At suppertime she winced suddenly and put down her fork. Barry broke off an account of a suspenseful afternoon spent looking for a leak in Philip’s boat. “What’s the matter?”
“I don’t know. I bit down on a tooth and it feels as high as a mountain.”
His face puckered in sympathy. “It’s not ulcerating, is it? This is one hell of a place for a toothache.”
“Anywhere is one hell of a place for a toothache, but at least it’s good weather, and the mailboat’s running.”
“You’d better go in tomorrow before it gets a chance to grab aholt.”
“But I’d have to stay till Tuesday,” she objected, “and I hate Lime-rock. And where would I stay? Not in a hotel!”
“What’s the matter with a hotel?” He was being affectionately reasonable with a petulant young bride. “You know how to behave, and if you need more clothes, get some. Take a good handful of money with you. You can go to the movies twice, because they change the show on Sunday. And hey. Why don’t you buy yourself a good batch of books? You could have a hell of a time in the bookstore looking around. Get some you’ve always wanted, poetry and that highbrow stuff you read.”
He was captivated by the idea of buying books. She could hear him telling the other men, You know where the wife’ll head for first, soon as she gets that tooth taken care of? The bookstore! Yep! I have to beat her over the head to get clothes. Nope, books is what she wants. Well, better books than gin, I always say.
“Well . . .” Van resumed eating, cautiously. “I’ll see how it is in the morning. I’ll put cold compresses on it tonight and take aspirin. Maybe I can head it off.”
He said sternly, “I don’t want you to take chances. I was going to take you up to Sorensens’ tonight. I got a chess game on with Nils, but it’s kind of raw so you better stay put.”
“I think so too,” she agreed, as if otherwise she would have gone willingly with him. It pleased him. He left whistling, and she went upstairs to look over her clothes.
Excitement woke her early, and she took her clothes downstairs and dressed while the teakettle heated. It wasn’t daylight yet, but she could tell by the dear sky, still faintly starred, that it was going to be a fine day. She was high-spirited with anticipation, and felt jolly and kind toward every one; she wished there was time to bake a lot of sweet stuff for Barry, and go through all the womanly preparations and bustle that wives were supposed to make when they left home for a few days.
When Barry came down in his sock feet she gave him a wan one sided smile. “Acting up, is it?” he asked.
“That’s what got me up. It’s calmed down some since I’ve been on my feet.” She sighed. “I guess I’d better go, all right. But I don’t want to stay at a hotel, they’re too expensive and fancy, and we haven’t even got a decent suitcase between us.” She put her hand to her cheek. “So I thought I’d get a room somewhere. There’s some rooming houses a lot of the island people go to, Kathy was telling me about it once. They’ll let you make yourself some tea in the kitchen, or heat up some soup.”
“That’ll be a good idea, if he pulls out the tooth and you don’t feel like moving around much afterward. I’m damn glad you aren’t a bleeder, or I’d have to go along with you.”
“I’m glad too,” Van told him. “You have to stay here and make some money to pay for this business.” This touched him and he patted her hand.
“Jo and Nils said get Dr. Northrup, and say they sent you. He’ll fit you in.”
“I will,” she promised. It was a relief when Barry took his dinner box and left. His concern for her tooth kept him from kissing her with the ardor which always sprang up in him when she was amenable.
She dressed in her new slacks and jacket for the trip, at the last moment recklessly deciding on the old raincoat. It meant nothing to her now but something to keep out the wind and keep off smuts from the diesel smoke. The woman who had worn it as a portable womb was still back in that kitchen on Water Street, frozen forever in the moment of hearing that the house was to be torn down. She felt a stab of something like compunction or guilt, but she was saved from it by Kathy.
“You going off on the boat?”
“No, by broom—it’s the only way to travel,” said Van.
Kathy laughed. “Cleaner too, since Link changed engines. Hey, isn’t this sudden?”
“Sudden as a toothache.”
Kathy winced. “Ouch! Is it awful? Look, I’ve got some pills that’ll make you sleep all the way.”
“I’ve got it knocked down with aspirin. If I took anything else I could fly without a broom. Any errands you want done?”
“I can’t think of anything right now. So long, and have a good time.” She grinned. “I mean, I hope you get fixed up so you can have some fun. The nice, safe, moral fun allowable for us good wives.”
