“Yes, I recognized Spartina. I almost drove into the sea. I—”
“Thank you for bringing May and the boys.”
Elsie said, “It’s good to see you back. I’ll go tell Miss Perry. She asked after you.” Elsie laughed. “It’s odd. The hurricane seems to have snapped her out of her spell. You didn’t hear anything about Captain Texeira, did you?”
“Not for a while. My radio went out. But the Lydia was well east of Spartina. She should be okay. You could ask the Coast Guard.”
“Okay.” She paused. “See you later. I’ll be driving around all day, but you can get me on my CB.”
The boys climbed into the bed of the pickup. Dick let Eddie drive. They had to run a slalom course along Route 1. There were trees down, bits of fence, roofs, brush. There were tongues of silt in a couple of low places where the water had licked across.
“You seen the house?” Dick asked May.
“No.”
Eddie said, “I’ll go take a look with you after you get some rest. I got to help clear some roads this morning.”
Eddie drove right on by when they passed Dick’s driveway on the other side of Route 1. Dick craned his head to see, but the grove of bushes in the median strip cut him off.
“I’ll take you down later,” Eddie said. “Let’s go get some breakfast.”
Dick figured Eddie had taken a look and it was pretty bad. For some reason this didn’t dismay Dick. Maybe he was too tired to worry anymore. He felt odd. He recognized he’d been his old crusty self with the boys, but he felt different. It just didn’t show yet. This was fine with him, he didn’t believe in sudden change. What he did like was the idea that feelings already in him had been laid bare to himself by the storm, some bare rock of what he really cared about.
Eddie said, “I guess your boat’s proved her worth. You could probably sell her for two hundred thousand. She’s passed the hardest test there’s likely to be.”
Dick shook his head. “I’ve never held with that idea. You see a big fancy sailboat for sale in Newport, the ad says ‘Two transatlantic crossings.’ You’re supposed to think that’s good. What it really means is she most likely needs some work. I probably took four or five years off Spartina’s life.” Dick laughed. “I took her from maidenhood to middle age without much joy of youth.”
May said, “I guess you didn’t get as far out as you thought you could.”
Dick took May’s hand. She let it lie in his. “May, I figured it the best I could. And it worked out okay. Not perfect, but okay. I recognize it was hard on you, and I’m sorry for that.”
May didn’t say anything, but she didn’t take her hand away.
Eddie said, “You won’t have any trouble getting a crew. The boys’ll figure you can get through anything.”
Dick said, “Not if the whole story gets out. I’m not sure I’d sign on myself with a skipper who’ll do any damn thing to save his boat. I’d rather be with someone who’ll let a boat go. Gets everybody back, or, better yet, keeps them at home. Now, if the word is that I was just following right behind Captain Texeira and didn’t have much trouble, then I’ll get someone to sign on, someone who’s been around a while.”
May said, “At least it didn’t cross your mind to take Charlie.”
“You’re right,” Dick said, “it didn’t cross my mind.”
Eddie swung the pickup up the Ministerial Road and, after a slow half-mile through twigs and small branches, into his driveway. “Here you are,” he said, “your home away from home.” He came round and opened the door for May. He said to Dick, “You want me to fix you some breakfast?”
“I’ll get it,” May said. “If you don’t mind, Eddie. The boys can help you in the yard. I’ll fix something for all of us.”
May took Dick inside and began to cry. She rolled her forehead on his shoulder while she cried, and then began to thump her head against his chest. Dick stopped her and held her still and said, “It won’t happen like this again, May. It just won’t.”
She said, “Maybe not,” and went to the stove. She said, “There’s no running water but I’ll heat up a bucket so you can wash up.”
“I’m sorry, May.”
“I brought your razor and your toothbrush. They’re in the bathroom. You left without them.”
Dick laughed. “I knew there was something I forgot.”
May didn’t laugh, but when he held her hips from behind and pressed against her back he felt her ease up. Not give in, but ease up.
Eddie had given May and Dick his own room. Dick scrubbed off, shaved, and brushed his teeth. He went in and lay down for a minute. He heard the boys come in, May and the boys setting the table. When he woke up he heard the same thing — May calling the boys in and the clink of plates. But when he got up he found it was suppertime.
39
Dick had wanted to spend the day raising the big skiff. He’d wanted to make a list of repairs to Spartina’s wheelhouse and check the hull and go see his insurance agent. Everyone else had been working. Eddie had been out on the roads all day, the boys had been busy in Eddie’s yard, and May had done a load of wash by hand and hung it out.
At supper Eddie said, “If the power don’t come back on soon, I’ll lose what’s in my freezer.” But that was his only complaint. He was making good money. He’d run into half a dozen house owners who wanted him to clear their drives and yards and do repairs. Eddie said, “I could turn the corner, I could turn out to be a general contractor. I already built some sheds and garages cheaper than those prefabs they sell at the Wakefield Branch, and people like ’em better, they like that log-cabin look. And now I’m out on the road and people see me, they make a deal. The phones are still out, so they can’t call anybody else. And Elsie’s been putting out the word. She got me on her CB this afternoon, told me to go by and see some folks and put in some estimates on boathouses. I should get some signs: ‘This boathouse being repaired by Edward Wormsley ST3–7801.’ No, a P.O. box. And a sign for right here: ‘Hurricane repair. Inquire within.’ I’ll tell you what you could do, Dick, is line up some boat-repair contracts for this winter. I’ll help you haul ’em, we got my flatbed with the hoist. I’ll build cradles here in my yard. I got plenty of wood. Six or seven of those’ll get you though the bad part of the winter. There’ll be weeks you won’t be going out at all.”
Dick nodded. “First I got to go out and see if the storm left me any pots. I may have to make quite a few.”
“First you may have to make a new house,” May said. “We can’t camp out on Eddie all fall.”
“I don’t see why not,” Eddie said. “I’m all alone except when my boy comes on weekends. We can fix up the back room for your boys. I’ll bunk in my boy’s room. We could have a pretty good time of it.”
“Oh, Eddie,” May said. “We can’t …”
“And, come November, Dick and I can shoot a few geese. Take Charlie and Tom. Maybe a deer or two. Turn your boys into woodsmen.”
Dick nodded, but didn’t say anything. He already was too obliged to Eddie.
“We could make pots in the basement,” Eddie said. “You, me, the boys. Get my boy off his motorcycle, make him pitch in. Regular assembly line. Make enough pots each weekend for you to add a trawl every week.”
Dick said, “What about your firewood business?”
“I’m way ahead. Way ahead. When I cut up the trees I’m hauling now, I’ll be two years ahead. There’s only so much firewood to be sold around here. I’m branching out.”