“Telegram for Mr. Aryl Sullivan,” a young, uniformed messenger announced.
“That’s me,” Aryl said. The boy handed him a paper and lingered for a tip, but Aryl had none to give. He mumbled a thank you, closed the door, and began reading the telegram.
“Who’s it from?” Claire asked, turning on the overhead before standing beside him.
Caleb had ignored the interruption altogether, not caring if President Hoover himself were knocking, he refused to move one inch from Arianna.
Jonathan still held Ava close, although they had stopped dancing, and an ominous feeling came over him as Aryl looked at Claire, his brow furrowed.
“My uncle died,” he whispered and looked back at the telegram to read it again.
“Oh, Aryl, I’m so sorry,” Claire said.
He sat down at the table numbly, still holding the telegram. They all knew how close he had been to his uncle, growing up. Jonathan turned off the radio. Claire and his friends surrounded him as the sweet and romantic evening turned very somber. Aryl absorbed the news in silence. He held his head in his hands and sighed repeatedly.
“You need to go back for the funeral, Aryl,” Jonathan said, breaking the silence.
“No.” Aryl shook his head. It was obvious he was fighting tears as he cleared his throat. “That would throw our plans off. We only have two weeks left. We can’t get off track now.”
“It can still happen. We’ll figure it out,” Jonathan tried to sound assuring.
“It’s too close and you know it, Jon.”
Jonathan looked down, knowing Aryl was right. There was no way they could replace train fare and one week missed wages in the time before taking over the building. Arianna nudged Caleb to get his attention and he followed her out the door.
A few minutes later, they rejoined the others at the table.
“Aryl, you need to be with your family. I want you to take these,” Arianna said, holding out a small velvet bag. “They should be worth enough to get you to Rockport and back, maybe with some left over.” Aryl took the bag and out fell two diamond earrings. “They weren’t listed on the insurance paperwork when we left. We were saving them for an emergency.”
“Arianna, I can’t take these–”
“You can and you will,” Caleb ordered.
“You have a baby to think about. You should use this for him,” Aryl said insistently and pushed the bag away.
“Believe me, Aryl, we think about the baby plenty these days,” Caleb said. “It’ll be fine. Go home and say goodbye to your uncle. For all of us,” he said. He held the bag out until Aryl reluctantly took it from him.
“Thank you. Both of you.” Aryl gave a weak smile through sad eyes with gratitude.
“See if you guys can get out on the train tomorrow. I’ll talk to Roman on Monday,” Jonathan offered.
Ava looked at the faces of her friends. Just moments ago, everyone was blissfully happy and wrapped in the arms of the ones they loved. Now there were sad faces and heavy hearts. She looked at Jonathan and remembered his words. Things can change in the blink of an eye. She reached for his hand and held it tightly. Aryl thanked everyone for coming and thanked Caleb and Arianna again for the earrings.
When the door shut behind them, he walked straight to the bedroom and lay down in the dark. Claire followed, nestling in next to him. He took a deep breath and exhaled hard, unable to hold himself together any longer. With a hard shake, he pulled Claire to him and cried soft, uneven sobs into her shoulder.
February 16th 1930
The train pulled into Boston a half-hour early. Aryl glanced around, looking for his father as he helped Claire down the step.
Walking over to the bench near the ticket office to wait, Claire gasped when Aryl unexpectedly grabbed her by the waist and pinned her against the wall. Just as Claire was about to scold him for embarrassing her with such an outward display of affection in public, a group of drunken and raucous servicemen bantered past, knocking everything and everyone out of their way.
She smiled up at him. “My hero.”
Aryl decided to take advantage of the situation and stole a kiss.
“You kids and your lewd behavior,” Aryl’s father chided from a few feet away.
“Hey, Pops.” Aryl turned to his father with a grin.
“Hello, son.” He hugged him briefly and then turned his attention to Claire. “How’s my favorite daughter-in-law?” he said, grinned and hugged her.
