The Cove

by Hautala, Rick

  Not so long ago, Ben thought, that would have been me and my friends.

  He took his time studying her, and the more he looked, the more he liked what he saw. She had a long neck, and his eyes kept drifting down to the roundness of her breasts beneath her purple t-shirt.

  “So,” he said, wanting to break the silence before it got awkward, “Why’d you pick me up?”

  When she smiled, thin lines creased her face, bracketing her mouth. An angle of sunlight hit her face just right, making her brown eyes gleam.

  “Like I said — I heard about you around town, and I wanted to meet you.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  Her directness took Ben aback. For a moment, he gazed straight ahead, letting what she’d said sink in.

  “So what did you hear?” he asked.

  Julia let out a low chuckle and said, “A lot.”

  Ben froze, wondering if Julia was aware of the rumors about who really was the father of Kathy Brackett’s child. Sweat broke out on his brow, and he wiped it away with the flat of his hand.

  “You mean all the war hero bullshit?” he said and quickly added, “Pardon my French.”

  “I believe the French word is ‘merde.’”

  They both laughed at that, and Ben found himself liking her all the more. Her casual openness was refreshing.

  “So you must have heard the stories about Capt’n Wally, too, huh?”

  “Some,” Julia said. “Sounds like quite the character.”

  Ben snorted and said, “You don’t know the half of it.”

  “You’ll have to tell me.”

  Ben shook his head.

  “My old man’s got an image around town he’s got to maintain. My advice is, in a town like this? It’s a good idea to take everything you hear with a few pounds of salt.”

  Julia nodded but said nothing. They drove a while in silence, each of them casting surreptitious glances at the other when they thought they weren’t looking. Usually, it took less than ten minutes to circle around The Cove and get to Huckins Wharf, but with all the traffic and pedestrians, it was going to take the better part of half an hour. Ben decided to break the awkward silence.

  “So, are you married or seeing someone?”

  “’Seeing someone.’ That’s a quaint way to put it.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that. I mean are you — you know, involved in a relationship. Married? Kids?”

  Julia laughed and, shaking her head, said, “Not exactly.”

  Ben wasn’t sure how to take that, but he noticed how she gripped the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned into white half-moons. He was confused by her reaction.

  “’Not exactly’ leaves quite a bit of wiggle room for interpretation.”

  “I’m sure it does,” Julia said, still not answering his question.

  Ben couldn’t explain the sudden feeling of what could only be called jealousy that swept through him. Here he had been with this woman less than ten minutes, and already he felt possessive about her. The only thing to do was change the subject to something a little less edgy.

  “So tell me — what are some of your impressions of The Cove so far? Moving here before winter starts doesn’t strike me as something any sane person would do.”

  Again, Julia gave a short laugh that Ben found impossible to decipher.

  Was she genuinely amused by the discussion, or was there some underlying bitterness that irritated or pained her?

  “People are friendly enough, but they’ve never seen me as anything more than a summer person. Even though I live here now, I don’t feel like I’m really home.”

  “And never will be,” Ben said, smiling sympathetically. “Your family has to go back at least two or three generations for that.”

  By now, they had reached the top of Martin’s Hill, which overlooked the harbor. Ben glanced down the slope at the boats anchored there. He couldn’t see Huckins Wharf, so he didn’t know if Wally had already tied up at the dock or was still out on a test run. He didn’t see the Abby-Rose, out beyond the headlands.

  Before Julia turned to start down Main Street, Ben reached over and tapped her on the shoulder. When she glanced at him, he pointed to a small white building on their right. A sign over the twin garage doors read: Catawamkeag Cove Volunteer Fire Department.

  “Pull in there.”

  She shot him a questioning look.

  “We can walk down to the wharf from here. That way, if you want to bug out early, you won’t have to deal with much traffic.”

  “Good call,” Julia said. She drove to the back of the parking lot, where it turned from asphalt to dirt, and parked at the edge of a small bluff looking out over the town. Dust swirled around the car as she killed the engine.

