by ML Gardner
She took his hand with a smile and stepped back inside. “I’d love to.”
November 1st 1930
Maura woke just after dawn. The bed was still warm where Ian slept and she hugged his pillow for a moment; it was heavy with the smell of him. He’d been working himself hard lately. Desperate to fill the pantry for winter and provide for them all the things they needed. He seemed tireless and lately, he and Jonathan both, worked every day of the week.
Wrapping her robe tight, she went downstairs to find Katie sitting at the table, sipping tea. Her carpet bag sat at her feet.
“Mornin’, Maura.”
“Mornin’, Mam. What are ye doing with yer bag?”
“It’s time fer me to go.”
Maura sat down at the table, more than a little shocked and accepted the cup of tea Katie poured for her.
“Go, where, Mam.”
“Home, dear. I catch the noon train, then the boat to take me home.”
“But you’ve barely been here a month. I thought you’d stay through winter, at least?”
“Oh, I couldn’t. What would yer sisters do without me?”
“They’re grown women. I’m sure they’ve been managing just fine.”
“I need to go home, Maura.”
“Well, what about everyone else? Don’t you want to say goodbye to them? Jon and Ava and Caleb…” She held her hands up in question. “Ye can’t just go disappearin’ one day without saying a proper goodbye.”
“They are your friends, dear. I’m sure they won’t be so broken up if I don’t run around with hugs and fond farewells.”
“But they like ye.”
“And I like them all just fine. And I leave them in your strong, capable hands.”
“I just think—”
“Maura, I came here fer one reason and one reason alone. That was to see ye back on your feet, body and spirit. Now that’s done, and I must go home.”
In Katie Mallory’s mind it was as simple as that and there was no arguing.
Maura smiled. “I’ll miss ye, Mam.”
“And I’ll miss you, too. But I’m sure you’ll be writin’ me those letters that give the postman a hernia and take me a week to read.”
“Of course I will.”
“I look forward to it.”
“How will you get to the train station?”
“I’ve called fer a car.”
Maura’s eyebrows went up in surprise. “Feelin’ fancy, are we?”
She grinned. “Gordon the dairy man is taking me. I hope the ride doesn’t reek of sour milk,” she thought aloud.
She sipped and, remembering something, set her teacup down.
“Can I ask one more thing of ye before I go, Maura dear?”
“Anything, Mam.”
She pulled her flask from her carpet back. “Do ye have a wee bit to spare? I’d like to start the trip full up.”
November 2nd 1930
Maura, Kathleen, Ethel and June arrived early at Jonathan’s house. They had scrub buckets filled with rags on their arms, and lots of gossip to pass the day as they worked. Their mission—to scrub the house top to bottom in anticipation of the new baby coming home.
No sooner had Jonathan opened the door, the gang of women pushed past him, cheerfully announcing their reason for coming and politely asking him to stay out of the way. He grinned, running his hands through his hair, helpless to stop them even if he wanted to. Still rubbing sleep from his eyes, he sat at the table with fresh coffee and opened the paper.
Jean, hearing all the commotion downstairs, woke soon after and padded down to see what was going on. He watched as the women bustled around the house, blinking owlishly and swaying slightly. He hadn’t rested well since the incident with Victor and slept with Jonathan while Ava was gone. He was a snuggler. Jonathan stretched his neck to each side to work out a kink. He wondered how someone so small could take up so much room, and made a mental note to talk to him about returning to his own bed, once Ava came home.
Jean drug his feet to the table and took a seat with a big yawn.
Before Jonathan could get up, Maura poured him a glass of milk and put jam on a piece of bread, setting it before him.
The women were bursting with energy. Jonathan and Jean were the picture of exhaustion.
Ethel and June, best friends for the better part of fifty years, chatted in the next room. Jonathan tuned them out for the most part, busy with thoughts and worries of his own, like the hospital bill that was due, until June said, “Oh, it’s so sad that Margaret isn’t here to see her first grandchild.”
