by Ed Griffin
Frank blinked and pushed his glasses on tighter. Who was Gilmore to be telling him about morality? But wasn't it true that he was attracted to Latisha? No room for that thought now. "She and I are friends, Gilmore. We work together, which is more than I can say for you, working that is."
"I work as much as your wife works, Villa."
Frank stopped. An expression of Doc's pounded into his mind. "Don't get into a pissing match with a skunk." That's what he was doing. He turned around and left.
He needed to do something to stop Gilmore. But what?
* * *
When Frank left the Sea Otter and started back up to his office on Bering Hill, the rain had changed to a low black cloud that discharged a cold mist over him. It was like a funeral pall, which was appropriate for what he had been doing all evening - announcing death. The cloud hung so low he felt he could push through it. He stretched his right hand out as far as he could as if to touch the cloud, push it aside or puncture it. But he couldn't. The pall of death and depression hung over Adak and he could do nothing about it.
In his office he flicked on his portable radio to get the weather forecast. It was 11 PM and he supposed he should go home. It was only a few steps away.
Bubba Jones, a former inmate himself, delivered the weather from Dutch Harbor, Alaska:
"Here's the bad news for all you new families on Adak. The last half of October looks pretty bad. As usual for this time of year a low pressure system has settled in, northeast of Adak and, folks, it's gonna sit there! That means a mixture of rain and snow. The temperature's gonna drop and the wind's gonna howl a little faster. But if that depresses you cons on Adak, here's Elvis and 'Jailhouse Rock' to remind you of what you left."
The weather fit his mood, but at least Bubba was fun. He seemed to have made a good adjustment after prison. He did the weather every night.
Frank got up and stared out his window into the darkness as if to confirm the weather. There was a loud knock at his door. "Yeah," Frank called.
Joe Britt came in and, without any introduction, said, "It's Amy O'Donnell. She's dead."
"Who?" Had Joe said Amy O'Donnell? Five children under ten, the woman Latisha was worried about?
"Skeeter's wife. She's got all them young children."
Frank grabbed for his chair and sank into it.
"She hung herself in the garage. Her oldest boy found her."
Death was winning. The low, black clouds were pushing them all, one by one, into the grave.
"Skeeter?" Frank asked Joe. "Does he know about this?"
"No," Joe answered, "he's in Gilmore's bar." Frank heard the judgment in Joe's tone. Skeeter - and Gilmore - were responsible for Amy's death.
"The kids?" Frank asked.
"Maggie's looking after them."
Frank got up. "Let's go get Skeeter."
Frank walked back down to the Sea Otter with Joe. Walking next to the big man made Frank feel that maybe a big man like Joe could push aside the pall of death that hung over the island. He put his hand on Joe's arm. "Stop a minute."
"Yeah?"
Frank hesitated. "Nothing. I'm just glad you're with me, Joe."
"Yeah."
When they arrived at the Sea Otter, they found Skeeter in the bar, his head down on his arms. "Skeeter, Skeeter," Frank prodded him. "Skeeter, wake up."
"What the fuck do you want, Villa?"
"It's your wife."
"What about my wife?"
Here he was, announcing death again. "I'm sorry, Skeeter, your wife died. She hung herself. Your son found her."
Frank watched the message sink through several layers of alcohol. Finally it seemed to reach the man. "Where is she?"
Joe answered. "Doc took her down to the clinic for an autopsy."
"My kids?"
Thank God he was sobering up. "Joe's wife is with them. You better go to them."
Skeeter left and Joe and Frank walked back up to Bering Hill. As Frank was about to go into his apartment, Joe handed him a diary. "I found this right beneath Amy. She must have dropped it."
Frank took it and went inside. Judy came out of the bedroom holding her wind-up alarm clock. "1:15 AM, Frank. A new record."
Frank shook his head. "Don't, Judy. I need to talk. Amy O'Donnell - she's dead."
