Of Sea and Cloud

by Jon Keller

  Osmond watched Bill through the sides of his eyes.

  If I died, I’d want it to go to Jonah, Bill said. He reached into his sweatshirt pocket with both hands and worked a cigarette out of the pack and brought it up to the bar top. He held it in his fingers.

  What if I died? Would you want to be partners with Julius forever?

  I can’t say, Bill said.

  You have to say, William.

  No offense, Bill said. But I don’t think so.

  I don’t blame you. You see, Osmond said as he reached across the bar and slid the folder over and picked it up. You see, your father thought the same thing. He assumed that he would outlive me, and he didn’t want to share the pound with Julius.

  So?

  So, William, what we decided was this. Osmond held a hand out across the bar as if to hold Bill back although Bill made no move. We took out a key man insurance policy, which means that if one of us dies, all of the dead man’s shares go to the survivor. In this case, me.

  Bill was silent. He lit his cigarette.

  And what you get, William, is a settlement from the insurance company. Technically, the settlement should go to the business, but we made arrangements to protect our families. Over the years, we’ve paid in on insurance for one half of the equity in the pound.

  Come again?

  You and your brother will receive a check for one half of the value of the pound is what I’m saying.

  And the pound’s yours?

  The pound is mine, William. One hundred percent. I’m sorry. I thought that your father would have explained that to you a long time ago. Then I realized you were unaware.

  Bill stood up and spoke fast. Unaware? My old man started that pound before you even knew it was there. He was a good friend to you. Only sonofabitch on the coast who could stand you.

  Osmond nodded. That pound was there long before either of your parents arrived on this coast, William. Your father merely rebuilt it and brought it into this century. But never mind that. I accepted your father just as I’ve accepted you—and yes, it is true that he was the only sonofabitch who could stand me, just as he was the only sonofabitch who I could stand. Things will work out for you, William. Don’t worry about that. I am sorry about the disappointment. I know the pound means a lot to you, and I’ve written you a check for the work you’ve done.

  No, said Bill as if he could simply reject the past. He looked at Osmond for a moment then drank the scotch down in a single swallow. He refilled his glass and stepped back. He took a shrimp out of the bowl and examined its shell and legs and ate it shell and legs and all.

  One more thing, Osmond said. He didn’t take his eyes from the television. Have you thought more about how Nicolas ended up in the pound?

  I been just now figuring on asking you the same thing.

  You found more of Nicolas’s skeleton. I know you went offshore with it. He should have been given a proper burial.

  You’re the one chucked his fucking head over the dam.

  Osmond bowed his head. That is true. Forgive me. That was rash. But that doesn’t explain how he got in the pound in the first place. Understand that I am granting a lot of latitude here, Bill. I would like to find your father’s murderer as much as you would.

  Who said he got murdered?

  How else would you explain it?

  I ain’t in the explaining business but right now it seems you had yourself a pound to gain.

  Bill, Osmond said. Think before you speak. Do not forget that you and Jonah had several hundred thousand dollars to gain. You are Nicolas’s son and so I will grant you leeway here, but tread softly.

  Softly, Bill said. He drank down his glass of scotch and refilled it and said, He sure as shit didn’t go in on his own free will, Osmond.

  No, I don’t suspect so. I haven’t any idea how he got in there, William, but I will look into it. I have a few contacts.

  What contacts? Chimney? He’s liable to have done it himself.

  Chimney is in prison. He could not have. And he is not a murderer.

  The hell he ain’t. And Julius ain’t any better. If it weren’t you and weren’t Chimney it was that little whore’s egg Julius is my way of thinking. We all know for fact that he’s experienced at drowning folks. Or half drowning anyway.

  You may leave now, William, Osmond said. He tore a check out of his book and held it out to Bill. Here is your check for the work you’ve done. I appreciate your help.

  Bill ignored the check. He turned with his glass of scotch in his hand and faced the darkness behind the windows and when Osmond didn’t say anything he walked through the kitchen and out the door. He drank his scotch as he crossed the driveway and he tossed the glass into the trees.

