An Island Between Us

by K'Anne Meinel

  “Of course, he is, and Brenda too,” Marion indicated his sister, and he scrunched up his nose at this news. “Where else would you go?”

  “Grandma said we can stay with her, if we want,” he told her, and Marion was furious at her mother-in-law, putting such ideas into the impressionable children’s heads.

  “Nope, you’re coming with me and Barbara, and we are going to Maine,” she told them firmly. While telling Barbara that tale later, she became angry all over again.

  “Don’t worry, we will be out of here soon, and they can’t do anything about it,” she consoled, holding Marion close. She knew people didn’t understand. Some were envious of the apparent freedom the two women enjoyed and the adventure they were embarking on. Others were afraid of the additional responsibility they were taking on, or in some people’s minds, the irresponsibility. She would be glad to get away and start again.

  It was Brent who found a boat they could use. It was from a postwar fire sale and a real beauty. It cost more than they had been willing to budget, but he pointed out they would need it when they had cabins to rent and wanted to ferry people over from the mainland. He went with them and the children as they drove up from Boston to look it over.

  “It’s still seaworthy. I even used it in the lakes,” the man told them heartily, appealing to Brent, who, while young, was male.

  Marion and Barbara both climbed all over it, inspecting the Runabout that was larger than some they had seen but would seat eight comfortably and was big enough to carry the supplies they were going to need. Its seats were chewed up from mice getting into the cushions while it was stored during the war, but this allowed them to talk him down on the price. After he took them out in the boat, they realized the engine seemed strong and dependable. He’d already sold the trailer for it, so they would have to drive it home by water.

  “How are we going to drive that all the way up the coast?” Marion lamented.

  “I’ll drive it,” Brent offered eagerly.

  “Can I go?” two eager young voices asked immediately, and the women smiled at the two young boys.

  “No, I will drive it, and Marion is going to drive the car,” Barbara told them firmly, settling it for everyone. When Brent tried to argue, she stopped him with, “Mother would kill me if something happened to you.”

  They arranged for the title to be turned over to the women, and they would pick it up in a week from the man’s dock. They drove home towards Boston, and the children peppered them repeatedly with questions until they finally fell asleep from the long drive.

  “You’re really going to do this?” Brent asked, enviously. He knew his mother thought there was some man involved and Barbara was moving off to go live in sin. He alone knew his sister was a lesbian and in love with Marion, who was a beautiful girl. He could have gone for her himself, but she was in her twenties and too old for him, had been married, and was obviously in love with his sister, if anyone cared to look.

  “We sure are going to do this,” his sister assured him as she drove the Ford truck south across Boston and then west towards the village.

  “I want to come out and help this summer,” he stated for about the sixth time since they had told everyone they were selling and moving.

  “That’s between you and Mother,” Barbara told the eager teen. She knew how hard it was to be around her mother. Her mother was the reason she had married Albert...to escape. Albert hadn’t been a great husband, but he had given her Richard, and for that alone she was grateful. She was also grateful that he had left her adequately provided for by buying G.I. Insurance, despite being a poor soldier. Then, he had gone one step further and bought life insurance that had enabled her to survive until she found the mill job that barely supported them. After meeting Marion and pooling their resources, they had made the poor decision to sell their homes and live in an apartment together. They assumed the banks would again give them home loans, not realizing the men in their lives were the reason the loans had originally been granted. One banker had bluntly told Barbara if she wanted a home loan, she would have to find a man to marry. She’d been very angry about that.

  Finally, they were all packed. Brent had gone with them to Sears to buy supplies they needed to pack in the trailer, which was already bursting at the seams with things they wanted for their island. Sleeping bags, cots, lanterns, shovels, rakes, saws, gas cans, candles, everything they needed to build a cottage or two was shoved into that trailer. Barbara even found a used book at the store that was entitled, ‘Living off the land,’ and gave detailed instructions on how to garden, raise chickens, cows, and other livestock. She sent away for a book on how to build a cabin, reading it voraciously and understanding little of the finer points. It was Marion who read it with ease and comprehended all the detailed drawings.

  “I’m just a big ox, what do I know about building a cabin?” Barbara lamented, feeling useless in this endeavor.

  “You are not,” Marion insisted, outraged that she would demean herself so. “You are just better at other things.” She gave her a book called, ‘How to run a small business,’ and was delighted when Barbara enjoyed it and understood what she was reading. She was secretly glad that Barbara liked doing the bookkeeping in their household and eagerly anticipated her doing the same for their business.

  “You don’t know anything about pioneering and living off the land. You are going to starve my grandchildren, and I should set the police on you!” Brian’s mother declared. That was when Marion stopped talking to her. Her mother-in-law eventually did try...she sent over a busybody social worker, who hadn’t been allowed into the apartment as it was in disarray with the move. After that visit, they moved up their moving date by a week, quit their jobs, which they were thrilled to do, and gave notice to their landlord.

  “You won’t be welcomed back with all the boys back from war and looking for jobs,” their supervisor warned them. Truthfully, he was sorry to see these two women leave. They’d been some of the hardest working dames he had ever met; however, with the boys back from overseas they were more likely to hire a man over a woman.