  “Nice view,” she said, narrowing her eyes as she took it in.

  The bluff looked out over the rooftops of a few homes and some fishing shacks lining several stone wharves in the cove. To the left was Main Street, lined with shops and restaurants. Beyond, lay the ocean. Sunlight glittered and flashed on the water where, off in the distance, the Abby-Rose had cut a wide circular arc and was heading back to the dock.

  Ben smiled at a private memory and said, “Back when I was in high school, before the town put the new fire station here, this was where couples would come to go parking.”

  “Parking … How quaint,” Julia said.

  Ben couldn’t tell if she was mocking him or not. Her laugh certainly sounded a bit sarcastic, but a sad wistfulness in her eyes softened her expression.

  “So … you wanna go down and mingle with the locals?”

  For several seconds, Julia was silent, looking like she was debating what to do next. The corners of her mouth twisted down, and he thought her eyes had a wild look, like an animal that had been cornered.

  “We don’t have to,” he added. “If you don’t want to.”

  He tensed, wondering if she was going to ask him what else he might have in mind, but then she pulled the keys from the ignition and opened her door.

  “Don’t you have to show up? After all, it’s your dad’s big day.”

  Ben shook his head as he started to get out of the car.

  “Every day is my old man’s big day.”

  The party on Huckins Wharf was already in full swing by the time Ben and Julia started working their way through the crowd. He stopped now and then to talk with someone he hadn’t seen since before he left for Iraq, making sure he introduced Julia to everyone he spoke with. It surprised him how he felt as though they were already on a first date and reminded himself not to presume anything.

  There was plenty of free food and drink. Ben got a beer for himself and a rum punch for Julia. She made a joke about how it was only natural to drink rum while hanging out with a gaggle of pirates. Ben smiled at that and wondered if she realized how true that was, but he didn’t say anything.

  “You must have the magic touch,” Julia said, leaning close and whispering into his ear. The warmth of her breath against his skin excited him.

  “How’s that?”

  “Everyone’s being a lot nicer to me today than they usually are.”

  Ben shook his head, not wanting to unload on her about how petty the locals could be.

  “It’s all a show. The minute our backs are turned, I can guarantee they’ll —” He caught himself before he said what he had been about to say and finished lamely, “I’m sure they’re already wondering about us.”

  Julia smiled as if at a private joke, but her smile suddenly froze and then melted when a voice boomed behind them.

  “Well, well, well — lookie here. If it isn’t the war hero.”

  Ben recognized the voice immediately and winced. He turned to face his brother-in-law, Tom Marshall, who was striding toward him. When he was close enough, Tom leaned forward and gave Ben a hearty clap on the shoulder that was hard enough to knock him off balance.

  “How’s it hanging there, Gunner? Low and loose and full of
juice?”

  “High and dry and waiting to die,” Ben replied, falling instantly into an old high school routine. Tom had been a year behind Ben in school, but they hadn’t really been friends, even when they were on the basketball team Ben’s senior year, when the team made it to the state semi-finals. Of course, now that Tom was married to Ben’s sister, their relationship had changed. He had to be nice.

  “You here to party, or are you working?” Ben asked, indicating Tom’s uniform.

  “Pulled a day shift this week, so I thought I’d swing by ’n make sure you folks kept things under control. No open alcohol containers and all.”

  “We’ll have none of that,” Ben said, smiling as he raised his bottle of beer and took a drink.

  “Glad to see you’d never do something like that,” Tom said. He grabbed Ben’s bottle, took a swig, then handed it back to him. Ben quickly wiped the mouth of the bottle with his palm. Tom looked at Julia as if seeing her for the first time. His eyebrows closed together as he frowned and said, “So … who’s this?”

  “Friend of mine,” Ben said. “Tom. Meet Julia. Julia. This here’s my brother-in-law, Tom Marshall. He’s married to my sister. Speaking of Louise —” Ben looked around, scanning the crowd. “Have you seen her?”

