by ML Gardner
“Good,” he said, letting her slip out of his arms. She wore her dresses looser around the middle, but he could easily make out the shape of the bulge beneath.
She stood at the sink peeling carrots, stopping intermittently to stretch her neck side to side.
Jonathan put his hands on her shoulders. As he began to massage deeply, she dropped her arms into the sink with a groan.
“That's wonderful,” she said.
“I'm sorry I've been so distracted lately. I know I haven't taken very good care of you.” He frowned.
“You've done just fine.”
“It shouldn't matter,” he said, moving one hand to her neck, working out tired muscles. “Nothing should matter but you.” His other hand patted her belly. “And him. Or her. I'm going to do better, I promise.” He kissed her head and went to sit at the table, his own back aching.
“So Patrick worked out well?”
“Not at all. He's out.” She turned quickly, shocked.
“But your good mood! I thought surely he must have worked out.”
Jonathan interrupted her with a head shake and popped a toothpick in his mouth, chewing on it.
“He laid on the deck moaning like he was dying the whole time,” he said.
“Well, what are you going to do?” She turned back to the sink and her pile of carrot peelings.
“I've got a few ideas,” he said with a hint of excitement in his eyes.
“Like what?” she asked worriedly. With only two men working, but the income being split three ways, she worried increasingly about money. They had adapted, made do and improvised, but she worried about things that couldn't be avoided. Jean would need new shoes this fall. He was outgrowing his and went barefoot most of the summer now, squeezing his feet into them only to leave the house.
She hadn't bought much for the baby, and didn’t have any fabric to make any clothes. She pushed that thought away, relying on the fact that she had a few months left to prepare for that, and remembered Arianna's offer to use the clothes her babies had outgrown. But Jean would need winter clothes, a good coat and thick pants. She sighed loudly with worry.
“It will be fine, Ava,” Jon said patiently. “I promise, it will be fine.”
She nodded without looking back at him. Jean bounded into the room and jumped onto Jonathan's lap.
“Dadee, you're home,” he said with a smile.
“I am. What did you do today?” He took a good look at him. “Looks like you got a haircut.” He rubbed Jean's newly shorn head.
“And looks like you need one,” Jean teased, pulling a lock of thick black hair over Jonathan's ear.
“Oh, a wise guy huh?” He tickled Jean briefly. He curled up into a tight ball in Jonathan's lap, giggling. Jean stretched his arms around Jonathan’s neck when the wiggly fingers stopped.
“Ava cut it for me,” he said softly, glancing at her with a little grin.
She turned briefly, returning the smile.
“Did you thank her?” Jonathan whispered.
Jean nodded. “I did.” He looked at Ava and, straining his lips to Jonathan's ear. “She said I didn't need to thank her. She said that's what moms do,” he whispered.
Jonathan smiled down at him and pulled his head over to rest on his chest. “It is,” he said quietly.
“We picked carrots,” Jean said returning his voice to normal. “We're going to have them for dinner tonight,” he said.
“Jean is quite the helper in the garden,” Ava said as she worked. “He picked several baskets of berries. We're having cobbler for dessert.”
“Mmm, that sounds good.” Jonathan smiled.
“You two go get washed up. Dinner will be ready in a few minutes.”
Jean slid off Jonathan's lap and tore out of the room.
“No running in the house!” Ava called. His stomps stopped abruptly, replaced by softer footsteps and a giggle.
July 16th 1930
Before coming home, Jonathan stopped at Claire’s house, hesitating before he knocked. The house was silent and he dreaded the overwhelming sense of sadness he felt pulsing from inside.
Finally he knocked and several moments later, Claire peered out into the bright light of the late afternoon.
“Jonathan.” She left the door open and turned away, returning to the couch with the kitten.
“Claire, I need to talk to you.” He sat in the chair facing the couch, noticing the house in complete disarray and sour smells coming from all directions.
She stared at him with no particular expression, and Jonathan couldn’t help but feel she was still angry at him for not setting out right away to look for Aryl.
