They arrived at Grand Central Terminal a good while before their train’s scheduled departure, unloaded the trunks, and waited while Jonathan bought six one-way tickets. Everyone was excited and talkative except Caleb, who was rehearsing his first words to his father in his head and had to be reminded to stop pacing.
Arianna noticed women as they passed in fashionable dresses, salon-styled hair, and luxurious furs. She was self-conscious, as she looked over herself, dressed plainly in a red, gingham dress with the sides let out for her growing stomach, flat shoes and a black wool coat.
Aryl pulled Jonathan aside. He recounted the events of his recent trip; shared details about the service and funeral, news about family and friends, and the town’s changes in the last several years. He talked of all the things that hadn’t changed; the people, the sound and smell of the ocean, the gentler pace of life than what they were used to. Jonathan became more anxious to leave as the echoing noise of the station grated on his nerves.
“Let’s go get some lunch,” Jonathan suggested. They waved to the others as they went to get sandwiches. Aryl bought two apples and Jonathan’s mouth watered. It had been at least two months since he had eaten fresh fruit. He hoped his mother still had her garden and looked forward to the farmers market he remembered from childhood. He planned to eat a quart of strawberries and a case of apples the first chance he got. Jonathan passed out small, overpriced sandwiches and caught a glimpse of Aryl as he dropped the apples in Arianna’s handbag when she wasn’t looking.
The platform was growing more congested, and the group stayed huddled together as they waited for passengers to disembark the train.
“Excited?” Jonathan asked Ava quietly.
“I am. I just wish–”
“I know. Me, too. But I promise we’ll bring her out. It’s not goodbye. It’s goodbye for now,” he reminded and pulled her under his arm as people pushed and shoved past them.
The whistle blew and the conductor announced the time and destination, stepping aside as people shoved onto the train. Jonathan stopped to let two older couples board ahead of them. As someone nearly bowled Arianna over, he caught her before she went sprawling and put her in front of him. He turned around and grabbed Caleb by the front of the coat.
“I know you’re wrapped up in having to deal with your dad, but that jackass nearly knocked her to the ground. Wake up and take care of your wife,” he yelled and pushed him back a couple of inches with irritation. Caleb was wide-eyed and alert now. Jonathan turned to board the train and someone pulled at the back of his coat. He spun around and his face lifted in surprise. Ava pushed past him with outstretched arms.
“Maura!”
“Ye dint think I’d let ye leave town without sayin’ goodbye, now, did ye?” She hugged Ava tightly with tears in her eyes.
“Ian said you were gone the whole week,” Ava squeaked.
“Well, the missus’ wee one got sick, and she wanted him to see the doctor here in town. We just got in this marnin’, and when Ian told me ye were leaving, well, I had him bring me here as fast as he could. Looks like we’re just in time.”
The whistle blew again, the platform crowd now thinned and the conductor announced last boarding call.
Ava didn’t want to let her go. “Promise you’ll come see me. Promise?”
She pulled away from Ava and held her face. “I promise, love. You’ve not seen the last o’ me.” Ava reluctantly stepped away, wiping her face and Maura reached for Jonathan. “Ye take care of yourself, Mr. Jonathan.”
“Thank you, Maura.” He hugged her briefly.
As the whistle blew one last time, the train lurched forward and slowly began inching along the track. Jonathan lifted Ava up into the door. He hopped up to the first step and held the railing as he turned, the train moving slightly faster now. He reached in his pocket and pulled out the cross, holding it up for Maura to see. He called out over the loud chug of the steam engine. “I’ve carried it every day, Maura.”
Tears blurred her vision and she bit her lip. She waved briefly before turning to Ian.
∞∞∞
Jonathan waited until the city was well behind them before he walked back to the smoking car. He sat down, lit a cigar, and watched the scenery as it passed. Caleb joined him a few moments later, sitting silently. Jonathan leaned to hand him a cigar.
“I’m sorry to get on you like that back there, but she almost got hurt.”
