Blue Moon (20 page)

He had been dreaming of his own boat forever. Before he and Cass had ever talked about having kids, they’d imagined the day he would get his own boat. Weeks ago, when he’d first started considering George’s boat as a real possibility, right after Keating had named John a captain, Billy had bought a can of red paint. Right then he’d envisioned the boat’s new name and home port painted on the transom:

He had a bottle of champagne under the seat in his truck, ready for Cass to smash across the bow at the christening. But now any celebrating would have to wait. Cass spent every day at the hospital. Today Josie’s doctor had given them the test results: it looked as
if Josie’s accident had caused her hearing to get worse. Maybe the problem would disappear when the swelling went down, but the doctor wasn’t sure.

Cass didn’t even know he’d bought the boat, and the longer Billy waited to tell her, the more guilty he felt: for not looking after Josie right, for buying the boat without telling Cass, for how happy the boat made him.

Billy knew it exhausted Cass, seeing their daughter hurt, unable to bring her home. At night she would crane her neck, rub her tired muscles. Full of plans for his new boat, Billy would feel ashamed. After all, Cass was blameless, while he had failed to protect Josie. Sometimes he felt himself start to turn on Cass. She’d begin to seem saintly and dutiful, suffering while he had all the fun. The crazy part was, it was supposed to be fun for her, too. Buying a boat was supposed to have been a high point of their life together.

“I bought George’s boat,” he said bluntly on Josie’s third night in the hospital, when he and Cass were finally in bed.

Cass didn’t say anything right away. She fiddled with the top button of her cotton nightgown. At night Cass wore fabrics that left little to Billy’s imagination, that clung to her body and left him crazy to see what was underneath.

“You signed the papers? It’s yours?” she asked.

“All mine,” Billy said.

“Wow,” she said.

A lifetime of knowing Cass warned Billy that this “wow” did not indicate excitement.

“Your own boat,” she said. “You could have let me in on it.”

He exhaled. “I knew you’d say that.”

“What am I supposed to say?” she asked, sparks crackling just under the cool surface.

Billy shook his head. He wasn’t going to write the script for her. He watched her remove her watch. She fidgeted with it for a minute, twisting the metal band, then flung it on the bedside table.

“You asshole,” she said.

“Hey!” Billy said.

“God, your timing is lousy, Billy.”

“That’s the point,” Billy said, trying to stay calm. “I couldn’t predict Josie was going to get hurt. You’ve had so much on your mind.”

“Too much to let me in on the boat?”

“I didn’t plan it this way.”

“It feels exactly as if you went out and bought a house without me,” Cass said, a trace of bewilderment in her voice. “We’ve been talking about your boat since we were kids.”

Billy felt like he’d been punched in the mouth, and deserved it. “This sounds lame, I know, but I thought I’d surprise you.”

“You’re right. It sounds lame.”

“You knew I was looking at George’s boat. You told me it was a chump Southern shrimper.”

“I would’ve changed my mind,” Cass said.

Billy knew that. He shrugged.

“I thought looking for a boat would be half the fun,” Cass said. “Maybe more fun, for me, than owning one. I’m not even sure this is a good time …”

“It’s the
only
time for George’s boat,” Billy said, riding over what she’d been about to say. “Look, some fisherman in Newport wants to go independent, and he made George an offer. George feels loyal to Mount Hope guys, so he gave me a chance to beat the offer.”

Cass’s expression said she didn’t want to believe him, but she knew Billy didn’t lie.

“He pulled that on you?” Cass asked.

“It’s legit,” Billy said. “There are lots of guys in Newport who want to go independent. Hell, there are plenty around here. Just look at John—he wants his own boat. We all do.”

“Still, George shouldn’t have played you against someone else. It’s not right.”

“He wanted his price, and he was tired of me stalling for time.”

“Why were you stalling?”

Billy couldn’t tell her that he had been ready to make this move for a long time but that, deep down, he’d figured Cass wouldn’t approve. She would listen to his late-night boat fantasies, and even
encourage him. But buying his own boat meant that Billy would leave the Keating fishing fleet, and Cass would see that as disloyal. No matter what, Cass believed in keeping the family together.

“I didn’t think you’d like it,” Billy said after a long silence.