Jonathan’s first reaction was irritation. Jean was Margaret’s first grandchild. Yes, he was illegitimate, but he was still the first. The next feeling was a returning stab of grief.
Reading him, as she was so good at doing, Maura turned from the sink. “Have you dealt with it, properly, Mr. Jonathan?”
He knew her meaning and he didn’t like the question. On more than one occasion people had mentioned, both to his face and behind his back that he wasn’t dealing with his parents’ death. That he had never dealt with it. He sipped his coffee and nodded without looking at her.
“Jean, why don’t you run upstairs and get dressed.”
Maura waited until after he was out of earshot. “I just worry is all. I care about ye, just as ye care about me. There’s been a lot happen in the last month and I don’t want it to all come crashing down on ye suddenly. Grieving them, that is.”
“It won’t, Maura. Thank you.”
“It just seems to me—”
“I know people mean well. I know you mean well. And I know that because I haven’t openly wept since the funeral, or talked about them a lot, people think I’m not dealing with it. But I am. I have.”
“Ye understand that it’s just fer love that we wonder?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Then will you share with me? So I can know and not worry.”
The house had grown quiet and he knew they were all listening, as old ladies liked to do.
“One of the last things my father said to me was that he was too old to live a life this hard. He had lost faith that things were going to get better.” Jonathan shrugged. “I can’t say I blame him. There’s not a lot on the horizon that looks promising. And, if I’m right, by the looks of things life is going to get a lot harder, before it gets better. I miss him, don’t get me wrong. Mom, too.” He blinked hard and readjusted in his seat. “I guess I would feel guilty if I cried everyday, wishing they were still here. It would be selfish to wish that. To have them struggling to survive with the rest of us when they’re better off…there.” He glanced up at the ceiling. “Peaceful and happy. No worries. No fears. It’s hard for me. But it’s better for them.”
Maura blinked away a few growing tears. “That is a very Jonathan way of looking at it.” She rose and walked over to him. “I can see now that ye have dealt with it and I will call the dogs off ye at once,” she said jokingly, planting a kiss on the top of his head.
“Thank you, Maura.”
“You’re welcome. Now, is there any chance ye can make yourself and Jean scarce for the rest of the day? We’ve a lot of work to do.”
“Actually, yes. We’re heading over to the hospital to see Ava. I think we might finally name the little girl today.”
Maura shrugged. “Caleb took a month to name his.”
“After that, we’re going out into the woods to practice shooting.”
“Oh, do try to get a deer!”
“Well, we’re just practicing, is all.”
“Well, if all you can get is a rabbit, I’ll make a stew,” Maura said.
“I’ll see what we can do,” Jonathan said, smiling as he left the kitchen.
∞∞∞
Jonathan set three tin cans on a log. He wanted to teach Jean with Caleb’s rifle first, thinking it more practical. There would be lots of opportunity, and need, to hunt food. Not so much opportunity, he hoped, for shooting someone at close range. However Jean ins
isted he learn the pistol first.
Jonathan taught him how to hold it, made him memorize the name of each part, and explained how it worked. He showed him how to handle it safely, load and unload it.
“Yes, but when can I shoot?” Jean asked impatiently.
“Alright,” he said, handing him some cotton for his ears. He knelt down next to him. “Hold it with both hands. Steady, now…level it and aim. Blow out your breath, count to three and—”
“POW!” The sound ricocheted through the woods. When Jonathan looked up, one of the cans were missing.
“I got it!” Jean yelled.
“You shouldn’t have done that, Jean.” He frowned. “You need to listen to me. If I’m going to let you do this, I have to be able to trust you.”
“But.” He pointed to the log. “I got it.”
“Yes, I see that,” he said with a sigh. “Beginner’s luck,” he added. It was impossible not to smile at Jean’s elated expression.
“I will listen, Dadee, I promise. Can I do it again? Please?”