  “Not since back at the house,” Tom said. Shadows filled his eyes, and he looked away.

  People laughing and talking were gathered around the tables spread with food — hot dogs, hamburgers, every kind of salad imaginable, and chips and salsa. Others milled around by the dock. The loud rumble of the Abby-Rose’s engine drew everyone’s attention down to the floating dock as Wally, smiling broadly, pulled up and cast a line ashore. A young boy on the dock caught the line and quickly tied it off.

  “Well, I ’spoze I ought to mingle,” Tom said. “Catch yah later.” He hesitated, then looked at Julia and said, “Pleasure to meet you.”

  “Likewise,” Julia said, but Ben caught the frosty tone in her voice. It would be hard not to.

  ”You’ll have to fill me in on what’s going on over there in Iraq,” Tom said, slapping Ben on the shoulder again. “You gonna be down to The Local later tonight?”

  “Probably.”

  “I’ll be there. I get off at six. A lot of people will wanna see you. Valerie Foster was asking for you.”

  “Really?” Ben cast a quick glance at Julia. He certainly didn’t want her to think he might be hoping to have something better to do tonight than be with her. “We’ll see.”

  “Hope to see you around, Miss Meadows,” Tom said, nodding stiffly.

  He walked away, his arms and shoulders swinging back and forth with an arrogant swagger he seemed to adopt only when he was wearing his uniform. Watching him leave, Ben couldn’t help but think about a line in a Kurt Vonnegut book he’d read overseas about how you knew you were getting old when you realized you’re being ruled by people you went to high school with.

  It was only when they were walking down the gangplank to the dock to get onto the Abby-Rose for a little cruise around the harbor that Ben wondered if he had ever told Tom Julia’s last name was Meadows. The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced he had introduced her simply as Julia.

  Chapter Three

  The Local

  Wally was certainly in his element, laughing and cursing in equal measure as he headed the boat out with a load of people for a little cruise around the harbor. The ride was much more pleasant than Ben had anticipated, but it was easy to see why. He thoroughly enjoyed being in Julia’s presence, and he found himself drawn to her all the more.

  She certainly was attractive enough. Beautiful, in fact. Her long, dark hair blowing in wild tangles in the wind mesmerized him. And he loved the way she smiled all the time, exposing wide, gleaming white teeth. Her lips were full with a hint of lip-gloss. He kept finding himself imagining what it would be like to kiss her. He couldn’t understand why she wasn’t already involved with someone else, but he was glad of that. Maybe she had avoided his questions because she was on the tail end of divorce or a bad relationship. It certainly was easy enough to pretend they already were a couple, and he was sure that’s exactly what anyone who saw them together would think. That made him feel good.

  Julia had a natural grace and an engaging personality. But she also was a bit reserved, and she seemed reluctant to insert herself into the conversation whenever Ben reconnected with someone he knew. That suited him just fine. He sensed her feelings of isolation from the townspeople, and he shared them, maybe more than he cared to admit. He winced whenever someone called him by his nickname, “Gunner.”

  As the boat rounded the headlands and headed down along the coastline, he found himself thinking how natural he and Julia were together, like they had known each other long before today. He stood as close to her as he could get, his hands braced on the railing, allowing the jostling of the boat on the water to let his shoulder brush against hers from time to time.

  She didn’t seem to mind.

  If anything, she moved a little closer so their arms were touching. He was impatient for the boat ride to end so he could get her alone.

  Jesus, stop it, he cautioned himself. You just met the woman, but he was already making plans for once they got back on land and she told him she had to leave, he was going to ask when he could see her again. He certainly got the vibe that she would be open to that. She actively engaged him in conversation whenever he wasn’t talking to old friends, and she seemed genuine when she laughed at his witty remarks and observations.

