“Wow,” the children said, not having seen them dressed up like this even back in Massachusetts because they had worked in the mill. They had only used the dresses to go out in, and that was long before they had children.
“Oh, you three aren’t getting off so easy. I put clothes on your beds for you to change into,” Barbara informed them. “Wash up in the bathroom first before you touch any of them.”
“Oh, Mommmm!”
“Aunt Barbara...” they complained in harmony. She pointed and they marched inside to change. It was obvious the children had all grown. Both boys looked like their pants had shrunk an inch or two, and Brenda looked out of place with the tight-fitting sleeves that only went midway down her arms and the bottom of her skirt above her knees.
Wearing long, dress coats, the five of them made their way to the boat for their trip into town. Walking in shoes that were too tight and unfamiliar clothing, they all felt as if they were on display. It was no different when they arrived at the pier in Franklin; it felt like everyone was staring. No one had seen the two women in dresses before, and those who were near the piers stopped their work to stare as the women got out of their boat, got into their truck, and drove away.
“You’d think they never saw anyone in a dress,” Marion murmured angrily as they headed into town feeling conspicuous.
The phone book mentioned there was a lawyer in town, and they were hoping to get an appointment since they couldn’t phone ahead. Their appearance in nice clothing at least made an impression, even if the receptionist didn’t realize it was ill-fitting or they were uncomfortable. They kept their long coats on to hide the worst of it. Marion got her appointment, and Barbara kept the children busy in the outer office.
“Mrs. Whiting, this letter says you aren’t providing your children with a proper living environment. Is that true?” Mr. Polaski asked after reading the paper she had presented to him.
“No, sir. That is not true. My in-laws are angry that I moved so far away and are merely attempting to gain custody of my children.”
“Why would they wish to do this?” he asked, forming his fingers into a steeple as he looked at the young woman before him. She was young, in her twenties he’d guess. Her pert, blonde good looks were very pleasant to look at. He was also assessing her to see if she was lying or would make a good witness.
“Their son, Brian, was my husband. He died in the war,” she said, and the note of sadness in her voice wasn’t feigned. “These are the only grandchildren they have.”
He nodded understandingly.
“And are you providing them with a proper living environment?” he asked, noting that it had been inspected. “This inspection says you aren’t?”
“That’s something they haven’t done. They haven’t inspected the home I have provided for my children. No one has been to the island to look at the cabin we built.”
“You and who else built this cabin?”
“My business partner, Barbara Jenkins. We decided to pool our money and bought Whimsical Island with the intention of providing a vacation spot for people, who want to get away from it all. We built a cabin for our combined family first.”
“There weren’t any structures on the island before you got there?” he asked, taking notes.
She shook her head. “No, and we knew nothing about construction before we began. We’ve learned a lot this year.” She smiled wryly and he looked up at her, noting as the smile turned to pride.
“Your partner, Ms. Jenkins, she’s what...your sister?”
“Oh, no,” Marion nearly laughed as she shook her head again. “She’s my best friend. We met in the mill where we worked. She is a widow too, and we’re raising our children on the island together.”
“She has children too. How many?” he asked, writing furiously.
“One, and we are working with the school here in Franklin to keep the children current in their studies.”
“They went to school over the summer?” he asked, confused.
“No, we started building in the spring and tried to do their schooling through the mail, correspondence school, but that didn’t work out well, so we spoke with the local school. Mrs. Larsen is the teacher. She and the principal tested the two boys and my daughter and found they were doing excellently. In fact, Richard, that is Barbara’s son, is testing well above his grade level.” She sounded as proud of him as she would her own son.
“And you had the children studying despite building the cabin?”
“Oh, yes. We made it fun, and we would read to them or have them read the schoolwork aloud to us as we all worked. Brenda, my daughter, picked it up from her older brother and friend. She’s testing above her grade level too as she absorbs their work.”
“You made the children work? Did they have any time for play?”
“Yes,” she laughed. “We have dogs and cats, chickens and guinea fowl, and sheep. They have great fun playing with the animals as well as fishing, hiking, and boating with us. It’s a great family environment.” She hadn’t realized how much they all did together until she had to break it down for the lawyer.
Despite himself, Marvin Polaski was impressed with her and what she described of their family life. He sensed no duplicity on her part, and it sounded like a healthy environment for the children.
They discussed the entire case for over an hour, and he agreed to take her on. It was going to cost her hundreds of dollars, and she wrote a check for the deposit. Barbara had agreed they needed to do whatever they could to fight her in-laws, and they would share the financial burden. When Marion nearly staggered out of the lawyer’s office from exhaustion, Barbara looked up in alarm.
“Are you okay?” Barbara asked as she stood up, relieved that she didn’t need to keep the children amused any longer.
“Oh, yes,” Marion said cheerfully, but her eyes looked weary, and she sent warning glances to her partner that she would tell her more later.
They stopped at a store to buy bigger suits for the boys and a better dress for Brenda. The others had looked too much like castoffs. They wanted all the children dressed well in case they needed good clothes for a special occasion.
