1929 (43 page)

“Hey, Pops.” Aryl turned to his father with a
grin.

“Hello, son.” He hugged him briefly and then
turned his attention to Claire. “How’s my favorite
daughter-in-law?” he said, grinned and hugged her.

“I’m your only daughter-in-law, Mr.
Sullivan.”

“Not for long.” He turned to Aryl but kept an
arm around Claire’s shoulder. He stopped and cleared his throat.
“Your brother and his gal are at the house, so try to act surprised
when they tell you.”

“I will. How’s Mom?”

“She’s good. Been cookin’ for two days
straight. Lots of people have been by. Well, you know how popular
your uncle was.” Aryl nodded again as a lump rose in his throat.
“I’m wishing now that I hadn’t sold the larger house. The cottage
is about to burst. Well, I better get you home soon, or your mother
will skin me. She’s so excited to see you, both of you. It’s been a
long time.”

Aryl picked up the bags and followed his
father, who still had an arm around Claire. He threw the bags in
the backseat of the rusty Model-T Ford and climbed in, insisting
Claire take the front.

“You don’t mind if I hold your girl’s hand on
the way home, do you?” Michael Sullivan teased. Aryl winked at
Claire, happy that his parents and wife adored each other the way
they did.

His father filled him in on the goings on of
Rockport and Pigeon Cove on the drive home: who had married and who
now had children, who were involved in the latest scandal, the
businesses that had gone under, folks who had lost and suffered
because of the crash.

“Of course, we heard about it here when it
happened. It was all the talk in the shops and down at the marina.
Took a couple months to start feelin’ it, though.” He took a deep
breath. “But I heard the news say it’s turnin’ around. Things
should be lookin’ up here soon. Heard the President talkin’ on the
radio the other night, said the economy is fundamentally strong and
it’s startin’ to rebound. It can’t get much worse.”

He continued on listing friends that had had
to leave to find work in the city, and some that didn’t want to
leave were living two and three families to a home.

“Folks that fared the best owned what they
have. Seems like everybody on earth had something wrapped up in
that market. I’m real grateful I built that little cottage, and
this old clunker is paid for.”

Aryl knew all too well the direct effects of
the crash. His father didn’t know the extent of their hardships.
Claire had censored letters somewhat, so they wouldn’t worry.

Aryl took in the familiar scenery as his
father talked, and he realized how much he’d missed the sound of
his voice, the boisterous laugh, and the northeastern accent that
sounded like home. When they got within a few miles of Rockport,
Aryl’s mind flashed through dozens of childhood memories and the
antics of the Terrible Trio as his father had nicknamed them. Aryl
waited for his father to take a breath, so he could interject.

“How are Caleb’s parents?”

“Oh, all right, I suppose. Saw his father a
few weeks ago at the hardware store. Come spring, your mother’s
going to put in a bigger garden. He’s sellin’ off some of his
animals, wants to make room for more crops. I don’t suppose he and
Caleb ever got past him selling his grandfather’s farm. I didn’t
want to bring it up.”

“No. They haven’t.” Aryl turned toward the
scenery again. “They haven’t talked in several years. How about Mr.
Garrett?”

“Jon, Sr.? He’s doing good, I suppose. I see
him every now and again. He got hit hard, you know.”

“No, I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, he doesn’t talk about it much, but
that fancy car they had is gone, they’ve got an old clunker like
this now. Rumor mill says he invested all his money with Jonathan,
and when he tanked so did his father.”

“I’ll have to stop in and see both of them
before I leave.”

“How long can you stay? You didn’t say in the
telegram.”

“Probably mid-week. I can’t miss much
work.”

“Oh, yeah, tell me about your new job. Did
Jon start a new business already?”

“Not exactly. But we are looking into some
real estate.” He was surprised at his embarrassment and didn’t
offer any more details of how he earned their meager living. He was
grateful when his father changed the subject.

“How are Jon and Caleb? Haven’t seen them in
years. I’ll bet you three are still riveted at the hip.” His full
laugh filled the car.

“We are. They’re good. Can you keep a
secret?”

“Aryl, you know I can’t.” The old man’s eyes
twinkled.