  Ben had to admit that it felt good to be back out on the water, too … especially after breathing the hot, choking dust and fumes in Iraq for the last few years. When Wally took a hard turn, the people at the back of the boat got hit with a cool, salty spray. Everyone laughed, but Ben was thinking how after being in the desert for so long, the open ocean was a true miracle of nature.

  He and Julia stood together at the stern of the boat as it skipped across the water, leaving behind a smooth wake that folded back into the shimmering surface. Leaning close so she could hear him above the throaty rumble of the engine, he pointed out various landmarks — small islands where he and his high school friends used to go to hang out, or coves and points on the mainland where he or someone else — usually a drunk fisherman — had done something so foolish it was amusing.

  Capt’n Wally slowed the boat as he came around to pass another lobster boat on the port side. Gulls swirled around the boat like a white tornado, looking for any chum that might fall into the water. A large golden retriever was standing on its hind legs, its front paws up on the gunwales as it watched the passing boat. The lobsterman — a grizzled, white-haired old coot — wearing a black rubber apron, barely looked up from his work baiting a lobster trap as he raised one hand and pointed in their general direction.

  “That’s as much of a wave as you’ll ever get from old Peggy.”

  “Peggy?” Julia said, raising an eyebrow. They had to bring their heads close together in order to hear each other. Ben had to resist the almost overpowering impulse to kiss her right then and there.

  “Short for ‘Peg-Leg,’” he said with a wide smile as they left the old man behind, his boat rocking in their wake.

  Julia laughed and said, “Do I need to point out to you that both words have two syllables? So ‘Peggy’s’ not really short for ‘Peg-Leg.’”

  “’Course it is,” Ben said, smiling broadly. “It’s one word instead of two.”

  Julia almost laughed.

  “So how’d he earn his name?”

  “Lost his leg in a boating accident. It was dense fog one day, and he was out lobstering, drunk as a skunk, and he ran aground. His leg got cut so bad the doctor had to take it off to save his life.”

  “My God,” Julia muttered.

  “And his dog? What’s his name?”

  “Fred,” Ben said.

  Julia eyed him as if she thought he was making another joke, but Ben nodded and said, “Seriously.”
>
  “A guy named Peg-Leg … Peggy … in a town filled with people who have colorful names, and his dog is named Fred?”

  “Ole’ Fred’s got better sea legs than half the town, too,” Ben said. “Funny story about Peg-Leg. When ole Peggy’s sober — which isn’t very often — he’s the nicest fellow you could meet, but once he gets a skin-full, he can be a real ‘bastid,’ as they say. One night he got to drinking, but he ran out of booze. He was going to drive to the liquor store out on Route One, but his wife wouldn’t hear of it. Turned into quite a ruckus, I guess, and she ended up taking his artificial leg and hiding it along with his truck keys.”

  “No way.”

  “She told him when he was sober enough to find his damned leg and keys, he was sober enough to go get more booze. Supposedly, he even tried to get Fred to fetch it for him, but Fred was having nothing to do with it.”

  “You’ve got to be making that up,” Julia said, looking at him with a twisted half-smile

  “Absolute truth.” Ben raised his right hand as if swearing in a court of law. “There’s lots more stories even worse … or funnier, depending on your point of view.”

  Julia was silent as she watched Peggy’s lobster boat recede in the distance.

  “Stick with me, kid,” Ben said, “and I’ll tell you stuff you wouldn’t believe in a million years.”

  “So let me guess,” Julia said. “Your nickname is ‘Gunner,’ right?”

  Ben paused, avoiding eye contact with her for a second or two, and then nodded slowly.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Your friends have been calling you that all day, so it wasn’t hard to figure out. Is it because of Iraq?”

  “Not really,” he said, still terribly uncomfortable with this topic.

  “So what’s it mean?” Julia asked, still looking at him with wide eyes. She either didn’t get or was ignoring his discomfort. “Did you always go hunting or was it because you — well, you always wanted to be a soldier or something?

  Ben said nothing.

  “You must like to shoot things, then,” she said. “Do you hunt?”