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“I don’t want to leave the island. Something tells me we shouldn’t,” Barbara told her honestly. The sheep were in the meadow and would drift off to their favorite grazing areas among the trees. The cats were on their own but could hunt quite efficiently. The chickens and guineas really shouldn’t be left alone, so they planned to make their boat available to Grady and hoped she would come over to babysit. They were taking the dogs with them. The puppy was getting large and was almost as big as the older Feathers.
“We have to get the rest of our stuff,” Marion pointed out. Neither one of them could stay, yet she too was reluctant to leave the home they had made. The cabin was nearly finished, their first summer cabin was quite far along too, and the second summer cabin was partway done. They’d made tremendous progress, and the boards they had scavenged from their first shipment meant they were ahead of schedule. They’d figured out how to put in a small water well by the first cabin and pump up the necessary water for the shower, boiler, and consumption. None of the summer cabins would have electricity, but the beautiful lamps they intended to order would work well. The boiler was installed in their own cabin for heating water, and they intended to order boilers for the other cabins. The rusted-out boilers Grady had at her place couldn’t be recovered. They had discovered that one of the stoves Grady brought over had a boiler of sorts attached to it. It was discovered too late for it to go into the first summer cabin since it wouldn’t fit through the doorway, but they built the second summer cabin around it, saving them the cost of another water heater when they removed the rust spots with steel wool and elbow grease.
“Here are the keys to our boat,” Barbara said as she handed them off to Grady. They were standing on the woman’s porch, amazed at the difference in her yard with all the junk removed. There were still a few pieces lying about. She had someone cutting down the overgrown grasses, and they were still discovering things.
“I won’t go every day,” she warned them, looking up at the threatening clouds moving in.
“Well, if you get stuck over there, we have the beds made up now,” Marion put in, grateful to have someone to watch the place for them, “and there are enough supplies to last you.”
“How’s the stove working out?” she asked, remembering how hard they had worked with the steel wool. They chatted a few minutes to be polite, but they were anxious to make the long drive back to Massachusetts and get the rest of their things. Some of the things they had originally saved for their cabin would no longer fit or be appropriate, but they planned on using some of the furniture in the summer cabins for their guests, and they could build around other things.
“I’m looking forward to hooking up my Easy Spindrier washing machine,” Barbara said nostalgically as they rode along in the truck.
“Tired of washing on the board?” Marion teased. They had both hated that in addition to the long lines of drying they put out because they would sometimes have to rewash everything if the dogs, children, or sheep came through. The animals and children all learned to leave the wash alone on the lines, but occasionally, something still happened which forced the women to rewash things. They both agreed nothing could beat the smell of freshly laundered clothes from the line.
“You have any knuckles left?” Barbara teased in return. She was curious about this drive she had heard so much about, and she was finding the roads were not as bad as she had heard. Perhaps, that was because it was later in the year, spring hadn’t yet damaged the dirt roads, some of the villages had filled their potholes, and some of their route was paved. They had to stop to change a tire outside of Portland, which was difficult with the trailer attached, but between the two women, they managed.
“I bet I could learn to change a tire,” Richard said as they got back on the road and looked for a motel or hotel to stop at for the night.
“I’m sure all of you will learn to change a tire,” Barbara told him, trying not to be irked by the male superiority she heard in his voice.
Marion heard the tone in Barbara’s comment and reached out to squeeze her leg, assuring her it didn’t matter. They would raise two fine, young men and a lady between them, despite their earlier outside influences.
“But why can’t we see Grandma and Grandpa?” Brenda asked after they slowly filled the trailer with the things from their storage unit the next day.
“There simply isn’t time,” Marion tried explaining. She didn’t want to tell them that Grandma had been sending nasty, threatening letters, and with protective services involved, she didn’t want anyone to know she was in the state. At least, when they were in Maine, her mother-in-law didn’t have a leg to stand on and couldn’t influence anyone she knew to act on her behalf. She certainly couldn’t take the children away from their mother because she felt the grandparents would be better parents than she as a widow.
