by ML Gardner
They heard Ava on the stairs and smiled as she sat down next to Jean.
“I have her. She’s fine,” Jean said quickly.
“I figured you did,” she said. “I wasn’t worried.”
“You’re supposed to be sleeping,” Jonathan said, reaching behind Jean and touching her cheek.
“I heard Amy and woke up.” She shrugged. “Couldn’t go back to sleep.”
Jonathan glanced at his watch. “Two more hours until your shift. Try to get some sleep if you can.”
They yawned together and laughed.
“Oh, Jon, you look so tired. Let me take a turn early.”
He ran his hand through his hair, making it stick wildly in all directions. He hadn’t showered in two days and his eyes were bloodshot and puffy. Dried spit up stained the shoulder of his robe. He deliberated, watching Amy grow groggy. Her eyes were half open, rolling around in full bellied bliss. A thin stream of milk escaped the side of her mouth and ran down her cheek. When he smiled up at Ava, he found her with her head back on the sofa, sleeping open mouthed. She had the ability that new mothers quickly acquired, to fall asleep on a seconds notice. She let out a light snort and Jean giggled. Jonathan didn’t want to sleep. Not right now. He was content to simply sit and watch his sleepy family, nestled together on the couch.
He thought ahead to the coming holidays. They deserved so much more than he would be able to provide. Even with the tiny miracle he’d received in the mail the day before. He’d been waiting for the amount due to the hospital. What he received was a statement from the hospital showing the bill as paid in full. It wasn’t charity, the receptionist assured him when he went to the hospital to inquire about it. Someone had simply walked in and asked to pay the Garrett bill. Didn’t leave his name. Just paid it and walked out. For the life of him, Jonathan couldn’t figure out who would have done that. Who could have done that; produced sixty five dollars without batting an eye. In any event, it was a relief, and he was grateful for it. He looked down at Jean who was dabbing Amy’s mouth with a burp cloth.
“Think you can get us a Thanksgiving turkey this year, Mr. Sharpshooter?” he asked Jean.
“Of course I can,” he said, smiling with confidence. “As long as you don’t talk while I’m trying to shoot.”
∞∞∞
Thanksgiving was lean.
Christmas was humble.
They tried to smile as they counted down to the New Year, though it brought little hope of a better life.
January 1st 1931
Caleb climbed into bed tired and more than a little tipsy. He’d taken a few bottles of brandy from Marvin’s stash and hosted a small New Year’s get together. He was thankful no one asked where he’d gotten it. It was well after one o’clock when everyone finally left, and the house was a disaster. Ethel insisted on cleaning up in the morning and Arianna didn’t argue. She was bone tired as she settled back into the pillow.
“Everyone looked good tonight,” Caleb said.
“Mm-hmm.”
“Amy’s growing.”
“She’s still so tiny. Three months old and she’s the size of a newborn,” Arianna said.
“She smiled at me, you know. No one else. Just me.”
“I know, I saw. It’s just because you look goofy,” Arianna said with a smirk.
“No, it’s because I gave her a taste of my mom’s boiled frosting.”
“You did good tonight,” she said, not speaking of the baby at all. Playing a good host, not over drinking, laughing even though his eyes were clouded with sadness when he saw Claire with Gordon at her side. She knew gatherings were hard for him and likely would be for a long time.
She shivered and snuggled deeper into the blankets. “It’s cold tonight.”
“C’mere. I’ll keep you warm. It’s about all I can do,” he warned with a smile in his voice as she rolled toward him. “I can’t feel my lips and the room is spinning.”
“That’s fine. I’ll wait and hope for better things.”
He lay quiet for a moment. “Better things,” he repeated softly. “Seems like things are getting better.”
“Does it?” she asked. In her day to day life things seemed to be moving along as best they could. She’d learned to steel herself against too much hope, and just play the hand she was dealt as best she could.
