Stern Men (42 page)

“Sorry about that.”

“I doubt it.”

“I forgot. Tell him I’m sorry.”

“Tell him yourself. He wants to see you.”

Senator Simon brightened and said, “Ruth, maybe you can ask Mr. Ellis about the basement!”

Senator Simon had recently found row upon row of locked file cabinets in the basement of the Ellis Granite Company Store. They were full, Senator Simon was sure, of fascinating Ellis Granite Company documents, and the Senator wanted permission to go through them and perhaps display a few of the choice items in the museum. He had written Mr. Ellis a letter requesting permission but had received no response.

“I can’t make it up there today, Cal,” Ruth said.

“Tomorrow’s fine.”

“I can’t make it up there tomorrow, either.”

“He wants to talk to you, Ruth. He has something to tell you.”

“I’m not interested.”

“I think it would be to your benefit to stop by. I’ll give you a ride, if that makes it easier.”

“I’m not going, Cal,” Ruth said.

“Why don’t you go see him, Ruth?” Senator Simon said. “You could ask him about the basement. Maybe I could come with you . . .”

“How does this weekend look? Maybe you can come for dinner Friday night. Or breakfast on Saturday?”

“I’m not going, Cal.”

“How does next Sunday morning sound? Or the Sunday after that?”

Ruth thought for a moment. “Mr. Ellis will be gone by the Sunday after that.”

“What makes you think so?”

“Because he always leaves Fort Niles on the second Saturday of September. He’ll be back in Concord the Sunday after next.”

“No, he won’t. He made it very clear to me that he’s not leaving Fort Niles until he sees you.”

This shut Ruth up.

“My goodness,” Senator Simon said, aghast. “Mr. Ellis isn’t planning on spending the winter here, is he?”

“I guess that’s up to Ruth,” Cal Cooley said.

“But that would be astonishing,” Senator Simon said. “That would be unheard of! He’s never stayed here.” Senator Simon looked at Ruth with panic. “What would that mean?” he said. “My goodness, Ruth. What are you going to
do?
”

Ruth had no answer, but she didn’t need one, because the conversation was abruptly ended by Webster Pommeroy, who charged into the Ellis Granite Company Store building with a hideous object in his hands. He was covered with mud from the chest down, and his face was so contorted that Ruth thought he must have found the second elephant tusk. But, no, it was not a tusk he was carrying. It was a round, filthy object that he thrust at the Senator. It took Ruth a moment to see what it was, and when she did, her body turned cold. Even Cal Cooley blanched when he realized that Webster Pommeroy was carrying a human skull.

The Senator turned it around and around in his doughy hands. The skull was intact. There were still teeth in the jaw, and a rubbery, shriveled skin, with long, muddy hairs hanging from it, covered the bone. It was a horror. Webster was shaking savagely.

“What’s that?” Cal Cooley asked, and for once his voice was free of sarcasm. “Who the hell is that?”

“I have no idea,” the Senator said.

But he did have an idea, as it turned out. Several days later—after the Rockland police came out on a Coast Guard boat to examine the skull and take it away for forensic tests—a distraught Senator Simon told the horrified Ruth Thomas of his supposition.

“Ruthie,” he said, “I’ll bet you any money in the world that’s the skull of your grandmother, Jane Smith-Ellis. That’s what they’re going to find out if they find out anything. The rest of her is probably still out there in the mudflats, where she’s been rotting since the wave took her in 1927.” He clutched Ruth’s shoulders in an uncommonly fierce grip. “Don’t you ever tell your mother I said that. She would be devastated.”

“So why did you tell
me?
” Ruth demanded. She was outraged.

“Because you’re a strong girl,” the Senator said. “And you can take it. And you always want to know exactly what’s going on.”

Ruth started crying; her tears came sudden and hard. “Why don’t you all just leave me alone?” she shouted.

The Senator looked crushed. He hadn’t meant to upset her. And what did she mean,
you all?
He tried to console Ruth, but she wasn’t having it. He was sad and confused by her lately; she was edgy all the time. He couldn’t make any sense of Ruth Thomas these days. He couldn’t figure out what she wanted, but she did seem awfully unhappy.

 

It was a hard fall. The weather got cold overly fast, taking everyone by surprise. The days grew shorter too quickly, locking the whole island in a state of irritation and misery.

