated the cast iron skillet! It was too heavy for her wrists, but everyone seemed to use them and she supposed she had no choice. She was happy to see Barbara come up from the far side of the meadow, a pleased look on her face.

  “Hey, there. Dinner is almost ready,” Marion said as she finished scrambling eggs.

  “Smells great,” Barbara said, greeting the children and the exuberant puppy. Feathers was with her and greeted her adopted family. Barbara put her axe down by the supply tarp, making sure it was covered in case of rain or the eternal mists that were prevalent here along the coast. She went to wash up, enjoying the feel of her sore muscles today. She’d gotten a lot accomplished, and she felt good.

  “How was your day?” Marion asked as she handed a plate of food to Barbara. She’d given each of the children theirs already, and they were busy inhaling the food. The fresh air had given everyone an appetite. She sat down with her own plate. “No, Barkley,” she pushed away the pup, trying to teach him manners as he stretched his nose towards the delicious smells. “Did no one feed the dogs?” she asked the children.

  “Sorry, it was my turn, and I forgot,” Richard admitted as he went to put his plate down and get up. Barkley lunged for the plate.

  “Nope, wait until after dinner,” Marion said as she used her foot to hook the pup and prevent him from getting at the food while Richard scooped his plate back up. “In the future, your animals come first before you eat,” she said to the boy and included Brian and Brenda in that admonishment. They all nodded solemnly.

  “I got two trees down and a third tree halfway cut. We can saw them into lengths tomorrow, if you all want to help. The first two are missing half their branches, but I’m sure there’s still lots to do if you all want to saw some off?” she asked the children, who seemed to think it was great fun.

  “We’re going to set up the fishing tomorrow,” Richard mentioned.

  “That’s a great idea,” Barbara answered as they all caught up on what the others had been doing.

  Slowly and surely over the coming days, they finished the first floor of the cabin, using shorter logs around the passageway with the stairs. Marion fashioned boards to make a drop door to the downstairs.

  “I saw some sandstone when we first came to the island?” Barbara asked Marion as they finished the floor, pleased that they could now walk across the opening. They’d deliberately left the logs longer than the stone lined opening, so their floor would extend into the area where they wanted to add bedrooms. They’d put some extra stones to hold up the weight of the logs along this section, forming a foundation and boxing it in, not wanting to create a cave that would attract animals.

  “I don’t think there is sandstone in this part of the country,” Marion mused as she looked through one of their books.

  “Well, whatever that stone was, it was rough enough that it should help smooth out the splinters on the floor, and I think the children would enjoy polishing the floor,” she added hopefully.

  Making chores and hard work fun and talking the children through their lessons took some creativity, but the two mothers were managing it. Going into Franklin once a week on the boat, they managed to keep the pile of pallets down. Apparently, their white pier had made a sensation in the small town. Barbara laughed when she first saw it while driving the boat that day after Marion’s harrowing experience. They mailed off the children’s schoolwork and arranged with the local school to provide the children’s schoolwork that fall instead of dealing with a correspondence school again.

  “I’ve gotten a letter from my mother-in-law,” Marion mentioned after their latest trip to town.

  “Read it later. We have work to do,” Barbara answered. She’d gotten a couple from her own mother, guilt tripping her and threatening that Brent wouldn’t be allowed to come and help for the summer. The letter she had gotten from Brent said he’d run away before he let their mother keep him from coming.

  They were picking up a few things from the lumberyard and were surprised by the quality and quantity of things they were able to buy; however, some things weren’t available and had to be ordered. That was frustrating, but they made do wherever possible. Getting everything into their little boat was another matter because they refused to overload the little workhorse or impose on the generosity of the O’Flaherty’s.

  “I got one!” Brian yelled as he reeled in his line. They’d rigged fishing poles at ten-foot lengths in hopes that their lines wouldn’t cross. They were catching fish, and this would supplement their meager food supplies wonderfully.

  “I got one too,” Brenda yelled as she began to reel in the fish and was nearly pulled off her feet as she excitedly worked her fishing pole.

  “I didn’t get anything today,” Richard lamented.

  “You caught two yesterday,” his mother laughed at him as they took the current supplies up the beach. The pallets were quickly put in their spot under the trees, but the limited amount of wood they had bought at the lumbermill was taken up to the meadow right away. Marion had made a couple of box steps, but they hadn’t had time to really work on this project since it required more time than they had to spare right now.

  “Don’t forget to put the fish on the string and recast,” Marion called from where she was bringing groceries from the boat.

  The dog and puppy were overeager to see their humans return. It caused Feathers anxiety when they were all gone, but there was nothing they could do, short of taking her with them every time, but she didn’t like the ride in the boat much anyway, and the puppy was still too exuberant to take on these excursions. Leaving the children alone on the island was not an option. They had tried it the one time they had driven around the island, but they decided never to do that again. The children were simply too y
oung to be left alone, and their mothers worried too much about what could happen when they were out of their sight.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Slowly, the sides of the cabin began to rise now that their floor was laid. Whatever the name of the stone that Barbara thought was sandstone, it didn’t work as she had intended. They’d had to buy sandpaper to get the floors smooth, so bare feet could someday walk on them. They’d seal the floors when they finished the cabin but not for a while with all the trekking they were doing across it as they built their cabin.

  Barbara continued to fell dead trees, most only suitable for firewood, but cleaning up the forest around their chosen home, and Marion was collecting stones. She was having to go farther afield as they had already collected so many in their immediate vicinity for the basement and foundation. Now, she was planning a fireplace for the cabin and didn’t want it anywhere near the wood floor they had worked so hard to construct. After making a frame, she started to build the fireplace one stone at a time, from the ground up, in the middle of what would become the cabin. She’d stopped to help Barbara bring more trees up the slope. The combination of sheer hard work and block and tackle allowing them to bring these heavy sections to their work area to be split. They were now able to use the trees whole since their thickness would keep the bedroom areas warm. They used mortar in between the trees. Marion was proud of its neatness and her ability to get ready for the next level that Barbara would cut or split.

  “What are you doing?” Marion practically screeched at Brian and Richard when she caught them picking at the mudding between the cracks of the logs. She had put it in so carefully, making sure no air bubbles or holes existed, and here they were, pulling at it.

  “We’re neatening it,” Brian answered, looking abashed as he lied.

  “You don’t touch that, ever! That mortar is going to be the difference between you keeping warm or freezing to death in your bedroom all winter!” She knew he was lying. He’d turned a bright shade of red and had the good grace to look embarrassed.