"The one with five kids? Dead? How?"
Frank took off his wet parka and hung it by the door. "Suicide." He held up the book in his hand. "This is her diary. Joe Britt found it by her body."
"It's no wonder. All those kids and I heard her husband was playing around with one of Gilmore's women."
"Yeah and Skeeter's a drunk."
"I heard all about the three men killed trying to escape."
Frank shook his head. "Terrible day."
She wound the alarm clock a little tighter. "I tell you, Frank, this may have looked like a good idea, but it's not working out, this community of yours. I…I certainly don't want to spend the rest of my life here. I mean, I'm just thinking."
He stood there, passively. She was talking about leaving him. Time for his prison response: take blow after blow and just stand there.
She pointed to the clock. "I'm going back to bed. If you're hungry, there's some chili in the fridge."
He got out the chili and warmed a saucepan of it on the stove. As he ate, he read some of Amy's diary.
Saturday, September 8.
Landed on Adak today. Oh Skeeter, it's been two years! We're a family again! I'm glad I came. Never mind what Doctor Arlan said about my stress levels.
Sunday, September 9.
It's very windy here. The whole house shakes. Skeeter says the Navy used to call it "the birthplace of the winds."
Monday, September 10.
After work, Skeeter went to Boss Gilmore's bar for a drink. He hasn't changed. He still doesn't understand what being left alone with small children means.
Michael has a cold. When is it going to stop raining? Three straight days of rain. I want to scream.
Frank read on. How all the kids got colds running out to the outhouse. How she began using buckets and had to haul them outside. How Skeeter spent more and more time at Gilmore's. How he probably had a woman there.
Friday, September 21.
The teacher called this morning. Michael wasn't in school. I called Britt, the cop. I was worried sick.
After four hours of looking, Britt found him in the old ski lodge on Mt. Moffett.
Skeeter got home late again and we fought. I said no more Boss Gilmore's bar and he said no more complaining and bitching and he'll stay home.
I feel terrible. It's all my fault. I've been crabby. It's this weather.
Tuesday, October 2.
Skeeter spends all his time at Boss Gilmore's now. He says I complain too much. I told him if I don't get some relief, if the sun don't shine, I'm going to kill myself.
It wasn't only the men who needed help here. This poor woman needed someone to talk to, someone who would have heard her say she was going to kill herself, someone who would have taken her seriously.
He got up and washed out the saucepan, then sat back down and lit a smoke. Was Judy really thinking of leaving? He was a failure - as a leader of people and as a husband.
He read on.
Saturday, October 6
Saturday night and I asked Skeeter to take me out. I had Maggie Britt all set up as baby sitter. Skeeter never showed. He went straight from work to Gilmore's. When he got home, I said I was horny and would he give it to me and he said he was too tired. I know he's got somebody at Gilmore's. Skeeter's never been tired in his life!
Frank looked up and gazed out the darkened window. A lot of what was wrong with this place could be laid at Gilmore's door.
Tuesday, October 9
My mother's birthday! Always a bright sunny day in Buffalo. Here it's terrible, wind and rain! Sarah and Dawn are home today from school and I have a cold again. I'm going out of my mind! Everything is wet! My life is caring for children and tryin
g to dry clothes. I'm sick of it.
My period came and I had terrible cramps. Crippling. It's this place.
Thursday, October 11.
It's 9:00 at night and Skeeter isn't home. Jo Ann told me she heard by the grapevine he's got a woman named Lori down at Gilmore's.
It's really all my fault, because I'm always bitching.
It's raining outside. The wind is howling. I can feel the cold wind coming in through a crack in the window behind me.
I'm tired. It takes too much to fight this place.
10:00 PM. No Skeeter.
Good-bye Michael and Sarah and Dawn and Ruth and Billy. I love you all very much.