Van laughed at her. It was so easy to laugh this morning that she enjoyed hearing herself.
“Know what?” said Kathy. “I’ll miss you something awful.”
“Why? I’m not much of a neighbor.”
“Oh yes, you are. I don’t care if you don’t run in. I like knowing you’re around.” She wriggled her shoulders self-consciously. “Oh heck, maybe I just like having a captive audience. Well, that’s all.” She flipped her hand and went out.
Van stood looking at the empty doorway, reflecting with mild wonder that no one had ever before said she would be missed. She shrugged uneasily. . . . It would probably be part of the neighborly pattern, of being a black blackbird, to bring the children something from the five and ten. She wrote it down, then with a resigned sigh added the Dinsmore children.
The shore was quiet again when she walked around to the wharf with her raincoat and suitcase. The mail had been given out, the women had bought fresh vegetables, meat, and milk, and now most of them and the children were at home having early lunch after early breakfast.
All this time she had not consciously anticipated meeting Owen, but as she approached the wharf, she received a sudden revelation, that it was all a vicious joke and he wasn’t going anywhere.
As she came out by the store at the head of the wharf, she heard men’s voices inside, but not his, I could say I’d lost my nerve, she thought. But the prospect of spending the weekend at home, fighting her sick disappointment with Barry fussing over her, was not to be considered. She thought frantically that she wouldn’t be scared now of sleeping eighteen hours at a stretch or even twenty-four, if she could only accomplish it.
“Hello, Mrs. Barton!” Owen’s boy Richard came out of the store, holding young Mark by the hand. “Are you going to Limerock too?”
Holly came out behind him and said loftily, “She must be going, unless she brings a suitcase to carry her mail in.” She gave Van a suitably genteel smile. “Hello, Mrs. Barton. You’ll have a lovely change across.”
When Laurie appeared after the children, Van felt like breaking into witless laughter. Laurie’s wide forehead wrinkled gently with concern. “You don’t look as if you felt very well.”
“I don’t,” said Vanessa hoarsely. “It’s a tooth. I don’t want to go ashore and I don’t want to stay here with it, so the only alternative is to jump overboard halfway across the bay. Only I hate cold water.”
The children appreciated that. “Well, at least it’s not rough,” Laurie said. “You can sit quiet. Have you got anything to take?”
Holding her lips stiffly together as if her whole face were sensitive, Van nodded. “Well, you’ll be glad you had it taken care of,” Laurie comforted her. “Has anybody called your dentist for you?”
“I think Barry did,” Van lied. She put her hand against her cheek. “I’ll go aboard, I guess.”
“And get a good seat,” said Holly. “That bench across the stern is nice, but if you don’t get onto it here there’s always a pile of people going in from Brigport, and they grab it.”
“I’ll carry your bag,” Richard offered. “Holly, you take Mark.”
Inside the store male voices burst into laughter, and this time she heard Owen’s. “That must have been a good one,” she murmured to Laurie above her rising joy.
“I think they were saving it till the children and I got out.” They walked down through the long shed that smelled of damp, and salty hogsheads. “The engineer feels it’s his duty to bring out all the latest. We’re so isolated out here.”
“Dad says Cliff don’t talk fit to eat,” said Richard wistfully. “He must know an awful lot of real nasty words.” The two women exchanged smiles.
Out in the full sunshine, the gray striped cat sprawled on the top crate of a high stack and blinked tourmaline eyes. “There’s Louis,” young Mark said suddenly to Van, as if to recall what lay between them.
“So I see.” She caressed the broad blunt head, arousing a rusty purr. She kept wanting to laugh. It was getting a little frightening. She heard herself trying to explain it to some impersonal faceless observer. . . . Escorted by his whole family . . . blessings and sympathy and advice and children’s faces. It’s so insane. This time it’s the situation that’s insane, not me. . . . Good God, I still don’t know if he’s going or not.
“Nobody else going but me?” she asked brightly, looking around at the empty wharf.
“Owen is,” said Laurie. “Mark, you must let Holly hold your hand or you’ll have to go back to the store. . . . I was going to say he’d look out for you, but I don’t know what he could do about a toothache, do you?”