Barbara caved and gave in to them stopping at the Chuck Wagon, a paramount-style diner that served food they all missed. Unfortunately, Brian Whiting Sr. and his wife, Gladys chose that night to go to the diner too. They caught Barbara and Marion on their way out.
“Marion,” Gladys said in her cultured, Massachusetts accent. It sounded so fake on the old biddy.
“Mama Whiting,” she replied over the cries of the children, who were so glad to see their grandparents they were shouting.
“Grandma!”
“Grandpa!”
“Were you going to stop by?” Brian asked, hugging his namesake, amazed at how much he had grown and noting he needed a haircut, his fingers combing through the young boy’s overlong tresses.
“Of course, we were just eating first as we knew you wouldn’t be expecting us,” Marion lied admirably.
“Barbara,” Gladys said, her voice conveying a volume of meaning in that one word as she greeted the younger woman. She might not know the true relationship between her daughter-in-law and this woman, but she suspected they were more than friends and that thought was repugnant. Even if it weren’t true, the woman had too much influence over her friend, in her opinion.
“Mrs. Whiting,” Barbara said in return, not the least intimidated by this pretentious woman.
“You should have written that you would be in town today,” she added for effect as she hugged Brenda and looked at the two women over the little girl’s head.
“We weren’t sure when we would get in with the roads,” Barbara said truthfully, although they’d had no intention of looking up either Marion’s in-laws or her own mother. She was still annoyed that Brent hadn’t been allowed to come up and help. He’d also told her not to send letters to him at the house anymore because he wasn’t certain their mother would let him have them. He asked her to send them in care of a friend.
“Surely you have time for dessert?” Brian asked in a hearty tone, pleased to see his son’s children as he hugged them.
“We just had strawberry sundaes Pop-pop,” Brenda told him ingeniously.
“Well, we just got here, and we’ve hardly seen you,” Gladys told them with just the right amount of hurt in her voice to guilt trip the children. She looked at Marion with a warning glance, her eyes traveling between the two women over what she considered their impulsive and irresponsible behavior. Buying an island, indeed! Who did that? It was probably this Barbara’s influence over her gullible daughter-in-law.
“We were just about–” began Marion, but Barbara interrupted her.
“We would love to sit with you for a while,” she put in with a false smile. “But only for a few minutes cause we’re meeting someone.” She turned to Richard, who had been watching the effusive greetings his friends had gotten from their grandparents.
Before she could stop him, Richard asked, “Who?” She pushed him along towards an empty booth but was stopped.
While keeping his hands around his grandchildren’s shoulders, Brian reached out to clasp Richard’s shoulder. “How you doing there, old chap?” he said heartily.
“I’m good, sir. Thank you,” he responded respectfully and smiled.
They found a large booth where everyone could fit. Marion glared at Barbara, who sent her warning looks trying to convey something. The children were on the inside, Marion and Barbara on one side, and Mr. and Mrs. Whiting on the other side.
Gladys went on and on about how much the children had grown and only stopped when Brian insisted on ordering dinner. While they waited for their food, she continued chattering to the children, ignoring both Marion and Barbara.
“I want to go,” Marion said under her breath to Barbara under the guise of looking around.
“Patience,” Barbara breathed back, knowing they had to play the game, at least for now.
The children soon realized a second dessert wasn’t in the offing and looked disappointed. It wasn’t until the Whitings’ food arrived and the rest of them were given glasses of water that Gladys seemed to remember they had Marion under their thumb, even if only for the moment. Putting her arm around Brenda and hugging her close, she looked up at Marion and asked sweetly, “And what are you doing now in Maine?”
“We’ve been building,” Brian III answered for them all, wanting to be helpful and contribute. Marion wanted to kick him but wasn’t sure he wouldn’t yell and give them away.
“Oh. Building what?” she asked as she took a small bite of her dinner, forking it in delicately in case she needed to swallow quickly to say something. Brian Sr. looked on, interested, willing to let his wife talk.
“We built one cabin to live in and another summer cabin,” Richard contributed, wanting to back up his best friend.