“Patrick isn’t going to be able to work on the boats. He has seasickness pretty bad, so Caleb’s back on the Lisa-Lynn with me while Patrick is taking care of the chores at the farm and fixing the other boat.”
She nodded and continued to pet the kitten.
“I want to ask Maura and Ian to come to Rockport. I think Ian would be the perfect person to—” He couldn’t say to replace Aryl, so he left it at that. “The reason I’m here is because they are going to need a place to stay. I was wondering if they could live with you until they get settled.”
Claire’s eyes shifted and she took a moment to answer. She, like anyone of them, would do anything for Maura, but she knew what this would mean. She would be forced to wake up every day and live. She couldn’t sleep the day away on the couch with the kitten and pretend, as she did sometimes, that Aryl was just away on an extended fishing trip; that he would be home any moment.
She sighed deeply and nodded, refusing to both deny Maura and meet Jonathan’s eyes.
“I’m going to telegram them today then, and ask them to come. And another thing. We’ve decided to continue to split the money, the same as before. You don’t have to worry about anything.”
“You can’t do that, Jon. Everyone else won’t be able to survive.”
“Let me worry about that. If we can get Ian here and we all work together, it’ll be tight, but it’ll be okay.”
She gave another small nod and Jonathan adjusted in his seat.
“How are you, Claire?” he asked quietly. The ticking of the clock filled the room and it took Jonathan back to the moments just after the crash; just after telling Ava. His whole world ripped away from him, having no idea what he would do next. He shuddered, pushed away the memories and waited for an answer. Claire shrugged one shoulder limply, keeping her eyes on her kitten.
“What can I do?” he asked. Her face twisted slightly and a few tears spilled onto her cheeks.
“There’s nothing.”
“How have you been feeling? With the baby, I mean.”
She nodded and shrugged again. “Alright.”
“Has the dairyman been making regular deliveries?”
She had yet to acknowledge the arrangement Jonathan made, nor thank him, though thanks was the last thing Jonathan wanted.
“He has.” Tension was thick in the room and Jonathan thought desperately for something to say.
“Claire, I want to help. If there’s anything else I can do–”
“You can leave, Jon.”
He recoiled slightly as her words slapped him.
“It’s hard to look at you.”
He blinked and opened his mouth to say something, closed it, then opened it again.
“Because I didn’t go after him,” he said quietly.
“Because you were his best friend. I can’t look at you without seeing him; thinking of him.”
“Claire, you have to know that going after him that night wouldn’t have…it wouldn’t have changed anything. It would have done nothing but get us killed as well.” She didn’t deny or acknowledge as he stood up, making for the door, frustrated. He turned slowly to face her.
“I know he saved me, Claire. I know I owe my life to him. And I’m sorry–” He stopped as his voice broke. He blinked hard and started again. “I’m sorry there was nothing I could do. If there w
as any chance, I wouldn’t have hesitated for one second. Not one second, Claire, to try to find him.” He yanked the door open, and paused in the doorway.
“I asked him once, before I tried to kill myself, if he would take care of Ava if anything ever happened to me. He said yes, and even though he didn’t ask me, I promised I would do the same. That I would take care of you, if anything ever happened. I intend to make good on that promise, Claire.”
She kept her eyes on the kitten, hiding her tears. He stared out the open door for a long moment. “I loved him, too. He was like my brother, Claire. It almost kills me some nights, twenty years of memories flashing through my mind and there’s nothing I can do to stop them. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think about him. I miss him, too, you know. We all miss him.”
“No one misses him more than me!” she yelled suddenly, tossing the kitten aside on the couch cushion and standing clumsily. “Get out!” She pointed with her command, tears streaming down her face. “I don’t feel sorry for you, Jon. You were his friend, but I was his wife.” She unconsciously put both hands on her stomach. “No one misses him more than me,” she whispered.
He left without another word, closing the door behind him.
