| |
Barbara thought about the incident the following day as they slowly moved the logs closer to the cabin site. They couldn’t watch the children all the time, and while the island was relatively safe, it was remote, and they were alone. She knew worrying about every little thing would drive her crazy, and in the rush of work they were trying to accomplish, she couldn’t let it overwhelm her.
Marion was having similar thoughts and worried that her children were influencing Richard or vice versa. Who was the culprit coming up with these ideas? Then she calmed herself, realizing that any of the children could come up with mischief on their own. Laying blame would do nothing but cause a schism between her and Barbara, and she didn’t want that. They had a lot of work to do and building their cabin or home was the least of those worries.
They erected a sturdy stump in the middle of the basement that was seven and a half feet long and at least two feet thick. They carefully sawed it even before they put the heavy crossbeams over it. While lowering it into the basement, they lost some of their carefully constructed wall and had to redo it. Getting the stump on end and level took some real time and effort. They laid cut timbers over the stones at each end of the cabin, using more cement to hold it in place and make a seal. They used the window they had found on the beach in one wall to provide extra light in their basement and carefully placed a log across its frame. They left another hole on the opposite side of the basement for another window to let in more light, when they acquired it. Finally, they placed the heavy crossbeam, which was now flat on the post in the middle and the two sides. Using hand drills seemed to take forever to go through each end and into the wood below the log, but they finally managed to sink bolts through it. Now, they were ready to lay a floor, but they didn’t know how to lay a floor. They also needed a stairwell, but they didn’t know which to do first. At least the cross beam and the higher sides kept the tarp up, so they didn’t get water in the basement anymore.
“Let’s use the pallets to make a stairway. Neither one of us wants to use a ladder into the basement, and you know, we’ll worry about the children falling,” Marion finally decided. They pulled apart the pallets, carefully saving those nails they could reuse through the thick wood. Because different pallet manufacturers used different wood and nails, they had a variety, but they managed to build their staircase and used two planks they salvaged from their own beach. Cutting Vs in the planks after they measured, they put the cross pieces from the pallets and built the staircase against one wall. The children loved it as they hadn’t been able to go into the basement before, but when the kittens and pup were included, the adults put an end to that.
“We better go to town to check for more of these,” Marion said as they used up the last of the pallets on the frame of the chicken coop they were making. She used her front teeth to delicately pull a sliver from her finger.
“Could you go while I continue chopping down trees?” Barbara asked, eager to have some alone time.
“Me?” she squeaked, surprised. She liked driving the boat, but the thought of driving it across that open water scared her. Still, it wouldn’t do for Barbara to make an unnecessary trip, and she was better at cutting down trees, her immense strength utilized in this simple way. They could also use some paint for the chicken coop and a few other things they’d realized they needed.
“I’ll go with you, Mom,” Brian immediately volunteered.
“May I go with you, Aunt Marion?” Richard asked politely, looking hopeful.
“Me too, Mom?” Brenda asked.
Barbara grinned unrepentedly. If she didn’t have to worry about the children while she chopped down trees, she would be happy. Knowing where the children were while they did this heavy work was always a concern. One never knew when they would pop up unexpectedly.
Being responsible for the boat and the children really didn’t thrill Marion, but she supposed she would have to get used to that. She couldn’t be afraid of anything; they couldn’t afford it. She smiled and agreed, and the next day found her driving the boat across the open water, using the first island, Fir Island she thought it was called from the chart, as her landmark before veering off.
The other islands came into sight, and as Barbara had explained to the obviously frightened blonde, they were easy enough to follow. She stayed well away from them as they had rocky reefs that would tear up the boat if she came too close. The children were acting up, and she didn’t know if it was because of her nervousness or just because she was alone with them. Several times, she had to be abrupt with them.
When she got to their dock, she was relieved and then alarmed by the pile of pallets stacked next to the truck and trailer. The pile was so high that some of them had slid into the back of the truck. Tying off the boat, she called to the children to stay away from the unwieldy stacks. Carefully, one by one, she removed the pallets from the top of the pile until the truck was free. Driving away from the pier, she could see that someone had made a game of piling the pallets.
She drove first to visit Grady Lavender.
“Well, I’ll be. It’s nice to see your face,” the woman told her with a big smile that quickly turned to a frown. “Them chicks ain’t large enough to go yet,” she told her.
“No, no. I was in town to get some supplies and thought I’d stop by to say hello. That wedge contraption is really handy.”