“Maybe he could take her mind off it,” Holly said. “He tells good stories about when he was young. I wish I’d lived then.”
“So do I,” Richard brooded. “Boy!”
“Here they come!” young Mark cried suddenly. He broke loose from Holly, and rushed to his father, but Owen caught him and lifted him up, struggling and flailing. Holding the boy above his head he looked around, laughing. The look passed over Van.
“What you scared of?” he teased the child. “Afraid a fish hawk’ll come and grab ye?”
“I ain’t scared, I’m mad!” the child exploded.
Van sat alone on the stern bench as far as Brigport, feeling the rather pleasant sense of separation from everything but the moment which comes to one traveling by water. At Brigport the boat had to maneuver through a long harbor full of moorings, and tied up alongside a big lobster car anchored in the lee of a breakwater. Here dripping crates of lobsters were hoisted aboard and lowered into the hold, and she saw Owen, pipe in mouth, helping to steer the crates toward the opening in the deck. There was a good deal of laughter between the men on the boat and those on the car. Everyone looked pleased with himself, as if the May sunshine were restoring the virtue the long winter had stolen.
As the boat headed for the main dock, Owen came aft and sat down beside her. “How’s the tooth?”
“Not dead but sleeping,” she said.
“You staying with somebody, or in a room?”
“In a room, if I can get one.”
“I’ll go up to the store now and call,” Owen offered. “Likely to be a crowd in town this weekend, and Marshall’s is a great place for the Swan’s Islanders and Vinalhaveners.”
“Well, if it won’t put you out too much, maybe—”
“I need tobacco anyway.” He was gone up the iron ladder against the stonework, shouldering his way through the small crowd; she saw the flash of his smile sometimes, and heard his voice genial and joking. He slapped a man on the shoulder and they walked away together. The Brigport passengers began to come aboard, three large women who looked all of a kind and gave her polite smiles as they settled themselves on the bench, and then a young girl heavily pregnant and harassed by a wiry two-year-old wearing harness and leash. The engineer took this one under his arm and growled, “You keep quiet or I’ll tan your hide,” at which the child went into a state of trance while he was handed down into the captain’s arms. Then the engineer went back up the ladder, and guided the girl’s foot to the first rung, then the other foot, and came down the ladder just a few rungs below her. He half-lifted her across the gap between dock and deck.
“Thanks, Cliff,” she panted. “I was some nervous when I saw how low the tide was.”
“Don’t thank me. Just don’t have it on this trip. We ain’t none of us got our midwife papers.”
“Don’t discourage her, Cliff,” said the captain. “We might put Cap’n Bennett here in charge.”
“Well, now,” said Owen from the top of the wharf, “that’s something I haven’t tried yet. I did think we could save some money that way once, but my wife didn’t have much confidence in me.”
The girl came aft, towed by the speedy child. The bench was full, and Vanessa got up. “I can get a couple of camp stools from the cabin,” the girl said.
“Suit yourself,” Van said. “But I like to move around, when it’s calm enough.”
“I used to like to go all over the boat before I got so loaded down,” the girl said without resentment.
Van moved away between the rail and the cabin, and went forward. The engineer disappeared down his hatch, a couple of boys on the wharf cast off the lines, and the boat backed away and out into the harbor. Van walked around the forward hatch and sat on the side of it nearest the bow. Owen came and stood with his back against the mast. “I got you the last room she had,” he said. “And I talked her into it. She was saving it in case somebody or other showed up from Isle au Haut this afternoon.”
Van had to put her head back to look at him. “Thank you,” she said.
He made some small repudiating gesture with his hands, and his lower lip thrust out in a way she hadn’t noticed before. He didn’t look into her face but around him at the outer shores of Brigport gliding by, and then at a cloud of gulls rising from a green islet on the other side. After a few moments he left her. She heard a door slam and a burst of masculine greetings and amusement, and knew he’d gone into the pilot house; while he had been out here with her they had been under the eye of the captain, steering from his tall stool and half-leaning out the open window, and two men who’d come aboard at Brigport.
She pulled up her knees and laid her head forward on them. The steady motion and swash of water rushing by the side half-lulled her into that state of separateness again. The unborn child does nothing but wait to be born, she thought, and he doesn’t even know he’s waiting. This is the birthday of my life. . . . Long night succeeds thy little day. . . . I’ve reached the land of corn and wine, Beulah Land, sweet Beulah Land . . .