Just as Cal Cooley had predicted, the second weekend of September came and went and Mr. Ellis didn’t budge. The
Stonecutter
stayed in the harbor, rocking about where everyone could see it, and word soon spread across the island that Mr. Ellis was not leaving and the reason had something to do with Ruth Thomas. By the end of September, the
Stonecutter
was a distressing presence. Having the Ellis boat sitting in the harbor so late into the fall was weird. It was like an anomaly of nature—a total eclipse, a red tide, an albino lobster. People wanted answers. How long did Mr. Ellis intend to stick around? What was he asking for? Why didn’t Ruth deal with him and get it over with? What were the
implications?

By the end of October, several local fishermen had been hired by Cal Cooley to take the
Stonecutter
out of the water, clean it, store it on land. Obviously, Lanford Ellis was going nowhere. Cal Cooley didn’t come looking for Ruth Thomas again. She knew the terms. She had been summoned, and she knew that Mr. Ellis was waiting for her. And the whole island knew it, too. Now the boat was up on land in a wooden cradle where every man on the island could see it when he went down to the dock each morning to haul. The men didn’t stop to look at it, but they were aware of its presence as they walked by. They felt its large, expensive oddity. It made them skittish, the way a new object in a familiar trail unnerves a horse.

The snow began in the middle of October. It was going to be an early winter. The men pulled their traps out of the water for good much earlier than they liked to, but it was getting harder to go out there and deal with the ice-caked gear, the frozen hands. The leaves were off the trees, and everyone could see Ellis House clearly on the top of the hill. At night, there were lights in the upstairs rooms.

In the middle of November, Ruth’s father came over to Mrs. Pommeroy’s house. It was four in the afternoon, and dark. Kitty Pommeroy, already blindly drunk, was sitting in the kitchen, staring at a pile of jigsaw puzzle pieces on the table. Robin and Opal’s little boy, Eddie, who had recently learned to walk, was standing in the middle of the kitchen in a soggy diaper. He held an open jar of peanut butter and a large wooden spoon, which he was dipping into the jar and then sucking. His face was covered with peanut butter and spit. He was wearing one of Ruth’s T-shirts—it looked like a dress on him—that read VARSITY. Ruth and Mrs. Pommeroy had been baking rolls, and the shocking-green kitchen radiated heat and smelled of bread, beer, and wet diapers.

“I’ll tell you,” Kitty was saying. “How many years was I married to that man and I never once refused him. That’s what I can’t understand, Rhonda. Why’d he have to step out on me? What’d Len want that I couldn’t give him?”

“I know, Kitty,” Mrs. Pommeroy said. “I know, honey.”

Eddie dipped his spoon into the peanut butter and then, with a squeal, threw it across the kitchen floor. It skidded under the table.

“Jesus, Eddie,” said Kitty. She lifted the tablecloth, looking for the spoon.

“I’ll get it,” Ruth said, and got down on her knees and ducked under the table. The tablecloth fluttered down behind her. She found the spoon, covered with peanut butter and cat hair, and also found a full pack of cigarettes, which must have been Kitty’s.

“Hey, Kit,” she started to say, but stopped, because she heard her father’s voice, greeting Mrs. Pommeroy. Her father had actually come over! He hadn’t come over in months. Ruth sat up, under the table, leaned against its center post, and was very quiet.

“Stan,” Mrs. Pommeroy said, “how nice to see you.”

“Well, it’s about the fuck time you stopped by and saw your own goddamn daughter,” said Kitty Pommeroy.

“Hey, Kitty,” Stan said. “Is Ruth around?”

“Somewhere,” Mrs. Pommeroy said. “Somewhere. She’s always around somewhere. It is nice to see you, Stan. Long time. Want a hot roll?”

“Sure. I’ll give one a try.”

“Were you out to haul this morning, Stan?”

“I had a look at ’em.”

“Keep any?”

“I kept a few. I think this is about it for everyone else, though. But I’ll probably stay out there for the winter. See what I can find. How’s everything over here?”

There was an attention-filled silence. Kitty coughed into her fist. Ruth made herself as small as she could under the large oak table.

“We’ve missed having you come by for dinner,” Mrs. Pommeroy said. “You been eating with Angus Addams these days?”

“Or alone.”

“We always have plenty to eat over here, Stan. You’re welcome any time you like.”

“Thanks, Rhonda. That’s nice of you. I miss your cooking,” he said. “I was wondering if you know what Ruthie’s plans might be.”