“I’m your only daughter-in-law, Mr. Sullivan.”
“Not for long.” He turned to Aryl but kept an arm around Claire’s shoulder. He stopped and cleared his throat. “Your brother and his gal are at the house, so try to act surprised when they tell you.”
“I will. How’s Mom?”
“She’s good. Been cookin’ for two days straight. Lots of people have been by. Well, you know how popular your uncle was.” Aryl nodded again as a lump rose in his throat. “I’m wishing now that I hadn’t sold the larger house. The cottage is about to burst. Well, I better get you home soon, or your mother will skin me. She’s so excited to see you, both of you. It’s been a long time.”
Aryl picked up the bags and followed his father, who still had an arm around Claire. He threw the bags in the backseat of the rusty Model-T Ford and climbed in, insisting Claire take the front.
“You don’t mind if I hold your girl’s hand on the way home, do you?” Michael Sullivan teased. Aryl winked at Claire, happy that his parents and wife adored each other the way they did.
His father filled him in on the goings on of Rockport and Pigeon Cove on the drive home: who had married and who now had children, who were involved in the latest scandal, the businesses that had gone under, folks who had lost and suffered because of the crash.
“Of course, we heard about it here when it happened. It was all the talk in the shops and down at the marina. Took a couple months to start feelin’ it, though.” He took a deep breath. “But I heard the news say it’s turnin’ around. Things should be lookin’ up here soon. Heard the President talkin’ on the radio the other night, said the economy is fundamentally strong and it’s startin’ to rebound. It can’t get much worse.”
He continued on listing friends that had had to leave to find work in the city, and some that didn’t want to leave were living two and three families to a home.
“Folks that fared the best owned what they have. Seems like everybody on earth had something wrapped up in that market. I’m real grateful I built that little cottage, and this old clunker is paid for.”
Aryl knew all too well the direct effects of the crash. His father didn’t know the extent of their hardships. Claire had censored letters somewhat, so they wouldn’t worry.
Aryl took in the familiar scenery as his father talked, and he realized how much he’d missed the sound of his voice, the boisterous laugh, and the northeastern accent that sounded like home. When they got within a few miles of Rockport, Aryl’s mind flashed through dozens of childhood memories and the antics of the Terrible Trio as his father had nicknamed them. Aryl waited for his father to take a breath, so he could interject.
“How are Caleb’s parents?”
“Oh, all right, I suppose. Saw his father a few weeks ago at the hardware store. Come spring, your mother’s going to put in a bigger garden. He’s sellin’ off some of his animals, wants to make room for more crops. I don’t suppose he and Caleb ever got past him selling his grandfather’s farm. I didn’t want to bring it up.”
“No. They haven’t.” Aryl turned toward the scenery again. “They haven’t talked in several years. How about Mr. Garrett?”
“Jon, Sr.? He’s doing good, I suppose. I see him every now and again. He got hit hard, you know.”
“No, I didn’t know.”
“Yeah, he doesn’t talk about it much, but that fancy car they had is gone, they’ve got an old clunker like this now. Rumor mill says he invested all his money with Jonathan, and when he tanked so did his father.”
“I’ll have to stop in and see both of them before I leave.”
“How long can you stay? You didn’t say in the telegram.”
“Probably mid-week. I can’t miss much work.”
“Oh, yeah, tell me about your new job. Did Jon start a new business already?”
“Not exactly. But we are looking into some real estate.” He was surprised at his embarrassment and didn’t offer any more details of how he earned their meager living. He was grateful when his father changed the subject.
“How are Jon and Caleb? Haven’t seen them in years. I’ll bet you three are still riveted at the hip.” His full laugh filled the car.
“We are. They’re good. Can you keep a secret?”
“Aryl, you know I can’t.” The old man’s eyes twinkled.
“Well, I’ll tell you anyway. Arianna is expecting.”
