by John Casey
May had said, “Plenty to do before that. If we get a second acre cleared, I got to plant some winter rye.” It was just like Mary to run ahead like that, but now May thought she herself needn’t have got so tight-lipped.
Eddie started up the tractor. Elsie was the first one on her feet. She said, “Come on, Rose. Get your hands dirty. JB can drive the jeep.”
May said, “Rose has got her show tonight. She can drive the jeep. Is that all right with you, Deirdre? Tom’s been teaching her to drive.”
“Sure,” Deirdre said.
“I’m sorry, Elsie,” May said. “I just thought …”
Elsie waved and picked up her crowbar. “Come on, JB, get your shovel. You’re stuck with me.” Off she went, jab, jab, jabbing until she clinked on a rock, a small, sharp note that cut through the rumble and mutter of the tractor as it inched forward. That note got the rest of them going. May watched Elsie wave to JB to come shovel away some earth so she could stick her crowbar in under the lip of the rock. And there she was heaving on the crook end of the bar, putting her legs and back into it, all coiled up so her work pants pulled tight on her rear end. JB touched her back. Of course he would. All that hum of energy. He pointed the tip of his shovel at the other side of the rock. Elsie nodded, and JB dug out the edge. Elsie jabbed a couple of times, got the bar in deep enough to pry. The rock tilted up, a flat rock, not so big after all, about the size of a boat cushion. Elsie and JB crouched down to lift it, wiggled it a bit, and heaved it into Eddie’s front-end scoop.
May poked here and there, dug up a pretty melon-shaped rock with a white stripe around its middle. She walked back to show it to Rose before she dropped it in the cart. Right there between the tractor and the jeep it was too loud to talk, but when she got to digging again the noise wasn’t so bad, even a comfort. It put her in mind of a beehive.
She hit a fair-sized rock, waved to Tom to bring his crowbar. When he threw the rock in the scoop, Eddie turned off the motor. Eddie did this from time to time so he could tell a joke, give everyone a couple of minutes to stretch. May looked back down the field. The lay of the land was on her side. It tilted up a bit from the south, just about right to catch the fog when it blew in. A good overnight fog was as good as watering—it came up from the sea but left the salt behind, settled a freshwater dew.
Eddie started the tractor again. May pried up another rock, flipped a bit of sod in the hole, grass side down, so it’d rot. Another good thing that went on in the dark. She’d be like Dick when he got to lobstering again, setting his pots so the lobsters would creep in—all that went on in the dark, too. She’d go to bed tired and likely a bit sore tonight, and plenty of nights after, but she’d go to bed satisfied. She knew well enough that whatever got done by way of clearing and tilling and sowing was the least of it. Most of it was what came out of the earth, what came from the fog and rain, from the sun hitting the slight southerly tilt of the field. The work was to put her field in the way of these providences.
That was enough about that. Who’d be set for work tomorrow? She looked around. Elsie was doing more than her share but had something else to do Sunday. Eddie and Tom were on. And Deirdre—when all was said and done, Deirdre would do. Tran was on the payroll—Dick was paying him some so as not to lose him when Dick got a boat. She suspected that JB would be aching, but he could drive the jeep. Rose had her Sunday matinee. No Eddie on Monday, but he would leave the tractor for her. They’d use the jeep and wagon to move the compost from her old place, spread it on the little patch where they’d scalped the sod. Plant that patch next week, another patch the week after. Sow the second acre in winter rye, plow it under for next year. Plenty to think about, plenty to do. She wanted nothing better than to set herself to it.
chapter eighty-five
At the end of the workday Elsie turned down a ride in Deirdre’s jeep. She walked past the barberry thicket and through the woods, the trees now heavier with green, the patches of late-afternoon light wavering on the mat of old leaves and roots. It was then she thought, Am I going to? Am I really going to? Before she reached the house she’d decided, and by the time she got there she was floating, drifting in the current.
Rose was there, walking around the living room bent over at the waist and chanting over and over in a low voice, “How now, brown cow.” Then Rose lay on her back and closed her eyes.
Elsie said, “Be sure to drink some water. You’ve been—”
“I did. I will. Right now I’m concentrating, okay?”
When Rose was in the bathtub, Elsie said, “Do you want something to eat?”
“I eat after. And yes, I have a ride back, and no, I won’t make any noise coming in.”
Once Rose was out the door, Elsie got rid of the people in her mind. By the time the sun was behind the treetops they were gone. It wasn’t just a matter of knowing Rose would be onstage, Mary Scanlon in the Sawtooth kitchen, Charlie at sea, everybody else in bed by ten. Elsie sealed off their presences, shuttered them. She let the house grow dim. She moved through the light from the sky coming in the south window and the softer light coming up from the dark mirror of the pond. She brushed her hair in front of the bathroom mirror, watching her hands in the half-darkness. She would be a shadow on her way to find Dick.
