That Camden Summer (16 page)

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my dad wouldn't let us cut them up because they were my mother's."

"My dad hates going to school for programs. He probably wouldn't come even if we did do it there. "

"On Sundays we eat at my grandma's, but mostly I cook for my dad."

"In the evenings? Oh, I don't know. We do dishes and I study and if it's summer he goes out and fools with Mother's roses, and if it's winter he reads his newspaper. Sometimes I have to help him clean the house."

What Roberta pieced together was the picture of a very lonely young girl with a very boring existence who wasn't allowed to do much except household chores.

She began to notice Isobel's overt response to any sign of affection. Once when Roberta absently touched Isobel's hair while passing behind her, Isobel looked over her shoulder with an expression of such bald gratitude that Roberta hugged the girl farewell that night as she was leavin'g.

Isobel hugged her back very hard-, and her eyes lit up as she exclaimed, "Oh, Mrs. Jewett, I just love it at your house! It's so much fun here."

"Well, you're welcome anytime, Isobel." Roberta tried to remember if she'd ever seen Gabriel hug his daughter, but she didn't think so.

The following morning the weather had lifted and Roberta opened the front door early while the girls were still asleep. She stepped out onto the porch in her nightgown and stretched, feeling very much alive and optimistic. It was going to be a splendid day! And oh, what a sky! Clouds of deep rose fanned up like the fin of a sailfish, edged in gilt, carrying yesterday's gloom into the sunrise. The sea was tinted allover pink and through its surface the islands of Penobscot Bay seemed to be ascending as if they would lift completely free of the sea and become part of the pattern above. Below-, in Camden Harbor, the rocky shoreline met the looking-glass water, and from it a snub-nosed little steamer headed out for somewhere, leaving behind a forest of reflected masts that lay as precise as real ones on the glassy surface. As she watched, those reflections were broken into shorter lengths by the slow-spreading wake from the steamer. Then from another mooring a fisherman pulled away in a double-ender, and as he cleared the other craft lying at anchor, Roberta made out his silhouette, standing in the boat as he pulled at the oars, like a Winslow Homer painting.

This then was Camden. This, her home and her children's home-, perhaps for the rest of her days. And what would it bring? A happy place for the girls, it seemed already. Some strife with her family: This seemed sure. A new job, which she must see about, now that she had her motorcar. And Gabriel Farley ... a friend or an annoyance?

The thought of Farley was too perplexing, so she turned inside to prepare for the day.

His brother didn't come with him that morning, but Farley was out on the porch with his paintbrush before the girls left for school. Of course, they wanted Roberta to give them a ride in the new Ford, but when she declined, they clattered off3 streaming greetings that drifted inside and perked up Robertas ears in the kitchen.

"Hi_, Mr. Farley!" "Mornin', Mr. Farley!"

"Hi. Mr. Farley - you painting today?" She backed up a step and peered through the shotgun house out the front door3 but wherever he was, he was not visible.

She heard the deep tone of his voice-, but not the words as he returned their greetings. She could see the front end of his truck behind her car, but enough traffic passed on the street that she hadn't paid attention to the sound of his engine when he'd pulled up.

She decided to get to work and forgo good mornings.

The smell of his paint and turpentine-, however, was a relentless reminder of his presence. Sometimes the faint thump of a ladder being moved would intrude upon her3 and she questioned why she had not gone directly with a greeting as she would have to any other person.

At midmorning she went out with her pocketbook in hand-, wearing her new creamcolored duster over her dress_, with her driving goggles looped over her arm. Farley was on the south end of the porch, painting the wall.

"Well, good morning," he said, turning with the paintbrush in his hand.

"Good morning."

"Putting the top down this morning, are you?"

"Yes, I'm off to the administrator's office to get my assignments for next week."

"Time to go to work, eh?"

"Got to earn a living for my girls."

"Well, you've certainly got a beautiful morning for it. "

"Yes, isn't it? And I thought all Mainers claimed they never have spring."

"Proves we're wrong. Saw a couple leaves sprouting on my wife's roses."

