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“You are what?” was heard repeatedly as they slowly revealed their plans to their family and friends. Buying an island in the Atlantic Ocean halfway between Canada and Maine sounded like a dream to the two women, but to everyone else it sounded crazy.
“I knew we shouldn’t have told our families until we were about to move,” Marion complained bitterly. Her in-laws were outraged that she was taking their grandchildren so far away.
“It’s impractical, Marion,” her father-in-law told her condescendingly. For a moment, she thought he was going to pat her little, blonde head.
“The children need a proper education,” her mother-in-law said prissily, wrinkling her nose as though she could smell the rot of the cabin they intended to build.
Just telling people they were quitting their jobs and moving to an island in Maine had set off a furious discussion as everyone jumped in to explain to them how impractical it was. Apparently, they had lost their minds, were too foolish to have made such an important decision, and they were going to freeze to death on this remote island. They had squandered their money on this...this...impulse.
“Jeffrey, you should marry your sister-in-law, so those children don’t starve to death,” Mrs. Whiting said to her unmarried son.
Jeff looked horrified at the idea, but his mother was relentless. She checked up on Marion constantly to make sure she hadn’t slipped out in the dark of night. She was alarmed to see the women packing up their apartment. She didn’t know they were putting things into storage until they could bring them to Maine.
Barbara was receiving guilt trips from her own mother, who worried that her dutiful daughter would go beyond her reach. Barbara had finally stopped taking her phone calls to avoid her. She had found a five-foot by eight-foot enclosed trailer that they were methodically packing with things they were taking. They had considered renting one of those trailers offered by a new company that had sprung up across America called U-Haul, but in the end, they had decided they needed their own trailer, and owning made a lot more sense than renting.
The only ones enthused with the move were the children and their babysitter, Amy. “Can I come?” Amy asked, enviously, her own son on her hip. She babysat to make money to supplement the money her husband sent from overseas. He had decided to stay on when the reconstruction began in Europe. Secretly, she suspected he was sleeping with the locals and preferred not to come home to his responsibilities. She made extra money by watching other women’s children while they worked, but that had dwindled as more women were now leaving the factories and the mills and staying home to raise their children.
“We have nowhere to stay yet but maybe by summer,” Barbara told her, understanding her desire to get away from the small apartments they lived in and start over elsewhere.
Selling the Packard had proven amazingly harder than the Ford, which people seemed to want. It was a piece of rusted out junk that Barbara’s husband had left her, but she was relieved when it was gone and they shopped for and found a sturdy, four-door truck that could pull the trailer they had purchased. Slowly, trip by trip after work at night, they took cartons and furniture to the storage unit they had rented, making sure everything was up on pallets in case something happened while they were away. They told no one about this unit, suddenly worrying that their families would try to intervene. They already knew they were being watched, and it made them both feel very uncomfortable.
“I think this is very selfish of you, Barbara. Who is going to care for me in my old age if you aren’t here? And that’s my only grandson you’re taking with you to the wilds of Vermont!” her mother told her, working on the guilt trip.
“It’s Maine, Mother. There are no islands in Vermont,” That she knew of, she silently added, not wishing to argue.
“Can I come?” Barbara’s brother, Brent asked when their mother was out of hearing.
She smiled, hugged him for understanding her need to get away and said, “We don’t even have a building up there. Maybe someday, you can bring Mom for a visit?”
“I wouldn’t want to leave the island. She is going to be impossible with you gone. Just in the time you were up there, she couldn’t stop talking about how irresponsible it was for you to take a vacation. I think she wants the money from the sale of your house,” he confided warningly.
“Well, she can’t have it. How do you think I paid for the island with Marion?” she whispered.
“What are you two whispering about?” their mother interrupted, suspicious. That ended any conversation Brent and Barbara could have had. Still, he slipped away after school to help the women move the heavier furniture into their trailer, and Marion and Barbara struggled together to put it into storage.
“We have to get camping equipment as well as tools,” Marion told Barbara as they finished up their packing.
“I don’t want this,” she indicated the ugly bedroom set she had gotten from her in-laws. The two women had been using it to sleep on, but it was too dark and depressing, and she certainly didn’t want it in their new home. She had never understood why her in-laws felt that she and her husband would want separate, but matching beds.
They sold what they could to random people and the furniture dealer, who was eager to take things off their hands as they sorted through what they wanted to keep, sell, or store.
“Do you think we should sell this?” Marion indicated the push lawnmower that she kept at her in-laws. She was taking back some things they had taken from her house when she sold it. These things were hers and Brian’s, and she could now sell some of it. She knew they would need the money.
“Bring it. We are going to need a lawnmower, and it doesn’t take gas,” Barbara suggested.
“Mommy, what if Daddy can’t find us after we move?” Marion’s little girl asked as she watched in consternation as some of her daddy’s things disappeared.
“Sweetie,” Marion pulled her close, so they could look in each other’s matching, cornflower-blue eyes. “I explained that Daddy went off to war, do you remember?” She waited for the little girl to nod before she continued. “Daddy died over there, defending our country. He was a brave man,” she said patriotically, making sure her little girl and little boy, who was also listening proudly, had a reason to admire the man they would forget. They’d known him for such a short time, and now, they only had pictures of him. She had made sure to pack pictures to bring along, but the majority were going into storage for now until they had more room. “He won’t have to find us. He’s with us always,” she said, tapping the girl’s chest over her heart. “Always remember, he’s inside of you and watching out for you from above,” she pointed to heaven. The little girl nodded earnestly.
“Is Richard coming with us?” Brian junior asked, worried. He had never had a brother but living with his mother’s best friend and her son had been like having a best friend around all the time. It had been nice to have his friendship after finding out their father had died.
“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 belonged to her husband. Her hands were encased in gloves, and she wore a knit cap.