An Island Between Us

by K'Anne Meinel

  Not sure how much she should tell him she was careful in her response. “Brian and Brenda’s grandma is worried, and she has this woman checking everything out for her.”

  “Isn’t grandma worried about where I’m living?” he asked.

  “Of course, but I’ve invited her and Uncle Brent to come and see themselves.”

  “Why doesn’t Aunt Marion invite their grandma and grandpa?”

  “She might,” she admitted, thinking that might be a good idea, but it might also be a very bad idea. She couldn’t imagine the Whitings thinking favorably of the rustic island under any circumstances. She didn’t want the children to know the tension the Whitings were causing in their bid to obtain custody.

  “When are we cutting the sheep?” he suddenly changed the subject, proving his youth and inability to keep his attention on one subject for too long.

  “I hope we can do that this afternoon,” she admitted, looking up and wondering how much daylight they had left. Then, deciding there was no time like the present, they pulled one of the sheep away from the flock to try out the new clippers. It wasn’t as easy as she had hoped, and they made a real mess of it before they managed to get the untidy fleece rolled up. Trying to cut evenly on a sheep that didn’t want to lay still was difficult, and her inexperience also worked against her. The sheep seemed to sense her unease and naïveté. Richard tried to help, but the kicking sheep was stronger than the young boy.

  “Whatcha doin’?” Brian asked as he came out, followed by Brenda, Mrs. Mason, and Marion.

  “Trying to shear a sheep,” Richard told them importantly. They looked a mess with wool wisps all over their clothes and untidy bunches all over the blanket that Barbara had put down to catch it. The sheep continued struggling as Barbara straddled it, trying to hold it down, so she could shear it.

  “Need help?” Marion asked, trying not to laugh at her.

  “I think there is a lot to learn here,” she answered, trying not to look up, and wondering if she’d get a chance to scratch her nose. She didn’t dare right now with the clippers in her hand and her other hand holding down the struggling sheep. She was already sitting on the poor thing, and it made it hard to clip in smooth swatches.

  Marion took Mrs. Mason to the first cabin while explaining their plan to rent out the cabins for the summer and confiding that they already had several rented.

  “You don’t think introducing strangers into your living environment might be unhealthy for the children?” the woman asked.

  “No, not at all. It will be good for the children,” she answered, annoyed at how the question had been phrased as she watched Brenda and Brian run off ahead of them. She knew they’d rather be back with Barbara and Richard, clipping the sheep. That had looked like fun. “They need to learn to get along with others in the world and discover new people.”

  “Do they get off the island often?” she asked, taking notes.

  Marion had been annoyed to discover the woman apparently wrote in shorthand, and she was unable to read her notes when she had peeked. “Oh, yes. We don’t leave them alone on the island. What if something were to happen?” she asked, trying to sound like the concerned mother she was.

  “What would you do if something were to happen?” she turned it back on her.

  “We both have basic training, and we have a top-notch first aid kit,” she explained. “Something could happen if we were on the mainland too,” she pointed out, feeling defensive and knowing Mrs. Mason’s objection was because they were on the isolated island. She’d known the woman was here on her in-law’s behalf, but she had tried to be honest and cordial.

  The woman wasn’t impressed with the vacation cabin, and Marion wasn’t going to show her the others. Instead, she asked the children how much work they did on it and how much time they had for play.

  “Oh, we play all the time,” Brian told her. “It’s fun collecting rocks.”

  “I stack a pretty mean wood pile,” Brenda told her, reiterating something Barbara had teased her with to get the children into the spirit of a healthy competition and doing chores.

  “Hmmm,” she pursed her lips as she wrote her notes. “And what happens if you run out of food or if your boat breaks down?”

  Marion had answers for all her questions. Obviously, this was something she and Barbara had planned for, discussed, and worried over themselves. Still, it sounded accusing and hostile when this woman asked those same questions.