  They left without fanfare, not telling the family their departure date to avoid further admonitions about how terrible their decisions were. They drove away from the village with three excited children in the back seat of the Ford truck, pulling their own trailer and loaded down with their belongings. The back of the truck was filled with foodstuffs they could have obtained in Maine, but they knew things would probably be higher priced there. They stopped about an hour up the coast after driving through Boston in order to get their boat.

  “You be careful and stop frequently for gas,” Marion warned Barbara, worrying about the fact that she was going to be out on the open ocean while driving the boat up the coast.

  “I will, Mom,” Barbara teased, trying to alleviate the worry she could see on her partner’s face. God, she loved this woman. She could have had any man she wanted, if she had tried. Amazingly, the woman loved her in return. She couldn’t believe her good fortune.

  “We should ride with you, Mom and keep you company,” Richard told his mother importantly.

  Barbara smiled at her eight-year-old son. “Nope, I need you to help Marion,” she told him with a finality in her voice that brooked no interference. She knew this wasn’t a pleasure trip she was taking. She took the full gas cans with her, just in case. They had purchased life preservers, which were tucked away under the seats, her own near enough at hand to grab if she needed it. Marion looked at her worriedly but waved as Barbara cast off and headed north along the shore—far enough out that she wouldn’t encounter rocks or reefs but close enough to keep the land in sight. There would be parts of Maine where she would head across open water to avoid the many inlets and islands. She was planning on stopping to sleep later that night and hoped to be in Franklin by late the next day, if they started out early in the morning. She had on long johns, dungarees, and several layers of thick, flannel shirts that she had kept that belonge
d to her husband. Her hands were encased in gloves, and she wore a knit cap.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Marion drove carefully towards the roads that would take her north to Maine. The maps gave her confidence, but she knew it would be at least a three-day trip, and she was grateful for it. This trip would take her well away from her in-laws, who had tried to prevent her leaving. Since they had left earlier than planned, she hoped to have a couple days lead before they sent anyone after her. She didn’t know why they felt they could interfere, and she was more angry than scared. That busybody social worker had fully believed her mother-in-law’s claim that she would be harming the children by taking them into the nether regions of Maine. As far as Marion was concerned, it was none of their business. She knew they felt obligated to look out for Brian’s children, but she felt she was a better parent to them than they had been to Brian or his brother, Jeff, and she knew what was best for her own children.

  Barbara knew this wasn’t a pleasure trip, but she couldn’t help but be excited as the wind whipped past her face. Eventually, the wind caused windburn on her face, and her cheeks were soon rosy red and chapped. She was glad for the gloves, the hat, and the layers of shirts she had worn because it was cold on the water. She had a marine map, which showed the land as almost blank and had all sorts of lines showing longitude and latitude as well as reefs, underwater shelfs, and other nautical things that she didn’t quite understand. She was enjoying the challenge and used the first of the gas cans when she ran out of gas before finding a place to refuel the boat. So far, nothing had gone wrong, and she could only hope that the boat would withstand the long trek up the coast. The owner had been enthusiastic about it, but as she looked at the chewed seats, she had to wonder how well he had taken care of the boat. At one time, it had been a beautiful boat, but now, it needed a good cleaning. Barbara longed to clean and shine her up. but that would have to wait until they got everything going on the island. Meanwhile, she could buff and polish the area around the steering wheel, and she did just that as she drove along. Seeing other boats, she waved and began following when several headed inland. She was hoping to find somewhere to gas up. She filled the tank as well as the one gas can she had used before heading out again. She repeated that same thing several times during the day, topping off the tank before stopping for the night in a little town that had rooms for rent above a noisy, little pub that served excellent fish. She wasn’t bothered by the fisherman, who ate alongside her and drank hearty drafts of locally made beer, but just in case, she locked her door and tilted a chair against the door handle before getting out of her many layers of clothes and taking a hot bath in the discolored tub. The heat of the water made her sleepy, and she quickly got ready for bed. She worried about Marion and the children but knew her partner was equally worried about her. There was no way for them to contact each other, so they both had to hope for the best until they arrived safely at their destination in Franklin.

  Marion hadn’t expected the trip to go smoothly, not while pulling a trailer and having three children along. She was also worrying about Barbara...out there on the ocean, anything could happen. They’d discussed it many times in the weeks preceding the move and decided there wasn’t anything they could do if they were to remain independent and make their dreams come true. Their families’ responses had proven they felt they had the right to control them. No one knew, or so they thought, what they really meant to each other, and they didn’t want to be pressured to remarry. There were several single men available in the village and in Boston that either of the women could have taken up with and eventually married, but neither of them was interested. No one would understand that, so it was best they pursue their own dreams.

  Marion got a flat tire on the trailer about three hours out of Boston, but Barbara had put a spare tire on the front of the trailer just in case of such an incident. With the help of the two eight-year-old boys, who felt they knew more because of their maleness, it took longer for Marion to change the tire on the heavy trailer than it should have. Still, she maintained her patience with the boys, proving that a woman could do as much as a man, and she had the flat patched at the next gas station when she stopped to fill the tank in the truck.

