1929 (49 page)

“Well, then, since I didn’t get the truth
from my wife, why don’t you fill me in on what’s really been going
on?” His father’s glare demanded an answer.

“After the crash, we only had a few days to
get a plan together. All we had was the money in our wallets. Less
than three hundred dollars between us. We’ve been living in a
drafty tenement, and I’ve been working at a shipping dock. We were
saving a down payment for an apartment building, but someone bought
it out from under us while Aryl was back here last week for his
uncle’s funeral, who left him his fishing boats in his will.” The
condensed version was easier to speak of than he thought. His
father took a few minutes to process everything his son had
revealed. His mother still hadn’t looked up.

After an awkward silence, his father composed
himself and spoke with authority. “Okay. All right, next week, you
can go with me to Boston. I’m meeting with some friends to discuss
business. They’ve been watching the markets, and they’re almost
ready to jump. We should get in on that. I have a little money
saved. I'll give it to you to work that magic of yours. I know it
would be hard for you, coming from being your own boss, but I’m
sure one of my friends would let you in their firm with your track
record and all, and you can work your way back up.”

“Dad, I’m not getting back in.”

“What do you mean you're not getting back
in?” His father’s expression mingled wary and disbelieving.

“I mean, I’m not playing the game anymore.
For a lot of reasons.”

“That is the most ridiculous thing I have
ever heard.” He looked at his wife, bewildered. “Can you believe
this? The talent he has and he’s just throwing it away.” She
glanced briefly and uncomfortably at Jonathan. His father returned
his eyes to Jonathan. “Just what do you plan on doing then?” He
leaned forward over his plate, his ears growing red with
frustration. Ava reached for Jonathan’s hand under the table,
rubbing her thumb along the back, silently comforting and
supporting.

“I just told you, Aryl’s uncle left him his
boats. We’re going to do that.” His father looked like he had just
been told a hilarious joke.

“Do what? Fish?” Jonathan stabbed at his
casserole, his face growing ruddy with humiliation.

“Yes.”

Jon Sr. rubbed his face, agitated. “Well,
that’s great. Just great. I kept you off those boats for a reason,
Jonathan. There’s no money in fishing. No real money. Not like what
you had. Do you honestly think–” he interrupted himself with a
mocking laugh, “that you’ll get rich again throwing pots all
day?”

“No. But there’s more to life than money,
Dad. I don’t need that life anymore. I don’t want it.” Jonathan
wanted to crawl out of his skin, suddenly wanted to be anywhere but
here, trying to explain what even he didn’t understand.

“How can you not want that life!” his father
yelled. “You had everything!”

“Jon, stop yelling,” his mother ordered.

“No, Margaret, I won’t stop yelling. He
sounds as ridiculous as when he was younger, wanting to run off
with those friends of his, playing on the beach when he needed to
be here learning, working on his future.”

Jonathan frowned as he thought back on all
the times he asked, begged to go off with Caleb and Aryl, but his
father refused to let him, insisted on molding him into a financial
child prodigy.

“A lot of good it did me,” Jonathan said.

His father was fuming now. “What’s that
supposed to mean?”

“Everything I own is in a trunk upstairs,
Dad. The life I had was an illusion. It wasn’t real.”

Jon Sr. snorted. “Well, it looked pretty
damned real all the times we came to visit.”

Jonathan shook his head. “You don’t
understand. The way I did things, the way it was all set up, it
wasn’t really mine. If it was, it couldn’t have been taken away so
easily. I do have a plan. But this time I’m going to restructure my
life better. I know that what’s mine is truly mine and can’t be
taken away.”

“Look, son, I know you’re probably
traumatized by what happened.” He shifted his tone to sound more
convincing. “A lot of folks were. But that doesn’t mean you should
give up and run away. Just come with me next week. Talk to these
people. You won’t be so afraid after you see what they are
seeing.”

“I’m not afraid,” he said indignantly. “And
your friends are wrong. I’ve been watching with morbid curiosity,
and I can tell you that this rally is false. More smoke and
mirrors. Your friends are making a huge mistake, and you will, too,
if you follow them.”