The sky was still bright in the west. Under the trees it was dusk. She noticed nothing but her white sneakers finding their way down the hill, through Miss Perry’s garden, up and around the school, onto Ministerial Road. She stopped short of Eddie’s driveway, picked her way through the scrub pine, angled toward the back of the yard. The tractor shed was dark. Beyond it there was a glow in the back window of the work shed. She went around to the front, stood outside the spill of light through the open double doors. She combed her hair with her fingers, smoothed her skirt over her hips, surprised by her own touch. She called his name. His shadow moved across the square of light. She said his name again.
He said, “Jesus, Elsie.”
She laughed. “That’s what you always say.”
She moved backward into the dark. She tapped her hand on the top plank of a pile of lumber to give him a bearing. He took a few steps. She saw his white T-shirt moving in starts, like frames of an old silent movie. She took a step forward, and he stumbled into her. She held on, pressing her mouth into his shoulder. She shuddered, hard enough to loosen his grip. He let his hands fall to his sides.
She was too much for him, she was a sudden squall, he didn’t know what to do. She’d fallen out of the sky. She’d been falling from noon to dusk, imagining herself, not him, not him standing there, night-blind.
Now they were both standing stupidly. She was stupid. She would feel even stupider stumbling back through the woods. She said, “You can give me a ride home.” She walked toward him, into him. She said, “A ride home,” into his face.
He put his hands on her shoulders. She pushed one hand away with the back of her forearm. She grabbed his other hand by the wrist, tugged it off her shoulder. It slid across her collarbone onto her breast.
She stood still while he touched her through her dress. She let herself lean a little. When she thought he couldn’t stop, she began to move. When she knew he couldn’t stop, she did what had taken his breath away years ago—she stood on tiptoe and hooked her knee around his thigh, her bare skin climbing the rough bark of his jeans.
Afterward she was glad it was dark enough not to see his jeans and jockey shorts around his knees, his work shoes still on, her dress pulled up to her armpits, her white sneakers back on the ground after waggling in the air.
The evening star was over the top of the trees on the other side of Ministerial Road.
She didn’t want either of them to start worrying yet. She moved her hip closer to his and said, “I haven’t seen so many stars in a long time. Too many trees at my place.”
“Even more stars, you get out to sea.”
“You find another boat?”
“I got my eye on one.”
“Good.”
She laughed. He lifted his head to look at her. She said, “We’re going all clipped Yankee. Next thing you say better be a long sentence.” He laughed. He settled on his side, made himself comfortable against her, as if they lay like this in ordinary life. Now that she’d fallen out of the sky, she saw that this was what she really wanted.
She pulled herself closer to him. “I had to come see you. I was thinking about you all day. I think about you a lot; this time I couldn’t stop.” She touched his back. “Lie down again. Just for a bit.” He lay on his back, looked straight up. She said, “Don’t worry, everything’s all right.”
“Funny you say that. I have this dream every so often. Last thing in it is somebody saying that. A woman’s voice.”
“Maybe it’s me.”
Dick laughed. Elsie hit him on the shoulder. He said, “You can’t be everything. Anyway, this was a voice I don’t know. Maybe just a thought. The idea of the place, some place I’ve never been. Looked like pictures I’ve seen of fjords. I was in a skiff. I wasn’t rowing, I was standing in the stern looking forward, but she was somehow moving up the fjord. The water was calm. The hills were steep, covered with trees, came right down to the water. There was this breath of wind; maybe that moved the boat. Maybe the voice was mixed up with the wind.” He let out a long breath. “Mostly when I dream, something’s wrong and I got to fix it. But every so often I get this calm dream.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. You want me to tell you what I think this dream’s about?”
“I guess you’re going to.”
“It doesn’t exactly defy interpretation. Your boat sticking out in front of you, sliding into this lush fjord.”
Dick held his hand up, thumb and forefinger apart, maybe measuring the distance between two stars. He said, “So you figure you get to be the fjord. I was figuring it was just me finally getting to take a vacation.”
“No reason it can’t be both.”
Dick let his hand fall. “Trouble is, you’re not some far-off place I’ve never been to. You’re here. You’re part of here; we’re part of here.”
“Yes, I am,” she said. “We are.” She held his shoulder and kissed him. She let herself roll onto her back. “I’ve thought that all along. The way we know things. The way you know the sea, the way I know the woods, the way we both know the salt marsh. The way we live in the natural world. Our sense of—”
“That’s not what I was getting at. Okay, we both get out in what you call the natural world, but we live in South County. It isn’t some big city, everyone coming and going, everything up in the air.” Dick blew out a breath. “Forget the big city. What the hell do I know about that? I know the people here; we both know the people here. We’re in Eddie’s backyard.”
“Eddie. I wouldn’t worry—”
“No. It’s not just Eddie.”
Elsie said, “All right, then. May.”