“No. It was called for. I wasn’t paying attention. I’m glad you were.” He puffed on the cigar and sat back.
“It’s not just with Arianna.” Jonathan looked at him gravely. “I need you to be alert and focused all round. What we’re about to do.” He exhaled and shook his head. “It isn’t going to be easy. In fact, it’s crossed my mind that we might be crazy.”
“Well, I could have told you that,” Caleb said with a short laugh.
“In all seriousness, Caleb, we’re going to have to work night and day to make this happen. It’s going to take every ounce of energy and concentration, and I can’t have you distracted like this. Whatever you need to do to set things right with your old man, do it, and get it over with.”
“I’ve been thinking a lot about that.” Caleb rubbed his forehead in frustration. “I’m hoping that the baby will be somewhat of an icebreaker. Maybe soften him up a little.”
“I’d have a backup plan in your pocket just in case. Look, I was talking to Aryl last night. If it gets too bad, we think you should get a place of your own sooner rather than later.”
Caleb shook his head. “That wouldn’t be fair. We should all get set up at the same time.”
“You have different circumstances than the rest of us, Caleb. Think of–”
“If you say ‘think of the baby’, I swear, I’ll throw you off this train. You can walk the rest of the way to Rockport.”
“I was going to say think of what it will be like a few months down the road when your mother and Arianna have had nothing to do but bump around the same kitchen together.”
Caleb grimaced. “I see your point.”
“See your point about what?” Aryl sat in between them, holding his hand out for a cigar.
“How wonderfully Arianna and his mother will get along when they’ve had nothing to do but look at each other for weeks on end,” Jonathan said and grinned. Aryl laughed sarcastically as he lit his cigar.
“You’re some help,” Caleb grumbled and dropped his head in his hands. “What am I gonna do?”
“Manage as long as you can. If it gets to be too much, say the word and we’ll use savings to get you guys in your own place,” Jonathan said and removed the cigar from his fingers before Caleb set his own hair on fire. Caleb grumbled again.
“Either way, I’m stuck doing something I don’t want to do.”
Jonathan, to a certain degree, felt sorry for Caleb. But he knew he would come through this and with Arianna distracted, he may get the chance to wear the pants in their relationship for a change.
“It doesn’t matter what you want to do.” He leaned forward to Caleb's head, Aryl followed instinctively, both grinning. Jonathan continued, “What you need to do . . .” Aryl chimed in with him, “. . . is think of the baby.”
Caleb came up fast and shoved Jonathan hard, swearing under his breath.
∞∞∞
“I’m sorry, Caleb, your father couldn’t make it.” Aryl’s father shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away. “He sent his truck and hired hand to help with the trunks.”
Caleb looked at the shiny, black Model-T pick-up he had bought for his father a few years earlier. It looked as new as the day he had bought it, and he was glad he hadn’t gotten rid of it out of spite. Or necessity. “Your mom is real excited to see you. She said to tell you she’s putting the finishing touches on your room.” Caleb nodded an uncomfortable acknowledgment and Michael turned to Jonathan. “Your dad here yet?”
“Looks like he’s running a little late.” He checked the crowds and the
road. An old, decrepit vehicle pulled in and sputtered to a stop. His father and mother got out, spotted him immediately, and waved. Ava tugged on Jonathan’s sleeve.
“Why isn’t he driving the car you sent him?” Jonathan shrugged, although he had a good idea why.
“Jonathan, welcome home.” Jonathan’s mother hugged him and then Ava. “Your father and I were so happy to hear you were coming. We have a room all ready for you.”
“Well, we don’t expect to stay with you long. And we’re sorry for the short notice.” His mother waved off the inconvenience and grabbed onto Ava, leading her back to the car.
Aryl called to Jonathan and Caleb. “Monday, we’ll meet at Pigeon Cove marina at dawn.”
Jonathan waved as he and his father slowly walked toward the car.