“Got your cabin done?” she teased, knowing it hadn’t been long enough.
“No, but we got the basement done and a real nice set of split logs along the base,” she answered almost defensively before she realized that Grady was teasing her.
“Where is your partner?”
“She stayed to cut wood, so she wouldn’t be distracted,” her glance took in the children, who desperately wanted to come out of the truck to look at all the interesting things in the junk yard, but she had forbidden them. They were to stay in the truck...or else.
Smiling, Grady nodded. “That rooster turned out to be a good ‘un. He’s keeping my hens well serviced,” she said crudely, and Marion flushed.
“I was wondering how much you wanted for this stove over here that Barbara was admiring?” Marion asked to change the subject.
They discussed how much she would take and the various other stoves she had on the property that they could use in the cabins they were going to build eventually.
“Well, I definitely want this one for our cabin when we’re ready, so please don’t sell it,” she said.
“Wouldja like to put down a deposit?” Grady asked with a gleam in her eye. Seeing Marion’s hesitation, she grinned and said, “I ain’t gonna do a Gone with the Wind,” meaning she wasn’t going to make off with her money.
“Well, as you know our money is tight, and we haven’t even started on the summer cabins yet. We have to get our cabin built to live in...” she began her explanation and then left off, embarrassed at admitting how poor they really were.
“I understand, I understand,” Grady answered, holding up her hands in surrender. “Ain’t no one likely to buy this particular stove, and even if they were, I wouldn’t sell it unless you told me you didn’t want it.”
Relieved, Marion had felt she’d found a kindred soul and had maybe told her more than she intended.
“I’ll keep my eye out for sheep for you, real cheap. I probably could use a few around here meself,” she said looking around the overgrown yard. “I’d get goats, but they eat anything!”
Marion told her about the pallets, a cheap source of free wood.
“Say now, that’s a clever idear,” Grady added, nodding thoughtfully. “That boat of your’n ain’t gonna be big enough for all ya gotta haul.”
Marion agreed but said the O’Flaherty brothers had helped them with their initial move.
“I bet they did. That Thomas O’Flaherty is a handsome devil. I were in school with him back in the day when my folks moved us up here. All the gals were after ‘im.” Her eyes twinkled and then, she asked, “You interested in our Thomas?”
“Me?” she asked, surprised. “Why, no....”
“Why not? Your husband ain’t comin’ back, so why not?”
“I’m committed to building on the island and making it on our own with Barbara. I have no interest in getting married again,” she stated and hoped that would be the end of that.
Grady pressed another couple dozen eggs on her before she left and went off to do her shopping. The children enjoyed the store, but her constant admonishments of ‘don’t touch’ fell on deaf ears. She finally took her purchases and made her way back to the docks to park the truck. She found someone had put even more pallets in her parking space and she had to put them into a pile on the dock before she could back the truck in.
Eyeing the piles of pallets, she considered what she needed to do as the children ran to the boat and back.
“Careful there,” she called repeatedly, imagining one of them going headlong along the dock or into the water. Discovering that some sort of crab was beneath the pier had them all on their stomachs watching the creature.
“This your pier?” someone asked at her elbow as she stood wondering if she could pull apart enough pallets to get them in the boat or if she should haul them as is and take them back that way.
Jumping a foot because she was lost in thought, she turned to the grizzled, old man.
“Yes, it is,” she answered his question.
“Someone keeps piling your pallets on my pier,” he indicated one of the other piers.
“I’m sorry. We can use all the pallets we can get, but I didn’t know there were so many waiting for us,” she said, wondering how she was going to move all these. They’d have to make several trips.
“I keep bringing ‘em over, but they keep leaving more. It’s becoming a fire hazard,” he said warningly.
Alarmed, she looked at him, thinking quickly. “Maybe you could pass the word and tell people to leave them here in the back of our truck?”
“Ain’t my look out,” he said succinctly and walked away abruptly, obviously annoyed.
She didn’t want to lose the free wood, but she didn’t want to alienate their neighbors either. She couldn’t stop people from leaving the pallets now that they knew she wanted them. Still, they couldn’t just leave them wherever they wanted.
“Hi there, Mrs. Whiting,” someone called, and she turned to see one of the O’Flaherty brothers, she wasn’t sure which one, addressing her.
“Hello, Mr. O’Flaherty,” she answered, figuring that was a safe way to address him since she didn’t know which brother he was.
“You in need of hauling assistance again?” he asked, indicating the pallets.
