Of Sea and Cloud (25 page)

She shook her head no without meaning to.

You can get a job and I don't care if it's pumping gas or lugging bait but that kid can grow up just like I done. That's another fact.

There's more than one way of doing things.

What? Yeah, Erma Lee, that's right. There's two ways. There's my way and there's the goddamned wrong way and I won't have you doing things the wrong way all the fucking time.

Erma Lee took two steps back then turned. She walked down the hallway and into the bedroom and shut the door and Bill put his head in his hands and ground his teeth and pulled on his own hair.

Four days later. Christmas morning. Snow covered the islands like shells and the water in the cove lay flat calm. Jonah held a cup of coffee steaming between his thighs and rowed across the cove to his boat. The gull who he now recognized as a beggar bird rode his skiff's bow. He tossed a cracker into the water and the bird circled then scooped it from the water and carried it to a nearby ledge. He climbed aboard and ground the diesel to life. Blue-black smoke coughed into the cold salt air and waste oil and bilge water pissed from the chine and spread in an uncoiling rainbow across the sea surface.

He steamed out of the cove and the entire ocean was forever blue before him. Eiders and pintails and buffleheads squawked and parted and flew. He followed the coastline around Burnt Island. He slipped between a ledge and the red nun buoy that marked the entrance to the harbor. The tide was up and water lapped the pound's slat-wood dam.

Jonah idled his boat into the shallows beside the dam. The pound house rose above him. The seafloor was green in the cold light and he'd found his father's skull in this very spot and that memory struck him hard. In the days since Bill told him about losing the pound Jonah had convinced himself that this was not hallowed ground but now at the pound with the waves pumping and swishing like systoles it seemed that the coastline had indeed become something more than landscape.

The
Jennifer
idled in the shoal green water. Jonah watched the rockweed below swing in the currents and he watched the shape of the water reverberating off the dam. He thought of his father's skeleton awash amid endless seawater. He was beginning to suspect that with this life came a harsh fragility that endured well beyond death.

He motored away and craned his head around and watched the slat-wood dam framed in the V of his wake. He was suddenly angry and he whispered, Fucking Osmond, although just then he felt that it was not Osmond but he himself who deserved the curse.

The air was clean and crisp and it stung his lungs but did little to clear the confusion from his head. He took a skiff from the wharf float and put his boat on his mooring then rowed back to the float. He walked through the small empty wintertime village. Road salt crunched beneath his feet. He found Virgil watching television. Celeste was in the kitchen and she wore an apron with a Christmas tree embroidered on the front. Charlotte was in her bedroom. Jonah sat at the kitchen table and ate homemade potato donuts dipped in maple syrup and drank coffee and after an hour he went into the living room and sat on the couch and watched television with Virgil but neither spoke.

Two hours later Bill arrived. His skin was raw and he looked like he hadn't slept in days. Jonah met him in the hallway and said, You ain't made up with Erma Lee yet? I thought that was your Christmas Eve plan. To make up with her.

Bill shook his head no but he didn't speak. Jonah got the feeling that if Bill did speak he'd cry.

What happened now?

Bill shook his head again. Nothing, he finally said. She's just bonkers is all. Flat out gone-fuck bonkers. I had enough, Jonah. Enough. I told her last night to either one get her damned head screwed on straight or get the fuck out.

Celeste came down the hallway. She stopped when she saw Bill. Bill looked away from her like a guilty dog but she approached him anyway. Merry Christmas, Bill.

Merry Christmas, he mumbled.

Where's Erma Lee?

She ain't coming.

I thought she was.

Well she ain't.

Celeste faced Bill. Bill's sweatshirt was unzipped. He took his hand from the pocket and it already held a can of beer and he drank.

What did you do?

Nothing. She's just a bit mad about our arrangement.

What arrangement is that, Bill? Your trial?

Bill blinked and looked at Celeste then away. That's right.

I love you, Bill, but you are so stupid sometimes that I want to strangle you. Go in there and sit down. I'll be right back.

Celeste, Bill said as she pulled her jacket on.

She looked at him. What?