Ruthie.
Hearing this, Ruth had a touch of heartache for her father.

“I suppose you should talk to her about that yourself.”

“She say anything to you? Anything about college?”

“You should probably talk to her yourself, Stan.”

“People are wondering,” Stan said. “I got a letter from her mother.”

Ruth was surprised. Impressed, even.

“Is that right, Stan? A letter. That’s been a long time coming.”

“That’s right. She said she hasn’t heard from Ruth. She said she and Miss Vera were disappointed Ruth hadn’t made a decision about college. Has she made a decision?”

“I couldn’t say, Stan.”

“It’s too late for this year, of course. But her mother said maybe she could start after Christmas. Or maybe she could go next fall. It’s up to Ruth, I don’t know. Maybe she has other plans?”

“Should I leave?” Kitty asked. “You want to tell him?”

“Tell me what?”

Under the table, Ruth felt queasy.

“Kitty,” Mrs. Pommeroy said. “Please.”

“He doesn’t know, right? You want to tell him in private? Who’s telling him? Is she going to tell him?”

“That’s OK, Kitty.”

“Tell him what?” Stan Thomas asked. “Tell me what in private?”

“Stan,” Mrs. Pommeroy said, “Ruth has something to tell you. Something you’re not going to like. You need to talk to her soon.”

Eddie staggered over to the kitchen table, lifted a corner of the tablecloth, and peeked in at Ruth, who was sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest. He squatted over his huge diaper and stared at her. She stared back. His baby face had a puzzled look.

“I’m not going to like
what?
” Stan said.

“It’s really something Ruth should talk to you about, Stan. Kitty spoke too freely.”

“About what?”

Kitty said, “Well, guess what, Stan. What the hell. We think Ruth’s going to have a baby.”

“Kitty!” Mrs. Pommeroy exclaimed.

“What? Don’t holler at me. Christ’s sake, Rhonda, Ruth doesn’t have the guts to tell him. Get it the hell over with. Look at the poor guy, wondering what the hell’s going on.”

Stan Thomas said nothing. Ruth listened. Nothing.

“She hasn’t told anyone but us,” Mrs. Pommeroy said. “Nobody knows about it, Stan.”

“They’ll know soon enough,” Kitty said. “She’s getting fat as all hell.”

“Why?” Stan Thomas asked blankly. “Why do you think my daughter’s having a baby?”

Eddie crawled under the kitchen table with Ruth, and she handed him his filthy peanut butter spoon. He grinned at her.

“Because she hasn’t had her period in four months and she’s getting
fat!
” Kitty said.

“I know this is upsetting,” Mrs. Pommeroy said. “I know it’s hard, Stan.”

Kitty snorted in disgust. “Don’t worry about Ruth!” she put in, loudly, firmly. “This is no big deal!”

Silence hung in the room.

“Come on!” Kitty said. “There’s nothing to having a baby! Tell him, Rhonda! You had about twenty of ’em! Easy breezy! Anyone with clean hands and common sense can do it!”

Eddie stuck the spoon in his mouth, pulled it out, let forth a delighted howl. Kitty lifted the tablecloth and peered in. She started to laugh.

“Didn’t even know you was there, Ruth!” Kitty shouted. “Forgot all about you!”

EPILOGUE

Giants are met with in all the higher groups of animals. They interest us not only on account of their absolute size, but also in showing to what degree individuals may surpass the mean average of their race. It may be a question whether lobsters which weigh from 20-25 pounds are to be regarded as giants in the technical sense, or simply as sound and vigorous individuals on whose side fortune has always fought in the struggle of life. I am inclined to the latter view, and to look upon the mammoth lobster simply as a favorite of nature, who is larger than his fellows because he is their senior. Good luck has never deserted him.

—The American Lobster: A Study of Its Habits and Development
Francis Hobart Herrick, Ph.D. 1895

 

 

 

 

 

BY THE SUMMER OF 1982, the Skillet County Fishing Cooperative was doing a pretty good business for the three dozen lobstermen of Fort Niles Island and Courne Haven Island who had joined it. The office of the cooperative was located in the sunny front room of what had once been the Ellis Granite Company Store but was now the Intra-Island Memorial Museum of Natural History. The cooperative’s founder and manager was a competent young woman named Ruth Thomas-Wishnell. Over the past five years, Ruth had bullied and cajoled her relatives and most of her neighbors into entering the delicate network of trust that made the Skillet County Co-op successful.