  Marion wasn’t sure the visit had gone well. She couldn’t tell from the woman’s demeanor, but she knew she hadn’t made a good first impression. She waved the woman on her way as the boat left their cove. She noted Barbara had tied off the boats and covered them, and she saw the rowboats were well up on the beach. She headed up behind the children to help Barbara.

  “Why don’t you write down everything you remember from the visit while it’s fresh in your mind, so you can give that to your lawyer,” Barbara recommended when she offered to capture another sheep to clip.

  Thinking it a good idea, Marion went inside. The children had a good time trying to help with the sheep.

  Barbara only got three clipped before the weather started to change, and she gathered up the three mangy-looking fleeces and put them in a bag in the shed out of the rain as she cleaned up with the children. She looked at the sheep, the clipped ones looked cold and even mangier next to the unshorn ones, wondering if it would go smoother as she became more experienced at clipping them. She hoped they wouldn’t sicken in the cold weather without their wool to keep them warm. Stretching her back, she wondered if the pain she felt was from hauling the rowboats or leaning over a struggling sheep?

  “Finished?” Marion asked, looking up from where she was writing. She’d stopped to heat up some stew for their dinner.

  “It’s raining,” the children chimed in and went to get a game.

  “Could I turn on the radio?” Brian asked. “It’s time for Dick Tracy.”

  “What about Little Orphan Annie?” Brenda asked plaintively.

  “I want to hear The Lone Ranger,” Richard put in, and the three of them were soon arguing as they turned the dial to bring in one of the programs.

  “Stop arguing or none of you will hear anything,” Marion put in, annoyed by the noise and much preferring the quiet of the island. Occasionally, she enjoyed the radio programs, particularly the music, but Barbara too preferred the absolute quiet as they read books, newspapers, or magazines they brought from town.

  “Did she think we were starving the children?” Barbara asked low, reading what Marion had written.

  “I think she did, but anyone can see they are healthy and happy. I really think they look better here than they did back in Massachusetts. I know I am healthier,” she said, reaching out to squeeze Barbara’s hand before pulling it back. The children didn’t notice. They were listening to Challenge of the Yukon featuring a Canadian mountie and his dog. She knew they would play it out later here on their own island. Their imaginations had improved with all the reading they did living here.

  “Did you bring in the sheep?” Marion asked as she went to stir the pot of stew. It smelled delicious, and she pulled out the fixings to make biscuits.

  “Damn, I forgot. I’ll go do that now,” Barbara said, glancing out at the fading light. Between the storm and the late day, it was dark early. She pulled on her boots, grabbed a jacket, and went out to have the dogs bring the sheep into their pen for the night. She noted one of the panels needed repairing soon. It was a good thing they still had the supply of pallets that were a continual mixed blessing. She considered expanding the fold and giving the animals more room in their pen.

  “Everything okay?” Marion asked when Barbara came back in, rubbing her arms as she hung up her jacket. The dogs looked on hopefully at the smells, and Marion had already put down their dog food with a cup of broth over both, which they appreciated. They pushed aside the cats, who would have eaten it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

&
nbsp; Their first guests, the Waldens, were waiting on the white pier in Franklin, their luggage and supplies ready to fill the Runabout. Barbara took the guests in the Woody that she had driven as Marion took the children, the luggage, and the pallets they had stacked up again in the Runabout. She ran into town to get their mail and a few supplies, then headed back to the pier to park next to the car she assumed was the Waldens’.

  “Have any trouble getting to Franklin?” Barbara asked her guests as she expertly turned the already gassed up boat and headed back to their island.

  “It is rather remote,” Mrs. Walden commented, holding her hat in the wind whipped up by the combination of the speed of the boat and the offshore breezes. Barbara was grateful the breeze was warm today. She’d handed each of her guests a life vest, their two children looking on with excitement at being delivered to their vacation home in a boat.