“Well, I have mixed feelings about you going solo,” she said. “It’s what I meant before when I said I’m not sure this is the best time.”

“You mean money?” Billy asked.

Cass flexed her shoulders. She reached behind her neck to rub a spot, but Billy took over. He worked the muscle steadily, waiting for her to answer. “The chair I sit in at the hospital,” she said. “It’s too high. I have to bend way down to talk to Josie.”

“Is it money?” Billy asked. “You think I won’t make a good enough living on my own?”

“Oh, Billy,” she said, sounding discouraged. “You’re the best there is. If there are fish, you’ll catch them. But when you add up insurance, dockage, fuel … you’ll have to spend more time out than you already do. You’ll never be home.”

“I’ve totaled it up. We can swing it.”

“Dad gets a pretty good group rate for health insurance. And it’s a good plan. Finding a company to cover Josie will be impossible.”

“Not impossible. Besides, you’re the Keating bookkeeper. You know I’ll be making a lot more when I sell the fish on my own.”

“Exactly, Billy. But you’ll be it. There won’t be anyone else to fall back on. If you come back dry one trip, what about the bills that month? I’m just part-time. I’ll help, but I can’t carry us.”

“We’ll manage. You know we will.”

“When did you make the deal?”

“The morning of the party.”

“Before Josie had her accident,” Cass said, sadly. “You could have told me before we left the house. You could have, but you didn’t want to.”

Now Billy saw how bad an idea it had been. How could he actually have planned to announce his big news at Nora’s party? Seeing the hurt in his wife’s eyes, he realized how she would have felt, hearing about the boat at the same time as the rest of her family.

“I have to get some sleep,” she said, then added pointedly, “I
want to get to the hospital early. She’s having tests in the morning, and I should be with her.”

Billy wondered why Cass deliberately tried to make him feel guilty. Didn’t she know he loved Josie? He would give anything to call back the moment when he’d looked away.

But he and T.J. and Sean had been having a rare talk, and Billy hadn’t wanted it to end. It wasn’t the sort of heavy-duty conversation parents always think they should be having with their teenagers, about sex, drugs, drinking, and report cards. No, the night of Nora’s party, Billy, T.J., and Sean had been talking about cars. How T.J. wanted a Jeep when he got his license. How much fun it would be to drive through the dunes at Spray Cove.

Cass rolled over so that her back was to Billy. He wanted to touch her shoulder, run his hand down her silky side, make her want to twist around, kiss him goodnight. He stared at her shoulder, at the spot he wanted to touch, for a long time. After a while, he didn’t want to touch it anymore.

Tomorrow, on the noon tide, he’d take the
Norboca
out for a quick, seven-day trip. Before leaving, he’d give Jimmy notice. Jimmy wouldn’t be thrilled, but he wouldn’t hold Billy back; he had known that this day was coming. Fishing-fleet owners could bank on the fact that fishermen—even sons-in-law—would go solo the first chance they got.

Billy lay on his back, dreaming of his new boat. While he was gone, he would have the boatyard haul her, make her ready for winter. Billy would give them the paint he’d bought, the soft red color he’d chosen because it reminded him of his wife’s hair, and he’d have them paint his boat’s new name on the transom.

The next morning, Cass set out orange juice, boxes of cereal, and a half gallon of milk. Billy sat at the table, reading the paper. Belinda and T.J. wandered sleepily into the kitchen, said good morning, and ate their breakfast. Usually Billy joked with the kids, tried to pump them up for the school day. But today, angry at Cass, he didn’t speak. He stared at the local-news page, occasionally checking his watch. Belinda noticed.

“What time are you leaving, Daddy?” she asked.

“About noon,” he said.

Cass knew Billy liked to sail with the tide, as early as possible, so he would waste as little of the day as possible. She watched him, his shoulders tight, a tense frown on his lips, and she imagined him trapped at the breakfast table. Maybe he felt nervous about meeting her father. Or maybe he just wanted to escape the whole family.

“Have a good trip,” Belinda said, giving Billy a kiss before easing out the door.

“Yeah,” T.J. said, trudging after her.

When they had gone, Cass waited for Billy to start talking. He didn’t; she reached across the table and jostled the paper.

