The Whiskey Tide (37 page)

     
"Kate, are you mad? The woman's odd as a fish with a hat!" Mama gasped.

     
Ignoring their stunned expressions, Kate dashed out.

***

     
Felix dropped the receiver back onto its stand and stared angrily at his plush apartment. Everything that could go wrong today had. The stupid little strawberry blonde had turned up pregnant. A truck had been hijacked and two of the boss's men killed. And Aggie Hinshaw, the green-eyed little bitch, had turned him down when he asked her to dinner.

     
Sweeping a hand out, he hurled telephone, lamp and crystal cigarette box onto the floor.

***

     
Kate wore a blue wool dress almost as bright as the sky. Under one arm she carried two small parcels wrapped in brown paper. Joe was standing in front of the library when she arrived. His topcoat looked new and fitted him splendidly.

     
"I hope you weren't waiting long." She was unaccountably short of breath.

     
"Just got here."

     
"Your uncles aren't fishing today?"

     
"I've got a young cousin, Mike, always wants to go out. Thought he might as well have a turn since there's no school."

     
They stood looking at each other and Kate couldn't think of anything else to say; wondered how they would find enough to talk about over lunch. Joe seemed to feel the awkwardness too. He looked slightly away, his smile self-conscious.

     
"Seems kind of strange meeting when it's not to lay plans for breaking the law."

     
She laughed and the panic that was stealing in retreated.

     
"I borrowed a car. It's up a ways."

     
As they walked he told her about passing time with engine repair, how one particular model had a design flaw that caused them to fail.

     
"It's more like a game than work. Seeing if I can figure out the problem. And the old guy I rent from's a character."

     
He entertained her with his description of Rudy Vogel. A tightwad in most ways, the man had taken in a stray kitten that wanted for nothing, right down to a cushion-lined basket which Vogel had fixed for it at the warehouse.

     
The restaurant they stopped at by Beverly Bridge was cozy and pleasant. From their window-side table Kate saw dozens of boats bobbing on mooring ropes in spite of the season. They suggested movement and travel and people busily engaged in comings and goings.

     
"Here's something for Christmas." Joe removed a package that looked suspiciously like a book from his overcoat pocket.

     
"Shall I open it now?" she asked with an eagerness she'd forgotten since childhood.

     
"If you like."

     
"Then you can open yours as well." Feeling suddenly nervous about her selection she passed him the parcels she'd been carrying. "The one underneath's just some candy and a card game for the children at your house."

     
"They'll like that. Thanks."

     
The brown shop paper Kate untied revealed a copy of Joyce's
Ulysses
. It summoned memories of the hotel in Saint John.

     
"How wonderful! Thank you. Did you have to knock at a cellar door and give a password?"

     
"Not quite. Smuggled books are harder to find than smuggled whiskey, though."

     
Their eyes met and they laughed furtively as a waiter brought a list of the day's dishes. Joe opened his gift, a collection of poems by W.B. Yeats.

     
"I didn't know if you liked poetry."

     
"If it's not about shepherds and syrupy stuff." He smiled suddenly, enlivening the room with his energy. "It's good to see you, Kate."

     
"It seems like forever."

     
"Funny how rum-running became the main thing and now it's hard settling back."

     
"I'd hate to do it for the rest of my life," Kate said with a shudder. "I like order. Predictability."

     
His cheeks creased. "No you don't. You like wind in your hair and storms and seeing new things even when they scare you to death. You might not have tried it if fate hadn't nudged you, but it suits you to a T."

     
She laughed again, mortified at the possibility of truth in what he was saying. Joe's deeper chuckle wound around hers. They'd been speaking softly, conspirators here as they were at sea. Now diners at a nearby table paused to glance at them. Pressing a hand to her mouth Kate composed herself.

     
They talked about Billy, who had turned a deaf ear to the idea of a savings account despite Joe's advice that he wouldn't be making rum-running wages the rest of his life. They enjoyed a brief argument over an article they'd both read in
Harper's
. Kate told about Woody's improved vigor and upcoming classes. Joe described the Christmas gift he'd found for his aunties, a cage with two parakeets.

     
Time passed quickly, even though people came and went at the other tables. With guilt Kate recognized that she was talking to Joe as freely as she'd once talked to Theo. Coffee arrived and nothing remained to prolong the meal. Reaching under the tweed of his jacket Joe produced a leatherbound pad and a pencil. Kate watched his hands. They were well-tended, only on second glance showing evidence of hard labor. Today, in his suit, he might easily pass for a scientist or explorer.