  “Yes, it is,” she agreed, hoping they wouldn’t be complainers. The first cabin was as ready as they could make it. She’d hung the curtains she made, and Marion had found some flowers to plant around the front, making it look homey.

  Taking the drive slow and hoping Marion would catch up, she pointed out the islands one at a time, telling what little she knew about them. They’d gone beachcombing on a couple of the islands, mostly looking for their wood that had been lost at sea. She could tell her guests were relieved when Whimsical came into view, probably thinking she was just heading out into the vast ocean. The sea was relatively calm today, and she was thankful. She pulled into their cove and headed for the dock, pleased that the fresh coat of white paint made it look sharp and clean. She could see the gas tank they had just installed looking white and fresh under the trees too. Its buried gas line to the dock was only visible from the tank itself and on the dock with the gas meter waiting for anyone who needed gas. Their own Woody and Runabout were usually the only customers. The gas company had wanted to install the tank on the dock itself, but it was unattractive and heavy, and they’d convinced them to put it up on the beach under the trees and mainly out of sight. It had been ugly until they painted it. When they were done, they’d painted the dock once again to use up their supply of white paint.

  “Oh, isn’t this lovely?” Mrs. Walden exclaimed as she looked around when she was on the dock.

  “We have a canoe and rowboats for you to use,” Barbara pointed out, relieved when she saw Marion coming into the cove. Now, they could get the luggage and supplies up to the Walden’s cabin and leave them to their own devices.

  “Do you have a store?” one of the children asked.

  “No, there’s no store here on the island,” Barbara answered, wondering how old they were. They looked older than her own now nine-year-old son. She hoped the children all got along.

  After using the wheelbarrow to haul the luggage and supplies, they left the Waldens to get settled in, pointing out the games they had left for them in the cabin as well as some fishing poles. They went off to finish work on the third cabin. They were hoping to finish it before their second rental came in and they got even busier. They still had a lot to do on the fourth and the fifth cabin.

  “Can’t we play with the guest’s children?” Brenda asked.

  “Of course, you can, but let them settle in and get comfortable first. This is their vacation,” Marion warned them, since they had insisted the children come with them to the cabins to work. She looked up when Barbara herded the sheep into the area, ostensibly to mow down the grass growing around the site. The herd looked odd with the lambs gone. The women had taken the lambs across to the mainland, sold them, depositing the check they got for them in the bank. The children, not realizing they were raising the sheep for meat, had cried at their loss but that had faded in time. Both Barbara and Marion were at a loss to explain that the lambs had probably become lamb chops, so they decided not to tell them. They needed the money. They’d spent a lot on these additional cabins and the boats, and they needed the income. The rentals were coming along, and they were anxious to finish.

  “Do you have a volleyball net?”

  “Do you have ice?”

  “Can we take the boat out?”

  The questions their guests asked were endless. The eventually did get a volleyball net. They set it up on the beach, but the gravel on their beaches wasn’t very soft to land on, and more than one skinned knee convinced them to move it to a grassy area for the safety of their guests. They dug a horseshoe pit and worried about what other activities they could offer to keep their guests entertained.

  One of their guests wrecked a rowboat on the rocks outside the cove, and they worried each time someone rented the elegant little Woody. Still, the rentals went well, and they finished the third and almost the fourth cabin that summer in addition to getting a lot of work done on the fifth. By the time their summer was over, they were tired of their guests, but they had learned a lot. They now had systems in place to deal with them. The guests expected a lot, but they also gave a lot. Barbara and Marion went over to change and clean the bedding daily, learning that the sheets on the beds themselves didn’t have to be changed so often. The washing was horrendous, and they were glad they had their Easy SpinDrier washing machine to handle the increased load. Everyone appreciated the fresh smell of clothes dried on the line.

  The children learned to let their guests’ children have their way more often because their complaints fell on deaf ears. Some of the children were wonderful but some were spoiled and learning to cope with that was all part of the process. Understanding that these were paying guests, they learned to give. Of course, some guests were better than others.

