Zee had no evil in her. I was different. “Your ex is a jerk. He left you for another woman. You owe him nothing.”
“And Carla left you for another man, and she was a fool, and you owe her nothing. But you still care for her, and that's why you tried to save Tom: so she'd have a chance to be happy. You're a good man, although you probably doubt it. It's one of the reasons I love you.”
I stared out the windshield, then looked at her. Her face was almost free of the bruises Logan had inflicted, and her split lip was nearly healed, although I thought its scar would never quite leave. She was Woman, wiser than I in many ways, as strong or stronger than I was, more loving than I could be. I was astonished that of all the men in all the world she had chosen me.
“When Quinn gets back, we should go fishing,” I said. “The tide will be right about two, and they're getting a lot of blues at Wasque and along East Beach.”
“Sounds like a good plan,” said Zee. I put a hand on her thigh and she gave me a cosmic smile.
Quinn never caught up with Rimini or McBride in Vineyard Haven, but he spoke to Dom Agganis, the Chief, and other island cops, and his nonstory of the mobsters' gatherings on the Vineyard made the front page of The Globe , and sparked exactly the kind of speculation he'd hoped for: What were they doing there? Why had they apparently abandoned their plans? Because they found themselves under surveillance by the sharp eyes of Vineyard police from the time they reached the island, or for some other mysterious reason?
The Gangsters in Paradise tale even made it to the national TV news, as did his interview, complete with photos, with Mrs. Zeolinda Jackson, wife, mother, nurse, and crack pistol shot. The latter was the ideal story, satisfying both the political left and right. The NRA head-lined the pistol-owner-housewife-defends-house-and-home theme, and the radical women's groups rejoiced in the power of women to fend for themselves without depending on men to protect them. The fact that Zee was beautiful, as Quinn's photos revealed, and that she was totally uninterested in publicity, made it even better.
“You're a heroine,” I said, turning off the TV at the end of the newscast. “Does that make me a hero?”
“You've always been a hero to me, sweets.”
Tears-tained Diana came in. “Pa, Ma, I can't find Mulder! Joshua says maybe Oliver Underfoot or Velcro ate him!”
Mulder was her goldfish. We went outside, and studied the fishpond.
“There he is,” said Zee, pointing, as Mulder swam out from under a rock and joined Scully and the fellow fish. “Oliver Underfoot and Velcro wouldn't eat Mulder.”
Atop the mound of dirt behind the fishpond and above the little waterfall that tumbled down into the pool was the white Greek temple we'd fashioned from scraps in the woodpile, and though most people would probably have found it pretty crude, it was our temple and we liked it. The fishpond and waterfall weren't bad either, for that matter. Maybe I had a future as a landscaper. If you planned to live on Martha's Vineyard, you couldn't have too many moneymaking skills, especially if, like me, you didn't want a regular job.
About a week later I got a call from Norman Aylward. “I've got some good news,” he said. “Tomorrow the D.A. will call a press conference and announce that no charges will be brought against Mrs. Jackson. The killing of Pat Logan and the shooting of Howard Trucker were justifiable self-defense. I think his decision is legally correct and it is certainly politically correct.”
“Thanks for the bulletin. Now maybe we can put this all behind us.”
“Not quite. Sometime in the future they'll be putting Howie Trucker on trial for assault with a deadly weapon and whatever else the D.A. thinks they can stick him with. Zee will have to testify unless he pleads guilty or makes a plea bargain of some kind.”
“I don't think Sonny Whelen would like to have Howie talking about family business, and I don't think Howie wants Sonny mad at him, so I doubt if there'll be any plea bargain, or at least not one involving ratting on Sonny.”
“You may be right. We'll see. The important thing is that your wife is free and clear.”
I wondered what the D.A. would have decided if the political winds had blown in a different direction, if, somehow, Zee had been portrayed in the press as less than a heroine. I wondered, too, how Logan's and Trucker's wives felt. Were they bitter? Angry? Relieved? I wondered what would become of them and their children. I wondered what Trucker, once a strong-arm man but now a guy with one bad arm and one bad leg, would do when he got out of jail. Roads diverge in a yellow wood. Acts always have consequences that can't be anticipated.
I kept my eyes and ears open for news of Sonny Whelen and Pete McBride and any of the other actors in the little Vineyard melodrama in which I'd played a part, but it wasn't until late August that a small story appeared in The Globe : two bodies had been found in a car in Lynn. The police suspected foul play, which was not unknown in Lynn. I tried to remember the old verse:
Lynn, Lynn, city of sin;
You won't come out the way you went in.
By the next day, the story had gotten bigger. The dead men had been identified as Peter McBride and Albert “Bruno” Viti, both of whom were, as they say, “known to the police.” A spokesman for the Lynn PD surmised that the killings were a manifestation of internecine conflict within the criminal community.
I thought the spokesman was right and was impressed by his language. When I'd been a Boston policeman, I'd never known anybody who used words like “ manifestation of internecine conflict.” Lynn was apparently getting a better-educated variety of cop these days.
I called Quinn and asked him if he'd heard anything about Graham. He said he'd heard that Graham had left town.
I called Carla, but her phone had been disconnected.
Hmmmmm.