“Well, I’ll tell you anyway. Arianna is
expecting.”

The car almost swerved off the road as he
craned his neck to see if Aryl was joking. Claire let out a yelp
and grabbed the dashboard.

“Whoa, Pops, keep it on the road, would
ya?”

His father steadied the car. “Sorry, son,
it’s just, that’s some news.” He glanced back at him several times.
“You’re serious.”

Aryl laughed. “Yes, I’m serious.”

“Well, nothing against Caleb, you know I like
the boy. And I guess I like that wife of his all right, but she
just has a cat-like way about her, and it just always seemed to me
that she’d be the kind to eat her young if she were to ever have
any.”

“You’d be surprised at her transformation,
Mr. Sullivan. It’s really been amazing.”

“She has suddenly become very maternal,” Aryl
added. “And I’ll admit it is strange, but it’s a good thing, I
think. For both of them.”

“Well, Caleb’s not too happy at the moment,”
Claire whispered under her breath. She forgot that Aryl’s father
had acute hearing.

His face was suddenly concerned. “He’s not
happy about the child? I always pictured Caleb wanting a whole
houseful of children.”

“Oh, it’s not that, it’s just . . .” Aryl
searched for the right words. “Okay, Pops, let me ask you
something.” Claire turned around with wide eyes as Aryl proceeded
to explain what Arianna was led to believe in rather blunt language
and then, to Claire’s undying mortification, asked him if it was
true.

He laughed so hard the car swerved again.

“Son, if that were true, you’d be deaf, dumb,
and crippled!” He howled with laughter.

Aryl smiled and patted Claire on the
shoulder. “Told ya’ so.” Her face was blood red, and she refused to
look at either of them.

∞∞∞

“Here we are.”

Aryl saw the little white cottage with
several cars parked outside, and it suddenly weighed down on him
again why he was here. He stepped out of the car, and the first
things he noticed were the salt air and the seagulls calling in the
distance. Claire waited patiently for him to open her door. One of
the few rules Aryl had laid down for Claire, early on, was that she
was never to touch an automobile door handle.

∞∞∞

Kathleen Sullivan had her back turned when
Aryl walked into the kitchen. “Hey, Mom.”

She spun around, already smiling.

“My Aryl.” She grabbed him in a tight hug.
“I’m so glad you could come.” She stepped back to get a better look
at him. “Well, now, what have you been doing with yourself? You’re
as solid as a footballer!” She patted his shoulders and chest.

“Just working.”

“Well, you look wonderful, son. Where’s my
Claire?” She looked over his shoulder and saw her, standing in the
doorway.

Aryl stepped aside and Kathleen grabbed her
adopted daughter in a strangling hug. “I’m so glad you could come,
Claire.” She finished her sentence in a whisper, “I know Aryl will
need you through this.” She pulled back to examine Claire more
thoroughly. “You’re too skinny,” she said decidedly. “How are ya
going to carry and nurse my grandbabies as thin as ya are?” She
turned to Aryl, who was grinning at Claire’s growing embarrassment.
“Speaking of which, Aryl Sullivan, just where are those
grandbabies? She can’t do it all by herself, you know.” Claire
turned red again and excused herself in a fluster.

“C’mon, Mom, now you’ve embarrassed her,”
Aryl scolded, but not truly angry.

“You mean to tell me after almost five years
with you, she hasn’t loosened up at all?”

“She has, in her own way. I’m fighting years
of ingrained training regarding proper behavior.” He rolled his
eyes. “It’s a work in progress.”

She smiled and patted his face. “You’re a
good boy,” she said quietly.

He noticed the prominent gray at her temples,
sprinkled throughout her curly brown hair; signs of aging that he
hadn’t noticed when she had visited them in New York just over a
year ago. Fine lines had turned to deep wrinkles, and there was a
slight hunch to her back causing her to appear a few inches
shorter. She had lost weight and appeared more fragile than he
remembered. One day, he would have to come back here for her, but
he couldn’t think about that right now.

“What’s wrong, son?” She read the troubled
look on his face, and then shook her hands in the air and squeezed
her eyes shut. “I’m sorry. For a few moments, I forgot this wasn’t
a reunion for joy.” She looked toward the living room. “Have you
seen all the family we have managed to cram into this living
room?”