  “It always amazes me that they expect us to clean up after them,” Marion said disgustedly as she used a pole with a nail on the end to stab at the garbage that littered their paths as they walked along on and off the paths they had built.

  Guests poked and prodded into everything as they explored the island. Some expected to be entertained and couldn’t understand that the Whitings and Jenkins weren’t there for their convenience. Still, overall, it was a good experience. They had bonfires down on the beach, burning off some of the branches that they couldn’t use in their own fireplaces and sometimes using driftwood. The unusual colors caused by the salt leaching into the wood from the ocean created a pleasant effect. The O’Flahertys finally came and took the women up on their offer of a meal as thanks for all their help. They came once at the beginning of summer and once again at the end, contributing fish and other dishes as they toured the island and ended up at one of the bonfires with their other guests. Marion built long benches and thought about other improvements to this most simple of occasions...a bonfire. It was a wonderful time for all. Barbara and Marion were certain their guests got their money’s worth and several paid a deposit for the following summer.

  They picked up two more rowboats, replacing the one that had been destroyed on the rocks and finding another canoe. They bought extra fishing gear from an estate sale and kept it on the beach for their guests to use. They were planning to build a store/cabin they could use to store the boats and canoe after they finished the fifth cabin.

  “You’ve really got something here,” Thomas O’Flaherty complimented the two women, his eyes taking in Marion looking tanned, healthy, and wonderful in her shorts and button-down shirt with rolled-up sleeves.

  “We’re proud of it,” she admitted, taking a drink from the bottle of beer they had brought over. She’d found the wives of the brothers to be nice women. They were curious about her, and she knew why...Thomas had made his interest known. She’d tried to let him down easily, telling him she wasn’t about to ever remarry. At first, he had thought it a joke, but she’d not been laughing when she told him firmly again and again.

  “Your son needs a father.”

  “My son had a father, and he’s doing wonderfully well here on the island. I’m sorry, Thomas. We can never be anything more than friends. I hope you’ll accept that,” she said beseechingly.

  He acc
epted that for now, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try again. He admired her and what she had accomplished so much. He never noticed Barbara, who was watching his efforts. But she wasn’t worried, she knew Marion loved her. Still, he represented normalcy in their world. He could also solve the problems Marion was having with her in-laws, if she chose to accept him. The courts couldn’t say she wasn’t bringing her children up properly. They hadn’t heard about the report that Mrs. Mason had filed yet, but they were certain to hear eventually. The lawyer had received a response to his letter of protestation that arrived after her first visit, and a second visit was scheduled after Labor Day.

  Barbara’s mother and brother arrived the last week of summer, and amazingly, they both loved the island. Her mother was surprisingly complimentary about what they had accomplished, and with Brent’s help they finished the fourth cabin and most of the fifth. They cut the trees, trimmed them, and got the frame up for the combination store/storage on the beach. It was nearly hidden under the trees that grew there.

  The children proudly hosted a day on the island with their schoolmates. They used both the Runabout and the Woody to ferry over the many children, borrowing life preservers from the O’Flahertys and anyone else they could find with a pleasure craft. They made sure every one of the children, the teachers, and the principal had a life preserver. They left their own children on the island with Barbara’s brother and mother in order to leave enough room for all the children. This year, there would be two classrooms in the school, one upstairs and one in the basement to accommodate all the additional children that would be attending. There were plans to expand the schoolhouse and maybe build another more modern and larger building.

  The children had a blast. Some were already in shorts and others rolled up their trousers to wade in the water as they made a clambake on the beach.

  “I swear, Mrs. Jenkins, I would have never thought living on an island could be so much fun,” Mrs. Larson declared, enjoying herself immensely. Keeping up with all the children was wearing Barbara out, but she could see they were having fun. Richard, Brian, and Brenda loved showing their friends and teachers their cabin plus the sheep, chickens, and guinea fowl they kept.