Frank put his cigarette out and lay the diary down. He got up, turned out the light and stood by the window, looking out into the darkness. He fingered the medallion which he still wore around his neck. What have I done, Rudy? I have let a weak, sick woman come here. A place with the worst weather in the world. A woman with an inadequate, drunken husband.
An inadequate husband. Could Judy say the same thing?
Chapter 24
Latisha first heard about the three men dying from Gilmore. "The fools set off in a small boat and ran right into the Coast Guard," he told her. She accepted that story until she went to work the next morning and heard all about Gilmore sending the three off to 'probe' the Coast Guard.
Then she heard the tragic story of Amy O'Donnell. She'd asked Gilmore before about Skeeter. "He can't hold his liquor," is what she got for an answer. Certainly Gilmore had to realize the implications of his round-the-clock bar and his whore house.
No, whatever the comfortable rules between them had been in their early marriage, she had to have a talk with him. He had to make a decision - her or his 'enterprises.'
She went to the little funeral service at noon on Friday, even though she worried that the three widows might somehow associate her with their husbands' deaths. Doc picked a hillside overlooking Kuluk Bay, "so as they can see the mainland far off in the east." Skeeter and the five children buried Amy at the same time. Nobody said anything against Latisha, in fact, the three widows seemed glad she came. But all through the service she thought how Gilmore's actions had directly influenced each death. Of course he wasn't responsible for Skeeter's drinking and whoring, but it was Gilmore that provided the alcohol and the women. Yes, the three had foolishly confronted the Coast Guard, but whose idea was it to test the possibilities in the first place?
He had to change. If he didn't, she'd be on the plane going back when the new convicts came.
Friday after work she and Maggie cooked dinner for the O'Donnell children and put them to bed. When Latisha got to her apartment in the Sea Otter she tried to wait up for Gilmore, but she fell asleep. Early Saturday she went to work for a half day in the factory. They had no chance to talk.
At noon, when the factory let out, Gilmore waited for her outside in an old Ford that had replaced his first car on Adak. "Come on, fine lady. I've got a surprise for you."
"What? This car? Gilmore, we have to talk."
"We will. Let me show you something first. Not this car. The boys just fixed this up for me."
"What then?" No doubt it was some new sex show or some new way to make money.
"Come on."
"No, Gil, tell me first."
"Listen, fine lady, it's something good."
She got in the car. "Tell you what," he said. "Before I show you, why don't we take a walk down to Finger Bay? It's not a bad day."
She looked at the sun peeking through the clouds, shining on Kuluk Bay, making it sparkle in the distance. Drops of moisture glistened on a patch of tundra grass near the car. She'd been inside all week. It would be great to go for a walk.
"Who are you meeting there?"
"What do you mean?"
"You never go anywhere without meeting someone."
"Latisha. It's just you. Just you."
All right, she thought. Maybe we'll find a quiet place on Finger Bay to talk.
He turned the key in the ignition. What was he up to? He knew she liked nature here on Adak. She'd mentioned it often enough. Could he just be doing something she liked? It didn't sound like him.
Unlike the first car he had, this one started. "I went to the funeral yesterday," she said, looking over to see his reaction.
"Uh-huh."
Dodging, delaying, trying to figure out a response.
"It was very sad."
"Latisha, do you know that those three shot at the Coast Guard? Fired a bazooka at them."
She knew that. But who set the whole thing up? No way he was going to accept responsibility.
As they drove along, an eagle swooped across the road right in front of them. The wings must have stretched for six feet. The bird was graceful, yet she could see the power in its claws, its wings and its strong head. It joined other eagles who sat on an old telephone wire.
The eagle was clear, definite. It flew from here to there. How unlike the eagle Gilmore was.
Gilmore drove down the road toward Finger Creek until they reached the creek from Lake Leone where he parked the car. Then they hiked along the rugged trail to Finger Bay.
Latisha smelled the musty tundra grasses and delighted in how the sun made them glisten. A pair of eagles swooped overhead and followed them along the trail. Why had she so foolishly lived her life in houses and buildings, she wondered. Nature was so wonderful.