"She was a gardener, was she?" "Yes-, she was."

"I have a black thumb myself. The thing that grows best for me is weeds."

"She could make anything grow. Her gardens were her pride and joy."

"You still keep them?"

"No, only the roses. The rest is gone.

A lull fell, tinged by a degree of pensiveness that put the smallest damper on the fine spring morning. To dispel it Roberta summoned a more cheerful note. "Well!" She bent back to scan the decorative spandrel around the porch. "The paint is going to work wonders, isn't it?"

His gaze followed hers. "It'll look like a new place in no time."

"The girls will be glad to get you off their porch."

" 7heir porch," he repeated, chuckling soundlessly. "They've staked their claim to it. The moment the paint dries their play goes into production. Seems we're all going to get invited to the premiere performance."

"All? Who's all?"

"All us parents. You, me, Elfred and Grace. I believe they've put Lydia in charge of ticket sales." I

"You mean we re going to get charged?" "That's right. You mustn't let on that I've told you though. I think it was supposed to be a surprise."

"I won't say anything."

They were back on comfortable footing and would have enjoyed chatting some more, but the paint was drying on his brush.

"Well, I'd better get going Roberta began buttoning her duster. let you get back to work."

"Good luck," he called as she headed down the steps.

"Thanks." He stood watching till she was halfway across the lawn, then called, "You know how to put that top down?"

Walking backward, she answered, "I think I can figure it out. "

"Be glad to give you a hand."

She swung about and continued toward the

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car. "Thank you, Mr. Farley, but I'll do just fine."

He dipped his brush and went back to work, but when her back was turned, he watched her open the car door and reach inside to loosen the bonnet spokes and collapse it like the hood of a baby carriage. Then she went up front, cranked the motor and brushed off her palms. She got in, put on the goggles and waved. "See you later! Happy painting!" - and off she went.

Watching her drive away, he mentally shook his head, but an undeniable seed of admiration had taken root in Gabe Farley. He wondered, as the Model T disappeared up the street, if Caroline would have managed as handily if he had been the one to die first.

8

HE regional office of public nursing for the state of Maine was located in Rockland, seven miles south of Camden. T

There Roberta took her orders from a sweetfaced woman named Eleanor Balfour-, who issued her white uniforms and caps, medical supplies, gave her assignments for the coming week and advised her she would need to get a telephone wire into her home for which the state would pay.

"A telephone wire?" Roberta's face lit with surprise.

"It'll simplify your getting assignments and ordering supplies. Occasionally emergencies arise-, as well."

"And the state will pay?"

"Yes." At Roberta's continued amazement_, Miss Balfour smiled indulgently. "It's one of these new contraptions that we're all getting used to. If you object to people all over town knowing about your private affairs, don't speak of them on the telephone."

"No, I won't."

"A reminder about our service," Miss Balfour continued. "It's as much teaching as it is nursing

- in homes, in the schools, wherever you go, be prepared to preach cleanliness and hygiene. Keep your eye out for possible contaminated water supplies, any signs of communicable diseases,

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especially diphtheria, measles and scarlet fever. Quarantine when necessary, and enlighten whenever possible." She pushed back her chair. "As you know, Mrs. Jewett, a major portion of our fight is against ignorance. And . . . " she added with a smile, muddy roads in the spring. "

"Up in the mountains, I suppose they are," Roberta commented as the two women rose. "They don't call us nurses on horseback for nothing."

"I won't be on horseback, Miss Balfour. I own my own motorcar."

"You do! Why, how excellent!" "So far it is, and quite exciting." "And you've mastered driving it?" "If not mastered, at least minored."

Miss Balfour laughed. "Well, good luck., Mrs. Jewett.

She found herself excited and needing someone with whom to share her exhilaration. Quite naturally, she hurried home to Gabe, little realizing how much she was looking forward to telling him her news.

"Hey, Mr. Farley, I got my first assignment!" Roberta crowed as she barreled across the yard.

Gabe came down off his ladder and stood at the bottom, wiping his hands on a rag. "Which is

"Inoculating schoolchildren against diphtheria.