“So, what’s your plan, son? I know you must have a few tricks up your sleeve, or you wouldn’t be here. I think it’s an excellent idea, by the way, to come back home and redesign your strategy. I’ve been talking to some friends in Boston. They are about to jump back in. There’s been a small but steady rise since Christmas, and they think it’s gonna take off like a shot come spring, and they’re going to ride it back up. Been dying to talk to you about how you’re going to get back in.”
“We’ll talk later.” Jonathan pointed to the car. “What happened to the one I had delivered last year? And what is that thing anyway?” He laughed at the shoddy relic his father drove.
“Well, I appreciate the thought, but that Tudor you sent me was breaking down left and right. I spent more time waiting for parts and having it fixed than I got to enjoy it. I bought old reliable here, a 1918 Tourer. Hasn’t broke down on me once.”
Jonathan looked over the open cab and tattered canvas top. “This can't do too well in the winter,” he assumed.
“Does just fine. We bundle up,” he said curtly and climbed into the driver’s seat.
Caleb and the hired hand loaded the trunks and drove carefully over the bumps and ruts of the gravel roads. They dropped off Jonathan’s trunk and then Aryl’s before returning to the farm. The hired hand chose to sit in the back where the trunks had been.
Caleb turned up the long, dirt road to his parents’ house, and a knot grew in his stomach. The burly farmhand hoisted the trunk by himself and carried it in the back door as Caleb’s mother directed him what room to put it in upstairs. When she turned, Caleb was in the doorway, Arianna holding open the screen door behind him.
“Hey, Mom.” He surveyed the room but saw no sign of his father.
“Well, don’t you look good!” Ethel hugged him and smiled over his shoulder at Arianna. “And you, too, but you’re way too thin!” She hugged her carefully and gave her stomach a pat. “Gonna have to fatten you up. Give me a few minutes to finish dinner. In the meantime, I’ll show you your room. You can get settled.”
They followed her upstairs to Caleb’s old bedroom.
“It’s all cleaned and dusted, and we brought grandma’s old bureau out of the barn and polished that up for you to use. The room is cold from airing out all day, but you can close the window, if you’d like. Of course, we’ll give it a good cleaning again before the baby comes.”
“Well, I doubt we’ll be here that long,” Caleb said, looking away from his mother. “But we appreciate you putting us up for now.”
“Well, we’ll see what happens. You two come down when you’re all settled, and I’ll have some dinner for you.” She turned to leave and Caleb stopped her at the door.
“Where’s Dad?” Her smile dropped and she looked apologetic.
“He’s out working in the barn. Said he’d see you later tonight or tomorrow.”
“I suppose nothing’s changed,” he said quietly, looking at the floor. She tilted her head to the side with a look of pity and put a hand on his cheek.
“It’ll work itself out, don’t worry. He’s just a stubborn, old coot. He was happy to hear about his grandchild, though. He started refinishing your rocking horse. Remember that?” Caleb smiled, recalling his favorite toy as a child. She left the room, closing the door behind her and they took a good look around. There was a full-size bed with an ancient quilt and basic metal frame centered along the wall. On the opposite wall set the old bureau, and on a side wall was a cabinet with a blue washbasin and pitcher.
“Well, it’s bigger than our old room–cleaner, too,” Arianna said.
“It’s pretty bad when moving in with your parents is a step up.” Caleb sat down on the bed and the old, spring frame squeaked loudly. “Great.”
∞∞∞
Jonathan noticed the things that weren’t there; the grandfather clock Jonathan had shipped to his parents from London, several pieces of art from Paris, furniture and souvenirs from his travels over the last few years. The entire house, in fact, was sparsely decorated and seemed almost hollow.
As his father helped him carry the trunk up the stairs, he was nervous, making excuses for the missing items before even asked: given to charity or broken or out being repaired or, Jonathan’s favorite, tucked away safe because of a rash of burglaries.
“Crime has gotten that bad in Rockport?” Jonathan asked sarcastically.