When they reached Finger Bay she saw the ruins of a cannery and a line of old cottages. The bay was a narrow, long 'finger' of the ocean. Its mouth was very narrow, barely big enough for a fishing boat. The still water reflected the sharp angles of Razorback Ridge, just to the south of the Bay.
Latisha gazed up at the ridge. No trees or shrubs set it off. It was all sharp corners, juts of rock and, at the top, a narrow ridge. This was a land of stark contrasts, of rock and water, of yes and no.
"We have to talk, Gilmore."
He pointed to the cottages. "President Roosevelt stayed in one of those in World War II."
"I said we have to talk."
He took her hand. "I know, fine lady. But can it wait, until my surprise? Why can't we just enjoy this day?" He extended his hands to the sky. "Can you believe it, the sun?"
The clouds had blown away. In a little over a month on Adak, this was the first day she could remember a perfectly clear sky. It was great to feel the sun on her skin.
They walked along the shore. He asked her about her job in the factory and how she was helping Frank with all the paperwork. He seemed genuinely concerned about her. He made jokes about putting a golf course on the shores of Finger Bay. "We only charge on days it rains."
It was like old times, easy, casual, fun, and humorous. But was she being manipulated? Was he dodging the serious talk?
After about an hour, he put his hand on her arm. "Now for the surprise. Come on."
"What?"
"You'll see."
"Gilmore, I'm not kidding. We have to talk."
"Just let me show you this and then I promise, we'll talk."
They hiked back to the car and drove to Downtown, where he turned down the first side street after the Sea Otter, the Amulet Housing Area. She knew a lot of his people lived here. Squat barracks-type houses lined both sides of the street. He waved at a group of people who had rigged a barbecue over an oil drum. He kept going until he reached a house on the right side of the street, a house that looked exactly like all the others, a dull white box set back thirty feet from the road. "This is it," he said.
"This is what?"
"Our house. The boys just finished it this morning."
"Gil," she said. "A house!"
He unlocked the door and she stepped inside. Someone had just painted the small living room. Their clothes and personal belongings were piled neatly in a corner. She took a few steps into the house. There was a small kitchenette, a bathroom, two bedrooms, and the small living room, standard for an enlisted man with a family. Every room shone with fr
esh paint. Windows sparkled, free of mold and mildew. A new rug with an Inuit design covered most of the living room floor.
In the kitchenette her mother's big skillet hung on a heavy-duty hook next to the stove. The bathroom was painted the light pink she always said she liked in their first apartment.
And where had he found the Danish modern furniture she so fancied? Even the curtains were what she would have picked.
The whole house smelled of strong soap and fresh paint.
She returned to the living room where he waited. "I hope you like it," he said. "It's the best Adak has to offer, short of building something new."
"It's really nice, Gil."
The house was perfect. He knew her well enough to translate her dream into reality. Not a palace. Not a big mansion. This is what she wanted, a little house, a little family, a member of the community.
She sat down on the couch and motioned for him to join her. What a magician he was. But she couldn't allow herself to be diverted. "We have to talk," she said.
He sat down. She took his hand and held it. "I like what's happening here on Adak," she began. "There's a lot of hope. People are really trying. They're trying to lead better lives. I…I just can't take anymore of what you're doing."
"What do you mean?"
"You're dragging this place down. Your bar, your women, your escape attempts."
He got up and stood by the front window, facing her. "Latisha, I'm dealing with these guys realistically. They're convicts."
"They're human beings. Villa respects them."
He swallowed, like it was difficult to talk. "Are you in love with him?"
She clamped her teeth together. The man was so frustrating. "Can't I have an opinion without it being tied to my emotions? You know, Gilmore, women as well as men have brains."
"I know, I know."
"And I asked you a month ago to get rid of that animal you keep as your muscle."