The car almost swerved off the road as he craned his neck to see if Aryl was joking. Claire let out a yelp and grabbed the dashboard.
“Whoa, Pops, keep it on the road, would ya?”
His father steadied the car. “Sorry, son, it’s just, that’s some news.” He glanced back at him several times. “You’re serious.”
Aryl laughed. “Yes, I’m serious.”
“Well, nothing against Caleb, you know I like the boy. And I guess I like that wife of his all right, but she just has a cat-like way about her, and it just always seemed to me that she’d be the kind to eat her young if she were to ever have any.”
“You’d be surprised at her transformation, Mr. Sullivan. It’s really been amazing.”
“She has suddenly become very maternal,” Aryl added. “And I’ll admit it is strange, but it’s a good thing, I think. For both of them.”
“Well, Caleb’s not too happy at the moment,” Claire whispered under her breath. She forgot that Aryl’s father had acute hearing.
His face was suddenly concerned. “He’s not happy about the child? I always pictured Caleb wanting a whole houseful of children.”
“Oh, it’s not that, it’s just . . .” Aryl searched for the right words. “Okay, Pops, let me ask you something.” Claire turned around with wide eyes as Aryl proceeded to explain what Arianna was led to believe in rather blunt language and then, to Claire’s undying mortification, asked him if it was true.
He laughed so hard the car swerved again.
“Son, if that were true, you’d be deaf, dumb, and crippled!” He howled with laughter.
Aryl smiled and patted Claire on the shoulder. “Told ya’ so.” Her face was blood red, and she refused to look at either of them.
∞∞∞
“Here we are.”
Aryl saw the little white cottage with several cars parked outside, and it suddenly weighed down on him again why he was here. He stepped out of the car, and the first things he noticed were the salt air and the seagulls calling in the distance. Claire waited patiently for him to open her door. One of the few rules Aryl had laid down for Claire, early on, was that she was never to touch an automobile door handle.
∞∞∞
Kathleen Sullivan had her back turned when Aryl walked into the kitchen. “Hey, Mom.”
She spun around, already smiling.
“My Aryl.” She grabbed him in a tight hug. “I’m so glad you could come.” She stepped back to get a better look at him. “Well, now, what have you been doing with yourself? You’re as solid as a footballer!” She patted his shoulders and chest.
“Just working.”
“Well, you look wonderful, son. Where’s my Claire?” She looked over his shoulder and saw her, standing in the doorway.
Aryl stepped aside and Kathleen grabbed her adopted daughter in a strangling hug. “I’m so glad you could come, Claire.” She finished her sentence in a whisper, “I know Aryl will need you through this.” She pulled back to examine Claire more thoroughly. “You’re too skinny,” she said decidedly. “How are ya going to carry and nurse my grandbabies as thin as ya are?” She turned to Aryl, who was grinning at Claire’s growing embarrassment. “Speaking of which, Aryl Sullivan, just where are those grandbabies? She can’t do it all by herself, you know.” Claire turned red again and excused herself in a fluster.
“C’mon, Mom, now you’ve embarrassed her,” Aryl scolded, but not truly angry.
“You mean to tell me after almost five years with you, she hasn’t loosened up at all?”
“She has, in her own way. I’m fighting years of ingrained training regarding proper behavior.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s a work in progress.”
She smiled and patted his face. “You’re a good boy,” she said quietly.
He noticed the prominent gray at her temples, sprinkled throughout her curly brown hair; signs of aging that he hadn’t noticed when she had visited them in New York just over a year ago. Fine lines had turned to deep wrinkles, and there was a slight hunch to her back causing her to appear a few inches shorter. She had lost weight and appeared more fragile than he remembered. One day, he would have to come back here for her, but he couldn’t think about that right now.
“What’s wrong, son?” She read the troubled look on his face, and then shook her hands in the air and squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m sorry. For a few moments, I forgot this wasn’t a reunion for joy.” She looked toward the living room. “Have you seen all the family we have managed to cram into this living room?”