“Alright. Do you want me to go through the steps again or do you remember.”
“I remember,” he said and raised the gun, closing one eye.
“Don’t close your—”
“POW!” The can flew off sharply to the left.
“I almost didn’t get it because of your talking, Dadee.”
Jean handled the gun as if he’d handled one all his life. He was comfortable and relaxed when he asked for permission to shoot the next can.
“Go ahead,” Jonathan said, standing to give him a little room.
He fired and Jonathan couldn’t help but be impressed.
“Three shots, three cans. And at a hundred feet, too. You might be a marksman in the making.”
Jean looked up at him curiously. “If three cans with three shots doesn’t make me one, what does?”
Jonathan laughed. “Let’s see if you can do it again.”
Jean set the gun on the ground while Jonathan searched for the cans. He found one but the other two were torn in half and he had to improvise with other things from the ground. A split log standing on end and a discarded paint can were his new targets.
“How about you move back a little?” Jonathan asked as he returned.
“How far?”
“About fifty feet.”
Jonathan carried the pistol and when they stopped, he handed it to Jean, who took note of how he passed it.
He followed the steps and just before he blew out his breath, he looked up at Jonathan. “You don’t think I can do it, do you?”
Before he could answer Jean fired, sending the paint can flying back.
Jonathan’s eyebrows went up. “Are you sure you’ve never done this before?” he asked.
“Never,” he said and shot two more times quickly, adjusting the gun slightly between firings. The log stood empty of targets. He turned the pistol around and held it out to Jonathan, who stood staring at his son, not quite sure what to say.
“How…did you do that?” he asked, scratching his head.
“What do you mean? I just did what you told me to do.” He smiled. “You are a good teacher.”
“No, Jean, you are a good shot. Amazing.”
“Can I learn the rifle now?” he asked casually as a frog hopped out from behind a rock, and Jean set off to catch it.
November 3rd 1930
“Caleb. Just the man I wanted to see,” Marvin said as Caleb stepped out onto the porch. “Can I have a word?”
Caleb glanced back into the kitchen and saw Arianna passing through to the living room with Samuel on her shoulder.
“Out there,” Caleb said, gesturing to the yard.
They walked until they were out of earshot.
“Is this about getting the stuff out of the barn?”
“Yes, actually. I’m in one hell of a bind, Caleb. I can’t find anywhere suitable with anyone I can trust. I need to keep it here awhile longer.”
“Marvin, I told you, I can’t drink anymore. It’s too damn tempting to have it there.”
“Oh, come on now, Caleb. You’re a strong man. You can resist it. You’re doing great and it’s been here all this time. How about I make it worth your while.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out some cash.
“I thought you said the Sheriff’s office couldn’t afford to pay me.”
“Desperate times. The office can spare it if it has to.”
Caleb deliberated, glancing warily at Marvin.
“Name your price, Caleb. And I tell you what, I’ll keep looking for another place and try to get it moved by the first of the year. All I need to know is what you want for the inconvenience until then.” He smiled knowing Caleb couldn’t resist the cash. No one could in times like these.
November 4th, 1930
They stepped inside to a large gathering of people. Everyone was there, anxious to see the new one. Jonathan and Ava hadn’t shared her name yet, wanting to wait until everyone was together.
Maura had cooked a big meal of simple food: baked beans, bread, potato salad and shortbread cookies. Jonathan’s living room was bursting. The loud chatter switched to adoring whispers as Ava pulled the blanket back.
“Her name is Amy,” Ava said.
“I call her Cricket. Because that’s what her cry sounds like,” Jean said and everyone laughed. Ava sat down on the sofa and he scrambled up to be next to her.
“Who is she named after?” Arianna asked.
“No one. She just…looked like an Amy.” Ava smiled and lifted the baby up in offering for Arianna to hold.