That evening after the children were in bed with a new book for each borrowed from the library, their parents were hard put to get them to turn out their lamps. Confiscating the books until morning was met with protests, but it was the only way the women could be assured the children wouldn’t sneak read. Even Brenda, alone in her room, was as bad as the boys in her excitement over reading her new book.
“I don’t remember reading this much as a child,” Marion sighed exasperatedly as she put the three books on the counter in the kitchen.
Barbara, who was sitting at the kitchen table, looked up from the newspaper she was reading, and she closed it to pay attention to Marion. “Oh, I don’t know. There were some great stories that I enjoyed when I was little. My father encouraged me to read. I think that was where I got my sense of adventure...from the books and the trips he would take us on.”
“That’s where you learned to camp out?” Marion confirmed, grateful for her friend’s knowledge.
She nodded. “I hope my mother lets Brent come out this summer. He wrote that he won’t be going back to her once he hits eighteen if she won’t. He’s thinking of joining the army,” she said sadly. She knew her mother would be lonely, and it was only the fact that Brent was the only child within her grasp that caused her to cling so hard. Barbara was grateful she’d escaped with Richard. Her mother was a bit too suffocating.
“You said you were going to invite them both. Why don’t you write them?”
She nodded. She had forgotten she was going to invite them both. “Mom might find the accommodations a bit primitive, but Brent is going to love it. Maybe he can help us with some of the heavy work?”
“Did you send in the order for those mattresses?”
She nodded again, confirming. “Yeah, those should roll up nice on the bunks we built. I ordered a couple extra, and we can
leave those in the packaging until we need them.”
“Do you think we should have bigger bunks for married couples?”
They discussed many things they’d gone over previously, but it kept their conversations lively as they rehashed things and agreed on various items. They didn’t know what surprises their guests would bring them. There was no way to anticipate them until they happened. In the meantime, they speculated and dreamed. They were also keeping the conversation light since the children could still be awake and trying to listen. The children knew something was going on with the visit to the lawyer earlier that day. Dressing nicely had been awkward for all of them. Still, the children needed good clothes for other occasions, and they could only hope the clothes they had purchased lasted. The old ones would have to be donated since they couldn’t be handed down, the children had grown too much.
That night, in their own room, they discussed the conversation with the lawyer as Marion told Barbara everything.
“He didn’t ask about our relationship?” Barbara fretted, her hand caressing Marion’s flank as she showed her agitation.
“He asked if you were my sister,” they laughed and she went on, “I told him you were my best friend and we met in the mill where we worked. I also told him you too are a widow, and we’re raising our children on the island together.” She didn’t realize it, but she was repeating the conversation with Mr. Polaski almost verbatim.
“And am I?”
“Are you what?”
“Your best friend,” she laughed as she reached out to pull the blonde closer, grateful she was calm about this.
“And more,” she answered softly as she leaned in to share a kiss. It would have turned into more—just a little more pressure applied by Barbara would have turned it into lovemaking—but she sensed this was not the time, and Marion was just seeking reassurance.
“If you need me to move out or–” she began.
“Move out? Why would you move out?”
“Well, Richard and I could move into one of the cabins while–”
“That’s the most ridiculous thing I ever heard! We built this cabin together. We have separate beds. There is no reason for anyone to suspect it’s more than a friendship. We’ve been very careful. No one has suggested our relationship is improper.”
“You think they will?”
“There’s no good reason for them to,” she insisted.
“That’s good.”
* * * * *
A week later, as they were working on one of the summer cabins and hoping to have it done before they had any guests, a boat puttered into the cove. The sheep that had given them two sets of twins and three single births, were being watched by the dogs near where they were working. The dogs were torn from doing what they instinctively knew was their duty and set up barking to announce that someone had arrived. Everyone was near enough to the cove and could hear the putting of the engine. Putting down their tools, they ran to look.
“Who is that?” Richard asked and Barbara shrugged.
“Guess we’ll have to go down and see,” Marion put in, annoyed because she had hoped to lay the foundation on the fifth cottage or at least collect more stones for it. Visitors meant time away from their work.
The five of them trooped down the path from the fifth cottage, weaving in between the mighty firs on their beautiful island and heading towards the cove. By the time the boat was tied off at their dock, they were there to greet the arriving passengers. Two people stayed in the rather sturdy looking boat. Barbara eyed the boat as they had been looking for a second one for their operation. Marion eyed the woman, who came down the dock dressed inappropriately in a bar suit, which would have looked great on a Dior runway or in New York but not on a remote island in Maine. The hat was what nearly had them all laughing, good manners the only thing preventing them from doing it publicly.
“May I help you?” Marion greeted her pleasantly, wondering who she was.
“I am looking for Marion Whiting?”
“I’m Marion Whiting,” she answered and saw the woman perusing her clothing. She was wearing patched dungarees and a flannel shirt with another shirt under it, so she could take off the layers as she warmed up. The clothing was not her best, but then, they had been working on the cabin, and the animals, birds, and people that lived on the island didn’t care what she wore.