  • • •

  When he got home Erma Lee was waiting at the dinner table. You been drinking, Bill?

  He pulled a chair out and sat down. Goddamned right.

  Erma Lee rounded the table and put her hands on his shoulders and told him to push back. He backed his chair up and she sat astraddle him and she examined his bruised face.

  What happened, Bill?

  Nothing.

  She pulled his glasses off. Is your eye feeling better, Bill?

  It’s fine, Erma Lee. It’s fine. But Osmond owns the pound. I ain’t got none of it.

  You got in a fight with Osmond?

  No. He owns the pound is what I’m saying.

  Oh the Lord. You got in another fight. I’ll get you some ice for that eye.

  Are you listening to me? The whole pound’s fucking lost. Gone. We got none of it.

  She didn’t say anything for a while then, Ain’t you got a copy of your father’s will?

  No. He didn’t have a will and it wouldn’t help no-how.

  Her chin wrinkled and her forehead furrowed. She cupped his face in her hands. I’m so sorry, Bill.

  I got to get all the pound paperwork. And I might have to get a lawyer down here. I don’t know, but I ain’t backing out of the old man’s pound.

  Is it the income you need? We’ll be fine without the pound, Bill.

  I know it. But I’m gonna have it. I catch enough on the boat, Bill said and as he spoke it dawned on him that they could have called the police. He and Jonah had no part in the pound. They could have drained it and let Osmond deal with the fallout. There could have been a real police investigation but it was far too late for that now and he and Jonah and Virgil were the ones who had made it too late.

  Bill shut the thoughts out. He said, I been thinking of taking you on sternman. That way we keep all our earnings in the household.

  Not while I’m pregnant you ain’t.

  No kidding, Erma Lee. After.

  After, Bill? This infant ain’t going away once it’s born.

  We’ll get a sitter.

  A sitter, Bill? We ain’t having some drunk woman raise our infant. I’m staying right put. You got a hundred different folks you can pick sternmen from.

  Well. You ain’t big enough or fast enough anyhow. A trap weighs more’n you.

  Erma Lee stood up. I’m getting dinner.

  She came back into the room with a bowl of mussels and some melted butter and she put it on the table. She went back into the kitchen and returned with a quiche.

  What the hell is that? Bill said.

  That’s crab quiche, Bill.

  Crab what?

  Quiche.

  Looks like baby puke to me. And where’d you get them mussels?

  I picked them at low water, Bill. And cooked them in white wine and parsley with garlic and onions. Try them, Bill. You’ll like them.

  Garlic? Quiche?

  Just try it. It’s from a cookbook of Celeste’s that she’s lent me.

  Oh God. Now we’ll be eating that weird shit she feeds Virgil all the time. Jonah likes that shit.

  It ain’t weird and it ain’t shit, Bill. It’s good.

  Where’d you get crab meat to?

  Celeste had some frozen that she gave me. Is tha
t okay with you?

  Ain’t you two just buddy-buddy.

  Yes, Bill, yes we are. She’s come to visit, and it’s nice. We’ve even been talking of making a Christmas dinner together.

  Bill sliced a piece of the quiche and loaded it onto his plate. Erma Lee watched as he tried it. He took another bite and looked up at her while he chewed and he smiled and quiche spread from between his teeth and he said, That’s good.

  Try them mussels, Bill. They’re good too.

  He ate mussel after mussel and the shells clinked in the shell bowl each time he threw one. Ain’t you eating?

  Not now, she said. I ain’t hungry now on account of the infant.

  Everything’s on account of the infant.

  Erma Lee ignored him. You eat. I had fun making it all.

  Fun cooking. I couldn’t stand just sitting around the house.

  It weren’t sitting to make that.

  I know you weren’t sitting, Bill said. Not doing nothing is how I meant it.

  You mean cooking for you ain’t doing nothing, Bill? I’m gonna learn to cook good like Celeste. And get us a garden going too.

  I’d just heat up something. It don’t take all day.

  Erma Lee stood up and leaned against the counter and folded her arms. What about once the baby comes? What would you do then?