Nothing.

Nothing. Is that what you said to her? Nothing? Celeste stepped forward and tried to stand face to face with Bill but he was half a foot taller. Do you realize that she is scared out of her mind, Bill? That she's all alone and has a baby growing inside of her? A human baby that you helped put there. You, Bill.

I get it. He stepped back as if she were going to hit him but she went out the door. Jonah stood on the far side of the hall with his back to the wall. Before he could say anything Bill said, Shut up, Jonah.

• • •

Celeste didn't knock. She opened the door and stepped inside. Two stuffed full black trash bags sat in the middle of the room. One was torn on the side and a framed picture stuck out.

She looked around and the walls were empty. The sheetrock was speckled with nails and nail holes. She heard a rustling from down the hall and she said, Erma Lee? It's me.

Thanks but I'm all set, Erma Lee said.

Celeste went down the hall and stopped in the bedroom doorway. Across the room a sliding glass door led to a patio facing the harbor. The afternoon sun shone bright and Celeste squinted her eyes. Erma Lee held a trash bag which she loaded clothing into.

Erma Lee, she said.

I'm fine.

I know that. But it's Christmas.

Erma Lee straightened and faced Celeste. Her chin was wrinkled but Celeste was surprised to see her face so clear and dry. Thanks for everything, Celeste. The cookbook and things.

Keep it, Celeste said.

I feel good, Erma Lee said.

You feel good?

It dawned on me of a sudden. He don't love me and he don't love anyone. I got a baby and I'm happy. I can do it. And you know what? It weren't even that I was scared of doing it alone. I was just scared to go crawling back to my cousin's like a failure.

What happened?

Nothing happened. Erma Lee rolled a pair of jeans up and stuffed them in the bag. There was a pile of clothes on the floor at her feet where she'd dumped the dresser drawer out. She bent down and grabbed more clothes and stuffed them in. When she straightened she held a small pair of black lace panties in her hand. She held them up for Celeste to see. I wear this stuff for him, she said. And he don't care. He don't care about nothing but lobsters and boats. Well he can get some other girl to wear them.

She shoved the panties under the pillow.

It's none of my business, Erma Lee. I know. I'll leave if you want.

Erma Lee wiped her nose and nodded. She tried to pick up the trash bag but she'd filled it too full and the bag was too weak and her hands tore through it. She coughed and sat on the bed.

Celeste sat down next to her. What'd he do that was so bad?

He's just changed. Or maybe he ain't changed but everything else has. I'm pregnant and we got a baby coming and he don't realize that. He won't say nothing about this baby other than it don't need a mother and nothing about me but me needing to get off my ass. Why can't he just say that he understands or something? Or that he wants this baby? Or maybe he don't want it. Anything. He got mean. All he done all along was make fun of me for it like I made a big mistake on my own. Like caring for a baby is wasting time or something.

Celeste slid over and put her arm around Erma Lee. I wish I could tell you something good, but that sounds like Bill. If it helps, I can tell you that he's different inside. His mother died when he was nine and he took care of Jonah but he never stopped being a scared little boy stuck inside that big body of his. He was always supposed to not feel a thing.

Erma Lee nodded. Well, she said. That don't mean he's got to treat me like he done. I grew up like shit too.

You're right, Celeste said. She rubbed Erma Lee's back. Where are you going? For dinner?

Down to my cousin's. Where I should've gone in the first place. But Bill wanted me to join your family. And things were going good. Then Osmond and the pound—he changed of a sudden. I know he lost his dad and all that, but don't he know I can help him? I didn't do this on purpose but it's done.

I know it, Celeste said. I know it. You didn't do anything wrong. The first time I got pregnant I was scared out of my wits. But I was lucky because Virgil was there the whole time and he was so happy and eager for our baby. I think he wished he could carry it instead of me.

I wish Bill was that way. I done everything I know to do.

He might feel it, Erma Lee. He probably does. But he doesn't know how to say what he feels. He just shuts himself off. And right now things are especially hard for him.

Erma Lee coughed again. I know they are. But don't he know I can help? It's hard but still that don't mean he can take it out on me or a unborn infant. That ain't right no matter what.