“Well, I don’t want to be a bother...” she began hesitantly, but the piles were rather large and unwieldy.
“I’m sure Thomas wouldn’t mind. I’ll ask him,” he said before she could stop him.
“Damn, damn, damn!” she thought, “I don’t want to be beholden to the O’Flahertys...certainly not Thomas O’Flaherty.”
Within fifteen minutes, just as she had decided to stack as many of the various pallets as she could fit in the boat along with her groceries, paint, and the chicken wire she had purchased, the O’Flahertys were hailing them from their larger boat. Taking over for her, they emptied the pallets from her boat and onto the deck of theirs. They even took the children up on their fishing boat to show them around, obviously enjoying the questions the boys asked them.
“There you go,” Thomas said as he handed up the last of the pallets from the stacks at the end of their pier.
“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this,” she said sincerely, but they had taken it out of her hands, and she didn’t know what else to say. While they had been loading pallets, she’d had an idea about how to identify their pier, so their neighbors wouldn’t be inconvenienced.
“Mr. O’Flaherty...” she began.
“Thomas,” he corrected her immediately, staring down at her with absolute delight.
“Thomas,” she repeated with a small smile, enjoying the courtesy, “Could you spread the word that those leaving us pallets need to leave them at our pier and nowhere else. I’m afraid I offended someone,” she nodded towards where she had seen the other man go. “He didn’t like that people were just leaving pallets all over at the end of people’s piers.”
“I’ll be sure to spread the word,” he promised. “You want to lead the way to Whimsical Island?” He made a motion as though she should go first.
“I have to paint our pier first, but I don’t want to hold you and your brothers up,” she told him.
“Paint yer pier?” he asked, confused.
“Yes, I thought if I painted our pier white, then it would be distinctive, and people would know where to leave the pallets we need.” She looked about at the various aged piers, the weather a big factor on the wood.
“Whatcha need so many pallets for?” he asked instead of asking about a white pier.
“We’re reusing the wood,” she explained as she got out the can of paint and a paintbrush.
“Oh, that makes sense,” he complimented her, disarmed for a moment as she bent to retrieve the paint. “Here, let me help you,” he said, taking out a knife and using the edge to open the can of paint. “We could help–” he began, but she cut him off.
“Oh, no! I wouldn’t dream of it,” she assured him. “I mean, you are already taking that huge load of pallets out to the island for us, and I so appreciate it.”
He was flustered as she looked at him so earnestly. “Why don’t I take your youngins with me as they seem to be having such a good time on our boat?”
She paused for a moment and then nodded. The children were already wearing their life jackets and would be safe. She could see the boys were bonding with the older men, and even Brenda was having a good time. Still, they were practically strangers. She mulled it over for a moment. “Thank you, that will keep them out of my hair while I do this. I won’t get much out of this bucket, but it’s a start,” she admitted.
“Mrs. Jenkins is out at the island?” he confirmed, and at her nod, he started adroitly up the rope ladder to the deck of his boat. He knew better than to stick around when a woman had a job to do. He’d never met women so independent as these two. He admired the blonde one and put up with a lot of good-natured kidding from his brothers. He waved as they got underway, shoving off from their odd angle to the dock because of having to avoid the Runabout parked there.
Marion waved until they were gone, mixed the paint with a stick, and then dipped her paintbrush into the can. She started at the end of the dock and made wide, sweeping motions across the warped and weathered wood. She stopped when she came to a section by the boat and then went back into town for a second and third can of paint. She put one carefully in the boat to take home and then continued using up the last of the can she had open before using the third can to finish the job. She was standing in the boat painting the last of the unpainted boards when she looked up to see some of the townspeople watching her paint her dock white. It wasn’t the best job she could have done, but it was distinctive now. She only hoped it had time to dry before weather or people damaged it. Already, she had eyed a couple of the seagulls with trepidation. She untied one of the ropes to the boat and painted the post, using up the last of the paint before she attempted to paint around the other post with the rope still attached. She was relieved when she ran out of paint. She closed the can and put it in the boat. They could find uses for it out at the island. Finally, she dipped her brush in the seawater repeatedly to wash the wet paint from its bristles, the oily mess taking some time.
The tide was turning, and she started the motor. When she untied the last rope to the pier, she saw how awful her painting job had been around it and shrugged. Quality hadn’t been as important as distinctive, and she drove away from the now white pier glad she had stopped to paint it.