“And what will you be doing with those?” she asked, again in that same sickeningly sweet voice. She must have realized that pumping the children for information was a whole lot easier than getting it out of Marion since she had stopped writing and arguing by mail.
Barbara looked deliberately at her watch as she sipped the cold water, noting that their fresh spring water tasted purer and cooler than this tap water. She smiled to herself when she saw Brenda make a face after she took a drink of her own water.
“We’ll be renting them out,” Brian III told his grandmother proudly. “I learned how to hammer a board in,” he bragged to his grandfather.
“Isn’t it about time?” Marion murmured but not quietly enough.
“Oh, you have other obligations?” Gladys asked, the sugar sweetness of her voice grating on all the adults’ nerves.
“Well, we were hoping to catch you at home later,” Barbara put in, sensing that Marion simply wanted to escape and might not be as tactful at this moment. Also, she didn’t want the children bragging anymore and giving out information they didn’t wish to share with these two. “As I mentioned earlier,” she said, hoping they had heard her, “we could only stop for a while.”
“If you were going to stop at our home later, then you can reschedule that for now,” Gladys answered, clearly certain she held the upper hand. Her sugar-sweet voice was slipping to iron-steel.
Barbara smiled, disarming the old biddy. “Yes, that would make sense except we are expected at a specific time. We will have to catch you later,” she said, rising abruptly from the table right in the middle of Brian’s explanation about digging a hole for a septic tank to his interested grandfather.
Everyone was caught unawares as the sturdy woman stood up. For a second, Marion stared at her, surprised at how rude she was being, then she caught on to the out she was offering them and said sweetly, “Come along, children. We don’t want to keep them waiting.”
“Who?” Richard asked again, but he was not heard over the clamor as Gladys tried to get them to stay and Brian Sr. added to the noise as he automatically stood up in deference to the women.
“It was so nice to see you, Mr. and Mrs. Whiting. We will be sure to stop by again next time we are in town. No, there’s only the one truck, and we share it,” she assured them when they offered to give Marion and the children a ride to ‘their’ appointment. “Come along, Richard. Children, say goodbye to your grandparents,” she said to the others, giving Marion a slight push towards the door.
Amongst the delighted goodbyes from their grandchildren, the Whitings were completely snowed and watched helplessly as the five of them slipped out the diner’s doors and headed for the truck and trailer that awaited them. Fortunately, it was parked at an angle, so they couldn’t see the trailer attached to the women’s truck. The dogs greeted them effusively, relieved to see them return. Taking their leashes, the two women hurried them onto the grass for a pee before returning to the truck. They looked over their shoulders constantly, hoping the in-laws wouldn’t find them out.
“Who do we have to meet?” Richard asked for the third time.
“Never you mind,” his mother shushed him and opened the truck door to get them inside.
“You okay to drive for a while?” she asked Marion, and at her partner’s nod, she slipped into the passenger side.
“How did you manage that, and why did we stay?” Marion asked once they got going. The children were talking a mile a minute between them as they pointed out things they remembered from the town they had been born in. Both dogs were trying to see out the windows of the truck and sitting on the children to accomplish this.
“We appeased their nosiness a little, and you accommodated their need to see their grandchildren for now,” she said in a low voice, so the children wouldn’t overhear. “I’m sure this visit will get back to my mother too. So, if you think about it, we did our duty.”
“You didn’t visit your mother,” she pointed out, not sure about that point.
“Nope, and she wouldn’t have been happy to see me. I’ll invite them both next summer, and that might appease her.”
“Maybe I should invite–” Marion began but Barbara was already shaking her head. “Why not?”
“Because she would find a way to make you feel bad about all we’ve accomplished, and you have nothing to feel bad about. We’ve done a heck of a lot in the time we’ve been there, and we have a lot to do still. Demeaning us or you for a decision that she had no control over isn’t going to make you feel any better. It’s better you don’t invite her, and if my mother and brother come, that will get back to her.”
“You are devious,” Marion said admiringly and pushed a little harder on the accelerator as they left town.
They had to find a hotel again that night, but they were well outside of Boston and on their way north towards Portland when they finally stopped.