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I'll start right here in Camden, and get to as many as I can before schools close for the summer.15

"Jabbing children in the arm with those horse needles. They won't be too happy to see you

comin'. "

"Might save their life though." "Ayup. 53

"Have you ever been inoculated, Mr. Farley" "Nope."

"I'll do that for you, if you like."

"Oh, you'd relish the idea of jabbing me and making me howl, wouldn't you?"

Though Roberta was certainly not the coy type, she wasn't above a little teasing. "Do you howl, Mr. Farley?" she said with a glint of mischief.

He angled her a glance with some mischief of his own. "Been known to. Can't say I like pain much."

"Oh, come on. You've probably hit yourself with a hammer that hurt more than this little shot will."

Suddenly, down below, the mill whistle blasted. Situated as the house was, just above the stack, it was close enough that glasses tinkled together whenever the steam whistle sounded. Roberta covered her ears during the deafening bellow, and Farley winced. When it finally ended, their ears kept jangling.

"Phew, that thing is loud," she said.

"Can hear it for five minutes after it's done blowing."

"Well, it's noon," she remarked needlessly.

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"I'm hungry. Have you eaten your dinner yet?"

"Nope. Still in the truck."

"I'll make us some coffee if you want to come in and eat with me. "

"Sounds like a good idea. I'm ready to take a break."

Ten minutes later they sat in her kitchen at a scarred wooden table. She was eating cold meat and cottage cheese while he worked on two hefty sandwiches. The room was far from neat, but he could see she had scrubbed it down and washed the windows. He could also see that her possessions were very meager.

"Guess what " she said. "The state of Maine is going to pay for a telephone wire for me." "You don't say." He smiled, his cheek bulging

with a bite of sandwich.

"So I can get my assignments and order supplies from Rockland."

"Well, congratulations. "

"I think I'm pretty smart, getting a telephone." He reached for his coffee cup. "Just watch what you say on it.

4CWhy?55 "Party lines."

"Oh, yes, that's right."

"My mother likes to listen in on them." "Lots of gossip in this town, I take it." "Ayup."

They ate awhile, then she asked, "So what does your mother hear about me on her party line?"

"Mostly that you're divorced."

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"Mm . . . " She picked up two of his sandwich crumbs and ate them ...... that's pretty sordid, isn't it?"

It took some time for his grin to grow. Then he drawled, "Yes, ma'am, it is."

She sat back comfortably, enjoying him. "So tell me, what is your mother like?"

"My mother?" He thought awhile. "Oh, she's a nice woman. She does a lot for Isobel and me. She's a widow, has been for a long time, so washing our clothes and filling our cookie jar gives her something to do."

"Does she know my mother?" "I believe she does, yes." "But they're not friends?" "Not exactly. Why?"

"Because my mother's not a nice woman like yours, I don't think."

He rested his elbows on the table and hooked a finger through his cup handle, remembering the one time he'd seen the mother and daughter together. "I could tell that day when she came over here that you two don't get along so well. "

"We never did, actually. That's pretty much why I left Camden."

"How old were you then?"

"Eighteen. It was right after I graduated from high school. She wanted me to go to work in that infernal mill, and I absolutely refused. She thought I'd just settle down right here and wait on her, do everything she wanted, just like Grace. But my grandmother had died and left Grace and me each a small inheritance. Grace

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gave hers to Elfred to buy his first piece of property and start his business. I took mine and went away to college, which upset my mother a lot. She thought I should have done what Grace did-, and of course she never stops reminding me how Grace stood behind her husband when he needed her to, and look what happened

Roberta mimicked her mother. "Elfred is one of the wealthiest men in town, and he's so good to Grace and the children. Why, look at that house he keeps them in!"

She dropped the theatrics and continued. "I, on the other hand, with my college education and my worldly ways, have disgraced myself by throwing off a husband, returning to Camden with little more than the clothes on my back and this rickety furniture, thereby becoming an embarrassment to my mother. She fails to see that if I hadn't pursued my nursing career, my children would have starved. Their father would have seen to that."