“Better safe than sorry, son.” He avoided his son’s eyes and set the trunk down carefully in the center of the room. He and Ava unpacked the trunk until his mother called them down for a late dinner.
His father passed the casserole dish and looked at Jonathan. “Did the house sell before you left, or is it still on the market? I know there are not a lot of buyers right now. Especially in the high-priced neighborhood you lived in. I hope you didn’t have to mark it down too much.”
“We lost the house, Dad,” Jonathan spoke numbly and didn’t look up.
“What do you mean you lost it? It was paid for!”
“I know.”
Ava only pretended to eat, glancing nervously from father to son as Jonathan continued uncomfortably.
“When everything shook out, I owed so much money to the bank, they took everything. My cars, house, firm, furniture. Everything. It was gone in an instant. And I still owe money.”
His father stared at him, dumbfounded. “Well, what have you been doing then? All this time?” Jonathan put his fork down, leaned back and crossed his arms. He had no desire to narrate the events from October to January; a period in his life that he would just prefer to forget.
“Haven’t you been getting Ava’s letters? She’s been writing, and I know she hasn’t been putting on airs about our situation.”
“Yes, we’ve gotten them, but there was nothing saying it was this bad. It sounded like you were on your way back up. Or at least working on a plan.” Jon Sr. looked at his wife, confused.
Ava’s mouth dropped and she looked at Jonathan. “But I told them exactly–”
“Mom?” Jonathan watched his mother as she nervously fidgeted with her silverware.
“It was that bad, Jon,” she spoke apprehensively to her husband as she explained herself. “I didn’t want to alarm you. I polished up what Ava was writing and added in a few things here and there, so you wouldn’t worry.” Jon Sr. threw his napkin on the table.
“Well, then, since I didn’t get the truth from my wife, why don’t you fill me in on what’s really been going on?” His father’s glare demanded an answer.
“After the crash, we only had a few days to get a plan together. All we had was the money in our wallets. Less than three hundred dollars between us. We’ve been living in a drafty tenement, and I’ve been working at a shipping dock. We were saving a down payment for an apartment building, but someone bought it out from under us while Aryl was back here last week for his uncle’s funeral, who left him his fishing boats in his will.” The condensed version was easier to speak of than he thought. His father took a few minutes to process everything his son had revealed. His mother still hadn’t looked up.
After an awkward silence, his father composed himself and spoke with authority. “Okay. All right, next week, you ca
n go with me to Boston. I’m meeting with some friends to discuss business. They’ve been watching the markets, and they’re almost ready to jump. We should get in on that. I have a little money saved. I'll give it to you to work that magic of yours. I know it would be hard for you, coming from being your own boss, but I’m sure one of my friends would let you in their firm with your track record and all, and you can work your way back up.”
“Dad, I’m not getting back in.”
“What do you mean you're not getting back in?” His father’s expression mingled wary and disbelieving.
“I mean, I’m not playing the game anymore. For a lot of reasons.”
“That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard.” He looked at his wife, bewildered. “Can you believe this? The talent he has and he’s just throwing it away.” She glanced briefly and uncomfortably at Jonathan. His father returned his eyes to Jonathan. “Just what do you plan on doing then?” He leaned forward over his plate, his ears growing red with frustration. Ava reached for Jonathan’s hand under the table, rubbing her thumb along the back, silently comforting and supporting.
“I just told you, Aryl’s uncle left him his boats. We’re going to do that.” His father looked like he had just been told a hilarious joke.
“Do what? Fish?” Jonathan stabbed at his casserole, his face growing ruddy with humiliation.
“Yes.”
Jon Sr. rubbed his face, agitated. “Well, that’s great. Just great. I kept you off those boats for a reason, Jonathan. There’s no money in fishing. No real money. Not like what you had. Do you honestly think–” he interrupted himself with a mocking laugh, “that you’ll get rich again throwing pots all day?”
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