“Sometimes I think so,” he said, taking a deep, relaxing breath. “Maura’s feistiness is back in full swing and my mom’s found a lot of joy with her volunteer work. The twins are healthy. Shannon and Patrick are happy in the cabin. Jon and Ava look good and since Victor died and Amy was born they seem a lot happier. Fatherhood suits him. Claire seems happy with Gordon.” He stopped abruptly. “I think,” he paused again and she raised her head.
“You think what?”
“I think he’s good for her. And I think they’ll end up getting married.”
She lay her head back down on his shoulder. “I think you’re right.”
“We’re all getting by. With enough to keep body and soul together, anyway.”
“True.” She rolled away from him and stretched.
“And there’s nothing saying this year won’t be the year everything starts to get better for good.”
“Maybe.” She wanted to warn him against too much false hope, but didn’t want to ruin his mood. He moved closer and draped his arm over her. Giving her hip a pat, he adjusted to get comfortable. “This old mattress,” he grumbled. “I wish we could get a new one.”
Arianna started to say there was no use wishing for things, when he rolled back, letting his hand glide past her hip and over her stomach. He stopped cold. Arianna didn’t breathe.
“When were you going to tell me?” he asked. All traces of the lighthearted reminiscence of the evening gone.
“I was trying to find the right time,” she said.
He moved his hand, feeling the small slope. If he hadn’t had every inch of her body committed to memory, it might have gone unnoticed. It was a subtle change, but one she wouldn’t have been able to hide for much longer.
“There’s not much to stop it from happening, Caleb. It’ll be a wonder if we don’t all end up with a dozen kids.”
He sat up, pushed the covers away and held his head in his hand. “We watch the calendar. What happened to that?”
“We didn’t look at the calendar the night you sobered up and apologized to me.”
He remembered now. Neither had given a thought to anything else besides remedying the lonely ache of the last few months. What had resulted from that night, aside from a rekindled marriage, was the coming of another mouth to feed. He sighed heavily with worry.
“Caleb, it’ll be okay.” She sat up next to him and pulled on his arm, taking his hand in her lap. “I didn’t say anything sooner because I knew you’d worry.”
“I wish you had. I’m still going to worry only I’ve got less time to prepare for it now.”
“Not that much less time. July-ish. Plenty of time.”
He nodded and growing cold, lay back down and covered up.
“I’m actually happy about it. Imagine that,” she said.
“You’re happy because you don’t feel the weight of it like I do. I’m responsible for making sure everyone has what they need.”
“We’re doing better than the others. We have the farm and it’s making all the difference in how we get by. I feel guilty sometimes, seeing how hard our friends struggle.”
He remained deep in thought.
“I thought you wanted a lot of kids, Caleb.” She didn’t try to hide the disappointment in her voice.
“I did. I mean, I do. Just not like this. I wanted to give them a better life.”
“Their life will be fine, Caleb. They have parents who love them, friends who will look out for them, a sturdy home and a warm bed. They’ll be fine. We’ll make it.”
He smiled as he touched her face. “Sometimes you are nothing like the woman I married.” She smiled, knowing it to be a compliment
. “You’re right. We’ll make it.”
January 7th 1931
Caleb kept a close eye on the drive and when he saw Marvin pulling in, he called to Arianna that he was going out to the barn. He arrived at the same time Marvin did, and opened the door to the barn.
Marvin looked bothered; Caleb didn’t ask why.
“I know you’re looking for me to move the stuff, Caleb, but I’m having a real hard time with that.”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I decided you can keep it here. So long as the Sheriff’s office can keep paying rent.”
Marvin’s face lit up in a mix of surprise and delight.
“What changed your mind?”
“It doesn’t matter. Do we have a deal?”
Marvin stuck his hand out. “We do.”
“One more thing,” Caleb said. “You can’t come around so much anymore. Arianna asked me why you’re coming by a couple times a week. It’s becoming obvious.”
“What did you tell her?”
“That you were checking on me. Making sure I stay sober.”