Claire fell into a sobbing heap on the couch and the kitten crawled over her limp legs, nudging her cheek with its wet nose.
Jonathan drove for a long time, wandering aimlessly around Rockport. Coughing in an effort to choke back emotion, his stone-set face only occasionally fractured, giving way to a few tears that he angrily wiped away. He swerved and pulled over, beating the steering wheel with his fist several times, growling. With gasping breaths, he gripped it with tightly closed eyes, trying to make sense of it all. Opening his eyes, he saw a flock of birds take to flight from a tree and his eyes remained fixed on the large billowy white clouds behind them. Not being overly religious, he found himself believing in God now, if only to have someone to ask why. He stared at the sky as it slowly turned orange and pink and asked repeatedly, Why?
Hearing no answer, he started the car again and began driving to Caleb’s.
∞∞∞
Caleb sat deep in the shadows of the barn with his new best friends, goat and bathtub hooch, one at each side. Not even dinner yet and Caleb was nearing numb with a weathered, glassy-eyed expression Jonathan was becoming accustomed to. He didn’t acknowledge Jonathan as he lumbered in and sat on the other side of the goat with a heavy sigh. He reached for the bottle and Caleb gave it up without protest.
“I just came from Claire’s,” he said after a long drink. Caleb’s eyes flickered and he nodded.
“How is she?” he asked quietly.
“No better, no worse. House stinks like something di– like she hasn’t cleaned for a while.”
“I’ll tell Ahna. Maybe she and Ava can go help her out a little more.”
“She’s mad at me.”
Caleb’s head swung around and he gawked at him.
“She holds me responsible, I think. Because it was my boat and because I didn’t go after him; bring him home.”
Caleb stiffened. “Funny, I figured she hated me because I let him drown.”
“You didn’t let him drown, Caleb.”
Caleb rolled his head back to face forward and studied the shadows the sun cast though the open door of the barn.
“I did let him drown. I should have gotten to him. I should have held onto him; given him something to hold onto till someone got to us. It’s my fault he’s dead. It’s my fault Claire hates you. It’s my—”
“Goddammit, Caleb!” Jonathan roared and scrambled to his feet, glaring down at Caleb. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself!”
“Me stop feeling sorry for myself! What about you? Coming over here whining because Claire hates you for not going after him. There was no way you could have saved him, but me…I was there! I could have. And should have!”
“I swear to God, I’m gonna knock you senseless if you don’t stop this.”
“Stop what? Grieving? Are you the only one allowed to grieve, Jon?” Caleb crawled to his feet and stood to face Jonathan with the barn swirling around him. “Are you the only one allowed to feel anything? Me and Claire need to just get it together, is that it? Claire should be cleaning and making dinner for a husband that will never come home and I should go out with you every day and not remember! Not think about the fact that our best friend is out there somewhere, rotting in the ocean below us!”
Jonathan balled his fist and popped Caleb on the jaw before he saw it coming, sending Caleb sprawling back into the hay. The goat, who had been watching the exchange with interest, shrieked and ran for cover. Caleb shook his head, clearing his vision and rose clumsily to his feet. Jonathan instantly had a look of apology about him as Caleb took two steps toward him.
“Caleb, I’m—”
Caleb returned the punch, his drunken aim slightly off, with his fist landing on the side of Jonathan’s head. He took a surprised stumble back. Caleb paused to grab his bottle from the hay bale, took a long drink and started rolling up his sleeves.
“We’re not doing this, Caleb,” Jonathan said, holding his hands up.
“The hell we’re not,” Caleb said and lunged at Jonathan. He plowed into him and the two hit the ground with a thud.
They proceeded to roll around the dirt floor of the barn, cursing and beating each other senseless. They broke after several minutes, lying on their backs, panting and gasping. They both reveled in a long overdue release of tension and grief, and neither had the sense yet to feel guilty that it was at the expense of the other’s face.