“I noticed them on the way in, but I wanted
to see you first.” He smiled.

“Well, why don’t you find that ever-blushing
bride of yours, and go visit with your brother? And act surprised
when he tells you his news. I know ya father already spilled the
beans. Dinner will be ready soon.”

“Don’t you need some help, Mom?” Aryl looked
around the kitchen at the piles of food already on the counters and
in the process of being prepared.

“I like staying busy. If I do, I'll call for
Claire and see about embarrassing her some more.”

“Mom–”

“I’m teasin'. Now go see ya family.”

“Thanks, Mom.” He kissed her on the
forehead.

∞∞∞

Aryl found Claire in the garden behind the
cottage. “It’s starting to get dark.” He swung open the
whitewashed, garden gate. “Are you going to come in and see the
family or hide here in the garden?” he teased.

“I forgot how forward your family is.” She
looked slightly apologetic. Her ears and cheeks were still slightly
flushed.

“Not forward really, just relaxed.” He took
her hand as they started to walk around the garden. “You always get
used to it after a few days, remember? Soon you’ll be joking right
along with them. I’ve seen it a dozen times.”

“I know,” she said quietly. “Your parents
look good.” She tried to extend the small talk before going back
inside.

“They’re getting older.” He looked at all the
work that needed to be done in the yard. “Their swing is broken.”
He dropped Claire’s hand and walked over to look at the old, framed
swing. “My father built this swing when I was a little boy,” he
said, smiling as he recalled the story his father had told him a
hundred times. “The story goes, she was very busy with two small
boys, and he had to spend more and more time fishing to support us,
they started growing apart. Bickering and fighting a lot. So, my
father spent an entire weekend building this.” He lifted the broken
chain and examined cracked slats on the seat of the swing. “When it
was finished, he dragged her–almost literally, out to sit with him
every night after Liam and I were put to bed. After a few silent,
awkward evenings, they started talking and, little by little,
things got back to normal. And they’ve sat together every night the
weather's allowed.” He unhooked the chains and heaved the heavy
bench closer to the tool shed in the yard. “I’ll fix this before I
leave.” He set the bench down and held out his hand.

“Will you build me a swing?” she asked as she
took his hand.

“I have plans to do better than that. I’m
going to build you a lighthouse.”

“How on earth are you going to do that?”

“I don’t know just yet. But I will.”

∞∞∞

Back inside the house, hugs and handshakes
went around the crowded living room as Liam pushed his way to the
center of the crowd, pulling a young woman behind him.

After a quick hug and back slap, he proudly
introduced her to his brother. “Aryl, this is Sarah, my
fiancé.”

Aryl did a good job of looking surprised. He
congratulated them both, welcomed Sarah to the family and then
introduced Sarah to Claire, who instantly recognized the air of
distinction about Sarah. She was from money, no doubt.

“We should all go out for an evening while
you’re here,” Liam suggested. “Show Sarah the roaring nightlife in
Rockport.”

“I don’t know that we can stay that long. But
we’ll definitely spend some time together before I leave. We should
do a bonfire on the beach. Like old times.”

“It’s awful cold for that,” Liam said. “Why
not go to dinner and a show?”

“A bonfire sounds wonderful! We could bundle
up,” Claire said. She knew Aryl’s hesitation wasn’t so much about
time as money.

“That might be fun, actually,” Sarah agreed.
“Primitive, but fun.”

Once again, the light mood was brought down
when Kathleen opened the door to a delivery boy, who handed a stack
of programs designed and printed for her brother-in-law’s service
the following day. She reached for her purse, but the young boy
stopped her.

“Mr. Greene said no charge. He sends his
condolences.”

“Well, you go back and tell him thank you and
to come eat with us tomorrow evening,” she said and smiled
gratefully. She held out a dime for a tip.

“No ma’am. I can’t take that. Not for a
delivery like this.” He tipped his hat and ran off quickly.

“And just when I think the youth of today is
going to hell in a hand basket. What a sweet young man,” she told
the crowd, put the programs in the closet on the top shelf for
safekeeping, and announced dinner.