“Oh, yes, please!” She took Amy carefully and her mouth dropped open in surprise. “She’s so light! Feels like there’s hardly anything in my arms.”
“She’s almost five pounds,” Jonathan said with pride. “She lost a little at first, but her appetite kicked in and she’s been gaining steadily.”
Caleb peered over her shoulder, putting his arm around Arianna’s waist. “Can you remember when ours were this small?”
“I don’t think ours were ever this small,” she said.
“Makes you want another, doesn’t it?”
Arianna tossed a strained smile to Caleb and smiled at Maura. “Would you like a turn?”
She wiped her hands on her apron and held her arms out. “Of course.” She didn’t say anything as she cradled Amy, only watched her sleep. The others went about talking, serving plates of food and making jokes. Suddenly Maura spoke.
“There’s nothing like a new life to bring folks back together.”
She looked at several of them in turn.
“How long has it been since we’ve all been in the same room and smilin’?”
It had been a long time. Too long.
November 7th 1930
Jonathan, Caleb and Ian set out to sea with a brilliant sunrise lighting their path. Jonathan was glad they were there; glad that he’d decided for them to go out together, always. Caleb worked more efficiently sober, and Ian always worked hard regardless. They were a good team. When one was unable to go out, the others picked up the slack. He marveled at the way it had come to work, seamless and steady. While he was waiting for his daughter to be born, work continued. While Ian took a few days off to be with Maura, work continued. When Caleb was too busy with autumn duties on the farm and needed to take a day, work continued.
Working this way was an insurance policy, of sorts, between friends. It was unofficial, unannounced and yet they all knew it was vital to everyone’s survival. That and his decision to use the very last of the business’s savings to purchase additional equipment, had kept them alive. Things that allowed them to fish for things other than lobster, ensuring they would always come home with something, no matter the season.
“Let’s pull in a record catch, boys,” Jonathan said as he steered out to sea. “I’ve got a little girl at home that needs pretty dresses.” He smiled back at Caleb and Ian, who were readying the line of pots.
November 11th 1
930
Jonathan sat at the table in his bathrobe, holding his coffee in one hand and Amy in the crook of the other. He nodded off and caught his head with a jerk. Sitting up with a yawn he adjusted the baby as she scrunched up and began to whimper. He bounced her lightly as he set his coffee down. The baby ate every hour and a half and Jonathan and Ava were forced to take turns in six hour shifts if either of them were to get any sleep at all.
Jean, who Jonathan was sure hadn’t slept at all since Amy came home, woke at the tiniest sound she made. He rounded the corner into the kitchen.
“What’s wrong with her?” he asked urgently.
“She’s fine. Just hungry again.”
“I’ll hold her while you make a bottle,” Jean said and climbed up on the couch with his arms out.
Jonathan gave him an amused smile. “You know, Jean, I don’t know what we’d do without you.”
His eyes popped with his smile. “Really?”
“Yes. How would I make a bottle while holding the baby? I’d have to wake Ava up, and she needs her rest. You’re a big help.”
He leaned over and put the baby in his arms. He was already an expert at holding babies and rocked gently as Amy began to fuss.
“Shh, little crick-et, Shh, little crick-et,” he sang to her as he moved.
Amy was too ravenous to calm and her squeaks quickly escalated to sharp bursts of desperation. It didn’t bother Jean.
“Shh, little crick-et, Shh, little crick-et,” He continued to sing softly over her cries. He waited patiently and calmly while Jonathan made a bottle of diluted condensed milk, mixed with a little sugar. He dipped the nipple in boiling water and let it cool before attaching it.
Jean didn’t hand over the baby, but held his hand out for the bottle instead.
“I can do it.”
“Are you sure?”
He gave a nod and took the bottle. “Arianna taught me.”
“Well, then I’m sure you’re an expert.” Jonathan sat down beside him and watched him feed the baby. He was a natural. They enjoyed several quiet moments and Jonathan felt tempted to lay his head back and rest.