“I noticed them on the way in, but I wanted to see you first.” He smiled.
“Well, why don’t you find that ever-blushing bride of yours, and go visit with your brother? And act surprised when he tells you his news. I know ya father already spilled the beans. Dinner will be ready soon.”
“Don’t you need some help, Mom?” Aryl looked around the kitchen at the piles of food already on the counters and in the process of being prepared.
“I like staying busy. If I do, I'll call for Claire and see about embarrassing her some more.”
“Mom–”
“I’m teasin'. Now go see ya family.”
“Thanks, Mom.” He kissed her on the forehead.
∞∞∞
Aryl found Claire in the garden behind the cottage. “It’s starting to get dark.” He swung open the whitewashed, garden gate. “Are you going to come in and see the family or hide here in the garden?” he teased.
“I forgot how forward your family is.” She looked slightly apologetic. Her ears and cheeks were still slightly flushed.
“Not forward really, just relaxed.” He took her hand as they started to walk around the garden. “You always get used to it after a few days, remember? Soon you’ll be joking right along with them. I’ve seen it a dozen times.”
“I know,” she said quietly. “Your parents look good.” She tried to extend the small talk before going back inside.
“They’re getting older.” He looked at all the work that needed to be done in the yard. “Their swing is broken.” He dropped Claire’s hand and walked over to look at the old, framed swing. “My father built this swing when I was a little boy,” he said, smiling as he recalled the story his father had told him a hundred times. “The story goes, she was very busy with two small boys, and he had to spend more and more time fishing to support us, they started growing apart. Bickering and fighting a lot. So, my father spent an entire weekend building this.” He lifted the broken chain and examined cracked slats on the seat of the swing. “When it was finished, he dragged her–almost literally, out to sit with him every night after Liam and I were put to bed. After a few silent, awkward evenings, they started talking and, little by little, things got back to normal. And they’ve sat together every night the weather's allowed.” He unhooked the chains and heaved the heavy bench closer to the tool shed in the yard. “I’ll fix this before I leave.” He set the bench down and held out his hand.
“Will you build me a swing?” she asked as she took his hand.
“I have plans to do better than that. I’m going to build you a lighthouse.”
&nb
sp; “How on earth are you going to do that?”
“I don’t know just yet. But I will.”
∞∞∞
Back inside the house, hugs and handshakes went around the crowded living room as Liam pushed his way to the center of the crowd, pulling a young woman behind him.
After a quick hug and back slap, he proudly introduced her to his brother. “Aryl, this is Sarah, my fiancé.”
Aryl did a good job of looking surprised. He congratulated them both, welcomed Sarah to the family and then introduced Sarah to Claire, who instantly recognized the air of distinction about Sarah. She was from money, no doubt.
“We should all go out for an evening while you’re here,” Liam suggested. “Show Sarah the roaring nightlife in Rockport.”
“I don’t know that we can stay that long. But we’ll definitely spend some time together before I leave. We should do a bonfire on the beach. Like old times.”
“It’s awful cold for that,” Liam said. “Why not go to dinner and a show?”
“A bonfire sounds wonderful! We could bundle up,” Claire said. She knew Aryl’s hesitation wasn’t so much about time as money.
“That might be fun, actually,” Sarah agreed. “Primitive, but fun.”
Once again, the light mood was brought down when Kathleen opened the door to a delivery boy, who handed a stack of programs designed and printed for her brother-in-law’s service the following day. She reached for her purse, but the young boy stopped her.
“Mr. Greene said no charge. He sends his condolences.”
“Well, you go back and tell him thank you and to come eat with us tomorrow evening,” she said and smiled gratefully. She held out a dime for a tip.
“No ma’am. I can’t take that. Not for a delivery like this.” He tipped his hat and ran off quickly.
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