  I told you. I’d get you a sitter and go sternman. Any old woman could raise a kid. The kid don’t know who’s who. You’d make enough on a boat to pay a sitter and buy groceries and have money left over.

  Oh my God, Erma Lee said.

  Oh my God what?

  Erma Lee stared at him and she trembled slightly. You actually think any old woman could raise our kid, Bill? You think that?

  No, Erma Lee. I don’t think that. I know that. It’s a fact.

  She tried to cover her abdomen with her hands. A fact?

  You don’t think so? Bill said.

  She spoke softly. No, Bill. No I don’t.

  His face went red and his jaw muscles flexed. So you intend to spend eighteen years sitting on your ass with that kid doing nothing all day long while I’m on the water? Well I’ll tell you what, me and Jonah grew up fine without a mother sitting on her ass next to us. We done good. You think you know it all sitting around in the kitchen and talking about goddamned quiche and diapers, Erma Lee? Well you don’t know shit.

  She shook her head no without meaning to.

  You can get a job and I don’t care if it’s pumping gas or lugging bait but that kid can grow up just like I done. That’s another fact.

  There’s more than one way of doing things.

  What? Yeah, Erma Lee, that’s right. There’s two ways. There’s my way and there’s the goddamned wrong way and I won’t have you doing things the wrong way all the fucking time.

  Erma Lee took two steps back then turned. She walked down the hallway and into the bedroom and shut the door and Bill put his head in his hands and ground his teeth and pulled on his own hair.

  Four days later. Christmas morning. Snow covered the islands like shells and the water in the cove lay flat calm. Jonah held a cup of coffee steaming between his thighs and rowed across the cove to his boat. The gull who he now recognized as a beggar bird rode his skiff’s bow. He tossed a cracker into the water and the bird circled then scooped it from the water and carried it to a nearby ledge. He climbed aboard and ground the diesel to life. Blue-black smoke coughed into the cold salt air and waste oil and bilge water pissed from the chine and spread in an uncoiling rainbow across the sea surface.

  He steamed out of the cove and the entire ocean was forever blue before him. Eiders and pintails and buffleheads squawked and parted and flew. He followed the coastline around Burnt Island. He slipped between a ledge and the red nun buoy that marked the entrance to the harbor. The tide was up and water lapped the pound’s slat-wood dam.

  Jonah idled his boat into the shallows beside the dam. The pound house rose above him. The seafloor was green in the cold light and he’d found his father’s skull in this very spot and that memory struck him hard. In the days since Bill told him about losing the pound Jonah had convinced himself that this was not hallowed ground but now at the pound with the waves pumping and swishing like systoles it seemed that the coastline had indeed become something more than landscape.

  The Jennifer idled in the shoal green water. Jonah watched the rockweed below swing in the currents and he watched the shape of the water reverberating off the dam. He thought of his father’s skeleton awash amid endless seawater. He was beginning to suspect that with this life came a harsh fragility that endured well beyond death.

  He motored away and craned his head around and watched the slat-wood dam framed in the V of his wake. He was suddenly angry and he whispered, Fucking Osmond, although just then he felt that it was not Osmond but he himself who deserved the curse.

  The air was clean and crisp and it stung his lungs but did little to clear the confusion from his head. He took a skiff from the wharf float and put his boat on his mooring then rowed back to the float. He walked through the small empty wintertime village. Road salt crunched beneath his feet. He found Virgil watching television. Celeste was in the kitchen and she wore an apron with a Christmas tree embroidered on the front. Charlotte was in her bedroom. Jonah sat at the kitchen table and ate homemade potato donuts dipped in maple syrup and drank coffee and after an hour he went into the living room and sat on the couch and watched television with Virgil but neither spoke.

  Two hours later Bill arrived. His skin was raw and he looked like he hadn’t slept in days. Jonah met him in the hallway and said, You ain’t made up with Erma Lee yet? I thought that was your Christmas Eve plan. To make up with her.

  Bill shook his head no but he didn’t speak. Jonah got the feeling that if Bill did speak he’d cry.