     
"The market across from where I live has a phone," he said, suddenly serious. He slid a page from the pad across the table to her. The numbers on it were crisp and precise, as was the address below. "If you ever need anything — anything I can do — call and they'll get me."

     
A few flakes of snow fell languidly as they left the restaurant. Joe took her elbow.

     
"I suppose you need to get back." The reluctance in his voice echoed her own.

     
"Actually, I'm the only one in the family who seems to have nothing to do these days."

     
"Let's go to the Peabody."

     
The rest of the world was busy with Christmas caroling and holiday plans and they had the museum almost to themselves. The afternoon felt enchanted. They strolled amidst objects from Salem's past and curiosities from the Age of Sail, but the greatest attraction for both of them were exotic treasures from the China trade: swords and elaborate silk outfits, porcelain dishes and intricately carved furniture. Joe smiled at a gleaming jade statue.

     
"Kind of reminds you of Mrs. Cole's place, doesn't it?"

     
Laughing, Kate told him about inviting the two old ladies for eggnog and then sitting terrified Mrs. Cole would say something about her rum-running.

     
Twilight was approaching when they finally drove up the street to her home. Joe parked on the gravel drive and walked with her to the front door.

     
"I haven't enjoyed myself so much in ages," Kate said.

     
"Me either."

     
They stood in awkward silence as they had at the library that morning. The world around them had grown still. The air itself seemed to connect them. Joe's breathing slowed and then resumed its steady course.

     
"Merry Christmas, Kate."

     
"Merry Christmas, Joe."

     
She watched him drive away into the growing dusk, and then, in a buoyant mood, let herself into the house. At the sound of the door closing Aggie burst into view. Her face was pale under the rouge she put on her cheeks. Their mother came close on her heels, looking equally tense.

     
"Kate. Thank God you're home!" she exclaimed. "It's Theo. He's... he's tried to take his own life."

Twenty-seven

     
At noon on Christmas Eve trees were marked down and Vic, sometimes with Drake but always with kids, was standing by to make a selection. Rose and Cecilia were draping the lopsided little specimen they’d brought home with paper chains and tying small red bows on some of the branches when Joe came in. Even Nana had come down to watch.

     
"Uncle Joe, look!" squealed Arliss' oldest running to him.

     
Joe praised the tree, remembering how magical it all looked at that age.

     
Tomorrow there'd be some packages for the kids; not many by most people's standards, but enough they'd think they'd had a big time. There'd be some candy canes, and a dress for Rose that Arliss had stitched by hand, taking weeks for what she could have done in a few hours on a machine. There'd be a doll for Arliss' oldest, some building blocks, a pair of new socks for each child and the things from Kate. The grown-ups didn't get presents, but after Mass the room would overflow with relatives. Tables would be improvised and the women would spread out food enough for an army. The men would see to it there was plenty to drink.

     
Warmed by the certainty of it, Joe strolled into the kitchen. Vic and Drake sat watching Irene and Arliss cook up a storm.

     
"Finnegan's closed already?" Vic joked.

     
"Pretty dead. Sebastian's still there flirting with some cousin of Finnegan's. Could I talk to you and Irene alone for a minute?"

     
He caught the looks that darted back and forth. He'd said similar words when he broke the news he'd signed up for the army. They were braced for some major announcement. That he was moving out; that he was marrying Rita; something momentous.

     
"I'll check on the kids," said Arliss wiping her hands.

     
Drake made no excuse, just nodded and followed her. Irene looked worried. Her fingers continued to shape the fancy bread she was making. Vic waited.

     
"It's not bad news," Joe said with a grin. He hefted an envelope. "I've had good luck playing dice lately. Really took a flush guy from Boston a couple weeks back. I know you don't much approve, but you and the aunties both always told me God works in strange ways. So here."

     
He handed the envelope to Irene. She read faster than Vic, and understood some things faster too. She wiped her hands on her faded print apron. After reading a moment she looked up in disbelief.

     
"It's the deed to this house!"

     
Joe nodded, embarrassed by the moisture shining suddenly in her eyes and the way his uncle swallowed. "It's yours now. You can build that room for Arliss and the kids if you want."
     
Vic's head began to shake. "We can't—"

     
"Sure you can. You've raised me like one of your own. Shared everything you had."

     
Irene embraced him, wrapping him in the scent of butter and yeast, and kissed him warmly. When she released him she was laughing and crying. Vic swallowed again and gave him an awkward hug.