“I won’t say anything about May. But it’s something else. I haven’t got to it yet.” He closed his eyes, took a breath. “It’s Rose. I’m kind of an awkward father, anyway. May and Rose get along great, Mary Scanlon and Rose get along great, you and Rose … I hear you scrap some, desn’t mean you don’t love each other.” Dick touched her head, slid his fingers through her hair so gently she was surprised when he said, “But I don’t think any of you women spend a minute thinking about Rose and me.”
“Of course we do,” Elsie said. “At least I do.”
Dick said, “You don’t need to jump. Far as I’m concerned, it’s just as well. Suits Rose and me fine. After I made that miscue, told her she’d get thin if she took up rowing … Rose came around. Not right away. Said she wanted me to go out in her skiff with her, teach her stuff. We went out a lot, still do often enough. We don’t make a secret of it. Just that nobody notices.”
“Well, I’m glad. I want things to be good between you and Rose.”
“Now you show up and it’s like I’m being tumbled by a wave. I’m not saying I haven’t thought about it. I have. I do. And okay, right now we’re drifting in that fjord, and you’re saying, ‘Everything’s all right.’ But in just a bit we’re going to get in my truck and I’m going to drop you at the bottom of your driveway because Rose might be waiting up for you.”
“Rose is doing her play. And afterward she’s staying to eat something. She won’t be back for quite a while.”
Dick shook his head. “I’m not just talking about where Rose is right now. I’m trying to say—”
“Well, yes, of course. This isn’t something Rose should have to think about. No one should have to. Just you and me.”
“I’m talking about me. When I see Rose it goes fine, but it’s not that often, so I feel kind of fragile.”
“And you think I’ll make you more fragile?” A bubble ran up her spine. Elsie found herself sitting up. “I see. I’m one thing, then I’m another. I show up looking amazingly like the girl of your dreams but it’s just a spell and there’s a flash, and presto change-o, I’m a terrible hag, I’m turning into the worst witch of all—Rose’s mother.”
“You can joke if you want—”
“No. That’s not what I want.” She turned toward him, leaning over him. “Where do you think Rose came from?” And then she said, “I want to be the one you feel fragile about. I want you to feel so fragile you’re in awe. You should be in awe. You should be in awe of the white streak in my hair; you should be in awe of how I fell out of the sky, of how I was falling all day today.” She lay back down.
Dick didn’t say anything. She said, “We were peaceful. Just now, just before.”
“I know,” he said. “I know.”
Elsie was dizzy and tired. She looked up. The stars seemed to be receding in a slow eddy.
He drove her the whole way. When he turned into the driveway he said, “I guess it’ll be all right.” The house was dark. He saw her to the door but left the motor running. He said her name, but it was too dark to see his expression. He got back in his truck.
She’d made her headlong desire come true, but having seduced Dick, she’d seduced herself. She’d seduced herself into wanting more, so much more that she’d blurted out a terrible selfishness—“I want to be the one you feel fragile about.”
The taillights flickered as the overhanging brush popped back in place behind the truck. She leaned against the front door. So Dick thought Rose was an impediment. Of course, it wasn’t as if she didn’t know what he was talking about. Up in May’s field she herself had wished it wasn’t Rose who said out loud where Dick would be. Elsie felt dizzy again, more than with the simple tiredness that made the stars appear to swim away and up.
chapter eighty-six
Jack buzzed the kitchen on the intercom and asked Mary to come up to his office.
He was sitting at his desk, his head propped on one hand. He got halfway to his feet and then plopped back down. He looked a mess. His shirt was wrinkled, his hair sticking out, a bit of white stubble on his face, one cheek dark red. He leaned it on his hand so heavily it squeezed one eye shut.
He said, “She called me a shit.”
Mary sat down.
“She’s never said anything like that. I don’t mean …” He waved his hand back and forth in front of his face. “Of course, in a trivial way. But she said it deliberately. With due deliberation.”
Mary had thought it might be Elsie; now she realized it must be Sally.
“She never said anything like that before. When she was angry at me about Jack Junior, she yelled and cried, and that was understandable, that was a mother’s fear. But this is all about something she doesn’t understand. I thought she was listening; she sat there as if she was listening—I grant you, it’s complex—but without any regard for what I was saying, she said, ‘You are a shit.’ ”
It crossed Mary’s mind that “due deliberation” didn’t fit with “without any regard for what I was saying,” but the man was at a loss. She shook her head and sighed.
She also wondered how she came to be Jack’s confidante. If he had only her, God help him. She said, “Had she been traveling all day or anything like that?”
“No,” Jack said. “She just drove from Boston. She was perfectly calm when I showed her the drawing of the boardwalk to the nature sanctuary. She even said she was glad Eddie Wormsley got the job. It was when I turned the page and was explaining the new map … I was pointing to it and I heard her suck in her breath, and I turned and she said it. I said, ‘What?’ and she said it again.”