About the same time, I bumped into Manny Fonseca down at the Dock Street Coffee Shop.
“Say,” said Manny, “how's Zee doing?”
“Just fine. Getting her gear ready for the fishing derby.”
“You think she might be willing to go back to shooting? There's a competition coming up that I'd like her to enter.”
“I don't know, Manny. I haven't talked with her about it. Right after that business happened, though, she wanted no more to do with guns.”
Manny nodded. “Yeah. I know how she felt. But maybe she's changed her mind.”
“You can ask her.”
“She's got the touch. It's a waste of talent if she gives up competition. She could be better than me, even.”
High praise. “Ask her,” I said. “She'll either say yes or no.”
“Yeah, that's right. Okay, J.W., if it's okay with you, I'll do it. I'll ask her.”
I didn't try to tell him that it didn't matter whether or not it was okay with me, because I wasn't Zee's manager or boss but only her husband. Instead, I said, “Do it, and good luck.”
He came by the next evening and the two of them went up onto the balcony to talk while I got supper going. After a while, Manny came down alone.
“Zee says to go up and join her for a drink. I gotta go home. See ya.” He waved a hand and went out. He looked happy.
I poured icy Luksusowa into a glass, added two green olives, and went up and sat beside Zee.
“I'm going to do it,” she said. “I'm going to start practicing again. I thought for a while that I'd never touch a gun again, that there was something evil about me knowing enough about shooting to have done what I did to Logan and Trucker. But lately I've realized that what really bothered me was the idea that I could kill someone. I didn't want that to be true, and I was going to prove it wasn't by never shooting again. But now I've accepted it; I've accepted that part of me is willing to kill to defend myself and my family.” She looked toward me. “I was afraid that you couldn't love me if I could do that.”
I tried to choose the right words. “You never have to be afraid of that. I love you because you can do it if you have to, but you'll never do it if you don't have to.” I said, “I don't want an angel for a wife;
I want a woman who can be as strong as she has to be. And that's what I have. Of course, if you'd rather be considered a goddess . . .”
We stared out over the darkening waters. Then she took my hand in hers. “If I decide to be a goddess, does that mean I have to start thinking of you as a god? I hope not, because that would be very hard.”
“I hate a vain deity,” I said. “No, I'm content to be a mere mortal basking in your celestial radiance.”
“Stop basking and slide that chair over here,” she said.
I did that. Her lips tasted like ambrosia.
That fall I got an envelope postmarked from a town in Oklahoma. There was no return address. The envelope contained a cashier's check for the amount I'd spent on cell phones and the cash I'd given to Carla. There was a brief note from her. Thanks for everything. The Riminis were both teaching, and the boys were in school. Things were going well.
I hoped that they really were.
THREE RECIPES
QUICK COQ AU VIN
This is an excellent dish that is fast and easy to prepare.
Up to 8 pieces of chicken. ( J.W. prefers dark meat, but Zee prefers white, so they usually use both.)
1½ cups dry red wine
1 package (1 3⁄8 oz.) onion soup mix
1 beef bouillon cube
Place all the ingredients in a 2-quart casserole, cover, and bake 2 hours at 350°.
Serve over rice or riced potatoes.
Serves 4 or more
GRILLED VEGETABLES
Even people who don't like vegetables like them when they're cooked like this.
Chop or slice your favorite vegetables into bite-size pieces. J.W. and Zee usually use:
Onions
Red and/or green peppers
Summer squash and/or zucchini and whatever odds and ends of veggies they find in the fridge
Portobello mushrooms
Eggplant
Parboil such veggies as carrots and broccoli.
Marinate the vegetables for a half hour, adding mushrooms and eggplant during last few minutes. J.W. and Zee use a combination of Good Seasons Garlic and Herb salad dressing, balsamic vinegar, and olive oil.
Place the vegetables in a grilling wok and grill over medium-high heat for 10 minutes, turning regularly.
Delish!
CLAM CHOWDER
There are as many chowders as there are chowder makers, and a lot of cooks never make it the same way twice. This is a good one, but feel free to alter it to suit your tastes.
J.W. digs his own clams, but you may want to buy yours at the grocery store.
1 large onion, chopped
4 or 5 slices of bacon cut into small pieces, or a small chunk of salt pork, cubed
2 cups diced potatoes
2 cups water
24 or more clams
¼ pound ground kielbasa
Salt and pepper
Hot pepper sauce
1 quart milk
Fry the onion and bacon (or salt pork) until the onion is pale and cooked.
Add potatoes and water and boil until the potatoes are done.
Meanwhile, steam the clams, and save the broth. Remove the meat from the shells and grind or chop it, then return it to the broth (using as much broth as suits your fancy) and add the potatoes, onion, kielbasa, and bacon (or salt pork), salt and pepper to taste, and a few shakes of hot pepper sauce.
At this point you can add the milk or you can freeze the chowder base for future use and add the milk later, after you've thawed and reheated the base.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Philip R. Craig grew up on a small cattle ranch southeast of Durango, Colorado. He earned his MFA at the University of Iowa Writers' Workshop and was for many years a professor of literature at Wheelock College in Boston. He and his wife live on Martha's Vineyard.
Vineyard Shadows Page 19