Jonathan rolled and sat up, brushing off his arms and legs and touching the small trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth. He struggled to stand as Caleb raised a wobbling finger.
“I’m not done with you yet,” he slurred.
“Yes, you are.” Jonathan sat on a hay bale with his elbows on his knees, hanging his head down.
Caleb joined him a few moments later, taking the bottle from the floor before sitting a safe distance away.
Jonathan stared at him after he caught his breath, a realization dawning on him that he had refused to acknowledge before.
“It was supposed to be me.”
“Now, you just chewed me out for feeling sorry for myself. Don’t start that.”
“No, Caleb, I’m not feeling sorry for myself. I don’t know why I didn’t realize it before. Both boats were disabled and you were forced to take the Ava-Maura. I was supposed to be on my own boat that day. Disabling the other two made it impossible for me not to be. I was supposed to die that day.”
Caleb stared at him through one swollen eye.
“I think someone wanted me dead,” Jonathan said. “And it didn’t matter who was with me.”
“Who would want you dead? Everybody loves you. Jonathan the hero, Jonathan the organizer and fearless leader,” Caleb slurred with resentment. “I think you’re being paranoid.”
“No, I’m not Caleb. It all makes sense now. It’s so obvious,” he whispered. He left Caleb in the barn with the goat and a fat lip and drove straight to the sheriff’s office in town.
July 19th 1930
“Maura, stop pacing,” Ian called out. She shot him an irritated look.
“Well, what am I to do Ian? We'll not last long with no income, breadlines or no,” she huffed.
“I'll go out again tomorrow. I'll find somethin’.” He tried to be reassuring, but he knew the reality of it. In the last few weeks, he had found day work only three times, and worked on the auto of a wealthy man for under the table wages, all just enough to keep the roof over their head. The savings to bring Maura's mother was gone, most of it used to send Maura's crotchety old aunt back to Ireland. Maura hesitated using the last of their precious savings, but Ian offered to starve and risk arrest selling homemade hooch just to be rid of the foul woman. The house was peaceful now with just them, Scottie and Tarin. She worked part time at a small sewing factory and gave every cent
to Maura to help the family survive. That was about what they were doing now. Surviving.
“Even if we wanted to, we haven't the money to go back,” Ian said.
“I know,” Maura stared out the window and lines of dingy laundry strung between her building and the next. “An’ I'm not sayin' we should. Though I miss it terribly.”
“We'll visit,” Ian offered. She glanced at him with a condescending look. “We will. Mark my words, Maura, I will see ye back to Ireland one day. I promise you that,” She smiled gratefully and turned back to the window with a long sigh.
A hard knock on the door caused Maura to sigh again. “That'd be them to cut the electric,” she said despondently.
Ian opened the door to a small boy, red faced from the heat, holding out a folded piece of paper. Ian took it, dug in his pocket for a penny and gave it to the lad. He opened the telegram, blinked hard, and read it again.
“What will that be? A bill?” Maura asked, sitting roughly on the couch.
“No, not a bill,” he said softly. “Maura love, we need to talk.” He sat beside her on the couch and took her hands, squeezing them hard.
“I do believe our prayers have been answered,” he said, excitement spreading over his face.
∞∞∞
Two days later, Ava was dancing around the living room when Jonathan walked in.
“Jon! Jon, look. Look at this telegram. It's from Maura, she’s says they'll be here the end of the week, what does that mean? Why is she coming? She said they'd have three trunks, why would they have three trunks, Jonathan? Three trunks for a visit?” She shoved the telegram at him and he read it as she danced around impatiently. He looked up with a grin. “I didn't want to say anything, just in case.”
“Just in case of what? What does it mean? Is she coming for another visit?” She giggled excitedly.
“No,” he paused and her smile fell.
“But, the telegram said . . .”
“She's moving here. Her and Ian, Tarin and Scottie.” Ava's eyes popped wide and she yelped, throwing her arms around Jonathan's neck. “He's going to be our third man,” he croaked over the pressure of her hug.