Marvin laughed. “That’s a good one. Did she buy it?”
“She did. But I don’t like lying to my wife, Marvin. I need you to space out your visits. If she finds out there’s booze in there she’s going to throw a fit. You won’t have any choice but to move it then.”
He walked to the back of the barn and peeked through the crack in the stall door. Everything seemed fine and he began glancing around.
“Does this barn have a backdoor?”
“Yeah, over there.” Caleb pointed with a hint of irritation.
He followed the wall and found a small door. A hatch, really, and pointed to it. “How about I come around back and bring it in through there?”
“That’s fine. So long as no one sees you too often.”
“Well, I’ll do whatever I can do to help, Caleb.”
The false friendship in his voice grated Caleb’s nerves. That, and the fact that he knew he was in way over his head with Marvin.
January 11th 1931
Jonathan leaned against the wheelhouse of the boat, eyeing the horizon. He clenched his jaw and adjusted his stance to better withstand the rough sea. The sun shone, but off on the horizon, darkness lurked in bold thunderheads. He blew his breath out and it swirled in a large plume of white.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea, Jon. Those clouds look bad,” Caleb said.
“They’re far off enough. We’d have time.”
Caleb shook his head and took a wide legged seat on a crate, swaying with the movement of the boat. “We always come home with something. It won’t be the end of the world if we don’t today.”
“None of us have any room to breathe. We can’t afford to go home empty handed. We need to go farther out.”
“Look around, Jon! Everyone else is going in! Everyone else isn’t being stupid!”
Jonathan’s surprised expression made Ian laugh.
“What do you think?” Jonathan asked him.
Ian studied the horizon for a moment and said, “Flip a coin. I don’t care. But if I had to say, I think we can make it back in time.”
Jonathan looked at Caleb and smiled. “Two to one.” He moved behind the wheel and began to change direction.
Caleb glared at Ian. “This is a mistake.”
The boat was tossed harder and more frequently as they ventured to deeper water. There was no rain or snow but the increasing winds threw white capped waves higher and higher up the sides of the boat, eventually spilling over the top. A thin layer of ice formed on the deck and railings. All three men huddled in the wheelhouse shivering and blowing into their cupped hands, while Jonathan glanced frequently at a chart, deciding where to stop.
The boat was thrown sharply to the left; crates and nets flew across the deck behind them. Jonathan nodded for them to go back and secure the equipment they couldn’t afford to lose.
As they did, the winds grew so strong Jonathan could barely steer the boat. He put up a good fight but when he realized he was losing, he left the wheel house to tell Caleb and Ian they were turning back.
He yelled but the winds whipped louder. Laying a hand on Caleb’s shoulder made him jump, slip and fall on the slick deck. Caleb landed on his back with a terrified look of shock. Jonathan reached down, grabbed his hand and when he hoisted him to his feet again, he lost his balance as a strong wave slammed into the side of the boat. He felt himself falling backwards, felt the pressure of the deck railing against the back of his thighs. Felt himself going over the edge. Icy water swelled up, eager to swallow him, and he saw himself as a small boy at Christmas, opening an abacus, his first day of school, his mother and father standing at his graduation, the first time he met Ava, the day they were married, he saw himself on his knees the moment he realized he’d lost everything, he saw Aryl’s smiling face, teaching him knots, the way Jean stared at him curiously, the day they buried the box, Victor’s sick expression and the first time he saw his baby daughter. He squeezed his eyes shut as Caleb’s hand shot out and clutched the front of his coat. Suspended over angry waters, his arms flailed as the deck rails froze their impression into his calves; he glanced over his shoulder at the churning water below and let out a frightened gasp.
“I got you!” Caleb yelled. Ian rushed over and reached past Caleb, grabbing what he could of Jonathan, and they pulled him upright and onto the deck.
He slithered down into a heap, adrenaline racing through his veins. His fingers dug into the wooden deck. He pressed his forehead against it as the boat tossed him about. Caleb pulled him up and held onto him with both hands as he walked him to the wheelhouse.