“What?” he asked, finally looking up.

“You still upset about last night?”

“Thinking about the trip.”

“Nervous about my father?”

“Not really.”

Cass knew they were just filling the air with words. “You’re mad at me,” she said.

“If you have something to say,” Billy replied, “you should say it.”

Cass fiddled with her coffee spoon. She knew she had something to say; she just didn’t know what it was.

“It’s just …” she began. “You’re about to leave for a week, and we’re both mad. As soon as you walk out that door, I’ll probably think of ten things to say to you.”

“They’ll still be there when I get back.”

Cass gave him a long stare, to see if he was teasing her. But there didn’t seem to be any humor in his expression. “Nothing ever changes?” she asked. “Is that it? Things are so difficult, so unpleasant?”

He shook his head. “Cass, don’t put words in my mouth.”

“Then say something.”

“I love you. How’s that?”

Strange, but Cass already knew that Billy loved her, and his saying so only made her feel worse. Love wasn’t their problem; it never
had been. But Cass wanted to ride through the hard times together, learning to tell each other everything.

“Look,” Billy said, rising, pulling her to her feet. “Don’t be mad at me. I don’t want to leave like that.”

“I know,” Cass said, shaking her head, trying to convince herself. “We can’t say goodbye mad.”

Billy began kissing her. He kissed her eyebrows, her cheeks, the tip of her nose, her lips. Her eyes closed, Cass let her fingers trace his hair curling at the nape of his neck. They stood there for a long time. Then it was time for Billy to go.

“Better?” he asked.

Cass nodded, smiling.

“Kiss Josie for me.” He exhaled, gave an oddly violent shake of his head. “I want to be here when you bring her home.”

Cass touched his hand to comfort him, knowing he meant it. Sometimes she envied him, being able to leave. But right now he seemed to wish just as passionately that he could stay.

Then Billy gathered his things, slipped on his jacket, and kissed her again. Cass stood at the back door, waving as he backed his truck out of the driveway. She watched him drive down the street. Whether he wanted to or not, he drove away. And by the time he turned the corner, the anger his kisses had soothed out of her had started to smolder again, and then burn.

As soon as T.J. came home from school, he went straight upstairs. He lay on his bed, waiting for the house to clear out. These family visits to the hospital reminded him of when he was little, back when everyone would go to church on Sunday. His mother would wake up Belinda and him, help them pick out their clothes, make sure their shoes were shined. If his father wasn’t out fishing, he’d warm up the car. No matter how early they got up, they always left the house with just enough time to spare. That made going to church a race, kind of exciting.

At the doors to the church, T.J. always felt nervous. Maybe because the doors were so big, or because they were almost late, or maybe because the smell of incense was leaking out, and incense
smelled so mysterious. That was before Josie got sick. At first, only their mother had stopped going to church—because, she said, Josie was too much of a handful during Mass. But gradually the rest of them had stopped, too.

“T.J., hurry up,” his mother called. “We’re leaving for the hospital.” The hospital: like church, another family outing from which they’d all return better people.

“I’m not going,” he said. He heard her footsteps coming down the hall. She stood in the doorway of his room with a look that said he’d better have a good reason. Maybe he should tell her he wanted to play darts.

“You haven’t once come to visit Josie,” his mom said.

“She’ll be home soon, won’t she? What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is that she’s alone and scared in the hospital, and seeing us makes her feel better.”

“You go every day.”

“And so does Belinda, and so did your dad until he had to leave. Now get ready.”

“I’m not going. I’m studying with someone.”

“You just got home from school. Take a break and study later.”

“I already made plans.”

“Josie’s worried about you. She can’t understand why you haven’t visited her.”

“And of course that’s more important than me!” The words spewed out before T.J. could stop them. “I just have to study, that’s all.”

His mother gave him a long, cool stare. He knew she could get very intense in these situations. He could see she realized that a split-second decision was called for, and she was weighing all the factors. This could go either way. She might yank him by the hair and scream at him to get moving; even though she had never before yanked him by the hair, T.J.’s guilty conscience could picture her doing it now. On the other hand, she might believe his study story, kiss him goodbye, and leave. Or she might not believe him, kiss him goodbye, and leave anyway.