The woman looked her up and down, from head to foot, and her faced pursed into an unpleasant look. “I’m Mrs. Mason from the State Department on Mental Health and Social Care,” she announced imperiously, looking down her nose at the petite blonde.
“Yes? How may I help you?” Marion responded, feeling suddenly guarded as she recognized an enemy when she saw one. The woman’s perusal of her hadn’t gone unnoticed.
“I’m here to inspect your children’s living conditions,” she further announced, her nose already wrinkling as though she smelled something bad. She looked at the three children looking on from the beach and wondered which ones the Whiting children were, but she thought she knew since two of them had blonde hair like their mother.
“Did you send a letter announcing your visit?” Barbara challenged.
“I beg your pardon?” the woman asked, looking up at the rather large and intimidating woman behind Mrs. Whiting. She hadn’t even looked at her before.
“Well, you show up unannounced without giving Mrs. Whiting a chance to clean up. We are building here on the island, and she couldn’t possibly have known you were coming, or she would have been prepared to welcome you along with her children. This surprise visit is unwelcome and uncalled for. Mrs. Whiting is hardly dressed to receive company. As you can see, the children are healthy and happy, so I suggest you make an appointment.”
Marion turned in surprise at Barbara’s pronouncement. She turned back in time to see the woman close her gaping mouth. “Perhaps, if you come back tomorrow? I’ll be happy to receive you then,” she said properly in her best and pearliest tones, unconsciously imitating her mother-in-law.
“Mrs. Whiting, I come on behalf of the State of Maine, and if I choose to drop in unannounced, I assure you, I will.”
“No, what you are doing is trespassing, and I suggest you contact Mrs. Whiting’s attorney to make arrangements for any further visits,” Barbara put in. She blocked the woman from advancing down the pier. It was one of the few times she was glad she was a big woman. The woman had a choice: either back up or try to get around her, and if she chose the latter, she was going to end up in the cold water.
“And you are?” she asked, feeling outraged. She knew who she was but wanted it confirmed.
“I am Barbara Jenkins, as I’m sure your file states. I am the co-owner of Whimsical Island with Mrs. Whiting.”
The woman pulled her purse and her files closer to her chest, seeming disgruntled by the large woman’s attack.
“I’m certain if my lawyer wished me to meet with you, he would have told me. Since you arrived unannounced, and you can see I’m unprepared for visitors,” she gestured to her patched dungarees, “I must ask you to leave,” Marion continued sweetly.
“Mrs. Whiting, this will not look good in my report–”
“Nor will it look good in mine,” Marion stated firmly to interrupt, not liking this woman in the least.
“Your report?” she asked, confused.
“Oh, yes. I intend to write to the state. Maybe my lawyer can file a grievance as you aren’t following any proper protocol,” she said in the same sweet voice, not raising it in the least but not giving an inch. If someone had intended to intimidate her into giving up her children, they were wrong.
“Do you have any identification?” Barbara suddenly thought to ask.
“Identification?” the woman asked, affronted at the verbal attack she was receiving on two fronts. Her face looked suddenly bloated, like a fish gasping for air.
“Surely, if you are from the State of Maine as you claim, you would have identification that proves who you are? For all
Mrs. Whiting knows, you are just someone off the street pretending to be with the state.”
“Well,” she gasped, “I never!”
“Then, maybe you should,” Marion answered. “I suggest you leave, and if you are with the State of Maine...” she said with just enough insinuation in her voice to convey that she didn’t believe the woman was, “you could send me a letter and a time for an appointment. If you can’t reach me, or we can’t agree on a time, I would be happy to meet you in my attorney’s office.” The last was said with such saccharine sweetness the woman could only stare, not sure she wasn’t being made fun of.
“I suggest you leave,” Barbara added, and when the woman stood there in shock, she made a step forward onto the wooden dock, scaring the woman into scrambling back down the dock and into the boat where two men sat, their own surprise evident as they had expected to be there a while. The woman nearly fell into the waters of the cove in her haste, and whatever she said to the men had them rushing to start the boat and untie it from the dock. Barbara and Marion watched as they turned the boat around, the woman glaring daggers at the two of them as they left and headed out of the cove.
“I’m sure that woman is going to write a report,” Marion said in a slightly frightened voice.
“And I’m sure you are going to go up to the cabin, change, and go into Franklin to check our mail and see your lawyer,” Barbara said as they watched the boat disappear out of the cove.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” Marion turned on her.
“I’m sorry. I thought I was helping?” she returned, surprised.
Marion closed her eyes for a moment and relaxed her shoulders in defeat. “I’m sorry, of course you were. What if she is with the state?”
“She might well have been,” she agreed.
“But why attack her?”
“Our points were valid. She made no appointment and gave you no warning. You are not here for their convenience. Proper protocol should be followed. I would suggest,” she softened her voice as the children were coming up, “that you go into town and find out what’s going on.”
“Who was that, Mom?” Brian asked.
An Island Between Us Page 24
