Another: “Mrs. Rogers, stewardess of Stella. Helped ladies into lifeboat, gave up own vest. DIES! GOES DOWN WITH SHIP!”
Ruth handed that last card to Senator Simon and said, “I think this one belongs in the Heroes file.” He squinted at the card and said, “You’re absolutely right, Ruth. How did Mrs. Rogers ever get in the Medical file? And look what I just found in the Heroes file that doesn’t belong there at all.”
He handed Ruth an index card reading: “Augusta M. Gott, capsized, Gulf Stream, 1868. Erasmus Cousins (of BROOKSVILLE, MAINE!) selected by lot to be eaten. Saved only by sight of rescue sail. E. Cousins had bad stammer rest of life; E. Cousins-NEVER ReTURNED TO SEA!”
“Do you have a cannibalism file?” Ruth asked.
“This is much more poorly organized than I thought,” said Senator Simon, mournfully.
It was at that moment that Cal Cooley stepped through the front door of the Ellis Granite Company Store building, without knocking.
“There’s my Ruth,” he said.
“Shit,” Ruth said, simply and with dread.
Cal Cooley hung around a long time in the Ellis Granite Company Store that afternoon. He rifled through Senator Simon’s belongings, taking things out of order and putting things back in the wrong place. He agitated Senator Simon no end by handling some of the artifacts quite rudely. Ruth tried to keep her mouth shut. Her stomach hurt. She tried to be quiet and stay out of the way so that he wouldn’t talk to her, but there was no avoiding him on his mission. After an hour of being a nuisance, Cal said, “You never went to see Mr. Ellis for dinner in July, as he invited you to do.”
“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.