Margaret stood and started clearing away
plates of uneaten food. Ava offered to help, begging with her eyes
to get away from the tension-filled table. They disappeared into
the kitchen, grateful for the busy work.

“So, what am I supposed to do?” Jon Sr. asked
directly. “How am I supposed to recoup my losses? I had invested
everything with you, you know.”

Jonathan felt a stab of guilt so strong it
brought on a wave of nausea. “I know you did,” he said quietly. He
had nothing to offer or suggest, and so he remained silent. His
father stared at him, waiting. When it became obvious that Jonathan
wasn’t going to offer him a solution, he slammed his glass on the
table and stormed out of the room.

Margaret and Ava reemerged from the kitchen
with mugs of coffee. His mother sat across from him and took a deep
breath. “I know I have some explaining to do.”

“Why didn’t you tell him, Mom? It would have
made all this so much easier.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I had my own selfish
reasons. It was wrong and I regret it now. But you have to
understand, he was pinning all his hopes on you, Jonathan. Every
day, even as things got worse and worse, he would talk about how
you were going to fix everything, you would get back what he’d
lost. After a while, I found it impossible to dash his hopes.” She
stared at the rose pattern on the tablecloth as she spoke, “He had
to sell the car you sent him. And the clock. Most everything of
value is gone, and what little is left will be gone soon. When so
many businesses went under, he lost many accounts. Some of his
biggest accounts have yet to pay him for last quarter’s work. It’s
impossible to pick up any new clients, although he goes to Boston
once a week and still tries. The few accounts he keeps now are for
local businesses. Nothing that pays much.”

“Are you in debt?”

“Not much. It’s just a matter of making ends
meet. You can’t tell him that I told you this, but he’s been
working part-time at the quarry. It’s terribly hard work for
someone as old as your father, Jonathan. He can’t secure a
full-time position because the younger ones work circles around
him. He’s only still there because one of the supervisors is our
friend and he feels bad for him. He’d die if he knew I’d told you.
He’s so ashamed.”

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Ava spoke
up, frustrated. “He’s doing whatever it takes to get by and that’s
commendable.”

“Jon Sr. doesn’t see it that way, dear. He
sees it as a personal failure.” She turned her head slightly toward
the door Jon Sr. had stormed out of with a worrisome frown and
troubled eyes that Ava recognized.

“I know how he feels.” Jonathan pushed away
from the table. “I’ll try to talk to him tomorrow. I think that
right now I’m going to get some sleep.”

∞∞∞

“How are you, Ahna, did you have a good
trip?” Hubert asked.

Ethel put out a large dinner and Hubert
joined them late, sitting down in a business-like manner, ignoring
Caleb, but acknowledging Arianna.

“We did. The scenery was beautiful.”

“And the baby? Everything going well?”

“Yes. I was very sick at first, but
everything is fine now. Caleb’s worried I’m getting too big,
though.”

Hubert snapped his head up, looking at Caleb
for the first time, his expression horrified. “That’s ridiculous,”
he scoffed loudly. “You’re thin as a rail.” He took his hateful
expression off Caleb and looked kindly at Arianna. “Me and Ethel
will see to it that you gain some weight for that baby. If your
husband doesn’t like his women on the plump side, he’s just going
to have to get over it for the next few months.”

“It’s not that, Dad.” He shifted
uncomfortably, and Hubert went back to pushing his food around his
plate.

Caleb stared at the top of his head when he
spoke. “I know she’s too thin. I’m concerned about her stomach. It
seems like shortly after we found out, it just got bigger by the
day. Seems like it’s growing too fast.”

Hubert's response was to put another biscuit
on Arianna’s plate and smother it with white gravy, laced with tan
puddles of bacon grease.

“It just seems like that, dear,” Ethel patted
Caleb’s hand, as he stared at his father’s bent head, waiting for
his comment or presence to be acknowledged. Caleb pushed his plate
away and sat back, irritated with Hubert. He glanced at Arianna and
reminded himself that she was the reason he was here. As long as he
could put up with his father’s resentment, Arianna would eat well
and their baby would be healthy.

A short time later, Hubert tossed his napkin,
announced he was going to bed. Ethel gave Caleb an apologetic
grimace. “Give it time,” she whispered after Hubert had left the
room.