  They each used the filthy gas station bathroom because Marion warned them they weren’t going to stop again until they needed gas. The children ate sandwiches at midday from the basket Marion had packed as she continued to slowly make her way north on roads that had seen better days. Hopefully, now that the boys were back from the war, many of these backwoods’ roads would be fixed. In the days before interstates even existed, many towns and counties only haphazardly maintained their many dirt roads. Someday, Eisenhower, who was impressed by the German roads and infrastructure, would implement such plans across the United States; however, this was well before that time, and Marion cursed under her breath repeatedly as she hit bumps or potholes in the roads on her way north. She wished she could have taken the ferry again, but the weight of the trailer and truck wouldn’t have been allowed on board.

  There was the flying ferry, but again, the weight of the trailer would have cost them far too much. Those kinds of luxuries would cater to the very people they hoped to attract when they were up and operational on their island. She thought about that and really didn’t have any idea how to appeal to those people. She was pleased that Barbara liked the book she had given her about marketing their business and hoped she would handle that part of the business for them. Her mind didn’t work that way, and she had a few moments of panic thinking about it. Instead, she was concentrating on the other side of their business, building the very cabins they would make money on. She hoped she had gathered enough know-how from her reading to do a decent job. She didn’t want to do it haphazardly and have them ultimately fail. All their money was in this dream, and while it frightened her at times, it also excited her.

  The children loved the novelty of sleeping in a hotel, and although the rooms were only reasonably nice and they had to share two twin beds, they managed. She bought fruit, bread, and meat at the market to make their lunch for the following day before getting back on the road. The children were getting antsy with all the time spent in the car. Their noses were pressed against the windows watching the endless sea of trees going by, and they left finger and nose prints behind as evidence. Several times, Marion had to back up when she got onto the wrong road or was given wrong directions. It led to a frustratingly long day as she headed deeper into the wilds of Maine. She knew they would have a second night at a hotel with the children—they had planned for that—but she hoped they would meet up in Franklin on the third day. She feared she wasn’t going to make it with all the dips and curves and backwoods roads she was driving on, so she was grateful when she finally hit Route 24, which started in Brunswick and should take her northward to Calais. When she saw the turnoff for Moosehead Lake, she didn’t take it. She knew that would have taken her too far inland. She continued along the coast, stopping that second night in a small, seaside village whose name she couldn’t remember. They didn’t have a place where families could eat together, so she left the boys guarding their sister in the small room she had rented for the night while she went to get them hot meals from one of the local bars that served food.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Neither of the women had planned for an extra day’s travel, but they realized if something happened to one or the other, they wouldn’t know until they didn’t show up in Franklin where they planned to meet.

  They didn’t know it at the time, but they both stopped that third night mere miles apart, a small finger of land separating the tiny, anonymous villages they chose. Both worried about the other, but there was no way to send word and alleviate their worry. They could only hope when they got to Franklin the other would be waiting for them.

  Marion arrived first, pulling up to the dock they had purchased. It looked even more rickety than she remembered, but maybe that was because of the weather, which was cold and choppy.
She turned the truck around and backed up to the dock, not trusting the weight of the trailer on the wood and stopping just short of the dock.

  “Is this it, Mommy?” Brenda asked, sounding very young and a little scared. She had become very quiet on the long trip north.

  “This is the dock where we are meeting Barbara,” she told her daughter as the boys piled out of the truck. “Stay close,” she warned them, “and don’t go near the water!” That was just what she didn’t need—the kids getting a dunking on a cold day. The boys promptly ignored her warning and headed out on the dock, intrigued by the screaming gulls, the water slapping against the wood, and the various boats out in the bay.

  “Where is Barbara, Mommy?” Brenda asked plaintively, her seven-year-old voice grating on Marion’s nerves. Where was Barbara, indeed?

  She smiled warmly at the child, not wishing to worry her as she contemplated what she would do. It was already late on the fourth day, and she had expected to find Barbara here waiting for her. “Oh, she’s on her way. She’ll be here in her own time.” She hoped she sounded convincing; she tried to be even for her own sake. She looked at Richard, Barbara’s son, who towered over her own eight-year-old. It was hard to imagine that they were the same age. She had seen pictures of Barbara’s husband, and he had been a big, burly man. It was no wonder he and Barbara had produced a large child. Still, the boy showed no signs of fat; he was just tall and solid. He was also probably one of the kindest children she had ever met.

  “Hey, can I help you, ma’am?” someone knocked on her window as she sat there watching the boys out the side-view mirror on the passenger side of the car. She jumped a foot before rolling down the window. “Sorry, you must have been lost in thought.” The man grinned.

  She laughed, nodding. “I was. I’m waiting for a friend to arrive with her boat,” she confessed as Brenda leaned forward, looking at the strange man curiously. “Have you seen a boat parked along here?” she pointed back to the dock.