That's right, Celeste said.

Erma Lee wiped her eyes. You got pregnant more than once?

Celeste looked surprised. What?

You said the first time was when you was scared.

Celeste nodded. Yes. I miscarried the next one and that was it. We never did try again. Sometimes I wish we had. For Charlotte's sake. I think she'd be better with people if she had a sibling.

She's nice.

Celeste laughed. She can be. But she's selfish because she never had to share. Her best friend was always Jonah and he was always in love with her so he gave her anything she wanted. And she took anything she wanted. She still takes anything she wants and doesn't think about anything else. Not even her own future. But she'll do well. She's smart enough.

Erma Lee nodded and stood up. I best get these things together. My cousins is all waiting and it's Christmas.

Are you sure you won't change your mind? I stuffed those cabbages I told you about, and I roasted a bunch of root vegetables. There's sourdough rolls and cranberry sauce with horseradish—please come over. Everything's from the garden, and there's still some cooking you can help me with.

Erma Lee thought for a moment. I might change my mind about Bill if he changes his own mind. I know I can help him but he's got to allow that. I ain't lagging around no more just because I'm scared of being on my own. Me and this kid can make do fine. I always made do growing up with my mom drunk and my dad who knows where, and I can make do now.

Celeste set dinner on the table and opened two bottles of wine and everyone sat down. The meal was quiet and awkward. No one mentioned Nicolas and no one mentioned Osmond and no one mentioned the lobster pound. After dinner Virgil made everyone watch
The Sound of Music
and Jonah and Bill and Celeste sat on the couch and Virgil sat in his chair and Charlotte lay on the floor hidden beneath a blanket.

Bill declared the movie to be Erma Lee's type of horseshit but sat and watched it without stirring. Jonah spent the night in the guest room. A few minutes after he was in bed he heard Charlotte move about in her bedroom. He heard her dresser drawer open and close and he knew she was taking her clothes off and putting her pajamas on. Her sheets rustled and he knew she was climbing into bed so he put his fingers in his ears to block the images the sounds carried.

Bill picked him up the next day. Neither spoke until they were out of the driveway and headed toward the wharf. Jonah said, You call Erma Lee last night?

Not yet I ain't but I want to, Jonah. That's the thing. I do miss her.

Tell that to her, not me.

Who said I ain't told her?

You did. You just said you didn't call her.

Bill thought for a moment. What if she ain't the right one, Jonah? That ever occur to you? Women always know they got the right one, but with us guys it's different. We got a harder time telling. By Jesus, Jonah, if I tell her something like I been missing her, then that's it. Like stepping in wet concrete on a hot day is what it is.

Now how in hell you figure that? She's a woman, Bill. She ain't a fucking pile of concrete and she ain't a boat either.

Well it weren't too long ago you were telling me to run her offshore with a cinderblock if I remember correct, Jonah.

Well, I don't know what to say. I'm getting to like her.

Bill nodded. Jonah examined his brother's face with its square jaw and thin red lips and big cheekbones and eyes so gentle and innocent that Jonah had trouble equating the face with the words that tended to spill from its mouth. He half expected Bill to say,
I wish she was a boat
.

They eased down the frozen hill to the wharf. Virgil's truck was already parked out on the wharf. Diesel exhaust drifted from the tailpipe.

Bill sucked his cigarette hard and his cheeks caved and he said, Maybe we should go down to Florida or something. You ever think of that? Get the hell out of here? Go down there and get a skiff and do some sport fishing on them flats? Or hell, we could just run the
Jennifer
down there and do some real fishing. Chase some tuna and marlin or swords around.

Jonah nodded but didn't answer. He watched Virgil's truck reverse and turn around and pull alongside.

Virgil rolled his window down and put one hand on the windowsill.

I see Julius's boat ain't on the hook, Bill said.

Virgil locked his gaze on Bill. He took a deep breath that bulged his cheeks like a saxophone player. He blew out a pile of air. What in the clamfuck makes you think I ain't noticed that, Bill?