February 24th 1930

“I’m sorry I stormed out last night. It was
rude,” Jon Sr. said quietly several minutes into an early, silent
breakfast. Margaret had been glaring at him, but relaxed after his
apology, which told Jonathan that it was one of those female-forced
apologies.

“It’s fine, Dad. I know it must have been
hard to hear.”

“If you’re not going to change your position,
I would appreciate being able to consult with you about my
investments. I have to recoup my losses, Jonathan. If I don’t, I’ll
be working until the day I die.”

“I’ll help in any way I can,” Jonathan
offered. He knew his father well, however, and was fully prepared
to withstand the pressure he would surely keep on him to return to
the investment world. “We’ll talk about some ideas later, all
right?”

February 25th 1930

“Just look at that sunrise.” Aryl was already
on the boat, separating lengths of rope. Caleb was yawning despite
the invigorating five-mile walk from his parents’ farm, and
Jonathan was still half-asleep as they stumbled on board.

“Today,” Aryl said, “I’m just going to get
you guys used to the boat and equipment. We’ll go out together for
a week or two. Then if you feel comfortable enough,” he said as he
pointed to other boats tied to the dock, “we’ll split up, and you
guys can take your own boats out.” Aryl ran through a basic list of
terms, pointing as he spoke. “Bow, stern, port, starboard–” He
grinned as he held up a lobster pot. “money.”

“What do we do?” Jonathan asked, standing on
the deck, feeling completely lost.

“Well, we need to scrape and tar these pots.
Looks like it’s been awhile since my uncle had tended to them, some
of them need fixing, and we need to untangle all these ropes. I
need to study the charts to be sure of where my uncle’s territory
was. Don’t want to go starting any trouble or losing any pots.”
Jonathan stared at him, clueless. “My dad talked to the other
fishermen in the area. They all agreed that I, well, we could take
over my uncle’s territory.” Jonathan looked out, the orange glow of
sunrise shimmering on the vast sea, and his groggy mind tried to
understand.

“Sometimes it amazes me that you grew up here
and yet manage to know so little about this life.” Aryl laughed,
shaking his head.

“Hey, my face was in a book most of the time,
remember?”

“Okay, look, we all have our own territory.
It’s agreed among us. If someone muscles in and tries to take over
a spot without permission, it causes a lot of animosity. Lines of
lost pots are very expensive to replace. But, like I said, it was
agreed that we would take over his territory. And we can always go
out further if it gets too crowded. Blue with a white band around
the middle. Those buoys are my uncle’s. We’ll stick with it to
avoid confusion. Come over here and I’ll teach you guys basic knots
and show you how to bait the traps. Then we’ll head out and drop a
string, just to get you guys familiar. Later, we’ll do more
maintenance on the equipment.”

He set Jonathan to untangling ropes and Caleb
touching up the paint on the buoys. He looked over the pots, found
two dozen that were in good repair and set them aside. When they
pulled in the lines and set out, Jonathan intently watched
everything Aryl did. He was anxious to learn as fast as he could,
so he could set out with his own boat. He watched as the shoreline
became more distant and then turned, squinting into the rising
sun.

Aryl checked his chart and compass, teaching
Jonathan and Caleb as he refreshed his own memory. The sun was
fully up when Aryl showed how to brick and bait the traps, tying
them together in a string beginning and ending the line with a
buoy. He had each of them take turns steering the boat and gave a
crash course education on the engine maintenance and the sails used
for backup.

Jonathan’s head was swirling with new
information by the time they edged up to the dock close to
lunchtime. Kathleen was waiting on the dock with a basket of
sandwiches and fresh coffee.

“You are a lifesaver,” Aryl said with a huge
smile as they bumped lightly into the pier, and Jonathan threw the
rope to secure the boat.

“How’d it go out there?” she asked.

“Pretty good, they’re fast learners.” He
turned to grin at Jonathan, who had jumped onto the pier to secure
the rope. “I might keep ‘em,” he teased.

“It’s wonderful,” Jonathan said to Kathleen.
“I’m going to love this. The sense of freedom out there, it hardly
feels like working.”