  What happened now?

  Bill shook his head again. Nothing, he finally said. She’s just bonkers is all. Flat out gone-fuck bonkers. I had enough, Jonah. Enough. I told her last night to either one get her damned head screwed on straight or get the fuck out.

  Celeste came down the hallway. She stopped when she saw Bill. Bill looked away from her like a guilty dog but she approached him anyway. Merry Christmas, Bill.

  Merry Christmas, he mumbled.

  Where’s Erma Lee?

  She ain’t coming.

  I thought she was.

  Well she ain’t.

  Celeste faced Bill. Bill’s sweatshirt was unzipped. He took his hand from the pocket and it already held a can of beer and he drank.

  What did you do?

  Nothing. She’s just a bit mad about our arrangement.

  What arrangement is that, Bill? Your trial?

  Bill blinked and looked at Celeste then away. That’s right.

  I love you, Bill, but you are so stupid sometimes that I want to strangle you. Go in there and sit down. I’ll be right back.

  Celeste, Bill said as she pulled her jacket on.

  She looked at him. What?

  Nothing.

  Nothing. Is that what you said to her? Nothing? Celeste stepped forward and tried to stand face to face with Bill but he was half a foot taller. Do you realize that she is scared out of her mind, Bill? That she’s all alone and has a baby growing inside of her? A human baby that you helped put there. You, Bill.

  I get it. He stepped back as if she were going to hit him but she went out the door. Jonah stood on the far side of the hall with his back to the wall. Before he could say anything Bill said, Shut up, Jonah.

  • • •

  Celeste didn’t knock. She opened the door and stepped inside. Two stuffed full black trash bags sat in the middle of the room. One was torn on the side and a framed picture stuck out.

  She looked around and the walls were empty. The sheetrock was speckled with nails and nail holes. She heard a rustling from down the hall and she said, Erma Lee? It’s me.

  Thanks but I’m all set, Erma Lee said.

  Celeste went down the
hall and stopped in the bedroom doorway. Across the room a sliding glass door led to a patio facing the harbor. The afternoon sun shone bright and Celeste squinted her eyes. Erma Lee held a trash bag which she loaded clothing into.

  Erma Lee, she said.

  I’m fine.

  I know that. But it’s Christmas.

  Erma Lee straightened and faced Celeste. Her chin was wrinkled but Celeste was surprised to see her face so clear and dry. Thanks for everything, Celeste. The cookbook and things.

  Keep it, Celeste said.

  I feel good, Erma Lee said.

  You feel good?

  It dawned on me of a sudden. He don’t love me and he don’t love anyone. I got a baby and I’m happy. I can do it. And you know what? It weren’t even that I was scared of doing it alone. I was just scared to go crawling back to my cousin’s like a failure.

  What happened?

  Nothing happened. Erma Lee rolled a pair of jeans up and stuffed them in the bag. There was a pile of clothes on the floor at her feet where she’d dumped the dresser drawer out. She bent down and grabbed more clothes and stuffed them in. When she straightened she held a small pair of black lace panties in her hand. She held them up for Celeste to see. I wear this stuff for him, she said. And he don’t care. He don’t care about nothing but lobsters and boats. Well he can get some other girl to wear them.

  She shoved the panties under the pillow.

  It’s none of my business, Erma Lee. I know. I’ll leave if you want.

  Erma Lee wiped her nose and nodded. She tried to pick up the trash bag but she’d filled it too full and the bag was too weak and her hands tore through it. She coughed and sat on the bed.

  Celeste sat down next to her. What’d he do that was so bad?

  He’s just changed. Or maybe he ain’t changed but everything else has. I’m pregnant and we got a baby coming and he don’t realize that. He won’t say nothing about this baby other than it don’t need a mother and nothing about me but me needing to get off my ass. Why can’t he just say that he understands or something? Or that he wants this baby? Or maybe he don’t want it. Anything. He got mean. All he done all along was make fun of me for it like I made a big mistake on my own. Like caring for a baby is wasting time or something.