“You all right?” It was repeated, louder and nearer. She lifted her head, blinking unfocused eyes that watered at the radiance of the sky. Owen was sitting on the hatch cover beside her. “You can get seasick like that. Tooth acting up?”
“You know damn well,” she said carefully, like a drunk, “that I’ve got no toothache.”
“Well, don’t advertise it. Everybody’s sorry as hell for you right now. Cliff wanted to bring you coffee, but I saved you from that.”
“Thanks, I guess.” She looked blurrily around her, running her hands through her hair and then rubbing her palms hard over her jawbones. “We’re almost in! I must have gone to sleep after all.”
“That’s why I stirred you up.” He began filling his pipe and she sat with her arms folded on her knees and watched the way ahead. As the boat cut across the harbor traffic and the city grew clear at the base of the blue-violet hills, she could place the trees of Water Street as a long bank of green beyond the roof of the sardine factory. Seen from out here, everything carried an illusion of cleanliness and grace in the warm shimmer of spring, as if Water Street looked as it used to look long before her time. The house is down by now, she told herself. They may have already started the new building. But there was no conviction in her; she saw in her mind the sun on the iridescent roof slates, and the air was full of the scent of lilies of the valley.
She pulled her gaze away from that side of the harbor and concentrated on the big ferry landing on the opposite curve. She realized then that Owen had gone again, and she was alone when the mailboat docked.
The three stout women were met by a stout man whose quips and uninhibited whacks on any handy rear turned them into jellies of mirth. They offered the pregnant girl a lift. Laughter floated from the car windows as it left the slip. There was one taxi, and Van took it, not looking back to see where Owen was. He was helping to get the lobster crates out, and had given her an impersonal nod as she passed him, as if he hardly knew her.
In a room under the eaves of the mustard-colored Victorian house, she washed her face and hands in water from a tall flowered jug, and then went out, still in slacks. Limerock was no longer the serene, embowered city seen from the bay. She was glad to get into the comparative quiet of a booth at the back of the Crow’s Nest. She had just sat down when Owen came in.
“Link dropped me off at the corner of Sea Street, and there you were, just going in the door. How’s that for timing? I was trying to figure out a way to reach you without getting Eva Marshall all hawsed up. . . . What do you want to eat? Better make it dinner, you look some ganted up.” He grinned at the waitress. “We’ll have some of those scallops, if they’re fresh.”
“Of course they’re fresh,” she said severely, then gave in and smiled back. It took years off her. She had once been pretty and full of a kittenlike smartness and life, and Owen’s smile had reminded her of it. When she had gone, Van said, “How do you plan on explaining this? Somebody you know could walk in that door in the next five minutes.”
“My wife and your husband aren’t going to bust a gut because we happened to meet in a restaurant and eat together.”
“You think you have everything under control, don’t you?”
“I have.”
Amused, fairly content, Vanessa ate. The food was hot and good. There was no conversation until they sat back with their coffee and cigarettes. “I called up my lawyer,” he said. “We can’t see the revenooers till Monday morning.”
“What have you been doing, cheating?”
“Nope. But they think so. Now what I want you to do,” he said matter-of-factly, “is be ready with your dunnage when a taxi calls for you about five o’clock. He’ll know where to take you.” By expression or tone he gave nothing away to the couple in the booth across the way. Van sipped her coffee and looked past him as if she hardly heard him and didn’t care. Yet she almost felt she should cover her throat in case the heavy beating in it showed. “You can tell Eva Marshall,” he said, “if anybody shows up from Isle au Haut they can have that room tonight and tomorrow night.”
Swallowing didn’t ease anything. Watching the people passing by the windows she said, “All right.”
The waitress was with them again. “We’ve got nice fresh custard pie today. It’s real good.” Her voice and eyes implored Owen to let her feed him with custard pie.
“Darlin’ mine, I’ve got no room for it.” He patted his middle. “Look, no pot yet. My wife’s some proud of that and you wouldn’t want to contribute to my downfall, would you?” She gave Van a sidewise look, then closed up her face and wrote the slip.