He threw him inside. “I told you we shouldn’t have come out here!”
“I know! I’m sorry!” Jonathan yelled over the ocean noise and though still shaken, moved to step in front of the wheel. Caleb shoved him out of the way, assuming command.
∞∞∞
Back at the marina the men worked quickly and quietly, mooring the boat and preparing it in case the storm came inland.
When all was settled Jonathan stepped onto the dock and started making his way to his car. Ian made quick feet to catch up; Jonathan was his ride.
“Aren’t ye going to say anything to Caleb?”
“No. I’ll let him cool off a bit first.”
Ian glanced over his shoulder. “I think ye might want to prepare something to say now, because it doesn’t look like he’s going to cool off any time soon. Here he comes.”
Caleb grabbed the back of Jonathan’s coat and spun him around.
“That was a real stupid thing to do, Jonathan Garrett!”
“Oh!” Ian said, taking a step back. “He used your whole name.”
“I know it was stupid! I said I know, and I said I was sorry!”
He turned to leave but Caleb wouldn’t let go.
“What else do you want to hear from me?” Jonathan yelled as snow began to fall. He knocked Caleb’s hand away.
“I want to hear you say you were wrong. You made a bad decision and you were wrong.”
Ian turned to Jonathan, waiting. He squirmed uncomfortably, knocking snowflakes from the crease of his collar.
“You can’t do it, can you? You can’t say the words, I was wrong.”
“Of course I can say it!”
“Then do it!”
“Fine!” he roared. “I was wrong!” He stood glaring at Caleb. “Anything else?” Jonathan asked, jerking his coat back properly on his shoulders.
“You could thank me for saving your life,” Caleb said, and turned to walk away.
Jonathan dropped his head and took a deep, regretful breath. “I am such an ass.”
“Aye. Ye are,” Ian agreed.
Caleb was just coaxing his old truck to life as Jonathan reached the driver’s door. He grabbed it. “Wait.”
Caleb huffed his breath and looked away impatiently.
“I’m sorry. I would have gotten around to thanking
you; you know I would have, Caleb, once the shock wore off.”
Caleb stared at the steering wheel. His lips clamped shut, his face was flushed, the tips of his ears red.
“Thank you,” Jonathan said quietly. “Thank you a thousand times for saving my life today. Ava thanks you, Jean thanks you, Amy thanks you—”
“No one needs to know,” Caleb said, turning his head slightly. “Don’t tell them.”
“Why not? I want them to know what you did for me.”
“They don’t need to know because it’ll make them worry. All of them, not just in your house. And, if you tell them what happened, you’ll have to tell them you were wrong. And I know you don’t want to do that.”
“But I was…wrong.”
“What?”
“I said, I was wrong.”
“I know. I just wanted to hear it again.”
Jonathan fought a smile and shoved Caleb’s shoulder through the open window. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
February 14th 1931
Claire felt like a frilly whale. Her dress was simple, or it had been this morning before Maura insisted she let her pretty it up, adding lace here, there and eventually, everywhere on the pale pink garment.
The whole town had turned out for the Valentine fundraiser dance. Anyone who couldn’t afford to pay admission could bring a donation of food or fabric to the town’s relief fund that had been established by the older women. The Valentine dance was their idea, as voluntary donations had begun to dwindle.
Held in the community hall, some of the youth were just finishing putting up decorations under the command of Ethel and June, when the first guests arrived. The first half of the evening was open to all ages to encourage everyone to attend, but the younger ones had a curfew of nine o’clock. It would be adults only after that.
Refreshments were donated and set out on a long table against the wall. Candles burned on every table next to dried flower arrangements in pink and red painted mason jars. Ethel and June had gone door to door for the better part of two weeks, not only letting people know about the upcoming dance, but collecting all the dried flowers they could. They labeled them carefully so they could be returned to their owner afterward.
